5th Lent Sunday (year A)  [22 March 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us! This Sunday touches upon the theme of death and of life that does not die. In the face of such fear of dying, may this word of salvation kindle within us the invincible hope of living eternally in God, who is Love

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel (37:12–14)

This text is very brief, but it is clear that it forms a single unit: it is framed by two similar expressions; at the beginning, ‘Thus says the Lord God’, and at the end, ‘The word of the Lord’. A frame that is evidently intended to give solemnity to what it encloses. Whenever a prophet deems it necessary to specify that he is speaking on behalf of the Lord, it is because his message is particularly important and difficult to hear. Today’s message is therefore what lies within this framework: a promise repeated twice and addressed to God’s people, for God says “O my people”; on both occasions the promise concerns two points: firstly, “I will open your graves”; secondly, “I will bring you back to the land of Israel”, or “I will let you rest in your own land”, which amounts to the same thing. These expressions allow us to situate the historical context: the people are in exile in Babylon, at the mercy of the Babylonians, annihilated (in the true sense of the word, reduced to nothing), as if dead; this is why God speaks of graves. The expression ‘I will open your graves’ therefore means that God will raise up his people. Reading chapter 37 of the Book of Ezekiel, we see that this brief text follows a vision of the prophet known as ‘the vision of the dry bones’ and provides an explanation of it: the prophet sees a vast army of the dead, lying in the dust; and God says to him: your brothers are so desperate in their exile that they believe themselves to be dead, finished… well, I, God, will raise them up. This entire vision and its explanation thus evoke the captivity of the exiled people and their restoration by God. For the prophet Ezekiel, it is a certainty: the people cannot be wiped out, because God has promised them an eternal Covenant that nothing can destroy; therefore, whatever the defeats, the ruptures, the trials, it is known that the people will survive and regain their land, because this is part of the promise. “I will open your graves… O my people, and bring you back to the land of Israel”: ultimately, there is nothing surprising about these words; Israel has always known that its God is faithful; and the expression “You shall know that I am the Lord” precisely means that it is through his faithfulness to his promises that the true God is recognised. But why repeat almost the same things twice? In reality, the second promise does not merely repeat the first, but expands upon it:  It continues: I will open your graves and bring you out of your tombs and let you rest in your own land, and you shall know that I am the Lord: all this  is a return to the situation prior to the disaster of the Babylonian exile. In this second promise there is much more, something new and never seen before: “I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live”; here the New Covenant is announced: from now on the law of love will no longer be written on tablets of stone, but in hearts. Or, to use another expression of Ezekiel, human hearts will no longer be of stone, but of flesh.

Here there is no room for doubt: the repetition of the phrase “my people” clearly shows that these two promises herald a rebirth, a restoration of the people. This is not a matter of individual resurrection. Individual death did not compromise the future of the people; and for a long time it was the future of the people, and that alone, that mattered. When someone died, it was said that they had fallen asleep with their fathers, without imagining any personal survival; on the contrary, the survival of the people has always been a certainty, because the people are the bearers of God’s promises. To believe in individual resurrection, two elements are required: firstly, an interest in the individual’s fate — something that did not exist at the beginning of biblical history; an interest in one’s personal fate is a later development. Secondly, it is essential to believe in a God who does not abandon you to death. The certainty that God never abandons humanity did not arise suddenly; it developed in step with the concrete events of the history of the chosen people. The historical experience of the Covenant is what nourishes the faith of Israel; it is the experience of a God who frees humanity from all forms of bondage and intervenes ceaselessly to liberate them; a faithful God who never goes back on his word. It is this faith that guides all of Israel’s discoveries; indeed, it is their driving force. Four centuries after Ezekiel, around 165 BC, these two combined elements—faith in a God who continually liberates humanity and the discovery of the value of every human person—led to faith in individual resurrection. It became evident that God would liberate the individual from the most terrible and definitive form of slavery, that of death. This discovery came so late to the Jewish people that, in Christ’s time, it was not yet shared by all: the Sadducees, in fact, were known as those who did not believe in the resurrection. Perhaps, however, Ezekiel’s prophecy might have surpassed his own understanding, without him realising it. The Spirit of God spoke through his mouth, and we might think: Ezekiel did not know how great was what he was proclaiming

*Responsorial Psalm (129/130) 

In the Psalter there is a group of fifteen psalms bearing a particular name: Song of Ascents. Each of them begins with the words ‘Song of Ascents’, which in Hebrew signifies going to Jerusalem on pilgrimage. In the Gospels, moreover, the expression ‘going up to Jerusalem’ occurs several times with the same meaning: it evokes the pilgrimage for the three annual feasts and, in particular, the most important of these, the Feast of Tabernacles. These fifteen psalms therefore accompanied the entire pilgrimage. Even before arriving in Jerusalem, they already foreshadowed the unfolding of the festival. For some, one can even guess at which point in the pilgrimage they were sung; for example, Psalm 121/122 – ‘How joyful I was when they said to me: “We shall go to the house of the Lord”… now our feet stand within your gates, Jerusalem…’ – was probably the psalm of arrival. Psalm 129/130 is one of these Songs of Ascent; it was probably sung during the Feast of Tabernacles as part of a penitential celebration, which is why guilt and forgiveness feature so prominently in the psalm: ‘If you keep track of sins, O Lord, O Lord, who can stand before you?’.  The sinner who pleads here is certain of being forgiven; it is the people who together acknowledge God’s infinite goodness, his tireless faithfulness (his Hesed) and man’s radical inability to respond to the Covenant. These repeated acts of unfaithfulness are experienced as a true spiritual death: “From the depths I cry out to you”, a cry addressed to Him whose very being is Forgiveness: this is the meaning of the expression “with you is forgiveness”. God is Love and is Gift, and the two are one and the same. Now “forgiveness” is nothing other than a gift that goes beyond everything. To forgive means to continue to offer a Covenant, a possible future, beyond the other’s infidelities. Let us recall the story of David: after the killing of Bathsheba’s husband, the prophet Nathan announced God’s forgiveness to him even before David had uttered a single word of repentance or confession. The idea that God always forgives, however, does not please everyone; yet it is undoubtedly one of the central teachings of the Bible, right from the Old Testament. And Jesus forcefully takes up this same teaching: for example, in the parable of the Prodigal Son in the Gospel according to Luke (chapter 15), the father is already out on the road waiting for his son (a sign that he has already forgiven him) and opens his arms to him even before the son has opened his mouth. And the example of God’s totally gratuitous forgiveness was given to us by Jesus himself on the cross: those who were killing him did not utter a single word of repentance, yet he says: ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’. It is precisely in his forgiveness, says the Bible, that God manifests his power. This too is a great discovery of Israel; consider what the Book of Wisdom states: “Your strength, Lord, is the source of justice… you who possess strength, judge with gentleness and rule us with great indulgence” (Wis 12:16, 18). The certainty of God’s mercy does not breed presumption or indifference towards sin, but humble and amazed gratitude: “With you is forgiveness, so that we may fear you.” This concise formula indicates the believer’s attitude before God, who is nothing but gift and forgiveness. This certainty of forgiveness, always offered beyond all fault, inspires in Israel an attitude of extraordinary hope. Repentant Israel awaits forgiveness “more than the watchmen await the dawn”. “He will redeem Israel from all its sins”: similar expressions recur frequently in biblical texts. They announce to Israel the definitive liberation, the liberation from all the sins of all time. Israel awaits even more: precisely because the people of the Covenant experience their own weakness and ever-recurring sin, but also God’s faithfulness, they await from God himself the definitive fulfilment of his promises. Beyond immediate forgiveness, what they await from age to age is the definitive dawn, which they hope for against all hope, like Abraham: the dawn of the Day of God. All the psalms are permeated by this messianic expectation. Christians know with even greater certainty that our world is moving towards its fulfilment: a fulfilment that has a name, Jesus Christ: “Our soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the dawn”.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:8–11)

