4th Lent Sunday   [15 March 2026]  Laetare

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! This Sunday is a pause of light in the penitential journey. In the Gospel, Jesus gives sight to the blind man. Laetare means this: light is already overcoming the shadows. Even though we are still in Lent, Easter is near. The blind man's joy is achieved through questioning, rejection and loneliness. Laetare is not an escape from pain, but joy that arises from trial. Laetare is the smile of the Church in the middle of the desert: if I allow myself to be enlightened by Christ, my night is not definitive. The man born blind thus becomes an icon of the catechumen, but also of every believer who, in the heart of Lent, discovers that the light is already present and that Christian joy is born from the encounter with Him.

*First Reading from the First Book of Samuel (16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a)

 Reading this biblical text, we understand that the great prophet Samuel had to learn to change his perspective. Sent by God to designate the future king from among the sons of Jesse in Bethlehem, he apparently had only the embarrassment of choice. Jesse first brought his eldest son, named Eliab: tall, handsome, with the appearance worthy of succeeding the current king, Saul. But no: God let Samuel know that his choice did not fall on him: Do not look at his appearance or his tall stature... God does not look as man looks: man looks at the appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (cf. 1 Sam 16:7).

So Jesse had his sons pass before the prophet one by one, in order of age. But God's choice did not fall on any of them. In the end, he had to call the last one, the one no one had thought of: David, whose only occupation was to tend the sheep. Well, it was he whom God had chosen to guard his people! The biblical account emphasises once again that God's choice falls on the smallest: "God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong," St Paul will say (1 Cor 1:27), because "my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9). Here is a good reason to change our way of looking at people! From this text we draw at least three lessons about kingship in Israel:

First: the king is God's chosen one, but the election is for a mission. Just as Israel is chosen for the service of humanity, so the king is chosen for the service of the people. This also entails the possibility of being deposed, as happened to Saul: if the chosen one no longer fulfils his mission, he is replaced. Second: the king receives anointing with oil; he is literally the 'messiah', that is, 'the anointed one'. God says to Samuel: 'Fill your horn with oil and set out! I am sending you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have chosen a king among his sons' (1 Sam 16:1). Third: anointing confers the Spirit of God. ' Samuel took the horn full of oil and anointed him in the midst of his brothers, and the Spirit of the Lord came upon David from that day forward' (1 Sam 16:13). The king thus becomes God's representative on earth, called to rule according to God's will and not according to that of the world. There is also another great lesson: men judge by appearances, God looks at the heart.  Many biblical stories insist on this mystery: God often chooses the least. David was the youngest of Jesse's sons; no one thought he had a great future. Moses declared himself slow of speech (Ex 4:10). Jeremiah considered himself too young (Jer 1:6). Samuel himself was inexperienced when he was called. Timothy was in poor health. And the people of Israel were small among the nations. These choices cannot be explained by human criteria. As Isaiah says: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways" (Is 55:8-9). The text summarises it thus: "What man sees does not count: for man sees the appearance, but the Lord sees the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). This truth protects us from two dangers: presumption and discouragement. It is not a question of merit, but of availability. No one possesses the necessary strength within themselves: God will give it at the right moment.

*Responsorial Psalm (22/23) 

We have just heard this psalm in its entirety: it is one of the shortest in the psalter, but it is so dense that the early Christians chose it as the privileged psalm for Easter night. On that night, the newly baptised, rising from the baptismal font, sang Psalm 22/23 as they made their way to the place of their Confirmation and First Eucharist. For this reason, it was called the 'psalm of Christian initiation'. If Christians were able to read the mystery of baptismal life in it, it is because this psalm already expressed in a privileged way the mystery of life in the Covenant, of life in intimacy with God for Israel. It is the mystery of God's choice, who elected this particular people for no apparent reason other than his sovereign freedom. Every generation marvels at this election and this Covenant offered: 'Ask the former generations that preceded you, from the day God created man on earth... has anything so great ever happened?' (Deut 4:32-35). This people, freely chosen by God, was given the privilege of being the first to enter into his intimacy, not to enjoy it selfishly, but to open the door to others. To express the happiness of the believer, Psalm 22/23 refers to two experiences: that of a Levite (a priest) and that of a pilgrim. We are familiar with the institution of the Levites: according to Genesis, Levi was one of the twelve sons of Jacob, from whom the twelve tribes of Israel took their name. But the tribe of Levi had a special place from the beginning: at the time of the division of the Promised Land, it did not receive any territory because it was consecrated to the service of worship. It is said that God himself is their inheritance; an image also taken up in another psalm: "Lord, my portion of inheritance and my cup... for me, the lot has fallen on delightful places" (Ps 15/16:5). The Levites lived scattered among the cities of the other tribes and lived on tithes; in Jerusalem, they were dedicated to the service of the Temple. The Levite in our psalm sings with all his heart: "Goodness and faithfulness shall follow me all the days of my life; I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for long days." His experience is an image of Israel's election: just as the Levite is happy to be consecrated to the service of God, so Israel is aware of its special vocation among humanity. Furthermore, Israel presents itself as a pilgrim going up to the Temple to offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving. On the way, it is like a sheep: its shepherd is God. In the culture of the ancient Near East, kings were called "shepherds of the people," and Israel also uses this language. The ideal king is a good shepherd, attentive and strong to protect the flock. But in Israel it was strongly affirmed that the only true king is God; the kings of the earth are only his representatives. Thus, the true shepherd of Israel is God himself: 'The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul'. The prophet Ezekiel developed this image at length. Similarly, the Old Testament often presents Israel as God's flock: "He is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock he leads" (Ps 94/95:7). This recalls the experience of the Exodus: it was there that Israel experienced God's care, who guided them and enabled them to survive amid a thousand obstacles. For this reason, when Jesus said, "I am the Good Shepherd" (Jn 10), his words had a shocking effect: they meant "I am the King-Messiah, the true king of Israel." Returning to the psalm: pilgrimage can be dangerous. The pilgrim may encounter enemies ("You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies"), he may pass through "the dark valley" of death; but he does not fear, because God is with him: "I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff give me security". Once he reaches the Temple, he offers a sacrifice of thanksgiving and participates in the ritual banquet that follows: a joyful feast, with an overflowing cup and the anointing of oil on his head. We can understand why the early Christians saw in this psalm the expression of their experience: Christ is the true Shepherd (Jn 10); in baptism he leads us out of the valley of death to the waters of life; the table and the cup evoke the Eucharist; the perfumed oil recalls Confirmation. Once again, Christians discover with amazement that Jesus does not abolish the faith experience of his people, but brings it to fulfilment, giving it fullness.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians (5:8-14) 

