Third Easter Sunday (year A) [19 April 2026] 

*First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (2:4, 22b–33)

The same Peter who, out of fear, had denied Jesus during his trial and who, after his death, had been holed up with the other disciples in a locked room, we find today, just fifty days later, standing and delivering an impromptu speech before thousands of people; and if Luke notes that he is standing, it is because the posture is symbolic: in a sense, Peter is awakening, coming back to life, rising up. Before going any further, it should be noted that up to this point Peter had not been a model of boldness, and yet it is precisely to him that Jesus now entrusts the boldest of missions: to continue the work of evangelisation, a mission that cost the Son of God himself his life, and the man who not long before had denied the Master will soon rejoice in being persecuted.  This entirely new strength, this boldness, Peter does not draw from himself, but is a gift from God. Let us return to that Pentecost morning in the year of Jesus’ death, when Jerusalem was teeming with people: they were pilgrims who had come from all over for the festival because, just like Peter and the other apostles of Jesus, they shared the hope of Israel, and it is on this hope that Peter relies to proclaim that the long-awaited Messiah has come and that we have had the privilege of knowing him. Peter emphasises in his speech the continuity of God’s work, which for him is a crucial point, and invokes the testimony of Psalm 15/16. His listeners are the least prepared to accept his words precisely because, having always awaited the Messiah, they have had time to form their own ideas about him—human ideas—and God cannot help but surprise our human ideas. One of the most unacceptable aspects of the mystery of Jesus for his contemporaries is his death on the cross: on Good Friday, Jesus, abandoned by all, truly seemed cursed by God himself, and so how could he be the Messiah? On Easter evening, the apostles realised that he was indeed the Messiah because they had witnessed his Resurrection.  Peter concludes by appealing to his listeners, telling them that if they have not been direct witnesses of the Resurrection, the only possible experience is that of seeing and hearing the twelve apostles transformed by the Holy Spirit

*Responsorial Psalm (15/16)

In the verses of Psalm 15/16, which are set before us today, some phrases seem to convey perfect happiness and everything appears so simple. The psalmist declares: ‘Lord, you are my God; I have made you my refuge; I have no good apart from you.’ In other verses, however, one senses the echo of danger, and Israel pleads, asking not to be abandoned to death nor to be allowed to see corruption. Here lies all the joy of Israel when the heart rejoices, the soul is in celebration because the Lord is ‘my portion and my cup, and I have no good apart from you’. Here Israel is likened to a Levite, to a priest who dwells ceaselessly in the temple of God and lives in intimacy with Him. The expression “Lord, my portion and my cup; upon You my lot depends” is an allusion to when the division of the land of Israel among the tribes of Jacob’s descendants was made by lot. At that time, the members of the tribe of Levi had not received a portion of land: their portion was the House of God, that is, service in the Temple, service to God, and their entire lives were consecrated to worship. They therefore had no territory, and their livelihood was secured by tithes and a portion of the harvests and meat offered in sacrifice. This also helps us understand the other verse of this psalm, which we do not hear today, where the psalmist says, ‘My portion makes me glad; I truly have the finest inheritance’. The Levites guarded the Temple day and night, and this is alluded to when the psalm notes, ‘even at night my heart instructs me’. In this psalm, one also senses the echo of danger, and the plea, ‘you cannot abandon me to death, nor let your holy one see corruption’, conveys the often-suffered tribulations of the chosen people.  The opening plea for help, ‘Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge’, and the repeated expressions of trust suggest a period when, indeed, trust was hard to come by, and this cry for help is at the same time a profession of faith, for it reflects the struggle against idolatry to remain faithful to the one God. In another verse of the psalm we read that all the idols of the land never cease to spread their harm, and people rush to follow them. This shows that Israel sometimes succumbed to idolatry but made a commitment not to fall back into it, and the statement ‘I have made you, my God, my only refuge’ conveys this resolve. We can then appreciate how eloquent the image of the Levite is, for it is a way of saying that by choosing to remain faithful to the true God, the people of Israel made the true choice that brings them into intimacy with God, and Israel’s trust inspires such striking phrases as ‘eternity of delights’ or ‘you cannot abandon me to death, nor let your friend see corruption’. One might wonder whether, when the psalm was written, there was already, albeit in a confused form, a first glimmer of faith in the Resurrection, even though we know that belief in individual resurrection appeared very late in Israel. Here it seems rather that the focus is on the people whose survival is in danger because of their succumbing to idolatry. But they are convinced that God will not abandon them, and that is why they affirm: ‘You cannot abandon me to death, nor let your friend see corruption’. Around the second century BC, when belief in the resurrection of each of us began to take hold, the phrase ‘you will not abandon me to death, nor let your friend see decay’ was understood in this sense, and later Christians reinterpreted this psalm in their own way, as we heard in the first reading. On the morning of Pentecost, Peter quoted this psalm to the Jewish pilgrims who had come in great numbers to Jerusalem for the feast, to show them that Jesus was truly the Messiah. He recalled that when David composed this psalm, without realising it, he was already announcing the Resurrection of the Messiah. Here we have an example of the first Christian preaching addressed to Jews, that is, how the first apostles reinterpreted Jewish tradition, discovering within it a new dimension: the proclamation of Jesus Christ. Over the centuries, this psalm has carried the prayer of Israel in its expectation of the Messiah, becoming enriched with new meanings; yet it was the first Christian generation that discovered and demonstrated that the Scriptures find their full meaning in Jesus Christ.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of the Apostle Peter (1:17–21)

In the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we read Peter’s speech on the morning of Pentecost, a model of the first Christian preaching addressed to Jews. Here, however, in Peter’s letter, we see a sermon addressed to pagans—non-Jews who had become Christians—and it is obvious that the discourse is not the same, for it is the ABC of communication to adapt one’s language to the audience. And even though we do not know exactly to whom the letter is addressed—since in the opening lines Peter merely states that he is writing to the elect living as strangers in the five provinces of present-day Turkey, Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia, what suggests they were not of Jewish origin is the phrase ‘you have been redeemed from the futile ways inherited from your fathers’. Peter, being Jewish himself, would not say such a thing to Jews, knowing all too well what hope runs through the Scriptures and how the whole life of his people is directed towards God. What strikes the eye in this simple passage is the striking number of allusions to the Bible, with expressions such as the blood of the Lamb without blemish or spot, the Father who judges impartially, and the fear of God; and if Peter uses them without explaining them, it is because his audience is familiar with them. But this is only possible if they are non-Jews. The most likely hypothesis is that many sympathisers gathered around the synagogues, and among them a significant number of those called ‘God-fearing’, who were so close to Judaism that they observed the Sabbath; they listened to all the synagogue readings on Saturday mornings, and consequently knew the Hebrew Scriptures well but had never gone so far as to ask for circumcision. It is thought that the early Christians were recruited mainly from among them, and it is worth returning to two expressions in Peter’s letter that may strike us as odd if we do not place them in their biblical context.  First of all, the expression ‘fear of God’ has a particular meaning precisely because God revealed himself to his people as Father. The fear of God, therefore, is not fear but a filial attitude made up of tenderness, respect, veneration and total trust, and Peter says that since you call upon God as your Father, you live in the fear of God by behaving as children. If you call upon as Father the One who judges everyone impartially according to their deeds, you therefore live in the fear of God. From Peter’s emphasis on the One who judges everyone impartially according to their deeds, we can surmise that some of these new Christians, coming from paganism, felt inferior to Christians of Jewish origin, and Peter therefore wishes to reassure them by saying, in essence: you are children just like the others; simply behave as children. The second phrase that might cause offence is: ‘you have been redeemed by the precious blood of Christ’. The risk is of seeing this as a horrendous bartering, without being able to say clearly between whom and whom. But reading Peter’s sentence in full – “not with perishable things such as silver or gold were you redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect” – two things become clear: firstly, this is not a matter of bartering; our liberation is free, and Peter takes care to say ‘not with gold or silver’, a way of saying it is free. Secondly, Peter does not place the emphasis where we do, because the blood of a lamb without blemish or defect is the blood that was shed every year at Passover and which marked Israel’s liberation from all forms of slavery.  This blood that was shed heralded God’s ongoing work to free his people and, for a reader familiar with the Old Testament, is a reference to the feast of freedom—a freedom on the journey towards the Promised Land. But now, Peter notes, definitive liberation has been accomplished in Jesus Christ. We have now entered   a new life better than the Promised Land, and this liberation consists precisely in calling upon God as Father. We can then better understand  the phrase: you have been redeemed, that is, freed from the superficial way of life inherited from your fathers; ‘superficial’ here means that it leads nowhere, as opposed to eternal life. Since the Son lived as a man in trust until the end, it is all of humanity that has rediscovered the path of a filial attitude. Ultimately, it is a matter of having rediscovered the path to the tree of life, to use the image from Genesis. Paul would say: you have passed from the slave’s attitude of fear and mistrust to the filial reverence proper to children.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (24:13–35)