“I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live,” announces Ezekiel in the first reading, but from baptism, Saint Paul reminds us here, this is a reality, and he uses a figurative expression: the Spirit of God dwells within you. Taking this literally, one commentator speaks of a change of ownership. We have become the dwelling place of the Spirit: it is he who is now in charge. It would be interesting to ask ourselves, in all areas of our lives, both personal and communal, who is in charge, who is the master of the house within us; or, if we prefer, what is our purpose in life. According to Paul, there are not many alternatives: either we are under the influence of the Spirit, that is, we allow ourselves to be guided by him, or we do not allow ourselves to be inspired by the Spirit, and this he calls being under the influence of the flesh. Being under the influence of the Spirit is easy to understand: simply replace the word ‘Spirit’ with the word ‘Love’, as the Letter to the Galatians demonstrates when explaining the fruits of the Spirit: ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control’ (Gal 5:22–23); in a word, love expressed in all the concrete circumstances of our lives. Paul is the heir to the entire tradition of the prophets: and they all affirm that our relationship with God is realised in the quality of our relationship with others; in the ‘Songs of the Servant’, the Book of Isaiah (chapters 42; 49; 50; 52–53) forcefully asserts that living according to the Spirit of God means loving and serving one’s brothers and sisters. Once life according to the Spirit—that is, life according to love—has been defined, it is easy to understand what Paul means by life according to the flesh: it is the opposite, namely indifference or hatred; in other words, love is turning away from oneself, whilst life under the influence of the flesh is centring on oneself. The question: ‘Who is in charge?’ here becomes ‘Who is the centre of our world?’ And those who are under the influence of the flesh cannot please God, says Paul. On the contrary, Christ is the beloved Son in whom God is well pleased, that is, he is in perfect harmony with God precisely because he too is all love. In this sense, the account of the Temptations, read on the first Sunday of Lent (Matthew chapter 4), is very eloquent because Jesus appears totally centred on God and on his Word and resolutely refuses to focus on his own hunger or even on the demands of his messianic mission. If the text of the temptations is presented to us every year at the start of Lent, it is because Lent is precisely a journey of shifting our focus away from ourselves in order to refocus on God and on others. Later on, in the same Letter to the Romans, Paul says that the Spirit of God makes us children: it is he who prompts us to call God ‘Father’. That which is love within us comes from God; it is our inheritance as children. The Spirit is your life, Paul says again: to put it another way, love is your life. After all, we know from experience that only love is creative. What is not love does not come from God and, precisely because it does not come from God, is destined for death. The great good news of this text is that everything within us that is love comes from God and therefore cannot die. As Paul says: ‘If God raised Jesus from the dead… he will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you’.

From the Gospel according to John (11:1–45)

We have got into the habit of calling this passage the resurrection of Lazarus, but, to tell the truth, it is not the most appropriate term; when we proclaim ‘I believe in the resurrection of the dead and in eternal life’, we mean something quite different. Lazarus’s death was, in a sense, merely a parenthesis in his earthly life; after Jesus’ miracle, his life resumed its ordinary course and was, more or less, the same as before. Lazarus simply had his earthly life extended. His body was not transformed and he had to die a second time; his first death was not what it will be for us, that is, the passage to true life. So one might ask: to what end? In performing this miracle, Jesus took great risks, for he had already drawn far too much attention to himself… and for Lazarus, it was merely a matter of postponing the final appointment. It is St John who answers our question: ‘what was the purpose of this miracle?’ He tells us that it is a very important sign: Jesus reveals himself as the one in whom we have eternal life and in whom we can believe, that is, upon whom we can stake our lives. After all, the chief priests and the Pharisees were not mistaken: they fully understood the gravity of the sign performed by Jesus, for the Gospel of John tells us that many, many began to believe in him precisely because of Lazarus’s resurrection, and it was then that they decided to put him to death. This miracle thus sealed Jesus’ death sentence; thinking about it two thousand years later, it seems paradoxical: being able to restore life deserved death. A sad example of the aberrations to which our certainties can lead… Let us return to the account of what we might call the ‘raising of Lazarus’, because it is not a true resurrection but rather an extension of earthly life. Let us make just two observations. 

First observation: for Jesus, only one thing matters, the glory of God; but to see the glory of God, one must believe (If you believe, you will see the glory of God, he tells Martha). Right from the start of the story, when they tell him: ‘Lord, the one you love is ill’, Jesus replies to the disciples: ‘This illness will not lead to death, but is for the glory of God’, that is, for the revelation of the mystery of God. Faith opens our eyes, removing the blindfold of mistrust that we had placed over our gaze. Second observation: here, faith in the resurrection takes its final step. In Israel, faith in the resurrection appeared late; it was clearly affirmed only in the second century BC, at the time of the persecution by Antiochus Epiphanes, and in Christ’s time it was not yet shared by everyone. Martha and Mary, evidently, are among those who believe in it. But in their minds it is still a resurrection at the end of time; when Jesus says to Martha: “Your brother will rise again”, she replies: “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day”. Jesus, however, corrects her: he is not speaking in the future, but in the present: “I am the resurrection and the life… Whoever believes in me, even if they die, will live; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” To put it plainly, we sense that the Resurrection is already here.” “I am the resurrection and the life” means that death as separation from God no longer exists: it is overcome in Christ’s resurrection, so that believers, with Paul, can say: “O death, where is your victory?”. Now nothing can separate us from the love of Christ, not even death. The true novelty of this Gospel is not that a dead person returns to life, but that life itself has a face: Jesus. When he says: ‘I am the resurrection and the life’, he is not merely promising a future event; he is affirming that those who live in communion with him are already entering a life that death cannot destroy. Lazarus will emerge from the tomb once more, only to die again; but those united with Christ will never return to the tomb as to a final prison. Biological death becomes a passage, not an end; a threshold, not an abyss. If we live in communion with God — that is, in love — we are already within eternity. For God is not merely the One who gives life: He is Life itself. And that which is united to Life cannot be annihilated.

As Saint Augustine writes: “Do you fear death? Love. Love kills death.”

And again, St Paul, in his Letter to the Romans: “Nothing can separate us from the love of God” (Rom 8:39). Herein lies the heart of the sign of Lazarus: whoever remains in love remains in God, and God remains in him, and this communion knows no end. The true resurrection begins now.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

(Mt 1:16.18-21.24)

«Even through Joseph’s fears, God’s will, his history and his plan were at work. Joseph, then, teaches us that faith in God includes believing that he can work even through our fears, our frailties and our weaknesses. He also teaches us that amid the tempests of life, we must never be afraid to let the Lord steer our course. At times, we want to be in complete control, yet God always sees the bigger picture» [Patris Corde n.2].