Often in Scripture, it is the end of the text that provides the key. Let us start with the last sentence: 'For this reason it is said: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."' The phrase "This is why it is said..." clearly shows that the author did not invent this song, but quoted it. It must have been a well-known baptismal hymn in the early Christian communities. Awake... rise... and Christ will give you light was therefore a song of our first brothers and sisters in faith: and this cannot leave us indifferent. Thus, we better understand the beginning of the text: it simply serves to explain the words of that hymn. It is as if, after a baptismal celebration, someone had asked the theologian on duty — Paul, or one of his disciples (since it is not entirely certain that the Letter to the Ephesians was written by him personally) —: "What do the words we sang during baptism mean?" And the answer is this: thanks to baptism, a new life has begun, a radically new life. So much so that the newly baptised were called neophytes, meaning 'new plants'. The author explains the song in this way: the new plant that you have become is profoundly different. When a graft is made, the fruit of the grafted tree is different from the original one; and that is precisely why the graft is made. The colour makes it easy to distinguish what belongs to the new plant and what is a remnant of the past. It is the same with baptism: the fruits of the new man are works of light; before the grafting, you were darkness, and your fruits were works of darkness. But old habits may resurface: this is why it is important to recognise them. For the author, the distinction is simple: the fruits of the new man are goodness, justice and charity. Anything that is not goodness, justice and charity is a sprout from the old tree. Who can make you bear fruits of light? Jesus Christ. He is all goodness, all justice, all charity. Just as a plant needs the sun to bloom, so we must expose ourselves to his light. The song expresses both the work of Christ and the freedom of man: 'Awake, arise' — it is freedom that is called into question. 'Christ will enlighten you' — only he can do this. For St Paul, as for the prophets of the Old Testament, light is an attribute of God. To say 'Christ will enlighten you' means two things: first of all, Christ is God. The only way to live in harmony with God is to remain united to Christ, that is, to live concretely in justice, goodness and charity. The text of Isaiah (Is 58) comes to mind: share your bread with the hungry, welcome the poor, clothe the naked... Then your light will rise like the dawn. This is the glory of the Lord, his light that we are called to reflect. As Paul says in his second letter to the Corinthians (2 Cor 3:18): we reflect the glory of the Lord and are transformed into his image. To reflect means that Christ is the light; we are its reflection. This is the vocation of the baptised: to reflect the light of Christ. For this reason, at baptism, a candle lit from the Paschal candle is given. Secondly, a light does not shine for itself: it illuminates what surrounds it. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul writes: 'You shine like stars in the world' (Phil 2:14-16). This is his way of translating the words of Jesus Christ: 'You are the light of the world'. The Letter to the Ephesians, written directly by Paul or by one of his disciples (according to the then common practice of "pseudepigraphy"), remains for the Church a fundamental testimony of the baptismal vocation, called to pass from darkness to light.

*From the Gospel according to John (9:1-41)

The worst blindness is not what one thinks. Here we hear an illustration of what St John writes at the beginning of his Gospel, in the so-called Prologue:

"The Word was the true light, the light that enlightens every man... He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not recognise him" (Jn 1:9-10). This is what we might call the drama of the Gospels. But John continues: 'Yet to all who did receive him, he gave them the right to become children of God'. This is exactly what happens here: the drama of those who oppose Jesus and stubbornly refuse to recognise him as the One sent by God; but also, fortunately, the salvation of those who have the grace to open their eyes, like the man born blind.

John insists on making us understand that there are two kinds of blindness: physical blindness, which this man had from birth, and, much more serious, blindness of the heart.

Jesus meets the blind man for the first time and heals him of his natural blindness. He then meets him a second time and opens his heart to another light, the true light. It is no coincidence that John takes care to explain the meaning of the name 'Siloam', which means 'Sent'. In other cases, he does not translate the terms: here he does so because it is important. Jesus is truly the One sent by the Father to enlighten the world. Yet we return to the same question: why was the one who was sent to bring God's light rejected by those who awaited him most fervently? The episode of the man born blind takes place immediately after the Feast of Tabernacles, a great solemnity in Jerusalem, during which the coming of the Messiah was ardently invoked. And the danger of certainties can be great. At the time of Jesus Christ, the expectation of the Messiah was very intense. There was only one question: is he truly the Father's Envoy or is he an impostor? Is he the Messiah, yes or no? His actions were paradoxical: he performed the works expected of the Messiah — he restored sight to the blind and speech to the mute — but he did not seem to respect the Sabbath. And it was precisely on the Sabbath that he healed the blind man. Now, if he were truly sent by God, many thought, he should observe the Sabbath. It was 'obvious'. But it is precisely this 'obviousness' that is the problem. Many had too rigid ideas about what the Messiah should be like and were not ready for God's surprise. The blind man, on the other hand, is not a prisoner of preconceptions. To the Pharisees who ask him for explanations, he simply replies: "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes... I washed and gained my sight." The Pharisees are divided: He is not from God, because he does not observe the Sabbath. How can a sinner perform such signs? The blind man reasons with simplicity and freedom: If this man were not from God, he could do nothing (cf. Jn 9:31-33). It is always the same story: those who close themselves off in their own certainties end up seeing nothing; those who take a step in faith are ready to receive grace. And then they can receive true light from Jesus. This episode takes place in a context of controversy between Jesus and the Pharisees. Twice Jesus had rebuked them for  "judging by appearances" (Jn 7:24; 8:15). It is natural to recall the episode of David's choice: "Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). The worst blindness, therefore, is not that of the eyes, but that of a heart that does not want to be enlightened. The man born blind does not only receive sight: he receives a new way of seeing. At first he sees Jesus as "a man"; then as a "prophet"; finally he recognises him as "Lord" and prostrates himself before him. The real miracle is not only the opening of the eyes, but the opening of the heart. Here we also find the wisdom of The Little Prince (novel by A.M. de Saint-Exupéry): "What is essential is invisible to the eye." The Pharisees see with their eyes, but remain blind inside; the beggar, on the other hand, passing through rejection and trial, comes to see the Invisible. The conclusion is this: faith is a journey from external light to inner light. One can have healthy eyes and remain in darkness; or one can have been blind and become a witness to the light. The man born blind teaches us that true sight is recognising Christ as the Light of the world and allowing our hearts to be illuminated.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Lk 11:14-23 (14-26)

Prejudice affects the union, and no one can kidnap Jesus, holding him hostage. He’s the strong man that no perched citadel can stem.

