1. The memory of the martyrs has brought us here today to Otranto. It has brought us here to venerate martyrdom, on which, from the beginning, the kingdom of God, proclaimed and initiated in human history by Jesus Christ, is built.

The truth about martyrdom has in the Gospel an eloquence full of penetrating depth and at the same time transparent simplicity. Christ does not promise his disciples earthly success or material prosperity; he does not present before their eyes any 'utopia', as has happened more than once and as always happens in the history of human ideologies. He simply says to his disciples: "they will persecute you. They will hand you over to the organs of the different authorities, they will put you in prison, they will call you before the different courts. All this "because of my name" (Lk 21:12).

The substance of martyrdom is linked, from the beginning and throughout the centuries, with this name! We qualify as martyrs those Christians who, in the course of history, have undergone suffering, often terrifying, for their cruelty 'in odium fidei'. Those on whom 'in odium fidei' death was finally inflicted. Hence those who by accepting suffering and suffering death in this world bore special witness to Christ.

Putting before the eyes of his disciples the image of the sufferings that await them because of his name, the Master says: "This will give you occasion to bear witness" (Lk 21:13).

2. Five hundred years ago here in Otranto, 800 disciples of Christ bore precisely such a testimony, accepting death for the name of Christ. The words of the Lord Jesus on martyrdom refer to them: 'You will be hated by all for my name's sake' (Lk 21:17). Yes. They have been hated. They drank for the name of Christ the cup of this hatred to the bottom, like their master, who went straight from the Passover supper to Gethsemane and prayed there: 'Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me' (Lk 22:42). However, the cup of human hatred, cruelty and the cross did not depart. Christ, obedient to the Father, emptied it to the bottom: "Not my will, but Thy will be done" (Lk 22:42).

The testimony of Gethsemane and the cross is a definitive seal, stamped on all that Jesus did and taught. He, accepting death, gave his life for the salvation of the world. The martyrs of Otranto, by accepting death, gave their lives for Christ. And in this way they bore special witness to Christ.

The testimony of the martyrs also introduces them in a special way into his Paschal Mystery. "By your perseverance," says Jesus, "you will save your souls" (Lk 21:19). Just as he himself conquered the new life by accepting death, so the martyrs, by accepting death, conquer the life to which Christ initiated in his resurrection.

3. "That" life: the new and full life disproves, in a certain sense, the experience of death. Above all, it disproves the certainty of those who, by inflicting death, believed that they had deprived the martyrs of life and snatched them permanently from the land of the living.

"To the eyes of the foolish it seemed that they died; / their end was deemed a misfortune, / their departure from us a ruin".

So proclaimed the author of the book of Wisdom (Wis 3:2-3) long before Christ uttered his words on martyrdom.

"...but they are in peace" (Wis 3:3). But they are in peace!

In the act of martyrdom, therefore, a radical, so to speak, contraposition of the very criteria and foundations of thinking takes place. The human death of the martyrs, the death linked to suffering and torment - like the death of Christ on the cross - yields, in a certain sense, before another superior reality. The author of the book of Wisdom writes: "The souls of the righteous ... are in the hands of God / no torment shall touch them" (Wis 3:1).

This other higher reality does not annul the fact of torment and death, just as it did not annul the fact of Christ's passion and death. It, the invisible 'hand' of God only transforms this human fact. It already transforms it even in its earthly texture, through the power of faith that is revealed in the souls of the martyrs in the face of torment and suffering: 'Though in the eyes of men they suffer punishment, their hope is full of immortality' (Wis 3:4).

The strength of this faith and the power of hope that comes from God are more powerful than chastisement and death itself. Martyrs bear witness to Christ precisely because of this power of faith and hope. Indeed, similar to Him in passion and death, they simultaneously proclaim the power of His resurrection. Suffice it to recall here how Christ's first martyr, the deacon Stephen, died; he died crying out: "Behold I behold the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God" (Acts 7:56).

So then, thanks to the power of faith and the power of hope, the proportions change in a certain sense: the proportions of life and death, of defeat and victory, of dispossession and elevation. The author of the book of Wisdom later writes:"In exchange for a short punishment / they will receive great benefits, / because God has tried them / and found them worthy of himself" (Wis 3:5).