Incarnation: the Father places himself alongside his sons and daughters. Not only He isn’t afraid of becoming impure in contact with things that concern human dynamics: in their Condition even recognizes Himself.

For this reason, the culmination of the entire Salvation Story springs from Joseph's embarrassment.

Sources attest that he was not at all a character with a lily in his hand, but perhaps this may interest us up to a certain point.

The narration of Mt is striking, because the distinction and the possibility of the irruption (of the summit itself) of God's plan on humanity seem to arise not from a certainty, but from a Doubt.

The question mark involves. Discomfort sows a new Germ inside. It tears and cuts down all the alike seedlings of the grass infesting the full Life - which was the chiseled Law on appearances.

The "problem" leads to dreaming of other horizons to open, and in the first person. Hesitation leads out of the mental cages that mortify relationships, previously reduced to casuistry.

The perplexity makes common opinion overlook, because conformity attenuates and extinguishes the Novelty of God.

Hesitation seeks existential fissures: it wants to introduce us into territories of life - where others can also draw on different experiences, varied perceptions, and moments in which to have decisive insights as a gift.

Its wise Energy finds gaps and small passages; it acts to make us evolve as children of Eternity - also arousing inconvenience, which flood existence of creative suspensions and new passion.

Its lucid Action is introduced through Dreams that shake off the usual projects, or states of mind that put them in the balance; and bottlenecks of marginalized thinking that makes us rediscover the reason we were born, discover our part in the world.

Every swing, every pain, every danger, every move, can become a ‘birth’ towards Originality - without identifications first.

Uniqueness does not make us lose the Source that ‘watches’ in us. Woe to shirk: we would lose our destination.

The Spirit that slips into the crevices of standard mindsets finds an intimate spot that allows us to flourish differently now, able to bring out the essence of who we authentically are, and stop copying clichés.

Then we will not keep asking: Whose fault is it? How should we buffer the situation? Who should we lean on?. But rather: What is the new ‘life’ I have to explore? What is yet to be discovered?.

In fact, the bite of doubts does not make one become believer-garbage, as hypothesized in disciplined, legalistic religions - in puritan philosophies with artificial wisdom - vice versa friends, adopted sons [ie chosen] and heirs.

Thanks to the Relation of Faith, we are no longer lost in the desert - because the many things and the hazards become dialogue of specific weight: we are at Home, respecting our mysterious character and Call.

We begin like Joseph to be present to ourselves. And by changing gaze, we will enjoy the Beauty of the New.

«Saint Joseph reminds us that those who appear hidden or in the shadows can play an incomparable role in the history of salvation. A word of recognition and of gratitude is due to them all» [Patris Corde intr.].

To internalize and live the message:

On what occasion did ‘doubt’ open horizons to astound you? In the beautiful and colorful moments of life, did you start from your certainty?

 [St. Joseph, March 19]

Contact with the earth: deviance and ascent

Casual Incarnation, in tenuousness and density

(Mt 1:1-17)

In the ancient East, genealogies mentioned only men, and it is surprising that Mt mentions the names of no less than five women - considered merely servile, untrustworthy creatures, impure by nature.

But in the story of Mary's four companions there is not a little that is a-normal [also because of the model of life chosen] that is nevertheless worthwhile.

Here we are then challenged by the Gospel on the weight to be given to the rigidity of norms, which in the history of spirituality have often devoured the spontaneous being of those called by the Father (simply to express themselves).

Cultures animated by the Wisdom of Nature also testify to this weight.

The Tao Tê Ching (LVII) writes: "When the world is governed by correction, weapons are used with falsehood [...] That is why the saint says: I do not act and the people transform themselves [...] I do not yearn and the people make themselves simple".

In order to reach the human fullness of the Son, God did not pretend to overcome concrete events, on the contrary He assumed them and valorised them.

The path that leads to Christ is not a matter of climbs, nor of results or performances to be calibrated more and more in a linear crescendo that is therefore moralising and dirigiste (which does not impose turning points that count, nor does it solve the real problems).

Commenting on the Tao(i), Master Ho-shang Kung writes: "Mystery is Heaven. He says that both the man who has desires and the man who has none equally receive ch'ì from Heaven. Within heaven there is another heaven; in the ch'ì there is density and tenuity".

In history, the Eternal One manages to give unfurled wings not so much to strength and genius, but to all the poor beginnings, to the paucity of our nature, which suddenly turns into totally unpredictable wealth.

And if we tear the thread again and again, the Lord knits it back together - not to fix it, patch it up and resume as before, but to make a whole new weave. Precisely from the falls.

It is those moments of the earth-to-earth divide that force humanity to change symbolic direction and not repeat itself, stagnating in the circuit of the usual cerebral and purist perimeters - habitual, and where everything is normal.

As a result of inner crashes and afterthoughts, how many people have fulfilled their destiny by deviating from the marked, quiet, protected and comfortable path (Cottolengo, Mother Teresa, etc.)!

Out of the mire of the swamp sprout beautiful, clean flowers, which do not even resemble those we had ever imagined we could contemplate at various stages of life.

The tumbles of the protagonists of salvation history did not come from weakness. They were signs of bad or partial use of resources; stimuli to change one's eye, re-evaluate one's point of view and many hopes.

Those collapses configured new challenges: they were interpreted as strong provocations: to shift energies and change track.

The upturns following the downturns turned into new opportunities, not at all unexpected, fully discordant with the ready-made solutions that extinguish characters.

Even our crisis only becomes serious when the failures do not result in new insights and different paths that we had not thought of (perhaps in any of our good intentions).

Strange this link between our abysses and the heights of the Spirit: it is the Incarnation, no theory - all reality.

There is no Gift that resembles the divine top and comes to us without passing through and involving the dimension of finitude.

The holes in the water convey the all-too-human figure of what we are - behind illusions or the very appearances we do not want to put down, to convince ourselves that we are instead identified 'characters'.

But the ambivalences and flaws continue to want to unhinge our gaze and destiny elsewhere, with respect to common expectations [today also the paroxysm of the point in the polls].

Behind the mask and beyond the convictions acquired from environment, manners or procedures... lies the Father's great Secret about us.

It is precisely the descents that spiritualise, through a working of the soul that is rammed by events, so that it turns to acquire new awareness, internalises different evaluations, sees and embraces other varied horizons, even missionary ones.

The crack that knocks down can be more consistent than any progress; not because it initiates asceticism: it becomes contact with the 'earth' - where we find the sap that really corresponds to us, to regenerate.

The fall or even the ruin of a reassuring status has in every happening a propulsive, regenerative, transmutative function; normal, after all, and in which God's story is totally recognised.

To internalise and live the message:

What were your turning points?

What turning point realised you? 

Not only through men, but with them

With today's liturgy, we enter the final stretch of the Advent journey, which calls us to intensify our preparation, to celebrate the Lord's Christmas with faith and joy, welcoming with intimate amazement God who makes himself close to man, to each one of us.