Note the parallel between these two phrases: their eyes were prevented from recognising him, and then their eyes were opened; this means that the two disciples of Emmaus passed from the deepest discouragement to enthusiasm simply because their eyes were opened. Why were they opened? Because Jesus explained the Scriptures to them, and beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted in all the Scriptures what concerned him. This means that Jesus Christ is at the centre of God’s plan revealed in Scripture. The Old Testament must not, however, be reduced to a mere backdrop for the New, because to read the prophets as if they were announcing only the historical coming of Jesus Christ is to betray the Old Testament and strip it of all its historical depth, given that the Old Testament is the testimony of God’s long-suffering patience in revealing himself to his people and enabling them to live in his Covenant. The words of the prophets, for example, apply first and foremost to the era in which they were spoken, and we must not forget that reading Jesus Christ as the centre of human history and therefore also of Scripture is a Christian interpretation. The Jews have a different one, and we Jews and Christians agree in invoking God the Father of all mankind and in reading in the Old Testament the long wait for the Messiah, but let us not forget that recognising Jesus as the Messiah is not self-evident; it becomes so for those whose eyes are somehow opened and whose hearts consequently burn within them, just as those of the disciples of Emmaus did. It would be wonderful to know all the biblical texts that Jesus went through with the two disciples of Emmaus. We do know, however, that at the end of this biblical journey Jesus concludes by asking: ‘Was it not necessary for the Christ to suffer these things and enter into his glory?’ This phrase presents a real difficulty for us because it lends itself to two possible interpretations. The first possible interpretation is “it was necessary for the Christ to suffer in order to deserve to enter into his glory”, as if there were a requirement on the part of the Father; but this interpretation betrays the Scriptures because it presents Jesus’ relationship with the Father in terms of merit, which is not at all in keeping with the Old Testament revelation that Jesus developed. God is nothing but Love, Gift and Forgiveness, and with Him it is not a matter of balance, merit, arithmetic or calculation. It is also true that the New Testament often speaks of the fulfilment of the Scriptures, but not in this sense. There is, however, a second way of reading this phrase: ‘it was necessary for the Christ to suffer in order to enter into his glory’: the glory of God is his presence manifested to us. Now we know that God is Love. One could rephrase the sentence thus: ‘it was necessary for the Christ to suffer’ so that God’s love might be manifested and revealed. Jesus himself gave a foreshadowing of his death when he said to his disciples, ‘There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for those one loves’. It was therefore necessary for love to go that far, to the point of facing hatred, abandonment and death, so that we might discover that God’s love is the greatest love, so that we might discover how far God’s love goes—so far beyond our own way of loving and so unimaginable in the true sense of the word. It was necessary for it to be revealed to us, and for it to be revealed, it had to go that far. “It was necessary” does not therefore mean a requirement on God’s part, but a necessity for us; and to say that the events of Jesus’ life fulfil the Scriptures is to say that his entire life is a revelation in action of this love of the Father, whatever the circumstances, including persecution, hatred, condemnation and death. The Resurrection of Jesus authenticates this revelation: this love is stronger than death.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Thoughts on food

Several things prompted me to reflect on this.

One was a film broadcast by Rai 1 on 2 April 2026 (Maundy Thursday) on the subject of eating disorders. The film was called “Something Lilac.”

It is the story of a teenager who struggles with eating disorders, although the film focuses mainly on bulimia. The main eating disorders are anorexia and bulimia.

Another inspiration was seeing someone again at the centre who had suffered from these problems in the past and whom I had supported psychologically.

Finally, about a month ago, a lady I had known for years and who had long been troubled by these issues passed away. She wouldn’t listen to anyone; she ‘wasted away to the bone’.

And so, as with all my short articles, I ‘dredged up’ the theoretical knowledge I’d acquired over the years, combined with my observations of cases at work.

The issue of food is important for all living beings. If we do not eat, we do not live.

But here too, as in all situations in life, striking the right balance is not always easy.

The ideal approach is to eat without excesses that could cause metabolic disorders, and in such a way that our body functions well.

Sometimes, for various reasons, human beings alter their relationship with food. Think of the periods when people suffered from food shortages due to wars, epidemics, or other causes.

Cases of self-imposed fasting are also described in the Bible, but it was around 1600 that cases of significant weight loss due to diet began to be observed.

In contrast to the time of the ancient Romans, when they would indulge in huge feasts followed by self-induced vomiting – if I recall correctly, they would tickle their palates with a feather to induce vomiting and then start eating again.

The history of eating disorders is not a modern phenomenon, but has its roots in distant times.

In the Middle Ages, fasting was often associated with demonic possession, or conversely with mystical behaviour.

‘Mystics’ would fast to purify the body, draw as close as possible to God, and sometimes to withdraw from earthly life. Unlike the disorder seen today, the motivation was not beauty, but the aspiration to holiness.

Nowadays, distorted relationships with food are recognised as complex disorders, influenced by cultural and psychological factors.                                  

These are serious disorders, often interlinked, and requiring treatment by various specialists.  In short, anorexia involves a profound fear of gaining weight, stemming from a distorted perception of one’s own body.

Bulimia involves overeating followed by vomiting or self-induced purging – to prevent weight gain.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Such issues are more prevalent in industrialised cultures, where there is a higher standard of living and the idea of being attractive is associated with thinness.

Through the media, the idea of physical perfection has also reached less developed cultures, fostering a desire for physical attractiveness; which would not be a bad thing, were it not for the harm it causes to the body.

Nor should we overlook the influence of cultural role models; such as extremely thin models who trigger a desire to be like them – sometimes at any cost.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             And here I recall that years ago, there was a proposal to make figures such as the Barbie doll ‘put on weight’, to correct the image she unconsciously conveyed. 

Until recently, it was mostly young people and women who were affected by such eating disorders. Lately, however, the issue has also come to affect men.

In my professional practice, I have encountered such issues. I have carried out various psychodiagnostic assessments where the main problems were eating disorders, even in very young individuals. 

These were mostly female subjects, but I have also encountered a few male adolescents.