4. Here we touch on a particularly important point in the fact of martyrdom. Martyrdom is a great trial, in a certain sense it is the ultimate and radical trial. It is man's greatest test, the test of man's dignity before God Himself. It is difficult to say more on this subject than what the very book of Wisdom states: 'God tried them and found them worthy of himself' (Wis 3:5). There is no greater measure of man's dignity than that found in God Himself: in the eyes of God. Martyrdom is therefore 'the' trial of man that takes place in the eyes of God, a trial in which man, aided by the power of God, brings victory.

Through such a trial numerous confessors and disciples of Christ have passed throughout history. Through such a trial the martyrs of Otranto passed five hundred years ago. Through such an ordeal have passed and are passing the martyrs of our century, martyrs who are often unknown, or little known, even if they are not far from us.

And so in today's circumstance I cannot but turn my gaze, beyond the sea, to the not distant heroic Church in Albania, shattered by harsh and prolonged persecution but enriched by the witness of its martyrs: Bishops, priests, men and women religious and simple faithful.

In addition to them, my thoughts also go to my other Christian brothers and sisters and all believers in God who suffer similar hardships in that nation.

Being spiritually close to all those who suffer violence because of their faith is a special duty of all Christians, according to the tradition inherited from the first centuries. I would go further: here it is also a matter of solidarity due to individuals and communities whose fundamental rights are violated or even totally conculturated. We must pray that the Lord will sustain these brothers of ours with his grace in such difficult trials. And we also want to pray for those who persecute them, repeating Christ's invocation on the cross, addressed to the Father: 'Forgive them for they know not what they do'.

Very often people try to qualify martyrs as 'guilty of political offences'. Christ too was condemned to death apparently for this reason: because he claimed to be king (cf. Lk 23:2). Let us not, therefore, forget the martyrs of our times. Let us not act as if they did not exist. Let us thank God that they have victoriously passed the test. Let us implore the power of the Holy Spirit for the persecuted who still have to undergo this trial. May the words of the Master be fulfilled upon them: "I will give you a tongue and wisdom, which all your adversaries will not be able to resist or fight" (Lk 21:15).

Let us remain in communion with the martyrs. They dig the deepest bed of the divine river in history.

They build the most solid foundations of that divine city that rises towards eternity.

The author of the book of Wisdom proclaims: "(God) has sifted them like gold in the crucible and has graced them as a burnt offering" (Wis 3:6).

5. In the Church on earth, the memory and veneration of the holy martyrs remains, as here in Otranto, and in so many other places in Italy, Europe and the world. In the kingdom of God they receive together with Christ a special strength and power in the mystery of the communion of saints and in the whole divine economy of truth and love.

"They shall rule the nations, they shall have power over the peoples, and the Lord shall reign over them forever.

Those who trust in him will understand the truth; those who are faithful to him will live with him in love, for grace and mercy are reserved for his elect" (Wis 3:8-9).

The martyrs, before the majesty of divine justice, could cry out as we read in the Apocalypse: "Until when, you sovereign, you who are holy and true, will you not do justice and avenge our blood upon the inhabitants of the earth?" (Rev 6:10). Yet in the eternal light of the Most Holy Trinity, united in supreme truth and perfect love, they become spokesmen of grace and mercy for their brothers and sisters on earth. Indeed, they become so for their own persecutors. They become so especially for the Church, which according to God's merciful designs must be the 'divine city' elevated among the peoples, must be: 'in Christ as a sacrament, or sign and instrument of intimate union with God and of the unity of the whole human race' (Lumen Gentium, 1).

It is therefore precisely this Church, gathered today in Otranto at the great tomb of the martyrs, desires in the spirit of the mission that is proper to it to raise, through them, its prayer to God. This prayer places in first place the problems that we today, from this great tomb of the Otranto martyrs, after 500 years, see in a new way and with a new clarity, in the perspective of the cross of Christ and the mission of the Church.