Those who fear losing command and their contrived prestige have already lost. There is no armor or booty that can resist and remain.

There is no custom, compromise or gendarmerie which can withstand the siege of Freedom in Christ.

The Scriptures form an inseparable unity. However, only in Him does Tradition not block charisms, doesn’t diminish us, doesn’t cause anxiety, nor lead to scruple - but acquires its vital implication.

In fact, friendship with the Risen is extraordinarily original, and has respect for uniqueness. It’s in a continuity and at the same time in the break with the ancient mind. Vital Monotheism of a new Spirit welcoming the Gifts.

The authorities were attached to the fake prestige they had gained and were very concerned that Jesus was faithful to his unique task.

In Him, the activity of his Church works also exorcisms: it emancipates from dehumanizing forces, conditioning, structures. It moves not on a legalistic level, but on an operative belief-love that guarantees each one that path of spontaneity and fullness desired within.

By overcoming ancient convictions that put people's reality in parentheses and accentuated their blocks, the community of sons is called to become the ‘power’ of God.

Clear sign of the enterprising presence of the personal and diligent Spirit [«the finger of God»: v.20] which surpasses empty and indolent spirituality.

And why does Jesus emphasize that the second fall is more ruinous than the first (vv.24-26)?

While Luke was writing the Gospel, in the mid-80s there were not a few defections due to persecutions.

Believers were disheartened, dismayed by social disdain - so many saw the enthusiasm of the early days pale.

In no way manners of doing were shifting the normal frame of reference, while difficulties were some people discouraging.

Afflictions that seemed to put a tombstone on the hope of actually building an alternative society.

But the Gospel reiterates that a neutral attitude (v.23) at a safe distance is not envisaged. In the vocation there are no half measures: only clear choices, and no repressed needs.

The baptized in Christ lives full attitudes, regardless of favorable circumstances or not;  he remains far from childish fears, enjoys a free heart. He is firm in action.

He foresees that he may be ‘wayfarer’, placed under siege by the system that does not tolerate real changes (v.22).

In this he rests, always involving his own natural and character roots - where the primordial energies of the soul and the innate dreams [that heal and guide] are kept.

For that matter, his itinerary is convoluted, “against traffic”, and surely punctuated with hard lessons. But the very difficult moments will be further ‘calls’ for transformation.

Reborn in Christ who protects and promotes our exceptional originality, we cannot "die" by losing the once-in-a-lifetime Encounter and returning to being photocopies - without Exodus of the soul.

Free toward the Promised Land that belongs to us, we seek not circumstantial perfections, but Fullness.

[Thursday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 12, 2026]

Lk 11:14-23 (14-26)

Prejudice undermines the union, and no one can put Jesus under hijacking, holding him hostage. He is the fortress that no entrenched citadel can hold.

He who fears losing his command and losing his own contrived prestige has already lost. There is no armour or booty that can hold.

No custom or compromise or gendarmerie to trust can withstand the siege of Liberty in Christ.

The Scriptures form an inseparable unity. However, only in Him does Tradition not block charisms, diminish us, cause anxiety, or lead to scruples - rather, it acquires its vital implication.

Friendship with the Risen One is indeed extraordinarily original, and has respect for uniqueness. It lies in a continuity and at the same time in a break with the ancient mind.

It is the vital monotheism of a new Spirit, which welcomes the Gifts.

Whoever does not strive to expand the creative work of the Father, whoever does not try his utmost to understand and enliven situations or persons - even with respect to eccentricities that previously had no place and seemed incommunicable - hovers over illusions, disperses himself, undermines the whole environment.

The Tao Tê Ching (LXV) says: "In ancient times those who well practised the Tao did not make the people discerning with it, but with it they strove to make them dull: the people with difficulty govern themselves, because their wisdom is too much.

Ordinary people accept chaos, they do not avoid life.

Missionaries are trained to find in every toil, in every error or imperfection, a new arrangement, ordered and secret. Nothing is external.

In every uncertainty there is a certainty, in every insecurity a greater security, in every shadowed side an unexpected Pearl, in every disorder a cosmos: this is the secret of life, of happiness, of the experience of Faith.

The authorities were attached to the fake prestige they had won and worried that Jesus would be faithful to his unique task, and could succeed in taking from them the people lured - but now liberated - by the religion of fears.

He [his community] remained more convincing because he fulfilled the Kingdom, he began to show it; not in fantasies of cataclysms that put souls on a leash, but alive and efficient, step by step, person by person.

It met the yearning for human wholeness that inhabited every heart, so it did not rely on obsessions and paroxysms or on the Law, but on the real good, the healing, the ever-changing life.

The cure of individual and relational infirmities was no longer a secondary matter: thus, for example, the liberation of an unhappy individual began to seem an event that had absolute, definitive value.

The scene on earth could no longer be dominated by adapted catechisms and a pious custom that denied everything but fears.

In short, Christ himself is the strong man who sees far, the sign of God's efficacious coming among men.

With him the reign of illusions and fixed positions declines; the world contrary to the unravelling of concrete existence takes over, respecting the uniqueness and conviviality of differences.

The activity of his Church works exorcisms: it emancipates from dehumanising forces-conditions-structures.

In the Lord, it moves not on a legalistic plane, but on a plane of operative belief-love, which guarantees to each one that path of spontaneity and fullness desired in the inner self.

Today too, the fraternal community must become aware of being an instrument of redemption and the energetic presence of God among ordinary women and men, from all walks of life.

Conspect, existence, participation. To lead, to accompany towards a present-future that gives breath not only to the group, but also to the individual inclination, by name.

Children's assemblies are empowered by grace and vocation to untie knots and overcome fences of mentality - thus giving rise to a sympathetic environment that accepts wayfarers.

This is the principle, non-negotiable horizon of the Faith.

By overcoming old fixed convictions that bracket the reality of people and accentuate their blockages, the community of children in the Risen One is called to become the power of God, for each one.

It is urged to become a clear sign of the enterprising closeness of the personal and diligent Holy Spirit ["the finger of God": v.20].

Contact that overcomes the reassuring and empty spirituality, as well as the superficial, indolent distraction of devotion according to custom imposed by convention or fashion, and by chains of command.

But why does Jesus emphasise that the second fall is more ruinous than the first (vv.24-26)?

The believer's mind can be emptied of the great step of the living Christ - which it has previously practised and recognised within itself and in the mission.

In this way, it does not remain focused on something useful, vital and splendid: weakened, it is lost.

While Lk wrote the Gospel, in the mid-1980s there were quite a few defections due to persecution. 