In psychotherapeutic treatment, working alongside other professionals, I have dealt with a few cases of anorexia in young girls, whilst the few cases of bulimia I have encountered were in older women.

This is in line with the theoretical principles that situate anorexia in early adolescence and bulimia in late adolescence or early adulthood.

I recall that the thin girls were always restless, worried and tormented, whilst the more ‘full-figured’ women were cheerful, sometimes even friendly. One of them was even able to joke about her considerable weight. 

The progression of these conditions can vary; some are severe and can compromise general health – and there is a risk of mortality. 

People with anorexia generally tend to be somewhat more stubborn; they may refuse not only food but also new experiences, and adopt a closed-off attitude; people with bulimia mainly exhibit ‘emotional volatility’, moments of anger and emptiness that they unconsciously try to fill with food.

Emotionally, these people may feel anxious, may be impulsive, and may experience shame. Anorexics are ashamed of their bodies, which they always perceive as enormous; bulimics are distressed by their lack of control, which sometimes extends beyond eating habits.

The characteristics of these issues are kept hidden for a long time. In doing so, they make it difficult to form a genuine relationship with others, with sufferers usually appearing more immature and superficial.

These people are united  in an exaggerated way by a hunger for care and affection. They have an immense fear of being abandoned, and that other people might stop loving them.

But it is a question of  ‘how strong this feeling is’, because everyone  wants to be loved; they want to have a healthy relationship based on trust and mutual respect.

Intellectually, those with eating disorders may exhibit rigid thinking and a distorted perception of their body’s condition; in less severe cases, there remains a dissatisfaction with their physical appearance or certain parts of it.

In more severe cases, body image and how it is experienced often impairs their ability to assess reality.

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi  Psychologist – Psychotherapist

Concordism and compromises, or chaos and different stability

(Jn 6:16-21)

Jn narrates the episode differently from the Synoptics: not so much as an outcome of the communion of the loaves, as Manifestation of Christ.

The centre of gravity of the story is Jesus' presentation of his Person: «I Am» (v.20), self-revelation of the God of Exodus [3:14: «I Am who I will be" - that is: «you will understand who I Am by what I will do»].

This is to end the tergiversations in the interpretation of His figure:

The Son of God is not a healer nor a miracle-worker, but the Deliverer from whom the people expect the Manna that heartens, the 'land' that is promised to them, salvation from death.

The passage is a parable of the church in the grip of the troubled waters of the abyss, dominated by doubt, uncertainty, a wavering faith, still lacking a blessed and everlasting seal.

In going hard and unsupported - amidst even internal controversies - we suddenly catch the Lord arriving.

He suddenly comes close, takes our pace and that of the events themselves - to accompany the vertigo and torment.

Our life proceeds towards the opposite shore, where the Master is already.

We go in hope, but sometimes adversity threatens to make us drown, and with us they seem to drag the whole boat down.

Only the Lord "walks on the sea", that is, He advances and overcomes death.

If we host Him, we realize that every element is in His power: and in Him everything is opportunity to reactivate us, also the headwind.

The invisible Friend guides, infallibly realizes, brings us to «shore». Definitive condition that the force of the waves cannot affect, even when we have the feeling of being swept away by the same waves.

Using paraphrases from the book of Exodus, Jn seeks to help his communities understand the Mystery of the Jesus’ Person.

And immersed in His story, we too grasp the vocational reality that can envelop us and characterize us, when we do not reject His Appeal.

A Calling that launches us into a different way of life, starting from unexpected resources - which can be accessed when we stop focusing our attention only on what frightens and seems negative.

The assemblies' debate on the Messiah, as well as the churches' relations with the world, also accentuated dissension and uncertainty.

Some Jewish converts considered Christ to be a character after all in line with their mentality and tradition, in agreement with First Testament prophecies and figures.

Conversely, some pagans who had accepted the Lord advocated a compromise with the worldly mentality. A sort of agreement between Jesus and the Empire, which the evangelist considers idolatrous contamination [the temptation of the pagan crowd to make him King immediately precedes the passage: vv.14-15].

The situation of the tiny believing families in the Empire was dark, doubtful, conflicted inside and out.

Jesus seemed absent, and the sea was rough, the wind contrary, threatening, unknown.

And yet, precisely in the condition of jolted pilgrims, in the essential Faith one experienced a strange and ‘different stability inside’: permanence, against the tide.

Hence awakening, proliferation, growth.

Cultural marginalization, unknowns, comparisons, trials, did not swallow up the believers, on the contrary, they made them more resolute and expeditious (v.21) - according to the Voice of the Risen One, present in the soul of everyone.

Thus, a crossing to Freedom was proposed to the disciples, which came from that intimate perception, only welcoming.

Able to nourish everyone's spirit and tear it away from phobias - in the chaos of external securities. With which the «sons» could make peace.

[Saturday 2nd wk. in Easter, April 18, 2026]

Artificial concord and compromise, or chaos and different stability

(Jn 6:16-21)

Jn narrates the episode differently from the Synoptics: not so much as the outcome of the communion of loaves, as the Manifestation of Christ.

The centre of gravity of the story is the presentation that Jesus makes of his Person: "I am" (v.20), the self-revelation of the God of the Exodus [3:14: "I am who I will be" - i.e.: "you will understand who I am by what I will do"].

This is to put an end to the tergiversations in the interpretation of his figure: the Son of God is not a healer nor a miracle-worker, but the Deliverer from whom the people expect the Manna that heartens them, the 'land' that is promised to them, salvation from death.

The passage is a parable of the church in the grip of the troubled waters of the abyss, dominated by doubt, uncertainty, a wavering faith, still lacking a blessed and everlasting seal.

In going hard and unsupported, we suddenly catch the Lord coming. He comes suddenly near, takes our step and that of the events themselves - to accompany the dizziness and the torment.

[It is like the very Word of God expected in the Liturgy: it immediately makes us touch shore... thanks to the free insertion into the Mystery of the divine thought and condition].

Our life proceeds towards the opposite shore, where the Master is. We go in hope, but sometimes adversity threatens to drown us, and with us they seem to drag the whole boat down.

Only the Lord 'walks on the sea', that is, he advances and overcomes death. If we accommodate Him, we realise that every element is in His power: and in Him everything serves to revive us, even the headwind.

The invisible Friend guides, infallibly realises, makes us reach 'shore' - a definitive condition that the force of the waves cannot affect, even when we have the feeling of being swept away by the waves.

Using paraphrases from the book of Exodus, Jn seeks to help his communities understand the Mystery of the Person of Jesus, and the vocational reality that can envelop us and characterise us when we do not reject his Call.

A call that launches us into a different way of life, from unexpected resources - which can be accessed when we stop fixing our attention only on what frightens and seems negative.

Even the internal debate about the Messiah, and the churches' relationship with the world - accentuated dissension and uncertainty.

Some Jewish converts considered Christ to be a character in line with their mentality and tradition, in agreement with First Testament prophecies and figures.

Conversely, some pagans who had accepted the Lord advocated an understanding with the worldly mentality. A sort of agreement between Jesus and the Empire, which the evangelist considers an idolatrous contamination [the temptation of the pagan crowd to make him king immediately precedes the passage: vv.14-15].

The situation of the tiny believing families in the empire was dark, doubtful, or conflicted inside and out. Jesus seemed absent, and the sea was rough, the wind contrary, threatening, unknown.

And yet, in the very condition of stranded pilgrims, in the Essential Faith they experienced a strange and different stability within: staying against the tide. Hence awakening, proliferation, growth.