6. The Second Vatican Council, which affirmed that "the Church is in Christ as a sacrament or sign and instrument of intimate union with God and of the unity of the whole human race" (Lumen Gentium, 1), also manifested its attitude consistent with this profession towards those events that, in the past, set Muslims and Christians against each other as enemies: "If in the course of the centuries there have arisen between Christians and Muslims not a few contentions and enmities, this sacrosanct Council exhorts all to forget what has passed, to sincerely practice mutual understanding and to promote together moral goods, peace and freedom" (Nostra Aetate, 3).

For us, these words are of decisive importance. I have already had occasion to speak in the same spirit more than once: in Ankara, the capital of Turkey, during my visit to that country last year, and also in Nairobi, Accra, Ouagadougou and Abidjan during my recent trip to African soil.

Today, at the glorious tombs of the martyrs of Otranto, I invoke the intercession of those whose "souls are in the hands of God", and, together with the whole Church, I raise fervent prayers so that the words of the teaching of the Second Vatican Council may become more and more a reality.

At this time, a deferential and cordial thought goes out to the Church in Byzantium, which had historical ties with the local Church of Otranto.

From this ancient land of Apulia, stretched out like a bridgehead towards the East, we look with attention and sympathy to the regions of the East and particularly where the three great monotheistic religions, namely Christianity, Judaism and Islam, had their historical origins. We have in mind what the Council says of "that people to whom were given the wills and the promises and from whom Christ was born according to the flesh (cf. Rom 9:4-5); a people, by virtue of election, beloved by reason of its fathers, because the gifts and vocation of God are irrevocable (cf. Rom 11:28-29)". And later we read on the same page of the Second Vatican Council: "But the plan of salvation also embraces those who recognise the creator, and among them in particular the Muslims, who professing to hold the faith of Abraham, worship with us a single, merciful God, who will judge mankind on the final day" (Lumen Gentium, 16).

At the same time, we cannot close our eyes to the particularly delicate situations that have arisen and still exist there. Very serious conflicts have broken out; the Middle East region is pervaded by tensions and disputes, with the ever-looming risk of new wars breaking out again. It is painful to note that clashes have often taken place along dividing lines between different confessional groups, so that it has been possible for some, unfortunately, to artificially fuel them by appealing to religious sentiment.

The terms of the Middle East drama are well known: the Jewish people, after tragic experiences, linked to the extermination of so many sons and daughters, driven by the anxiety for security, gave birth to the state of Israel; at the same time, the painful condition of the Palestinian people was created, a large part of which was excluded from its land. These facts are there for all to see. And other countries, such as Lebanon, are suffering from a crisis that threatens to be chronic. And these days, a bitter conflict is going on in a neighbouring region, between Iraq and Iran.

Gathered here today, at the tombs of the martyrs of Otranto, let us meditate on the words of the liturgy proclaiming their glory and power in the kingdom of God: 'They will rule the nations, they will have power over the peoples, and the Lord will reign over them forever'. Therefore, in union with these martyrs, we present to the one God, to the living God, to the Father of all men, the problems of peace in the Middle East and also the problem, so dear to us, of rapprochement and true dialogue with those with whom we are united - despite our differences - by faith in one God, the faith inherited from Abraham. May the spirit of unity, mutual respect and understanding prove more powerful than that which divides and opposes.Lebanon, Palestine, Egypt, the Arabian Peninsula and Mesopotamia have nurtured the roots of sacred traditions for each of the three religious groups for millennia; there, for centuries, Christian, Jewish and Islamic communities have coexisted on the same territories; in those regions, the Catholic Church boasts communities distinguished for their antiquity of history, vitality, variety of rites, and their own spiritual characteristics.

It towers high over all this world, like an ideal centre, a precious casket that holds the treasures of the most venerable memories, and it is itself the first of these treasures, the holy city, Jerusalem, today the object of a dispute that seems without solution, tomorrow - if one so wishes! - tomorrow a crossroads of reconciliation and peace.