The first reading presents us with the elderly Jacob who gathers his sons for the blessing: it is an event of great intensity and emotion. This blessing is like a seal of fidelity to the covenant with God, but it is also a prophetic vision, looking forward and indicating a mission. Jacob is the father who, through the not always straightforward paths of his own history, comes to the joy of gathering his children around him and plotting the future of each one and their descendants. In particular, today we have heard the reference to the tribe of Judah, whose royal strength is exalted, represented by the lion, as well as to the monarchy of David, represented by the sceptre, the staff of command, which alludes to the coming of the Messiah. Thus, in this dual image, the future mystery of the lion who becomes a lamb, of the king whose staff of command is the cross, the sign of true kingship, transpires. Jacob has gradually become aware of the primacy of God, has understood that his path is guided and sustained by the Lord's faithfulness, and cannot but respond with full adherence to God's covenant and plan of salvation, becoming in turn, together with his own descendants, a link in the divine plan.

The passage in Matthew's Gospel presents us with the "genealogy of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham" (Mt 1:1), further emphasising and explicating God's faithfulness to the promise, which He fulfils not only through men, but with them and, as with Jacob, sometimes through tortuous and unforeseen ways. The awaited Messiah, the object of the promise, is true God, but also true man; Son of God, but also Son born of the Virgin, Mary of Nazareth, holy flesh of Abraham, in whose seed all the peoples of the earth shall be blessed (cf. Gen 22:18). In this genealogy, besides Mary, four women are mentioned. They are not Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, Rachel, i.e. the great figures of Israel's history. Paradoxically, instead, it is four pagan women: Racab, Ruth, Bathsheba, Tamar, who apparently 'disturb' the purity of a genealogy. But in these pagan women, who appear at decisive points in salvation history, the mystery of the church of the pagans, the universality of salvation, shines through. They are pagan women in whom the future, the universality of salvation, appears. They are also sinful women, and so the mystery of grace also appears in them: it is not our works that redeem the world, but it is the Lord who gives us true life. They are sinful women, yes, in whom appears the greatness of the grace that we all need. Yet these women reveal an exemplary response to God's faithfulness, showing faith in the God of Israel. And so we see the church of the Gentiles, a mystery of grace, faith as a gift and a path to communion with God. Matthew's genealogy, therefore, is not simply the list of generations: it is the history realised primarily by God, but with the response of humanity. It is a genealogy of grace and faith: it is precisely on the absolute faithfulness of God and the solid faith of these women that the continuation of the promise made to Israel rests.

[Pope Benedict, homily at the Aletti Centre, 17 December 2009].

Man, God's surname

Man is God's surname: the Lord in fact takes the name from each of us - whether we are saints or sinners - to make it his own surname. For in becoming incarnate, the Lord made history with humanity: his joy was to share his life with us, 'and this makes one weep: so much love, so much tenderness'.

It was with thoughts turned to the now imminent Christmas that Pope Francis commented on Tuesday 17 December on the two readings proposed by the liturgy of the word, taken respectively from Genesis (49:2, 8-10) and the Gospel of Matthew (1:1-17). On the day of his 77th birthday, the Holy Father presided over morning Mass as usual in the chapel of Santa Marta. Concelebrating among others was Cardinal Dean Angelo Sodano, who expressed the best wishes of the entire College of Cardinals to him.

In his homily, which focused on God's presence in the history of humanity, the Bishop of Rome identified two terms - inheritance and genealogy - as the keys to interpreting the first reading (concerning the prophecy of Jacob gathering his sons and predicting a glorious descent for Judah) and the Gospel passage containing the genealogy of Jesus. Dwelling in particular on the latter, he emphasised that it is not 'a telephone directory', but 'an important subject: it is pure history', because 'God sent his son' among men. And, he added, "Jesus is consubstantial with his father, God; but he is also consubstantial with his mother, a woman. And this is that consubstantiality of the mother: God made himself history, God wanted to make himself history. He is with us. He has made a journey with us'.

A journey,' continued the bishop of Rome, 'that began from afar, in Paradise, immediately after original sin. From that moment, in fact, the Lord 'had this idea: to make a journey with us'. Therefore, "he called Abraham, the first one named in this list, and invited him to walk. And Abraham began that journey: he begat Isaac, and Isaac Jacob, and Jacob Judah". And so on through human history. 'God walks with his people', therefore, because 'he did not want to come to save us without history; he wanted to make history with us'.

A history, said the Pontiff, made of holiness and sin, because in the list of Jesus' genealogy there are saints and sinners. Among the former the Pope recalled "our father Abraham" and "David, who after sin converted". Among the latter, he singled out "high-level sinners, who did big sins", but with whom God equally "made history". Sinners who failed to respond to the plan God had imagined for them: like 'Solomon, so great and intelligent, who ended up as a poor man who did not even know his name'. Yet, Pope Francis noted, God was also with him. "And this is the beauty of it: God makes history with us. Moreover, when God wants to say who he is, he says: I am the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob".

That is why to the question "what is God's surname?" for Pope Francis it is possible to answer: "It is us, each one of us. He takes the name from us to make it his surname". And in the example offered by the Pontiff there are not only the fathers of our faith, but also ordinary people. "I am the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob, of Pedro, of Marietta, of Armony, of Marisa, of Simon, of everyone. He takes the surname from us. God's surname is each one of us,' he explained.

Hence the realisation that by taking 'the surname from our name, God has made history with us'; indeed, more than that: 'he has allowed himself to write history with us'. And we still continue to write 'this history', which is made 'of grace and sin', while the Lord does not tire of coming after us: 'this is God's humility, God's patience, God's love'. Moreover, even 'the book of Wisdom says that the joy of the Lord is among the children of man, with us'.

So 'as Christmas approaches', it came naturally to Pope Francis - as he himself confided in concluding his reflection - to think: 'If he made his history with us, if he took his last name from us, if he let us write his history', we for our part should let God write ours. Because, he clarified, 'holiness' is precisely 'letting the Lord write our story'. And this is the Christmas wish that the Pontiff wanted to make 'for all of us'. A wish that is an invitation to open our hearts: "Let the Lord write history for you and let you let him write it for you."

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 18/12/2013].

Annunciation to Joseph: meaning and value of Doubt

(Mt 1:16.18-21.24)

"Even through Joseph's anguish there passes the will of God, his story, his plan. Joseph thus teaches us that having faith in God also includes believing that He can work even through our fears, our frailties, our weakness. And he teaches us that, in the midst of the storms of life, we must not be afraid to leave the helm of our boat to God. Sometimes we would like to control everything, but He always has a greater vision' [Patris Corde no.2].

In the infancy gospels of Mt God takes on two Names: Redeemer [Yeshua: God is Saviour] and With-us. The meaning of these divine prerogatives is not mechanical, but theological.

The Proper Name of the Son Jesus describes his Work of redeeming the whole being. And the characteristic attribute Immanu'el (taken from Isaiah) punctuates his many addresses - his many addresses, which are each of us, growing over time.

Incarnation: the Father places himself alongside his sons and daughters. Not only is he not afraid to make himself impure in contact with the things that concern human dynamics: he even recognises himself in their condition.

Hence, from Joseph's embarrassment even springs the climax of the entire Salvation Story.