Believers were disheartened, dismayed by social scorn - so many saw the enthusiastic intoxication of the early days pale.

Love could not be banked, but several brethren in congregations already coming from paganism, after an initial conversion experience, preferred to return to their former life, to imitating models, to easy thinking, to the lure and approval of the crowds.

Falling back and resigning themselves to the forces at work, some abandoned the position of inner autonomy gained through the liberating action from idols, fostered by the wise and prayerful life in the fraternal community.

Then they also sought individual reparation and revenge for the difficult years spent in being faithful to their vocation, in that stimulus to grow together through the exchange of gifts and resources.

Lk warns: it is normal that there are as many nights as days.

One understands the stress of wandering to approach the infinity of the soul, the next (even of community), the competitive reality - but beware... a second fall would be worse than the first.

The person once restored to himself and who gives up everything demoralised, would then give way to general disillusionment, to a more global lack of judgement, awareness, and trust.

This still happens today because of particular impulses, discouragement, or precipitation, after seeing ideals shattered by imperfect circumstances.

Or due to the fatigue of facing discoveries and evolutions that always call everything into question - in the long time it takes for one to be patiently consistent with one's deepest codes.

So those who allow themselves to be shattered would easily return to seeking the go-ahead of others.

He would yearn for that alignment that hides conflicts and makes one tremble less - because the ancient conviction that has become a modus vivendi does not shift one's ways, nor the normal frame of reference.

The difficulties made some people's arms fall off, and this seemed to put a tombstone on the hope of actually building an alternative society without doing too much harm to themselves.

But the Gospel reiterates that there is no neutral attitude (v.23) at a safe distance.

There are no half-measures: only clear choices, and no suppressed needs.

Integrated yes: contradictory sides always dwell in the heart, there is no need to be dismayed by this.

Opposite states of being are a richness that completes us.

On the contrary, one becomes neurotic precisely when reductionist manias or monothematic (club) needs prevail and stifle the multifaceted Calling - which although chiselled for uniqueness, never becomes one-sided.

To live fully, freely and happily, it is good to be ourselves, aware of what we are: perfect children.

Indefectible women and men, for our task in the world.

So we can overlook the discomfort of the insults of those who scold and levell us, let them flow away - and dispense with chasing after praise.

The man of Faith has experienced and knows the essential: it is life that conquers death, not vice versa. So he neglects obsessions, even cloaked in the sacred; and he does not let the spirit wear him down.

It enjoys a critical conscience that knows how to place immediate results in the background; thus it regenerates. It ceaselessly reactivates and does not eradicate strength.

The baptised in Christ lives full attitudes, in order to authenticity and totality of being. This, regardless of favourable or unfavourable circumstances.

The friend of the Risen Jesus remains distant from childish fears, enjoys a free heart; he is firm in action.

He anticipates that he may be a wayfarer, besieged by the hysterical system, which does not tolerate real change (v.22).

In this he rests, always calling upon his natural and character roots - where the primordial energies of the soul and the innate (non-derivative) dreams that heal and guide are stored.

After all, his journey is against the grain and will surely be punctuated with hard lessons.

But the cliché is all induced silliness; it tries to invade us with recriminations without specific weight: attempts at blocking with no future.

No wonder the acolytes of the conformist world defend themselves in every way.

And attacks with that standard - socially 'appreciative' - vociferousness that attempts to accentuate intimate and personal conflicts.

Always with great means at their disposal, and by appealing to guilt.

We will still walk the Lord's way, even when urged on by doubts and indecisions. Without retreating, even when we feel lost - but with the taste of gain even in loss.

The most difficult moments will be further calls to transformation.

And in every circumstance we will experience the taste of the victory of full life over the power of evil and the imitative, other people's, banal cultural tenor. 

Here - in fidelity to our own inner world that wants to express itself, and in a change of style or imagination in our approaches - we solve the real problems and all issues, in a rich, personal way.

Reborn in Christ who protects and promotes from exceptional originality, we cannot "die" by losing the essence and the unrepeatable Encounter.

We would return to identifying ourselves in roles, as photocopies - without the Journey of the soul.

Free towards the promised land that belongs to us, we do not seek perfection of circumstance, but fullness.

To internalise and live the message:

Who and what activates me or loses me?

Is Jesus my Lord, or am I [status, my group, 'proper' manners, even religious influences] His master?

How do I deal with situations?

Do I open breaches and not disperse, in harmony with the old and new Voice of the soul, and in the Spirit?

Another aspect of Lenten spirituality is what we could describe as “combative“, as emerges in today’s “Collect”, where the “weapons” of penance and the “battle” against evil are mentioned.

Every day, but particularly in Lent, Christians must face a struggle, like the one that Christ underwent in the desert of Judea, where for 40 days he was tempted by the devil, and then in Gethsemane, when he rejected the most severe temptation, accepting the Father’s will to the very end.

It is a spiritual battle waged against sin and finally, against Satan. It is a struggle that involves the whole of the person and demands attentive and constant watchfulness.

St Augustine remarks that those who want to walk in the love of God and in his mercy cannot be content with ridding themselves of grave and mortal sins, but “should do the truth, also recognizing sins that are considered less grave…, and come to the light by doing worthy actions. Even less grave sins, if they are ignored, proliferate and produce death” (In Io. evang. 12, 13, 35).

Lent reminds us, therefore, that Christian life is a never-ending combat in which the “weapons” of prayer, fasting and penance are used. Fighting against evil, against every form of selfishness and hate, and dying to oneself to live in God is the ascetic journey that every disciple of Jesus is called to make with humility and patience, with generosity and perseverance.

Following the divine Teacher in docility makes Christians witnesses and apostles of peace. We might say that this inner attitude also helps us to highlight more clearly what response Christians should give to the violence that is threatening peace in the world.

It should certainly not be revenge, nor hatred nor even flight into a false spiritualism. The response of those who follow Christ is rather to take the path chosen by the One who, in the face of the evils of his time and of all times, embraced the Cross with determination, following the longer but more effective path of love.

Following in his footsteps and united to him, we must all strive to oppose evil with good, falsehood with truth and hatred with love.

In the Encyclical Deus Caritas Est, I wanted to present this love as the secret of our personal and ecclesial conversion. Referring to Paul’s words to the Corinthians, “the love of Christ urges us on” (II Cor 5: 14), I stressed that “the consciousness that, in Christ, God has given himself for us, even unto death, must inspire us to live no longer for ourselves but for him, and, with him, for others” (n. 33).