Yes, we pray that Jerusalem, instead of being, as it is today, an object of contention and division, will become the meeting point, towards which Christians, Jews and Muslims will continue to turn their gaze, as to their common hearth; around which they will feel like brothers, none superior, none in debt to the others; towards which pilgrims, whether followers of Christ, or believers in the Mosaic law, or members of the Islamic community, will once again direct their steps.

7. And now our thoughts turn once again to the liturgy of the martyrs. We look with the eyes of the author of the Book of Revelation and we see in the great cemetery of Otranto and, at the same time, in the perspective of the eternal Jerusalem... we see: "under the altar the souls of those who were immolated because of the word of God and the testimony they had borne to him... a white robe was given to each of them and they were told to be patient a little while longer, until the number of their fellow servants and brothers was complete" (Rev 6:9, 11).

[Pope John Paul II, Otranto homily 5 October 1980]

Today we reflect on Christian hope as the strength of martyrs. When in the Gospel Jesus sends the disciples on mission, he does not mislead them with mirages of easy success. On the contrary he warns them clearly that the proclamation of the Kingdom of God always involves opposition. And he also uses an extreme expression: “and you will be hated — hated — by all for my name’s sake” (Mt 10:22). Christians love but they are not always loved. Jesus places us before this reality from the start. In a somewhat strong measure, the confession of faith occurs in a hostile climate.

Christians are therefore men and women who “go against the tide”. It is normal: because the world is marked by sin which manifests itself in various forms of selfishness and injustice; those who follow Christ walk in the opposite direction. Not due to an argumentative spirit, but because of loyalty to the rationale of the Kingdom of God, which is a logic of hope that translates into a lifestyle based on the instructions of Jesus.

And the first instruction is poverty. When Jesus sends his [disciples] on mission, it seems that he takes more care to “strip” them than to “clothe” them! In effect, a Christian who is not humble and poor, detached from wealth and power and, above all, detached from self, does not resemble Jesus. Christians travel their path in this world with the essentials for the journey but with their heart filled with love. The true defeat for him or for her is to fall into the temptation of revenge and violence, responding to evil with evil. Jesus tells us: “I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves” (Mt 10:16). Therefore without jaws, without claws, without weapons, the Christian will have to be rather prudent; at times even shrewd. These are virtues that are accepted by the logic of the Gospel. But never violence. In order to overcome evil, one cannot use the same methods of evil.

The only strength Christians have is the Gospel. In difficult times, one must believe that Jesus is before us and does not cease to accompany his disciples. Persecution is not in contradiction to the Gospel but rather is part of it. If they persecuted our Teacher, how can we hope to be spared the fight? However, in the midst of the storm, Christians must not lose hope, thinking that they have been abandoned. Jesus assures his disciples: “even the hairs on your head are all numbered” (Mt 10:30); as if to say that none of man’s suffering, not even that which is most minute and hidden, is invisible to the eyes of God. God sees and certainly protects; and he will give his redemption. There is in fact in our midst Someone who is stronger than evil, stronger than the mafia, than the obscure conspiracies of those who profit at the expense of desperate people, than those who crush others with disdain.... Someone who has always listened to the cry of Abel’s blood from the earth.

Christians therefore, must always be found on the “opposite side” of the world, that chosen by God: not persecutors but persecuted; not arrogant but meek; not charlatans but submissive to the truth; not imposters but honest men and women.

This fidelity to Jesus’ style — which is a style of hope — until death, was to be called a beautiful name by the first Christians: “martyrdom”, meaning “witness”. There were so many other possibilities offered by the vocabulary: it could have been called heroism, abnegation, self-sacrifice. Yet the Christians of the first hour identified it with a term that suggests discipleship. Martyrs do not live for themselves; they do not fight to assert their own ideas, and they accept having to die solely out of loyalty to the Gospel. Martyrdom is not even the supreme ideal of Christian life, because over and above it there is charity, that is, the love of God and of neighbour. The Apostle Paul says it very well in the hymn to charity, understood as love of God and of neighbour. The Apostle Paul says it very well in the hymn to charity: “If I give away all I have and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing” (1 Cor 13:3). The idea that suicide bombers may be called “martyrs” is repulsive to Christians: there is nothing in their quest that can come close to the attitude of the children of God.