The sources attest that he was by no means a lily-livered character, but perhaps this can only interest us up to a point. 

Mt's narrative is striking, because the distinction and the possibility of irruption (of the very summit) of God's Plan for humanity seem to arise not from a certainty, but from a Doubt.

The question mark engages. Discomfort sows within a new Seed. It rips up and tears down the all-too-even seedlings of the weed of full life - which was Law chiselled on appearances.

The 'problem' leads to dreaming of other horizons to open up, and in the first person; because the solution is not at hand.

Perplexity leads out of the mental cages that mortify relationships previously reduced to casuistry - flying over the gears that depersonalise.

Perplexity leads out of common opinion, which dampens and extinguishes the Newness of God.

Hesitancy seeks existential fissures, because it wants to introduce us into life's territories - where others can also draw on different experiences, varied perceptions, and moments in which to gain decisive insights.

Its skilful Energy finds breaches and small openings; it acts to make us evolve as children of Eternity - even stirring up discomforts that flood existence with creative suspensions and new passion.

Its lucid Action breaks through Dreams that shake off habitual projects, or states of mind that put us on edge; and the bottlenecks of marginalised thinking that make us rediscover why we were born, discover our part in the world.

Every wobble, every pain, every danger, every move, can become a birth towards Oneness - without identifications first.

Uniqueness does not make us lose the Source that 'watches over' us. Woe betide if we evade it: we would lose our destination.

This while the circles of the resolute remain there and wither away, precisely because they are always ready to explain everything.

Thus, for example, as for the Family of Nazareth, life in solitude - forced or not - becomes regenerating rather than terrible.

The Spirit that slips into the crevices of standard mentalities finds an intimate 'spot' that allows us to flourish differently now, able to bring out the essence of who we authentically are, and stop copying clichés.

So instead of wondering how something happened, after the first discriminating experience that is unafraid of being isolated, perhaps we return more frequently to our Core, which ceaselessly gushes for a higher Dialogue.

Then we will not keep asking ourselves 'But whose fault is it? How should we buffer the situation? Who should we lean on?' Rather: 'What is the new life I have to explore? What is there yet to be discovered?'

One will come out with a very different virtue of vocation, because the Holy Spirit breaks through the cracks in the norms that make conformists, then dismantles and topples those walls. Finally he breaks through, to build his story - which is not predictable, 'in the way' as that of all those bound to comparison.

Feeling the discomfort of participating in rituals of composite identification causes many problems, but it can be life's great opportunity to broaden the horizons... even of those who do not like to tread the mediocre path of securing themselves - making themselves, out of fear, dependent on opinion, on clichés, on feeling immediately celebrated.

Apparent happiness. For the bite of doubts does not make one a junk-believer, as assumed in the disciplined, legalistic religions - in the puritanical philosophies of contrived wisdom - but a friend, adopted [i.e. chosen] children and heirs.

Thanks to the Relationship of Faith, we are no longer lost in the wilderness - because the many things and ventures become dialogue of specific weight: we are at Home, in respect of our mysterious character and Calling.

Already here and now we move away from the many things that constrain our Centre with constraints and demands - and both thought and action.

Only in this way are we no longer a mythological or habituated crowd, overflowing with guilt, duties and affiliations - but family and colloquial informality of dissonance.

No longer masses, but (all round) Persons: precisely in our being in the limit we rhyme with great-Mission.

Let us begin as Joseph to be present to ourselves. And by changing our gaze, we will enjoy the Beauty of the New.

"St Joseph reminds us that all those who are apparently hidden or in the "second line" have an unparalleled prominence in the history of salvation. To all of them goes a word of recognition and gratitude" [Patris Corde intr.]

To internalise and live the message:

What were your turning points? What diversions has fulfilled you?

On what occasion did doubt open up astonishing horizons for you?

When and if you changed your conformist gaze, did you or did you not know the kindling in your inner world of perspectives, relationships and regenerating energies?

How did you perceive alongside and 'see' or 'dream' what previously remained Invisible and Elsewhere?

Did you perhaps start from a certainty of your own?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Today, 19 March, is the Solemnity of St Joseph, but as it coincides with the Third Sunday of Lent, its liturgical celebration is postponed until tomorrow. However, the Marian context of the Angelus invites us to reflect today with veneration on the figure of the Blessed Virgin Mary's spouse and Patron of the universal Church.

I like to recall that beloved John Paul II was also very devoted to St Joseph, to whom he dedicated the Apostolic Exhortation Redemptoris Custos, Guardian of the Redeemer, and who surely experienced his assistance at the hour of death.

The figure of this great Saint, even though remaining somewhat hidden, is of fundamental importance in the history of salvation. Above all, as part of the tribe of Judah, he united Jesus to the Davidic lineage so that, fulfilling the promises regarding the Messiah, the Son of the Virgin Mary may truly be called the "son of David".

The Gospel of Matthew highlights in a special way the Messianic prophecies which reached fulfilment through the role that Joseph played:  the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem (2: 1-6); his journey through Egypt, where the Holy Family took refuge (2: 13-15); the nickname, the "Nazarene" (2: 22-23).

In all of this he showed himself, like his spouse Mary, an authentic heir of Abraham's faith:  faith in God who guides the events of history according to his mysterious salvific plan. His greatness, like Mary's, stands out even more because his mission was carried out in the humility and hiddenness of the house of Nazareth. Moreover, God himself, in the person of his Incarnate Son, chose this way and style of life - humility and hiddenness - in his earthly existence.

From the example of St Joseph we all receive a strong invitation to carry out with fidelity, simplicity and modesty the task that Providence has entrusted to us. I think especially of fathers and mothers of families, and I pray that they will always be able to appreciate the beauty of a simple and industrious life, cultivating the conjugal relationship with care and fulfilling with enthusiasm the great and difficult educational mission.

To priests, who exercise a paternal role over Ecclesial Communities, may St Joseph help them love the Church with affection and complete dedication, and may he support consecrated persons in their joyous and faithful observance of the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience. May he protect workers throughout the world so that they contribute with their different professions to the progress of the whole of humanity, and may he help every Christian to fulfil God's will with confidence and love, thereby cooperating in the fulfilment of the work of salvation.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 19 March 2006]

2. "Joseph, Son of David, do not fear to take Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit; she will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins" (Mt 1:20-21).

In these words we find the core of biblical truth about St. Joseph; they refer to that moment in his life to which the Fathers of the Church make special reference.

The Evangelist Matthew explains the significance of this moment while also describing how Joseph lived it. However, in order to understand fully both its content and context, it is important to keep in mind the parallel passage in the Gospel of Luke. In Matthew we read: "Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child of the Holy Spirit" (Mt 1:18). However, the origin of Mary's pregnancy "of the Holy Spirit" is described more fully and explicitly in what Luke tells us about the annunciation of Jesus' birth: "The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary" (Lk 1:26-27). The angel's greeting: "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you" (Lk 1:28) created an inner turmoil in Mary and also moved her to reflect. Then the messenger reassured the Virgin and at the same time revealed God's special plan for her: "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David" (Lk 1:30-32).