Cultural marginalisation, unknowns, confrontations and trials did not swallow up the believers, on the contrary they made them more resolute and expeditious (v.21) - according to the Voice of the Risen One, present in the soul of each one.

Thus, here was a crossing towards Freedom, which came from that intimate perception, only welcoming.

Able to nourish one's spirit and tear it away from phobias - in the chaos of external securities. With which one could make peace.

So our story hangs in the balance: we move forward wavering - as on a small boat tossed about by earthquakes, ecclesiastical and otherwise, local and global, that seem to want to drag down the whole of life.

Episodes that make us realise how much Christ's friendship is worth to us and what it conveys.

Only the Lord overcomes the fear of upheaval, but he does so without rushing in, and without established patterns that frame him forever. It would be like making him perish.

When we welcome his Person in a simple and forthright manner, we realise that there is another realm, unaligned.

Then we will be able to seize everything to regenerate ourselves, even the quakes, the forks, the very pitfalls of seemingly disruptive evil.

Who then can calm the storms... in the way of growth in coexistence, and (together) character?

In short: can the Exodus be recreated?

From the earliest times, Faith in the Person of Christ the Messiah was already shaken, wavering; not relaxed.

The disciples did not possess the Master's same quiet trust in the Father.And yet, precisely in the situation of precarious wayfarers, always off the conformist track - in reinterpreting the Son's 'madness', they contacted the same deep emotions that had been His.

And in Him one is always reborn renewed, original, deeper.

By going beyond any reassuring but bland situation - which no longer said anything. And doing so from visceral cores of experience.

A crossing towards a breath that came from clinging to Jesus alone, in the chaos of certainties.

For a discordant permanence. Where the unusual appeared that cleansed one from manners or from the habituated and stagnant 'old'.

Upsetting the unequal activations of being a woman and a man in our own time, in order not to shy away from dialogue, debate, pressing emergencies.

Conditions that want to take us elsewhere.

Even today, it is the path of unaccustomed and critical growth that reveals the Lord capable of manifesting his quiet strength.

Thus restoring the disrupted elements to the energetic and preparatory calm; lively in itself with new desires, which urge one not to close one's eyes.

The direction of travel imposed by Jesus on his followers seems to go against the grain, and brazenly breaks the rules accepted by all.

While the disciples fondle nationalist desires, the Master begins to make it clear that He is not the awaited Messiah, restorer of the defunct empire of David or the Caesars.

The Kingdom of God is open to all mankind, which in those jolting times sought security, acceptance, points of reference. 

Not infrequently, in the first assemblies everyone could find home and shelter (Mt 13:32c; Mk 4:32b).

But the apostles and church veterans seemed averse to proposals of openness, hospitality, and risk. They remained insensitive to an overly broad idea of fraternity - which displaced them.

This is still a live and very serious problem.

The teaching and reminder imposed on the disciples is always to cross to the other shore (Mk 4:35; Lk 8:22; Jn 6:17), that is, not to keep for themselves, but to communicate the riches of the Father to the 'pagans', even though they are considered infected and infamous.

Yet already his people did not want to know about reckless disproportions that would actually make the action of the Son of God stand out.

They were calibrated to common purist religiosity, and a circumscribed ideology of power.

The resistance to the divine commission, as well as the resulting tearing internal disputes, seemed to unleash a great and dangerous storm in the assemblies of believers (Mt 8:24; Mk 4:37; Lk 8:23; Jn 6:18).

The storm, however, concerned only the disciples, the only ones dismayed; not Jesus "who walked on the sea and came near the boat" [Jn 6:19: this is the Risen One, in his definitive, divine condition].

What happens "inside" is not a mere reflection of what happens "outside". This is the error to be corrected.

Such identification blocks and makes life chronic, starting with the handling of emotionally relevant situations - which have their own meaning.

They make a significant and fundamental appeal, they introduce a different eye, excavation and dialogue.

In short, even today we are confused, embarrassed, and chaos rages? We are paradoxically going in the right direction, the essential one; but we must not get caught up in fear.

In Him, we are imbued with a different view of danger.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (xxii): 'The saint does not see by himself, therefore he is enlightened'. Even in bottlenecks.

Indeed, it seems that Jesus expressly wants for the apostles themselves, dark moments of confrontation and doubt.

Even for us, even if we were church leaders... because otherwise there will be no cleansing from repetitive convictions.

Textbook expectations, the habit of setting up conformist harmonies, mannerisms, block the flowering of what we are and hope for.

Above all: what is annoying or even 'against' has something decisive to tell us.

Even in the small boat of the churches (Mk 4:36) unease must be expressed: 'And they were afraid' (Jn 6:19c).

All this is to revive the essence of each one, the sense of community itself.

To introduce the hidden or repressed change, and trigger it in the most effective way - by contact with the hidden, primordial virtues.

More than the opposing frictions and conflicting external events, the anxiety, the impression of collapse, the anguish, come in fact from the very fear of facing the normal or decisive questions of existence.

Perhaps out of mistrust: feeling in danger only because we are intimately ungrown, incapable of Other intimate conversation. And to discover, rework, convert, or remodel.

The fatigue of questioning oneself and the suffering that the adventure of Faith holds, will also fade amidst the discomfort of the rough sea - which precisely does not want us to return to 'those of before'.

Just disengage from the idea of stability, even religious stability, and listen to life as it is, embracing it.Even in its throngs of bumps, bitterness, dashed hopes for harmony, sorrows - engaging with this flood of new peaks, and encountering one's own profound nature.

The best vaccine against the travails of the adventure together with the Risen One on the changing waves of the unexpected will be precisely: not to avoid worries upstream - on the contrary, to go towards them and welcome them; to recognise them, to let them happen.

Even in times of emergency, the apprehensions that seem to want to devastate, come to us as preparatory forces of other joys that wish to break through.

New cosmic attunements, they seek us; for astonishment starting with ourselves.

And guide us to the hereafter: "and immediately the boat came to the land where they were going" (Jn 6:21).

Our little boat is in an inverted, inverted, unequal stability; uncertain, inconvenient - yet gallivanting, prickly, capable of reinventing itself.

And it will even be excessive.

For a proposal of Tenderness - not corresponding.

It is not a zone of affectionate relaxation, because it rhymes with the terrible anxiety of exploration.

To internalise and live the message:

On what occasions have you found easy what previously seemed impossible? 

What existential, faith, friendship and missionary effect has contact with the deep emotions of friction and danger had on you?

Some other providence, which you ignore

"It is good not to fall, or to fall and get up again. And if it happens that you fall, it is good not to despair and not to become estranged from the love that the Sovereign has for man. If he wills it, he can indeed do mercy to our weakness. Only let us not turn away from him, let us not feel distressed if we are forced by the commandments, and let us not be disheartened if we come to nothing [...].

We must neither hurry nor fall back, but always begin again [...].

Wait for him, and he will show you mercy, either by conversion or by trials, or by some other providence which you do not know."

[Peter Damascene, Second Book, Eighth Discourse, in La Filocalia, Turin 1982, I,94].

Bread and wonders of the Christ-phantom. And we, the fringe of his cloak

(Mk 6:53-56 // Mt 14:34-36)

He who is devoted to the cause of non-violence and non-possession, who is driven by the pursuit of truth and righteousness, who is capable of solving his own emotional and intellectual problems, and who can show others the way to overcome their emotional and intellectual problems [Acharya Mahaprajna], can carry the mantle of the Master.

While some are continually crowding around Jesus and preventing others from having a personal relationship with Him, something has to be invented; at least take Him in stride (v.56).