Sometimes, reading the stories of so many of yesterday’s and today’s martyrs, — who are more numerous than the martyrs of the early days — we are amazed at the strength with which they have faced the supreme trial. This strength is a sign of the great hope that animated them: the certain hope that nothing and no one could separate them from God’s love given to us in Jesus Christ (cf. Rom 8:38-39).

May God always give us the strength to be his witnesses. May he give us the opportunity to live out Christian hope especially in the hidden martyrdom of performing our daily obligations well and with love. Thank you.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 28 June 2017]

Instances of the world, idea of ‘perfection’, sense of the Christ

(Lk 21:5-11)

In his Apocalyptic Discourse Lk wants us to meditate on the meaning of history and ‘what is it that remains’... but how many adverse conditions and oppositions!

So he aims to support the hope of poor people and persecuted of his communities.

Certainly, Faith turns to the God who guides history. He is Lord of it; but today remains obscure and uncertain, so we remain as if hunted by instances that do not correspond to us - but loom.

Even some believers were beginning to doubt: does God really have control over the facts and the cosmos? It’s the same question we ask ourselves today: in the midst of so many calamities, where will we end up?

In order not to be confused and plagiarized, a better awareness, a refinement of perception must take over in order to discern the meaning of the “realms” that alternate and pass.

The authentic Church has a new Vision, which precisely advocates these earthquakes and calamities, i.e. the shattering of the concatenations of the ancient world.

On the other hand, the turmoils do not disintegrate creation: they prepare a radically new one.

We have to endure within and apply ourselves - perhaps taking more care of the character of time, of unusual friends of the soul, and neglecting the inherited [or imposed] idea of ‘perfection’.

So many worlds built by the mind and hands of man imagined themselves perpetual, even the Goal of everything.

Instead they continue to collapse, dragging away ancient expressions, beliefs, customs, hegemonies, visions of things.

Each era carries with it the crumbling of human ediments and its empires - fragile and insubstantial, despite the contrary appearances (and the sense of permanence with which we interpreted them).

The functions of the earth have no other law than that of perishing: they are undermined at the base, destined to evaporate.

In a moment they move from control to flaking and from dominance to insignificance.

A reversal is enough.

Conversely, the New Kingdom is intimate and like whisper: for this reason it does not remain chipped by external events.

We are not so much called to resist some hard changes, as to stay with them.

The objective is to be ‘re-born’ - as sons, still regenerated, who go through another founding Eros [to whom abandon themselves, otherwise it will not be able to perform its high function].

This impetus settles in hearts and transforms them; it cements them, without clamour: with a very great, subversive power, which triggers new forms - but with secret virtue.

It has another step and rhythm, cozy; and a different time.

So we do not lose any part of ourselves, indeed we let grow all sides of personality and relationships.

It is the Faith [plural] that accepts the opposites - to solidify the stones.

To internalize and live the message:

How do you experience the upheavals?

Do you contract your freedom or do you ignite your most brilliant (even opposing) secret powers?

[Tuesday 34th wk. in O.T.  November 25, 2025]

Instances of the world, idea of 'perfection', sense of the Christ

(Lk 21:5-11)

In his Apocalyptic Discourse Lk wants us to meditate on the meaning of history and 'what remains'... but how many adverse conditions and oppositions!

So he aims to sustain the hope [not fictitious and yet frustrated] of the poor and persecuted people of his communities.

Certainly, Faith turns to the God who guides history. He is Lord of it; however, today remains obscure and uncertain; in this way we remain as if hunted by demands that do not correspond to us - but overtake us.

Even some believers began to doubt: is God really in control of events and the cosmos? It is the same question we ask ourselves today: in the midst of so much misfortune, where will we end up?

How to bite the bullet and be fulfilled in the midst of emergency? How do we live through conflict and bewilderment, without allowing ourselves to be overwhelmed by events? How do we emerge from so much darkness, which we do not like?

In times of change, global insecurity and political unrest, parasitic cavities continue to crop up, accentuating disorientation, feelings of inadequacy; perhaps guilt.