A little earlier the Gospel writer had stated that at the moment of the Annunciation, Mary was "betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David." The nature of this "marriage" is explained indirectly when Mary, after hearing what the messenger says about the birth of the child, asks, "How can this be, since I do not know man?" (Lk 1:34) The angel responds: "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God" (Lk 1:35). Although Mary is already "wedded" to Joseph, she will remain a virgin, because the child conceived in her at the Annunciation was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit.

At this point Luke's text coincides with Matthew 1:18 and serves to explain what we read there. If, after her marriage to Joseph, Mary is found to be with child of the Holy Spirit," this fact corresponds to all that the Annunciation means, in particular to Mary's final words: "Let it be to me according to your word" (Lk 1:38). In response to what is clearly the plan of God, with the passing of days and weeks Mary's "pregnancy" is visible to the people and to Joseph; she appears before them as one who must give birth and carry within herself the mystery of motherhood.

3. In these circumstances, "her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to send her away quietly" (Mt 1:19). He did not know how to deal with Mary's "astonishing" motherhood. He certainly sought an answer to this unsettling question, but above all he sought a way out of what was for him a difficult situation. "But as he considered this, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, 'Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit; she will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins'" (Mt 1:20-21).

There is a strict parallel between the "annunciation" in Matthew's text and the one in Luke. The divine messenger introduces Joseph to the mystery of Mary's motherhood. While remaining a virgin, she who by law is his "spouse" has become a mother through the power of the Holy Spirit. And when the Son in Mary's womb comes into the world, he must receive the name Jesus. This was a name known among the Israelites and sometimes given to their sons. In this case, however, it is the Son who, in accordance with the divine promise, will bring to perfect fulfillment the meaning of the name Jesus-Yehos ua' - which means "God saves."

Joseph is visited by the messenger as "Mary's spouse," as the one who in due time must give this name to the Son to be born of the Virgin of Nazareth who is married to him. It is to Joseph, then, that the messenger turns, entrusting to him the responsibilities of an earthly father with regard to Mary's Son.

"When Joseph woke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him and took Mary as his wife" (cf. Mt 1:24). He took her in all the mystery of her motherhood. He took her together with the Son who had come into the world by the power of the Holy Spirit. In this way he showed a readiness of will like Mary's with regard to what God asked of him through the angel.

[Pope John Paul II, Redemtoris Custos]

Today we will reflect on Saint Joseph as the father of Jesus. The evangelists Matthew and Luke present him as the foster father of Jesus, and not as his biological father. Matthew specifies this, avoiding the formula “the father of”, used in the genealogy for all the ancestors of Jesus; instead, he defines Joseph as the “husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ” (1:16). Luke, on the other hand, affirms it by saying that he was Jesus’ “supposed” father (3:23), that is, he appeared as His father,

To understand the supposed or legal paternity of Joseph, it is necessary to bear in mind that in ancient times in the East the institution of adoption was very common, more so than today. Think of the common case in Israel of the “levirate”, as formulated in Deuteronomy: “If brothers dwell together, and one of them dies and has no son, the wife of the dead shall not be married outside the family to a stranger; her husband’s brother shall go in to her, and take her as his wife, and perform the duty of a husband’s brother to her. And the first son whom she bears shall succeed to the name of his brother who is dead, that his name may not be blotted out of Israel” (25:5-6). In other words, the parent of this child is the brother-in-law, but the legal father remains the deceased, who gives the newborn child all hereditary rights. The purpose of this law was twofold: to ensure the descendants of the deceased and the preservation of the estate.

As the official father of Jesus, Joseph exercises the right to impose a name on his son, legally recognising him. Legally he is the father, but not generatively; he did not beget Him.

In ancient times, the name was the compendium of a person’s identity. To change one’s name meant changing oneself, as in the case of Abraham, whose name God changed to “Abraham”, which means “father of many”, “for”, says the Book of Genesis, he will be “the father of a multitude of nations” (17:5). The same goes for Jacob, who would be called “Israel”, which means he who has “striven with God”, because he fought with God to compel Him to give him the blessing (cf. Gen 32:28; 35:10).

But above all, naming someone or something meant asserting one’s authority over what was named, as Adam did when he conferred a name on all the animals (cf. Gen 2:19-20).

Joseph already knows that a name had already been prepared for Mary’s son, by God — Jesus’ name is given to him by his true father, God — The name “Jesus”, which means “the Lord saves”; as the Angel explains, “He will save his people from their sins” (Mt 1:21). This particular aspect of Joseph now enables us to reflect on fatherhood and motherhood. And this, I believe, is very important: to think about fatherhood today. Because we live in an age of notorious orphanhood. It is curious: our civilization is somewhat orphan, and this orphanhood can be felt. May Saint Joseph, help us understand how to resolve this sense of orphanhood that is so harmful to us today.

To bring a child into the world is not enough to say that one is also their father or mother. “Fathers are not born, but made. A man does not become a father simply by bringing a child into the world, but by taking up the responsibility to care for that child. Whenever a man accepts responsibility for the life of another, in some way he becomes a father to that person” (Apostolic Letter Patris corde). I think particularly of all those who are open to welcoming life by way of adoption, which is such a generous and beautiful, good attitude. Joseph shows us that this type of bond is not secondary; it is not second best. This kind of choice is among the highest forms of love, and of fatherhood and motherhood. How many children in the world are waiting for someone to take care of them! And how many married couples want to be fathers and mothers but are unable to do so for biological reasons; or, although they already have children, they want to share their family’s affection with those who do not have it. We should not be afraid to choose the path of adoption, to take the “risk” of welcoming. And today, even with orphanhood, there is a certain selfishness. The other day, I spoke about the demographic winter that exists nowadays: people do not want to have children, or just one and no more. And many couples do not have children because they do not want to, or they have just one because they do not want any more, but they have two dogs, two cats…. Yes, dogs and cats take the place of children. Yes, it is funny, I understand, but it is the reality. And this denial of fatherhood or motherhood diminishes us, it takes away our humanity. And in this way civilization becomes more aged and without humanity, because it loses the richness of fatherhood and motherhood. And our homeland suffers as it does not have children, and, as someone said somewhat humorously, “and now that there are no children, who will pay the taxes for my pension? Who will take care of me?”. He laughed, but it is the truth. I ask of Saint Joseph the grace to awaken consciences and to think about this: about having children. Fatherhood and motherhood are the fullness of the life of a person. Think about this. It is true, there is the spiritual fatherhood of those who consecrate themselves to God, and spiritual motherhood; but those who live in the world and get married, have to think about having children, of giving life, because they will be the ones to shut their eyes, who will think about the future. And also, if you cannot have children, think about adoption. It is a risk, yes: having a child is always a risk, either naturally or by adoption. But it is riskier not to have them. It is riskier to deny fatherhood or to deny motherhood, be it real or spiritual. A man or a woman who do not voluntarily develop a sense of fatherhood or motherhood are lacking something fundamental, something important. Think about this, please.