"And wherever he entered villages or towns or hamlets they placed the sick in the squares and begged him to touch even the fringe of his cloak. And as many as touched him were saved".

Indeed, the fringe of the mantle is his People - and each of us, when by Gift we are enabled to perceive and prolong his call, spirit, care, action.

A 'touching' that is not mere gesture: it calls for total involvement; personal faith, digging in.

The crowds around the Lord and the Church, his primary presence, seek bread and healing... but sometimes they forget to adhere to the inner Person who gives and heals.

Yet even in these cases, the infallible Guide re-proposes his unbroken wave of life - with therapies that do not pass through souls as lightning would, but in real existence.

God liberates, saves, creates, from tensions and faults (also religious) because He wants to bring us to awareness.

The Father desires to penetrate the value of the act of love that makes the weak strong; every re-creating gesture, embodied, open to any sense of emptiness.

Annoyances do not happen out of misfortune or chastisement: they come to let us flourish again, precisely from the soul's pains.

If they persist, no fear: they become more explicit messages, from our own Higher Seed.

It means that in our orchestra something is out of tune or neglected, and must either fade away or be discovered and brought into play.

Otherwise, one will not be able to grow towards the destiny that characterises a Calling and every discomfort.

Even the symptoms of restlessness belong to the innate quintessence - which always has topical power.

The key will therefore not be looks, nor health, but the very acceptance of bitterness, of hardships, which come to clear away the inessential - and release trapped spiritual drives.

Energies of imbalance, which, however, want to be transformed into the ability to cast ballast; as well as to better accommodate and integrate the vocation into one's own history, in order to build life again.

Perhaps not a few would prefer to wait for a miraculous landing of the Master [typified healer] that brings immediate benefit, immediate favour.Outward salvation with a magical flavour - transient, even if physically palpable or even in ethical semblance.

A phenomenal, but simplistic Lord.

An Appearance that dies at once, then starts again - if He (in us, in our turning points) did not involve the very uncertainties that mark us.

And the long time of processes, which gradually take on a more intimate weight.

Total and sacred - truly messianic - redemption is little prone to epidermal clamour.

Healing is not scenic. He only realises Himself step by step; thus He remains deep and radical.

He becomes capable of new beginnings and acts of birth of still embryonic energy, precisely from individual precariousness.

His People of intimates - a presence no longer ineffable and mysterious - works in proximity, to erase the false image of the philosophical or forensic God, always external. 

Sovereign or imperative engine, distant and absent - touchy, predatory - that occasionally takes aim; it does not overcome, nor does it reconfirm. It never looks at our present.

This is how the Church rejects the idea of the ratifying Eternal, but also that of the mass thaumaturge, immediately resolving - so dear to miracle merchants.

A figure that easily takes hold of our fantasies.

We announce his authentic Face with words and gestures, precisely to annihilate the idea of the Christ-phantom of the previous passage (v.49), a deplorable and absurd figure.

An evanescent icon, merely apologetic, which unfortunately in history has given ample space to business associates with the Most High.

In this way, being healed does not mean escaping transience.

A saved existence requires a transformation from within; a different beginning. A different foothold of the good.

Jesus travels through our environments as a silent wayfarer, and also accepts a primitive faith.

But albeit with dim power, the divine impulse operates in every seeker of meaning and every needy person.

One settles into it personally, precisely from interrupted dreams.

The Lord cannot be imprisoned and contained: he draws near, to initiate great cleansing, make us shift our gaze, and renew the stale universe.

Thus he transforms our souls, in the experience of his free communion,

He wants to take up residence in us, to merge and expand the impulse to life - perhaps cowering in abstention. So that each one marvels at himself, at unknown passions, at new relationships.

Believer and community manifest in empathic forms the incisive healing power of Faith in the Risen One, starting from one's own intimate story.

We experience Him alive in the monotonous, unrewarding, and precarious day-to-day - yet capable of changing the order of existence hidden in sketchy quarters [v.56: "hamlets"] and its unexpressed destination.

without disturbing it with special, one-sided, or pressing effects.

The Tao Tê Ching (xi) writes: 'Thirty races unite in one hub, and in its non-being is the usefulness of the chariot'.

Elsewhere from the civilisation of appearance is the improvement of our condition and security, from insecurity.

Not in a simple, indiscreet and transient getting back on one's feet.

Phenomenal, but only punctual and inconclusive, or finally abdicating.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you consider Jesus? Miracle worker or recuperator?

How do you deal with those who are excluded or seem to be without a shepherd?

Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni" - with these and similar words the Church's liturgy prays repeatedly [...].

These are invocations probably formulated at the time of the decline of the Roman Empire. The disintegration of the fundamental orders of law and the basic moral attitudes that gave them strength caused the breaking of the banks that had hitherto protected peaceful coexistence between men. A world was passing away. Frequent natural cataclysms further increased this experience of insecurity. No force could be seen to put a stop to this decline. All the more insistent was the invocation of God's own power: that He would come and protect men from all these threats.

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni". Today, too, we have many reasons to join this prayer [...] The world with all its new hopes and possibilities is, at the same time, distressed by the impression that moral consensus is dissolving, a consensus without which legal and political structures do not function; consequently, the forces mobilised to defend these structures seem doomed to failure.

Excita - the prayer is reminiscent of the cry addressed to the Lord, who was sleeping in the disciples' storm-tossed boat that was close to sinking. When His mighty word had calmed the storm, He rebuked the disciples for their little faith (cf. Mt 8:26 and par.). He meant: in yourselves faith has slept. The same thing is meant for us. In us too, faith so often sleeps. Let us therefore pray to Him to awaken us from the slumber of a faith that has become weary and to restore to faith the power to move the mountains - that is, to give right order to the things of the world.

[Pope Benedict, to the Roman Curia 20 December 2010].

This is an episode from which the Fathers of the Church drew a great wealth of meaning. The sea symbolizes this life and the instability of the visible world; the storm points to every kind of trial or difficulty that oppresses human beings. The boat, instead, represents the Church, built by Christ and steered by the Apostles.

Jesus wanted to teach the disciples to bear life’s adversities courageously, trusting in God, in the One who revealed himself to the Prophet Elijah on Mount Horeb “in a still small voice” [the whispering of a gentle breeze] (1 Kings 19:12) […]

If we look only at ourselves we become dependent on the winds and can no longer pass through storms on the waters of life. The great thinker Romano Guardini wrote that the Lord “is always close, being at the root of our being. Yet we must experience our relationship with God between the poles of distance and closeness. By closeness we are strengthened, by distance we are put to the test” (Accettare se stessi, Brescia 1992, 71).

Dear friends, the experience of the Prophet Elijah who heard God passing and the troubled faith of the Apostle Peter enable us to understand that even before we seek the Lord or invoke him, it is he himself who comes to meet us, who lowers Heaven to stretch out his hand to us and raise us to his heights; all he expects of us is that we trust totally in him, that we really take hold of his hand.