[Pope Benedict, homily 1 March 2006]

Fighting personal sin and "sin structures”

1. As we continue our reflection on conversion, sustained by the certainty of the Father's love, today we will focus our attention on the meaning of sin, both personal and social.

Let us first look at Jesus' attitude, since he came to deliver mankind from sin and from Satan's influence.

The New Testament strongly emphasizes Jesus' authority over demons, which he cast out "by the finger of God" (Lk 11: 20). In the Gospel perspective, the deliverance of those possessed by demons (cf. Mk 5: 1-20) acquires a broader meaning than mere physical healing in that the physical ailment is seen in relation to an interior one. The disease from which Jesus sets people free is primarily that of sin. Jesus himself explains this when he heals the paralytic:  ""That you may know that the Son of man has authority on earth to forgive sins' he said to the paralytic "I say to you, rise, take up your pallet and go home'" (Mk 2: 10-11). Even before working cures, Jesus had already conquered sin by overcoming the "temptations" which the devil presented to him during the time he spent in the wilderness after being baptized by John (cf. Mk 1: 12-13); Mt 4: 1-11; Lk 4: 1-13). 

To fight the sin that lurks in us and around us, we must follow in Jesus' footsteps and learn the sense of his constant "yes" to the Father's plan of love. This "yes" demands our total commitment, but we would not be able to say it without the help of that grace which Jesus himself obtained for us by his work of redemption.

2. Now, looking at the world today we have to admit that there is a marked decline in the consciousness of sin. Because of widespread religious indifference or the rejection of all that right reason and Revelation tell us about God, many men and women lack a sense of God's Covenant and of his commandments. All too often the human sense of responsibility is blurred by a claim to absolute freedom, which it considers threatened and compromised by God, the supreme legislator.

The current tragic situation, which seems to have foresaken certain fundamental moral values, is largely due to the loss of the sense of sin. This fact makes us aware of the great distance to be covered by the new evangelization. Consciences must recover the sense of God, of his mercy, of the gratuitousness of his gifts to be able to recognize the gravity of sin which sets man against his Creator. Personal freedom should be recognized and defended as a precious gift of God, resisting the tendency to lose it in the structures of social conditioning or to remove it from its inalienable reference to the Creator.

3. It is also true that personal sin always has a social impact. While he offends God and harms himself, the sinner also becomes responsible for the bad example and negative influences linked to his behaviour. Even when the sin is interior, it still causes a worsening of the human condition and diminishes that contribution which every person is called to make to the spiritual progress of the human community.

In addition to all this, the sins of individuals strengthen those forms of social sin which are actually the fruit of an accumulation of many personal sins. Obviously the real responsibility lies with individuals, given that the social structure as such is not the subject of moral acts. As the Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Reconciliatio et Paenitentia recalls:  "Whenever the Church speaks of situations of sin, or when she condemns as social sins certain situations or the collective behaviour of certain social groups, big or small, or even of whole nations and blocs of nations, she knows and she proclaims that such cases of social sin are the result of the accumulation and concentration of many personal sins.... The real responsibility, then, lies with individuals" (n. 16).

It is nevertheless an indisputable fact, as I have often pointed out, that the interdependence of social, economic and political systems creates multiple structures of sin in today's world. (cf. Sollicitudo rei socialis, n. 36; Catechism of the Catholic Church, n. 1869). Evil exerts a frightening power of attraction which causes many types of behaviour to be judged "normal" and "inevitable". Evil then grows, having devastating effects on consciences, which become confused and even incapable of discernment. If one then thinks of the structures of sin that hinder the development of the peoples most disadvantaged from the economic and political standpoint (cf. Sollicitudo rei socialis, n. 37), one might almost surrender in the face of a moral evil which seems inevitable. So many people feel powerless and bewildered before an overwhelming situation from which there seems no escape. But the proclamation of Christ's victory over evil gives us the certainty that even the strongest structures of evil can be overcome and replaced by "structures of good" (cf. ibid., n. 39).

4. The "new evangelization" faces this challenge. It must work to ensure that people recover the awareness that in Christ evil can be conquered with good. People must be taught a sense of personal responsibility, closely connected with moral obligations and the consciousness of sin. The path of conversion entails the exclusion of all connivance with those structures of sin which, today in particular, influence people in life's various contexts.

The Jubilee offers individuals and communities a providential opportunity to walk in this direction by promoting an authentic "metanoia", that is, a change of mentality that will help create ever more just and human structures for the benefit of the common good.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 25 August 1999]

Letting oneself slip slowly into sin, relativising things and entering "into negotiation" with the gods of money, vanity and pride: from what he called a "fall with anaesthesia" the Pope warned in the homily of the Mass celebrated at Casa Santa Marta on Thursday morning, 13 February, reflecting on the story of King Solomon.

The first reading of the day's liturgy (1 Kings 11:4-13) "tells us," he began, "the apostasy, let us say, of Solomon," who was not faithful to the Lord. In fact, when he was old, his women made him "turn aside his heart" to follow other gods. He was first a 'good boy', who asked the Lord only for wisdom, and God made him wise, to the point that judges and even the Queen of Sheba, from Africa, came to him with gifts because she had heard of his wisdom. "You can see that this woman was a bit of a philosopher and asked him difficult questions," the Pontiff said, noting that "Solomon came out of these questions victorious" because he knew how to answer them.

At that time, Francis continued, one could have more than one bride, which did not mean, he explained, that it was licit to be a 'womanizer'. Solomon's heart, however, was weakened not because he had married these women - he could do so - but because he had chosen them from another people, with other gods. And Solomon therefore fell into the "trap" and allowed it when one of his wives asked him to go and worship Camos or Moloc. And so he did for all his foreign women who offered sacrifices to their gods. In a word, 'he allowed everything, he stopped worshipping the one God'. From a heart weakened by too much affection for women, 'paganism entered his life'. Therefore, Francis pointed out, that wise boy who had prayed well asking for wisdom, fell to the point of being rejected by the Lord.

"It was not an overnight apostasy, it was a slow apostasy," the Pope clarified. King David, his father, had also sinned - strongly at least twice - but immediately repented and asked for forgiveness: he had remained faithful to the Lord who kept him until the end. David wept for that sin and for the death of his son Absalom, and when he fled from him before, he humbled himself thinking of his sin, when people insulted him. "He was holy. Solomon is not holy," said the Pontiff. The Lord had given him so many gifts but he had wasted it all because he had let his heart be weakened. It is not a matter, he noted, of the 'one-time sin' but of 'slipping'.