I hope that the institutions will always be prepared to help with adoptions, by seriously monitoring but also simplifying the necessary procedures so that the dream of so many children who need a family, and of so many couples who wish to give themselves in love, can come true. Some time ago I heard the testimony of a person, a doctor — important in his profession — who did not have children, and along with his wife, he decided to adopt one. And when the time came, they were offered a child, and they were told, “But we do not know how this child’s health will progress. Perhaps he may have an illness”. And he said — he had seen him — he said, “If you had asked me about this before coming, perhaps I would have said no. But I have seen him: I will take him with me”. This is the longing to be an adoptive father, to be an adoptive mother too. Do not be afraid of this.

I pray that no one may feel deprived of the bond of paternal love. And may those who are afflicted with orphanhood, go forward without this very unpleasant feeling. May Saint Joseph protect, and give his help to orphans; and may he intercede for couples who wish to have a child. Let us pray for this together:

Saint Joseph,
you who loved Jesus with fatherly love,
be close to the many children who have no family
and who long for a dad and mom.
Support the couples who are unable to have children,
help them to discover, through this suffering, a greater plan.
Make sure that no one lacks a home, a bond,
a person to take care of him or her;
and heal the selfishness of those who close themselves off from life,
that they may open their hearts to love.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 5 January 2022]

(Jn 5:17-30)

The center of Jewish hope was the return to ancient times, which however moved into an indeterminate future ["last day"].

According to the Master, life as saved persons begins now, and from listening to his specific Word-Person (v.24) which supplants every code.

He attributes to himself a total (also juridical) caliber. It replaces the area once believed to be the prerogative of God alone: ​​«He gave all judgment to the Son» (v.22).

Faced with the resounding of the present Logos and the Father's incisive and life-giving Dream which becomes actual, death loses all destructive efficacy.

The aspect of human and operative reality prevails over what to religions seemed to be reserved for the God of Heaven alone, and projected into a perfect future.

The Memorial is now. To redo the triumph - through Golgotha, here.

Impossible to confuse the scope of incessant life with observances.

Difficult to call God with the term Father [Abba, papa] if He transmitted to us the desire to be and to do, only with detachment.

The healing of the paralytic (vv.1-16) has in fact existential traits that pass in divine character. It is not comparable to the results of a doctor's activity, but to the work of the Spirit in us.

The time of man's diminution before the Most High is over: his plan is not for anguish, but for growth - which authentically manifests the Judgment of the Eternal.

Judgment: not of custody of order, but of love and regeneration. Human imprint in transmitting the divine condition (v.18) in fullness of being and freedom, in the intimate experience of his Heart.

Jesus expresses immanence with the Father by expanding his creative work, which is by no means finished: it continues to vivify us.

God supports the universe and our being, so He is always active. Here and now; not on the other side of time - therefore He does not incline to the quiet drowsiness of conscience.

The Father always works, the Son - his first and incessant imprint - imitates his quality of action in continuity.

It is a concrete Pact for the people: His Council all to be implemented, really comes to us.

To this end, He is not afraid to transgress an approximate and narrow precept, an idol of the sacred, albeit very devout, ancient tradition.

Moreover, even in the sabbath rest [!] the Creator blesses and consecrates (Genesis 2,3).

The whole multiple history is in a sort of unity’s principle: time of intervention for salvation and relationship with the Mystery.

Wherever we proceed, those who reflect God do not stun of prejudices on human reality: instead they are already there and remain indefinitely.

Sons in the «Son of man» (v.27) - to dialogue, open, support, give refreshment, make every situation intense and delicate.

Honoring the Most High is honoring humanity in need of everything, at any time.

Only this ‘manifests’ Him, even in ‘infractions’ - a land rich in new springs that shorten distances.

This is the reciprocal and singular Work of God (Jn 6:29): to love, not «works» (v.28) heavy with law and nomenclature.

[Wednesday 4th wk. in Lent, March 18, 2026]

(Jn 5:17-30)

The centre of the Jewish hope was the return to ancient times, which, however, was transferred to an indeterminate future ["last day"].

According to the Master, life as saved begins now, and from listening to his specific Word-Person (v.24) that supersedes every code.

He ascribes to himself a total (even legal) character. It replaces the sphere once believed to be the prerogative of God alone: "He has given all judgment to the Son" (v.22).

Faced with the resounding of the present Logos and the efficacious and life-giving Dream of the Father, death loses all destructive efficacy.

The aspect of human and operative reality prevails over what to religions seemed to be reserved for the God of Heaven alone, and projected into a perfect future.

The Memorial is now. To remake the triumph - through Golgotha, here.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (xxi): "From ancient times until now, his Name does not pass away, and so he consents to all beginnings. From what do I know the manner of all beginnings? From this'.

Jesus expresses the intimate immanence with the Father by expanding his creative work, which is by no means finished: he continues to enliven us. He sustains the universe and our being, so he is always active.

It is impossible to confuse the scope of unceasing life with observances.

It would be difficult to call God by the term Father [Abba, papa] if He conveyed to us a desire to be and to do, only with detachment.

In fact, the healing of the paralytic (vv.1-16) has existential traits that pass in divine character; it is not comparable to the results of a doctor's activity, but to the work of the Spirit in us.

The time of man's diminishment before the Most High is over: his design is not for distress, but for growth - which authentically manifests the Judgement of the Eternal.

A judgement not of the preservation of order, but of love and regeneration: a human imprint in transmitting to us the divine condition [(v.18); cf. commentary on Jn 10:31-42: You make yourself God, you are Gods] in fullness of being and freedom, in the intimate experience of his Heart.

Here and now; not on the other side of time - so there is no inclination to the quiet slumber of conscience.

Indulgent yes, but because of the falls in the risk - of witnessing at least a crumb of his image within, without the lowest denominator.

In the encounter with the Person of Jesus, we become aware of his resurrection power: devoid of partiality, consistent and objective on the terrain of both life and death, remission, and judgement.

Unceasingly we assimilate his thoughts, impulses, words, actions, charged events: everything becomes a young experience of God revealing himself.

The Father always works, the Son - his first and unceasing imprint - imitates his quality of action in continuity.

It is a concrete covenant for the people: his all-embracing Council truly comes to us.

To this end, he is not afraid to transgress an approximate and narrow precept, an idol of the sacred, albeit devout, ancient tradition.

After all, even in the Sabbath rest the Creator blesses and consecrates (Gen 2:3).

Father and Son are not custodians of tranquillitas ordinis, nor do they induce a drowsiness of conscience.

The whole of manifold history is in a kind of unity principle: time of intervention for salvation, and relationship to the Mystery.

Wherever we proceed, he who reflects God does not stun with prejudices about human reality: instead, he is already there and remains to the bitter end.

Sons in the "Son of Man" (v.27) - to dialogue, to open, to support, to give refreshment, to make every situation intense and delicate.

To honour the Most High is to honour humanity in need of everything, at all times.

Only this manifests him, even in the infractions - a land rich in new springs that shorten distances.

This is the reciprocal and singular Work of God (Jn 6:29): to love, not "works" (v.28) burdensome with law and nomenclature.

To internalise and live the message:

How to be the face of the Father, creator of life, friend and brother, who raises up?

How to recognise the new Covenant and correspond to it? What does it mean for you to believe in the victory of life over death?

You make yourself God

(Jn 10:31-42)

In Jn the term Jews indicates not the people, but the spiritual leaders. A blasphemous Jesus claims mutual immanence with the Father, and dares to expand to us the boundaries of the Mystery that envelops and fills him.