Let us call on the Virgin Mary, model of total entrustment to God, so that amidst the plethora of anxieties, problems and difficulties which churn up the sea of our life, may our hearts resonate with the reassuring words of Jesus who also says to us “Take heart, it is I; have no fear!”; and may our faith in him grow.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 7 August 2011]

The storm calmed on the Lake of Genesaret can be reread as a "sign" of Christ's constant presence in the "boat" of the Church, which many times throughout history is exposed to the fury of the winds during stormy hours. Jesus, awakened by the disciples, commands the winds and the sea to be becalmed. Then he says to them: "Why are you so fearful? Have you no faith yet?" (Mk 4:40). In this, as in other episodes, one can see Jesus' will to inculcate in the apostles and disciples faith in his operative and protective presence even in the stormiest hours of history, in which doubt about his divine assistance could infiltrate the spirit. In fact, in Christian homiletics and spirituality the miracle has often been interpreted as a "sign" of the presence of Jesus and a guarantee of trust in him on the part of Christians and the Church.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 2 December 1987]

“When evening had come” [...] For weeks now it has been evening. Thick darkness has gathered over our squares, our streets and our cities; it has taken over our lives, filling everything with a deafening silence and a distressing void, that stops everything as it passes by; we feel it in the air, we notice in people’s gestures, their glances give them away. We find ourselves afraid and lost. Like the disciples in the Gospel we were caught off guard by an unexpected, turbulent storm. We have realized that we are on the same boat, all of us fragile and disoriented, but at the same time important and needed, all of us called to row together, each of us in need of comforting the other. On this boat… are all of us. Just like those disciples, who spoke anxiously with one voice, saying “We are perishing” (v. 38), so we too have realized that we cannot go on thinking of ourselves, but only together can we do this.

It is easy to recognize ourselves in this story. What is harder to understand is Jesus’ attitude. While his disciples are quite naturally alarmed and desperate, he is in the stern, in the part of the boat that sinks first. And what does he do? In spite of the tempest, he sleeps on soundly, trusting in the Father; this is the only time in the Gospels we see Jesus sleeping. When he wakes up, after calming the wind and the waters, he turns to the disciples in a reproaching voice: “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” (v. 40).

Let us try to understand. In what does the lack of the disciples’ faith consist, as contrasted with Jesus’ trust? They had not stopped believing in him; in fact, they called on him. But we see how they call on him: “Teacher, do you not care if we perish?” (v. 38). Do you not care: they think that Jesus is not interested in them, does not care about them. One of the things that hurts us and our families most when we hear it said is: “Do you not care about me?” It is a phrase that wounds and unleashes storms in our hearts. It would have shaken Jesus too. Because he, more than anyone, cares about us. Indeed, once they have called on him, he saves his disciples from their discouragement.

The storm exposes our vulnerability and uncovers those false and superfluous certainties around which we have constructed our daily schedules, our projects, our habits and priorities. It shows us how we have allowed to become dull and feeble the very things that nourish, sustain and strengthen our lives and our communities. The tempest lays bare all our prepackaged ideas and forgetfulness of what nourishes our people’s souls; all those attempts that anesthetize us with ways of thinking and acting that supposedly “save” us, but instead prove incapable of putting us in touch with our roots and keeping alive the memory of those who have gone before us. We deprive ourselves of the antibodies we need to confront adversity.

In this storm, the façade of those stereotypes with which we camouflaged our egos, always worrying about our image, has fallen away, uncovering once more that (blessed) common belonging, of which we cannot be deprived: our belonging as brothers and sisters.

“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Lord, your word this evening strikes us and regards us, all of us. In this world, that you love more than we do, we have gone ahead at breakneck speed, feeling powerful and able to do anything. Greedy for profit, we let ourselves get caught up in things, and lured away by haste. We did not stop at your reproach to us, we were not shaken awake by wars or injustice across the world, nor did we listen to the cry of the poor or of our ailing planet. We carried on regardless, thinking we would stay healthy in a world that was sick. Now that we are in a stormy sea, we implore you: “Wake up, Lord!”.

“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Lord, you are calling to us, calling us to faith. Which is not so much believing that you exist, but coming to you and trusting in you. This Lent your call reverberates urgently: “Be converted!”, “Return to me with all your heart” (Joel 2:12). You are calling on us to seize this time of trial as a time of choosing. It is not the time of your judgement, but of our judgement: a time to choose what matters and what passes away, a time to separate what is necessary from what is not. It is a time to get our lives back on track with regard to you, Lord, and to others. We can look to so many exemplary companions for the journey, who, even though fearful, have reacted by giving their lives. This is the force of the Spirit poured out and fashioned in courageous and generous self-denial. It is the life in the Spirit that can redeem, value and demonstrate how our lives are woven together and sustained by ordinary people – often forgotten people – who do not appear in newspaper and magazine headlines nor on the grand catwalks of the latest show, but who without any doubt are in these very days writing the decisive events of our time: doctors, nurses, supermarket employees, cleaners, caregivers, providers of transport, law and order forces, volunteers, priests, religious men and women and so very many others who have understood that no one reaches salvation by themselves. In the face of so much suffering, where the authentic development of our peoples is assessed, we experience the priestly prayer of Jesus: “That they may all be one” (Jn 17:21). How many people every day are exercising patience and offering hope, taking care to sow not panic but a shared responsibility. How many fathers, mothers, grandparents and teachers are showing our children, in small everyday gestures, how to face up to and navigate a crisis by adjusting their routines, lifting their gaze and fostering prayer. How many are praying, offering and interceding for the good of all. Prayer and quiet service: these are our victorious weapons.

“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith”?Faith begins when we realise we are in need of salvation. We are not self-sufficient; by ourselves we founder: we need the Lord, like ancient navigators needed the stars. Let us invite Jesus into the boats of our lives. Let us hand over our fears to him so that he can conquer them. Like the disciples, we will experience that with him on board there will be no shipwreck. Because this is God’s strength: turning to the good everything that happens to us, even the bad things. He brings serenity into our storms, because with God life never dies.

The Lord asks us and, in the midst of our tempest, invites us to reawaken and put into practice that solidarity and hope capable of giving strength, support and meaning to these hours when everything seems to be floundering. The Lord awakens so as to reawaken and revive our Easter faith. We have an anchor: by his cross we have been saved. We have a rudder: by his cross we have been redeemed. We have a hope: by his cross we have been healed and embraced so that nothing and no one can separate us from his redeeming love. In the midst of isolation when we are suffering from a lack of tenderness and chances to meet up, and we experience the loss of so many things, let us once again listen to the proclamation that saves us: he is risen and is living by our side. The Lord asks us from his cross to rediscover the life that awaits us, to look towards those who look to us, to strengthen, recognize and foster the grace that lives within us. Let us not quench the wavering flame (cf. Is 42:3) that never falters, and let us allow hope to be rekindled.

Embracing his cross means finding the courage to embrace all the hardships of the present time, abandoning for a moment our eagerness for power and possessions in order to make room for the creativity that only the Spirit is capable of inspiring. It means finding the courage to create spaces where everyone can recognize that they are called, and to allow new forms of hospitality, fraternity and solidarity. By his cross we have been saved in order to embrace hope and let it strengthen and sustain all measures and all possible avenues for helping us protect ourselves and others. Embracing the Lord in order to embrace hope: that is the strength of faith, which frees us from fear and gives us hope.

“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith”?Dear brothers and sisters, from this place that tells of Peter’s rock-solid faith, I would like this evening to entrust all of you to the Lord, through the intercession of Mary, Health of the People and Star of the stormy Sea. From this colonnade that embraces Rome and the whole world, may God’s blessing come down upon you as a consoling embrace. Lord, may you bless the world, give health to our bodies and comfort our hearts. You ask us not to be afraid. Yet our faith is weak and we are fearful. But you, Lord, will not leave us at the mercy of the storm. Tell us again: “Do not be afraid” (Mt 28:5). And we, together with Peter, “cast all our anxieties onto you, for you care about us” (cf. 1 Pet 5:7).