"The women led his heart astray and the Lord rebuked him: 'You have led your heart astray'. And this happens in our lives. None of us are criminals, none of us do great sins as David did with Uriah's wife, none of us. But where is the danger? Letting yourself slip slowly because it is a fall with anaesthesia, you don't realise it, but slowly you slip, you relativise things and you lose fidelity to God," Francis remarked. "These women were from other peoples, they had other gods, and how often we forget the Lord and enter into negotiation with other gods: money, vanity, pride. But this is done slowly and if there is no grace from God, we lose everything,' he warned again.

Again the Pope recalled Psalm 105 (106) to emphasise that this mixing with the pagans and learning to act like them, means becoming worldly. "And for us this slow slide in life is towards worldliness, this is the grave sin: "Everyone does it, but yes, there is no problem, yes, really it is not the ideal, but...". These words justify us at the price of losing our allegiance to the one God. They are modern idols," Francis warned, asking us to think about "this sin of worldliness" that leads to "losing the genuine of the Gospel. The genuine of the Word of God" to "losing the love of this God who gave his life for us. You cannot be right with God and right with the devil. We all say this when we talk about a person who is a bit like this: 'This one is well with God and with the devil. He has lost faithfulness'.

And, in practice, the Pontiff continued, this means not being faithful 'neither to God nor to the devil'. Therefore, in conclusion, the Pope urged to ask the Lord for the grace to stop when one realises that the heart begins to slip. "Let us think of this sin of Solomon," he recommended, "let us think of how that wise Solomon fell, blessed by the Lord, with all the inheritances of his father David, how he fell slowly, anaesthetised towards this idolatry, towards this worldliness, and his kingdom was taken away from him.

And "let us ask the Lord," Francis concluded, "for the grace to understand when our heart begins to weaken and slip, to stop. It will be his grace and his love that will stop us if we pray to him."

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 14/02/2020]

Third Lent Sunday (year A) [8 March 2026]

May God bless us and the Virgin Mary protect us! Have a good Lenten journey as we pause today with Jesus at the well, a place of life-changing encounters.

*First Reading from the Book of Exodus (17:3-7)

Looking at a map of the Sinai desert, Massa and Meriba are nowhere to be found: they are not specific geographical locations, but symbolic names. Massa means 'challenge', Meriba means 'accusation'. These names recall an episode of challenge, of protest, almost of mutiny against God. The episode takes place in Rephidim, in the middle of the desert, between Egypt and the Promised Land. The people of Israel, led by Moses, advanced from stage to stage, from one water source to another. But at Rephidim, the water ran out. In the desert, under the scorching sun, thirst quickly becomes a matter of life and death: fear grows, panic takes over. The only right response would have been trust: 'God wanted us to be free, he proved it, so he will not abandon us'. Instead, the people give in to fear and react as we often react ourselves: they look for someone to blame. And the culprit seems to be Moses, the 'government' of the time. What is the point, they say, of leaving Egypt only to die of thirst in the desert? Better to be slaves but alive than free but dead. And, as always happens, the past is idealised: they remember the full pots and abundant water of Egypt, forgetting the slavery. In reality, behind the accusation against Moses, there is a deeper accusation: against God himself. What kind of God is this, they ask themselves, who frees a people only to let them die in the desert? The protest: Why did you bring us out of Egypt? To let us, our children and our livestock die of thirst? It becomes increasingly harsh, until it turns into a real trial against God: as if God had freed the people only to get rid of them. Moses then cries out to the Lord: What shall I do with this people? A little more and they will stone me!

And God replies: he orders him to take the staff with which he had struck the Nile, to go to Mount Horeb and to strike the rock. Water gushes forth, the people drink, and their lives are saved (cf. Exodus 17). That water is not only physical relief: it is a sign that God is truly present among his people, that he has not abandoned them and that he continues to guide them on the path to freedom. For this reason, that place will no longer be called simply Rephidim, but Massah and Meribah, 'Testing and Accusation', because there Israel tested God, asking themselves: Is the Lord among us or not? In modern language: 'Is God for us or against us?' This temptation is also ours. Every trial, every suffering, reopens the same original question: can we really trust God? It is the same temptation recounted in the Garden of Eden (Genesis): the suspicion that God does not really want our good poisons human life. This is why Jesus Christ, teaching the Our Father, educates his disciples in filial trust. Do not abandon us to temptation could be translated as: "Do not let our Refidim become Massa, do not let our places of trial become places of doubt." Continuing to call God "Father," even in difficult times, means proclaiming that God is always with us, even when water seems to be lacking.

*Responsorial Psalm (94/95), 

In the Bible, the original text of the psalm reads as follows: "Today, if you hear his voice,

do not harden your hearts as at Massah and Meribah, as on the day of Massah in the desert, where your fathers tested me even though they had seen my works." This psalm is deeply marked by the experience of Massah and Meribah. This is why the liturgy proposes it on the third Sunday of Lent, in harmony with the story of the Exodus: it is a direct reference to the great question of trust. In a few lines, the psalm summarises the whole adventure of faith, both personal and communal. The question is always the same: can we trust God?

For Israel in the desert, this question arose at every difficulty: ' Is the Lord really among us or not?' In other words: can we rely on Him? Will He really support us? Faith, in the Bible, is first and foremost trust. It is not an abstract idea, but the act of 'relying' on God. It is no coincidence that the word 'Amen' means 'solid', 'stable': it means 'I trust, I have faith' . This is why the Bible insists so much on the verb 'to listen': when you trust, you listen. It is the heart of Israel's prayer, the Shema Israel: Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God... You shall love Him, that is, you shall trust Him. 'To listen' means to have an open ear. The psalm says: 'You have opened my ear' (Ps 40), and the prophet Isaiah writes: The Lord God has opened my ear. Even 'obeying' in the Bible means this: listening with trust. This trust is based on experience. Israel has seen the 'work of God': liberation from Egypt. If God has broken the chains of slavery, He cannot want His people to die in the desert. This is why Israel calls him 'the Rock': it is not poetry, it is a profession of faith. At Massah and Meribah, the people doubted, but God brought water out of the rock: since then, God has been the Rock of Israel. Even the story of the Garden of Eden (Genesis) can be understood in the light of this experience: every limitation, every command, every trial can become a question of trust. Faith is believing that, even when we do not understand, God wants us to be free, alive and happy, and that from our situations of failure he can bring forth new life. Sometimes this trust resembles a 'leap of faith' when we cannot find answers. Then we can say with Simon Peter in Capernaum: 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life'. When Paul of Tarsus writes: ' Be reconciled to God', it is like saying: stop suspecting God, as at Massah and Meribah. And when the Gospel of Mark says, 'Repent and believe in the Gospel', it means: believe that the Good News is truly good, that God loves you. Finally, the psalm says, 'Today'. It is a liberating word: every day can be a new beginning. Every day we can relearn to listen and to trust. This is why Psalm 94/95 opens the Liturgy of the Hours every morning and Israel recites the Shema twice a day. And the psalm speaks in the plural: faith is always a journey of a people. 'We are the people He guides'. This is not poetry: it is experience. The Bible knows a people who, together, come to meet their God: "Come, let us acclaim the Lord, let us acclaim the rock of our salvation." It is faith that comes from trust, renewed today, day after day.