But the divine condition manifested in its human fullness is rejected by the religious leaders precisely in the name of adherence to the Eternal.

The authorities reject the Son in the name of the Eternal and fidelity to the traditional idea, to the irreducible image of the victorious God (from which springs a certain type of competitive society, ruthless even in spiritual life).

According to Jesus, the Father is not revealed by reasoning and cerebral arguments, but by the indestructible quality of 'beautiful' works (vv.32-33). 

The Greek term stands for the sense of fullness and wonder - truth, goodness, fascination, amazement - that emanates from the one action required in any work (major or minor): the love that resurrects the needy.

And Scripture recognises in each of us this sacred spark, which gives all happenings and emotions the step of Vertigo that surpasses the things around us, or how they 'should' be done.

Of course, to support us we need a Face, a relationship and a close kinship to identify what moves us, to peer inside what appears or is aroused.

The Unity of natures - He in us and we with the Father - corresponds to us in the Face of Christ, and is made manifest in listening, welcoming, not rushing to condemn, but making the weak strong.

The symbiosis with God in our activities, with our way of proposing or reacting, throughout our lives, unfolds in each Son His Likeness, even in difficult circumstances.

Everything that happens, even persecutions and assassination attempts due to misunderstanding or spiritual envy, can be looked at from a different perspective.

They are events, external happenings that activate overall energies: they become cosmic outside and acutely divine within us.

Rather than dangers and annoyances, they trace an Exodus destiny - like a river that carries, but in Christ escapes us from the hands of a deadly stasis (v.39), and admirably resonates with the forces that lead to the peripheries - where we must go.

From Son of David to Son of Man

The Church is Catholic because Christ embraces the whole of humanity in his mission of salvation. While Jesus' mission in his earthly life was limited to the Jewish people, "to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (Mt 15:24), it was nevertheless oriented from the beginning to bring the light of the Gospel to all peoples and to bring all nations into the Kingdom of God. Confronted with the faith of the Centurion in Capernaum, Jesus exclaims: "Now I tell you that many will come from the east and the west and sit down at table with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 8:11). This universalistic perspective emerges, among other things, from the presentation Jesus made of himself not only as "Son of David", but as "son of man" (Mk 10:33), as we also heard in the Gospel passage just proclaimed. The title "Son of Man", in the language of the Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history in the Book of the Prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13-14), recalls the person who comes "with the clouds of heaven" (v. 13) and is an image that heralds an entirely new kingdom, a kingdom supported not by human powers, but by the true power that comes from God. Jesus uses this rich and complex expression and refers it to Himself to manifest the true character of His messianism, as a mission destined for the whole man and every man, overcoming all ethnic, national and religious particularism. And it is precisely in following Jesus, in allowing oneself to be drawn into his humanity and thus into communion with God, that one enters into this new kingdom, which the Church announces and anticipates, and which overcomes fragmentation and dispersion.

[Pope Benedict, address to the Consistory 24 November 2012].

44. To protest against God in the name of justice is not helpful. A world without God is a world without hope (cf. Eph 2:12). Only God can create justice. And faith gives us the certainty that he does so. The image of the Last Judgement is not primarily an image of terror, but an image of hope; for us it may even be the decisive image of hope. Is it not also a frightening image? I would say: it is an image that evokes responsibility, an image, therefore, of that fear of which Saint Hilary spoke when he said that all our fear has its place in love. God is justice and creates justice. This is our consolation and our hope. And in his justice there is also grace. This we know by turning our gaze to the crucified and risen Christ. Both these things—justice and grace—must be seen in their correct inner relationship. Grace does not cancel out justice. It does not make wrong into right. It is not a sponge which wipes everything away, so that whatever someone has done on earth ends up being of equal value. Dostoevsky, for example, was right to protest against this kind of Heaven and this kind of grace in his novel The Brothers Karamazov. Evildoers, in the end, do not sit at table at the eternal banquet beside their victims without distinction, as though nothing had happened. Here I would like to quote a passage from Plato which expresses a premonition of just judgement that in many respects remains true and salutary for Christians too. Albeit using mythological images, he expresses the truth with an unambiguous clarity, saying that in the end souls will stand naked before the judge. It no longer matters what they once were in history, but only what they are in truth: “Often, when it is the king or some other monarch or potentate that he (the judge) has to deal with, he finds that there is no soundness in the soul whatever; he finds it scourged and scarred by the various acts of perjury and wrong-doing ...; it is twisted and warped by lies and vanity, and nothing is straight because truth has had no part in its development. Power, luxury, pride, and debauchery have left it so full of disproportion and ugliness that when he has inspected it (he) sends it straight to prison, where on its arrival it will undergo the appropriate punishment ... Sometimes, though, the eye of the judge lights on a different soul which has lived in purity and truth ... then he is struck with admiration and sends him to the isles of the blessed”. In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (cf. Lk 16:19-31), Jesus admonishes us through the image of a soul destroyed by arrogance and opulence, who has created an impassable chasm between himself and the poor man; the chasm of being trapped within material pleasures; the chasm of forgetting the other, of incapacity to love, which then becomes a burning and unquenchable thirst. We must note that in this parable Jesus is not referring to the final destiny after the Last Judgement, but is taking up a notion found, inter alia, in early Judaism, namely that of an intermediate state between death and resurrection, a state in which the final sentence is yet to be pronounced.

47. Some recent theologians are of the opinion that the fire which both burns and saves is Christ himself, the Judge and Saviour. The encounter with him is the decisive act of judgement. Before his gaze all falsehood melts away. This encounter with him, as it burns us, transforms and frees us, allowing us to become truly ourselves. All that we build during our lives can prove to be mere straw, pure bluster, and it collapses. Yet in the pain of this encounter, when the impurity and sickness of our lives become evident to us, there lies salvation. His gaze, the touch of his heart heals us through an undeniably painful transformation “as through fire”. But it is a blessed pain, in which the holy power of his love sears through us like a flame, enabling us to become totally ourselves and thus totally of God. In this way the inter-relation between justice and grace also becomes clear: the way we live our lives is not immaterial, but our defilement does not stain us for ever if we have at least continued to reach out towards Christ, towards truth and towards love. Indeed, it has already been burned away through Christ's Passion. At the moment of judgement we experience and we absorb the overwhelming power of his love over all the evil in the world and in ourselves. The pain of love becomes our salvation and our joy. It is clear that we cannot calculate the “duration” of this transforming burning in terms of the chronological measurements of this world. The transforming “moment” of this encounter eludes earthly time-reckoning—it is the heart's time, it is the time of “passage” to communion with God in the Body of Christ. The judgement of God is hope, both because it is justice and because it is grace. If it were merely grace, making all earthly things cease to matter, God would still owe us an answer to the question about justice—the crucial question that we ask of history and of God. If it were merely justice, in the end it could bring only fear to us all. The incarnation of God in Christ has so closely linked the two together—judgement and grace—that justice is firmly established: we all work out our salvation “with fear and trembling” (Phil 2:12). Nevertheless grace allows us all to hope, and to go trustfully to meet the Judge whom we know as our “advocate”, or parakletos (cf. 1 Jn 2:1).

[Spe salvi]