[Pope Francis, extraordinary moment of prayer 27 March 2020]

The simple Mystery, New Mysticism. Vocation to offer to the world

(Jn 6:1-15)

«Man is a limited being who is himself limitless» (Fratelli Tutti [Brethren All] n.150).

In our hearts we have a great longing for fulfilment and Happiness. The Father has introduced it, He Himself satisfies it - but He wants us to be associated with His work - inside and outside.

The Son reflects God's plan in His compassion for crowds in need of everything and - despite the plethora of teachers and experts - lacking any authentic teaching.

His ‘solution’ is very different from that of all spiritual guides, because He does not overfly us with an external, indirect paternalism (vv.5-6) that wipes away tears, heals wounds, erases humiliation.

He invites us to make use of what we are and have, even though it may seem ridiculous (v.9).

But He teaches in no uncertain terms that shifting energies produces prodigious results.

This is how we respond to the world's great problems: by recovering the condition of the 'viator' man - being of passage.

And by sharing goods; not, letting each person be left to his own devices and make do.

Our crude nakedness, the vicissitudes, and the experience of our many brothers and sisters, who are different, are resources not to be evaluated with distrust «as competitors or dangerous enemies» of our realisation [FT n.152].

Not only will the little we take with us be enough to satiate us, but it will advance for others and with identical Fullness of truth, human, epochal (vv.12-13).

In short, in Christ, everyone can usher in a new Time, and Salvation is already at hand, because people spontaneously gather around Him, coming as they are, with the burden of so many different needs (v.2).

The new people of God are not a crowd of chosen and pure people.

Everyone brings with them problems, which the Lord heals - but taking care of them not by proxy, as if from above or from the outside.

In this way another world is possible, but through the «breaking» of one's own even meagre ‘bread and breadcrumbs’.

Authentic solution, if we bring it out «from inside» and being «in the midst» - not at the front, not ‘at the top’.

The place of Revelation was to be the place of “thunderbolts”, on a ‘mount’ smoking like a furnace (Ex 19:18). But finally even Elijah's violent zeal had to recant (1 Kings 19:12).

Even to women and men on the other side (v.1) the Son reveals a Father who does not simply erase infirmities: He makes us understand them as a place that is preparing personal development, and that of the Community.

It was imagined that in the time of the Messiah, all the needy would disappear (Is 35:5ff.). ‘Golden age’: everything at the top, no abyss.

In Jesus - Bread of poor barley, but distributed - an unusual fullness of the times is manifested, seemingly nebulous and fragile (v.9) yet real and capable of restarting people and relationships.

The Incarnation weaves our hearts anew, in dignity and promotion.

It truly unfolds, because it does not drag away poverty and obstacles: it rests on them and does not erase them at all.

Thus outperforming them, but by transmuting them; on those seeds, creating new life.

The old exclusive puddle of religion that does not dare the risk of Exodus and Faith (v.2) would not have helped us to assimilate the proposal of the ‘lesser’ Messiah.

He is in us who have embraced His life proposal: in coexistence and sharing.

Lord-in-us, He solves the world's problems - without immediate lightning bolts or shortcuts.

Initiative-Response of the Father, «support in the Journey» in search of the Hope of the poor - of all of us, the destitute people waiting.

[Friday 2nd wk. in Easter, April 17, 2026]

The very different solution. Multiplication by Division, in itinerancy

(Jn 6:1-15)

"Now a great crowd followed him, for they saw the signs he did on the sick" (v.2).

"There is a little boy who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what is this to so many?" (v.5).

"Jesus therefore knowing that they were about to come and kidnap him to make him king, withdrew again to the mountain by himself" (v.15).

«Man is a limited being who is himself limitless» (Fratelli Tutti [Brethren All] n.150).

In our hearts we have a great longing for fulfilment and Happiness. The Father has introduced it, He Himself satisfies it - but He wants us to be associated with His work - inside and outside.

The Son reflects God's design in His compassion for crowds in need of everything and - despite the plethora of teachers and experts - lacking any authentic teaching.

His solution is very different from that of all 'spiritual' guides, because he does not overlook us with an indirect paternalism (vv.5-6) that wipes away tears, heals wounds, erases humiliation, from the outside.

It invites us to make use of what we are and have, even though it may seem ridiculous. But it teaches in an absolutely clear way that by shifting energies, prodigious results are achieved.

This is how we respond in Christ to the world's great problems: by recovering the condition of the 'viator' man - a being of passage, his essential mark - and by sharing goods; not letting everyone make do.

Our raw nakedness, the vicissitudes and experiences of our many brothers and sisters, who are different, are resources not to be evaluated with distrust, "as dangerous competitors or enemies" of our fulfilment [FT no.152].

Not only will the little that we bring with us suffice to satiate us, but it will advance for others and with identical fullness of truth, human, epochal [vv.12-13: the particular passage insists on the Semitic symbolism of the number "twelve"; in Mk 8:8 and Mt 15:34-37 that of the number "seven" takes over].

In Christ, everyone can inaugurate a new Time, and Salvation is already at hand, because the people gather spontaneously around Him, coming as they are, with the burden of so many different needs (v.2).

The new people of God are not a crowd of chosen and pure people.

Everyone brings with them problems, which the Lord heals - but healing not with proxy measures (cf. Mt 14:16; Mk 6:37; Lk 9:13), as if from above or from without.

In short: another world is possible, but through breaking one's own even miserable bread and companion.

An authentic solution, if one brings it out from within, and by standing in the middle - not in front, not at the top.

The well-known symbolism of the "five loaves" and "two fish" (v.9) - in Christological perspective, means:

Assume one's own tradition, even legalistic tradition, which has served as a wise base nourishment (5 books of the Torah), then one's own history and sapiential afflatus (Writings: Kethubhiim) as well as prophetic (Nevi'im: Prophets).

[As St Augustine said: "The Word of God that is daily explained to you and in a certain sense 'broken' is also daily Bread" (Sermo 58, IV: PL 38,395). Complete food: basic food and "companion" - historical and ideal, in code and in deed].

The place of God's revelation was to be that of "thunderbolts", on a "mountain" steaming like a furnace (Ex 19:18). But finally even Elijah's violent zeal had to recant (1 Kings 19:12).

Even to women and men of the other side (v.1) the Son reveals a Father who does not simply erase infirmities: he makes them understood as a place that is preparing a personal development, and that of the Community.

He imagined that in the time of the Messiah, all the needy would disappear (Is 35:5ff.). Golden age: everything at the top, no abyss.

In Jesus - Bread of poor barley, but distributed - an unusual fullness of times is manifested; apparently nebulous and fragile (v.9) but real and capable of restarting everyone, and relationships.

The Spirit of God acts not by descending like a thunderbolt from above, but by activating in us capacities that appear intangible, yet are able to regroup our dispersed [classified as insubstantial - involving the everyday summary - and re-evaluate it] being.

The Incarnation reweaves our hearts, in dignity and promotion; it truly unfolds, because it not only drags obstacles away: it rests on them and does not erase them at all.

Thus it surpasses them, but transmutes - posing new life.

Lymph that draws juice and sprouts Flowers from the one muddy, fertile soil, and communicates them.

Solidarity to which all are invited, not just those deemed to be in a state of 'perfection' and compactness.

Our shortcomings make us attentive, and unique. They are not to be despised, but taken up, placed in the Son's hands and energised (vv.11-13).

Falls themselves can be a valuable sign; in Christ, they are no longer reductive humiliations, but path markers (v.2).Perhaps we are not making the best use and investment of our resources.