*Second Reading from the Letter of St Paul to the Romans (5:1-2, 5-8)

Chapter 5 of the Letter to the Romans marks a decisive turning point. Up to this point, Paul of Tarsus had spoken of humanity's past, of pagans and believers; now he looks to the future, a future transfigured for those who believe, thanks to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. To understand Paul's thinking clearly, we can summarise it in three fundamental statements. 1. Christ died for us while we were sinners. Paul affirms that Christ died 'for us'. This expression does not mean 'in our place', as if Jesus had simply replaced those who were condemned, but 'on our behalf'. When humanity was incapable of saving itself, marked by violence, injustice, greed for power and money, Christ took this reality upon himself and fought it to the point of giving his life.

Humanity, created for love, peace and sharing, had lost its way. Jesus comes to say, with his life and death: "I will show you to the very end what it means to love and forgive. Follow me, even if it costs me my life."

2. The Holy Spirit has been given to us: God's love dwells in us. The second great affirmation is this: the Holy Spirit has been given to us, and with him, God's own love has been poured into our hearts. It is no coincidence that Paul speaks of the Spirit for the first time when he speaks of the cross. For him, passion, cross and gift of the Spirit are inseparable. Here Paul is in complete harmony with the evangelist John. In his Gospel, during the Feast of Tabernacles, Jesus promises "living water," explaining that he was speaking of the Spirit (cf. Gospel of John (7:37-39). And at the moment of the cross, John writes: Bowing his head, Jesus gave up his spirit (Jn 19:30). The promise is fulfilled: from the cross comes the gift of the Spirit. 3. Our 'boast' is the hope of God's glory. Paul also speaks of 'pride', but he makes it clear: we cannot boast about ourselves, because everything is a gift from God; but we can boast about God's gifts, about the wonderful destiny to which we are called. The Spirit already dwells in us, and we know that one day this same Spirit will transform our bodies and hearts into the image of the risen Christ.

The account of the Transfiguration has given us a foretaste of this glory.

From Massah and Meribah to glory. What an immense journey compared to Massah and Meribah, where the people doubted God! Now, thanks to our faith in Christ, we can say with Paul: "Through him we also have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God" (5:2). In conclusion, the Spirit that Jesus has given us is the very love of God. This certainty should overcome all fear. If God's love has been poured into our hearts, then the forces of division will not have the last word.

For believers, and for all humanity, hope is well-founded, because "the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (5:5).

*From the Gospel according to John (4:5-42) 

Jesus meets us today at the well. And this detail is not secondary. In the Bible, the well is never just a place where water is drawn: it is a place of decisive encounters, where life changes direction. At a well, Abraham's servant  meets Rebecca, who will become Isaac's wife; at a well, Jacob  falls in love with Rachel. At the well, relationships, alliances and the future are born. When John places Jesus at a well, he is telling us that something decisive is about to happen. Jesus arrives at Jacob's well in Samaria. It is midday. Jesus is tired and sits down. The Gospel immediately shows us a God who stops, who accepts fatigue, who enters our life as it is. Salvation begins with a pause, not with a spectacular gesture. At that hour, a woman arrives. She is alone. Jesus says to her, 'Give me a drink'. It is a surprising request. Jesus, a Jew, speaks to a Samaritan woman; a man speaks to a woman; a righteous man speaks to a person whose life has been wounded. God does not enter our lives by imposing himself, but by asking. He becomes a beggar for our hearts. From that simple request, a dialogue arises that goes ever deeper. Jesus leads the woman from the external well to her inner thirst: "If you knew the gift of God..." The water that Jesus promises is not water to be drawn every day, but a spring that gushes within, a life that does not run dry. It does not eliminate daily life, but transfigures it from within. Then Jesus touches on the truth of the woman's life. He does not judge her, he does not humiliate her. In the Gospel, truth does not serve to crush, but to liberate. Only those who accept to be known can receive the gift. The woman then asks a religious question: where should God be worshipped? On the mountain or in the temple? Jesus responds by shifting the focus: no longer where, but how. 'In Spirit and truth'. God is no longer encountered in one place as opposed to another, but in a living relationship. The true temple is the heart that allows itself to be inhabited. When the woman speaks of the Messiah, Jesus makes one of the most powerful revelations in the entire Gospel: 'I am he, the one who is speaking to you'. The Messiah does not manifest himself in the temple, but in a personal dialogue, at a well, to a woman considered unclean. As in the ancient stories of wells, here too the encounter opens up a promise: but now the Bridegroom is Jesus Christ and the covenant is new. The woman leaves her jug behind. It is a simple but decisive gesture. The jug represents old certainties, repeated attempts to quench a thirst that never goes away. Those who have encountered Christ no longer live to draw water, but to bear witness. The woman runs into town and says, 'Come and see'. She does not give a lesson, she recounts an encounter. And many believe, to the point of saying, 'Now we no longer believe because of what you said, but because we ourselves have heard'. Today's Gospel tells us this: Christ does not take us away from the well of life, but transforms the well into a place of salvation. Our thirst becomes an encounter, the encounter becomes a gift, the gift becomes a source for others. This is Lent: allowing ourselves to be encountered by Christ and becoming, in turn, living water for those who are thirsty.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

(Mt 5:17-19)

In the face of the Law’s precepts, distant attitudes appear.

There are those who demonstrate attachment to the material sense of what has been established. Others, omission or contempt for the rules.

Jesus offered such a new and radical teaching as to give the impression of carelessness and rejection of the Law. But in fact, more than his differences with it, He was attentive to the profound meaning of the biblical-Jewish directives.

He didn’t intend to «demolish» (v.17) the Torah, but he certainly avoided allowing himself to be minimized in the cases of morality that parceled out the basic choices - and made them all exterior, without fulcrum.

The legalistic sclerotization easily tended to equate the codes... with God. But for the believer, his "obligation" is at the same time Event, Word, and Person: global following.