Thus collapses can quickly turn into rises - different, unpacked. And seeking total completion in the Communion.

In this way, in the ideal of realising the Vocation, as well as intuiting the type of contribution to be made, nothing is better than a living environment, which does not clip the wings: lively fraternity in the exchange of qualities, and coexistence.

Not so much to dampen the jolts, but so that we are enabled to build stores of wisdom not calibrated by nomenclature - which everyone can draw on, even those who are different and far from us.

If a shortcoming is found here too, it will be to teach us to be present in the world in perhaps other and further directions, or to bring out mission and creative maturity - not to remain fixated on partiality and minutiae.

Thus, together, the 'no moments' immediately become a springboard for not stagnating in the same situations as always; regenerating, proceeding far elsewhere.

And the failures they throw into the balance serve to make us realise what we had not noticed, thus deviating from a conformist destiny.

They force us to seek suggestions, different horizons and relationships, a completion we had not imagined.

In short, our Heaven is intertwined with flesh, earth and our dust: a Supernatural that lies within and below, even in the souls of those who have collapsed to the ground; not behind the clouds.

It is the direct contact with our humus filled with royal juices that regenerates us and even creates us: as new women and men, newly re-born in sharing.

The image of the Kingdom in the puny Eucharist does not eliminate defect and death.

It takes them up and transfigures them into strengths; creating encounter, dialogue, preference for the minimal - and frankly propulsive - New Covenant.

Unfortunately, the exaggerated targeting of films about the Jesus 'multiplying' abundance... leads completely astray.

It breeds the devotees of increase, who disdain division (triplicators of money, property, titles, goals, relationships that matter, and so on).

Conversely, in Christ who distributes all things, we become like an actualised and propulsive body of sensitive witnesses [and living Scriptures].

Infants in the Lord, we swim in this different Water - sometimes perhaps outwardly veiled, or muddy and murky. Finally made transparent even as it is surrendered, filled with compassion and benevolent.

The old exclusive puddle of religion that does not dare the risk of exodus and Faith (v.2) would not have helped us to assimilate the proposal of the inferior Messiah, who solves the world's problems without immediate lightning bolts or shortcuts.

He is in us who have embraced his proposal of life: the Father's Initiative-Response, support in the unethereal Journey in search of the Hope of the poor - of all of us destitute waiting.

The allusion to the 'five' or 'seven' 'loaves' (multiplied because they are divided) reinforces the quotations concerning the malleable magma of biblical icons.

In this case, those of Moses and Elijah: figures from the five Books of the Pentateuch [the First Foods], plus the two sections of Prophets and Writings.

All together: fullness of food and wisdom for the soul, called to proceed beyond the surrounding hedgerows, breaking the banks of the enslaved mentality.

Nourishment-basis of the human-divine spirit, to which is added a nourishment that involves us.

[As St. Augustine: "The Word of God that is daily explained to you and in a certain sense 'broken' is also daily Bread" (Sermo 58, IV: PL 38, 395)].

Complete food: basic food and companion food - historical and ideal, in code and in deed.

We become in Christ as an actualised and propulsive corpus of sensitive witnesses and Scriptures; admittedly reduced, not yet established and lacking in heroic phenomena, but emphatically sapiential and practical.

Announcers, sharers without resounding proclamations of self-sufficiency.

Never enclosed within archaic fences - always in the making - therefore able to perceive unknown tracks.

And to 'break the Bread'... that is, to be active, to go further, to share the little - to nourish, to overflow - multiplying the listening and the action of God; and to make even the desperate regain esteem.

We are children.

As a few and little ones who do not wallow in competitions that make life toxic - rather: called in the first person to write a singular, empathic and sacred Word-event.

Infants in the Lord, we swim in this different Water.

Sometimes perhaps outwardly veiled or muddy and murky; finally made transparent if only because it is surrendered, compassionate and benevolent.

The old exclusive puddle of religion that does not dare the risk of Faith (v.2) would not have helped us to assimilate the proposal of Jesus the Messiah, Son of God, Saviour - a well-known acrostic of the Greek word "Ichtys" [fish].He is the Father's Initiative-Response, support in the unethereal journey in search of the Hope of the poor - of all of us destitute waiting.

The working Faith thus has the Eucharist as its emblem, a revolution of sacredness. It seems strange, for us who have grown accustomed to it.

In fact, the purpose of evangelisation is to participate in and emancipate the integral being from everything that threatens it, not only in its extreme limitation: also in its everyday actions - to the point of seeking the communion of goods.

In Mk 6 the prodigy is placed after the earful towards the apostles, called "aside" for a verification of their uncertain preaching [Jesus announced as the glorious Messiah].

In Mk 8 [similarly] after the opening of the "senses" of the [same disciple taken "aside"] deaf and stuttering (Mk 7:31-37).

Jn 6 follows the episodes of the return to Galilee, the healing of the civil servant's son, the healing of the paralytic at the pool of Bethesda, and the Apology of Jesus himself.

In short, the Source and Summit Sign of the community of sons is a creative gesture that imposes a shift in vision, an absolutely new eye.

Faced with the destitution of the many caused by the greed of the few, the attitude of the authentic Church does not take pleasure in emblems and fervour, nor in partial calls to distinguish itself in almsgiving.

The breaking of the Bread takes over from the Manna dropped from above in the desert (cf. Mk 8:4; Jn 6:2) and entails its distribution - not only in particular situations.

There is no settling, in multiplying life for all.

This is the attitude of the living Body of Christ [thaumaturgic, not the miracle-worker] who feels called to be active in every circumstance.

Grateful adherence must lead us to the gift and sharing of the 'bread'.

If Eucharistic participation does not lead only to punctual alms-giving, external pietism and mannerly welfarism, there is the Result:

Women and men will eat, remain full, and there will be food left over for others. Not all of God's intended guests are yet present.

We note that it had not even occurred to some of the disciples that the solution might come from the people themselves (v.7) and their spirit - not from the patronage of the leaders or some individual benefactor.

Unexpected agreement: the question of food is resolved not from above, but from within the people and thanks to the few loaves they brought with them (v.9).

There is no resolution with the verb 'multiply' - i.e. 'increase' [relationships that count, increase property, pile up wiles].

The only therapy is the coexistence of 'breaking', 'giving', 'handing out', 'distributing' (v.11 Greek text).

And everyone is involved, no one privileged.

At that time, competitiveness and class mentality characterised the pyramid society of the empire - and began to infiltrate even the small community, just starting out.

As if the Lord and the God of profit could live side by side.

It is the communion of the needy that conversely takes centre stage in the unimaginative Church; capable of bringing opposites together.

Real sharing acts as the professor of the ubiquitous veteran, pretentious, only to be converted.

The germ of their 'durability' should be not altitude and role, but love.

Such is the only meaning of sacred gestures, not other projects tinged with prevarication, or appearance.

The 'belonging' astound.

For the Lord, the distant ones, still poised in their choices, are full participants in the messianic banquet - without preclusions, nor disciplines of the arcane with nerve-racking expectations.

Conversely, that Canteen presses in favour of others who are to be called. For a kind of re-establishment of the original Unity.

In short, the Redemption does not belong to elites concerned about the stability of their rule - which it is even the weak who must sustain.

Saved life comes to us by incorporation.

To internalise and live the message:

Have you ever broken your bread, passed on happiness and made recoveries that renew relationships, putting people who do not even have self-esteem back on their feet? Or have you favoured selflessness, chains, elite attitudes?