In the first communities some faithful believed that the norms of the First Testament should no longer be considered, as we are saved by Faith, not by works of Law.

Others accepted Jesus as the Messiah, but couldn’t bear the excess of freedom with which some brothers of the church lived his Presence.

Still linked to an ideal ethnic background, they believed that ancient observance was mandatory.

There was no lack of brothers enraptured by an excess of fantasies in the Spirit. In fact, some denied the Hebrew Scriptures and considered themselves free from history: they no longer looked at the life of Jesus.

Mt seeks a balance between emancipation and closure.

He writes his Gospel to support converts to the Faith in Christ in the communities of Galilee and Syria, accused by the Judaizers of being unfaithful to the Torah.

The evangelist clarifies that Jesus himself had been accused of serious transgressions to the Law of Moses.

The trajectory of the Jewish Scriptures is the right one, but it doesn’t have an unanimous and totally clear starting point, nor the strength in itself to reach Target.

The arrow of the Torah has been shot in the right direction, but only in the Spirit of the Beatitudes can a living assembly gain momentum to reach Communion.

The Gospel passage is concerned to emphasise: the ancient Scriptures, the historical story of Jesus, and life in the Spirit must be evaluated inseparable aspects of a single plan of salvation.

Lived in synergy, they lead to the conviviality of differences.

The God of the patriarchs makes himself present in the loving relationship of the communities, through faith in Christ, who expands his own life in their hearts.

The Living One conveys the Spirit that spurs all creativity, He overcomes unfriendly closures; He opens, and invites.

[In us, Jesus of Nazareth becomes a living Body - and the pleasure of doing manifests Him (from the soul) in Person and full Fidelity].

Handing oneself out to brothers and going to God thus becomes agile, spontaneous, rich and very personal for everyone: the Strength comes from within.

New or ancient Words, and Spirit renewing the face of the earth, are part of one Plan.

Only in the total fascination of the Risen One does our harvest come to complete life - the full objective of the Law - becoming ‘forever’.

[Wednesday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 11, 2026]

Undeviating Happiness

(Mt 5:17-19)

In the early congregations, some believers believed that First Testament regulations should no longer be considered, since we are saved by Faith and not by works of Law.

Others accepted Jesus as the Messiah, but resented the excess of freedom with which some church brothers experienced his Presence in Spirit.

Still tied to an ideal ethnic background, they felt that the ancient observance was obligatory.

Precisely under the guise of "life in the Spirit", there was no shortage of believers enraptured by an excess of fantasies (personal or group), believed to be "inspired".

Some with an easy-going mentality, prone to compromise with power, denied the Hebrew Scriptures and considered themselves disengaged from history: they no longer looked at the story of Jesus.

Mt sought a balance between compromising emancipation and closure in observances, believing that communal experience could achieve harmony between different sensibilities.

He writes his Gospel precisely to support converts to the Faith in Christ in the communities of Galilee and Syria, accused by their Judaizing brethren of being unfaithful to the Torah.

The evangelist makes it clear that Jesus himself had been accused of serious transgressions of the Law of Moses.

The Torah arrow was shot in the right direction, but only in the Spirit of the Beatitudes can a living assembly gain momentum to reach the ideal goal: Communion.

Matthew is at pains to emphasise that the ancient Scriptures, the historical story of Jesus, and life in the Spirit are to be valued as inseparable aspects of a single plan of salvation.

Lived in synergy, they lead to the fruitful coexistence and conviviality of differences.

The God of the patriarchs makes himself present in the loving relationship of the communities, through the Faith in Christ that expands his own life in their hearts.

The Living One transmits the Spirit that spurs all creativity, overcomes discouraging closures; he opens, and invites.

In short, in us Jesus of Nazareth becomes the living Body - and the taste for doing manifests Him (starting from the soul) in Person and full Faithfulness.

Reaching out to our brothers and sisters and going to God thus becomes agile, spontaneous, rich and very personal for everyone: the Strength comes from within, not from common ideas, legacies, seductions, mannerisms, or external urges.

To internalise and live the message:

Has the law in stone remained a rigid thing in you, or do you feel a new Covenant impulse?

Do you perceive within you an actualised and irresistible desire for good, which rediscovers everything of the Scriptures, and energises the Word in the various tastes of doing?

Demolish or completely Doing

Confronted with the precepts of the Law, different attitudes manifest themselves.

On the one hand, there are those who show attachment to the material sense of what is laid down; on the other, omission or disregard for the rules.

Jesus' teaching was so new and radical that it gave the impression of disregard and rejection of the Law. But in fact, rather than disagreeing with it, He was attentive to the spirit and deep meaning of the biblical-Judaic directives.

He did not intend to 'demolish' (v.17) the Torah, but he certainly avoided allowing himself to be minimised in the casuistry of morality.

Such an ethical obsession - still alive in the primitive fraternities - fragmented and crumbled the meaning of the basic choices, and made them all external, without focus.

This produced a de facto legalistic scleroticisation, which easily tended to equate the codes... with God.

But for the believer, his 'obligation' is at once affair, spirit of the Word, and Person: global following in those same incomparable appointments.

The believers in the communities of Galilee and Syria suffered criticism from the old-fashioned Jews.

These observant ones accused co-religionists converted to the new personal, creative Faith of being transgressors and contrary to the depth of the common Tradition.

Thus some emphasised salvation by faith alone in Christ and not by works of law. Others did not accept the Freedom that was growing in those who were beginning to believe in Jesus the Messiah.

New, more radical currents already wished to disregard His history and His Person, to get rid of them and take refuge in a generic "avant-garde" or "freedom of spirit" - without backbone, nor backbone or conjuncture.

Mt helps to understand the disagreement: the direction of the Arrow shot from the Judaic Scriptures is the right one, but it does not have a concordant and totally clear cue, nor the strength to reach the Target.

The evangelist harmonises the tensions, emphasising that authentic observance is not formal faithfulness [obedience of the "letter"].

The spirit of fundamental fulfilment does not allow one to put the total Christ and his travails in parentheses, perhaps then remaining neutral or indifferent dreamers.

Without reductions in the power of election, nor "putting down" (v. 17) the ways of being, ancient and identified or particular - He is present in the facets of the most diverse currents of thought.

New Words, ancient Words, and Spirit renewing the face of the earth, are part of one Design.

Only in the total fascination of the Risen One does our harvest come to complete life - the full objective of the Law - becoming forever.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you evaluate Pentateuch, Psalms and Prophets?

How do you deal with situations in harmony with the Voice of the Lord and in His Spirit?