Here are the cunning quarters who (even in the ecclesial undergrowth) want to take advantage of the turmoil and confusion, deceiving weak and bewildered souls - even the young.

In order not to be beguiled, confused and plagued, a better awareness must take over, a refinement of perception, in order to discern the meaning of the 'kingdoms' that come and go.

The sovereignty of God advocates a maturing of the 'harvest' with the light and warmth of the Spirit, a deeper discernment of the genius and events of the century.

Not excluding ugliness: it too has the power to activate us, to seek new harmonies.

The authentic Church has a new vision, which precisely advocates these earthquakes and calamities, the upheavals of the ancient world - the world that, today as always, is teetering and coming to an end.

On the other hand, upheavals do not disintegrate creation: they prepare a radically new one.

One must endure within and apply oneself - perhaps taking more care of the character of time, the unusual friends of the soul, and disregarding the inherited [or imposed] idea of 'perfection'.

So many worlds built by the mind and hands of man imagined perpetual, even the End of Everything.

Instead they continue to crumble, dragging away ancient expressions, beliefs, customs, hegemonies, visions of things...

Every era brings with it the crumbling of human constructions and empires - fragile and insubstantial, despite appearances to the contrary (and the sense of permanence with which we interpret them).

So even the Temple of bricks and stucco - the centre of the people's life and identity - is doomed to agony, to crumbling, to the most miserable ruin, to be razed to the ground... despite its imposing magnificence.

It bewilders us, certainly. But if one-sided, it no longer makes present, but rather dissolves the Mystery - concentration of novelty and love.

When, for example, one closes cultural frontiers [and the search for depth] for fear of 'problems', and becomes intransigent, the devout present becomes a pure reality of the world, which sooner or later will be dismantled.

The functions of the earth have no law other than to perish: they are undermined at the base, destined to evaporate. In an instant they go from control to disintegration and from dominance to insignificance.

Radiant beauty and the 'depth' of the eternal and holy city - with its jealous privileges, and minute or generalist (and terrifying) doctrines - turn into an overthrow and overthrow: into a profile of death.

A reversal is enough.

Futile to imagine it lasting and keeping it up at all costs.

Conversely, the New Kingdom is intimate and subdued: that is why it is not splintered by external events.

Some upheavals are not so much to be resisted as to be with them.

The goal is to be 're-born' - as children, still regenerated, journeying through another founding Eros [to be abandoned, otherwise it cannot fulfil its lofty function].

It establishes itself in hearts and transforms them; it cements them, without clamour: with great power, subversive, triggering new forms - but with secret virtue.

It has a different pace, a different cosiness, and a different time.

So we do not lose any part of ourselves; on the contrary, we make all sides of personality and relationships grow.

It is the plural Faith that welcomes opposites, to solidify the stones.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you live the upheavals?

Do you surrender your freedom and chase after charlatans who fix and worsen everyone's existence - or do you oppose them in Christ, igniting Hope and your most blazing secret powers (even opposites)?The Bush

Outstanding Faith, Burning Conversion

(Ex 3:2-4)

Conversion in the biblical sense is not turning back, but entering within oneself so as not to alienate oneself, and rediscovering one's root in order to know how to intervene, releasing the blaze of one's essential Relationship.

Conversion does not have to do with the disinterested tacticism of those who close themselves off from the world, avoiding getting involved until events have a negative impact on their own interests.

But how to take the measure of reality, how to understand it? How to understand oneself? And from where to draw guidance, wisdom and strength to propose wise solutions and effective action?

Moses is an outsider because he is hasty. His impulsive actions forced him to flee into the desert. There he makes more messes, again because of his hot temper. So he decides to calm down and settle down.

But the solution is not to meddle on behalf of others, forcibly choosing a quiet life. That fire of his that burns his chest and mind is not extinguished; even dormant, he always carries it with him.

Only God understands that it is precisely his dark side and his irascible charge - like no other energy - that can make him the protagonist of an absurd design, in favour of the people, and make him tread impervious situations and territories.

A risky task, which will force him to bring out his determination, his drives, his conviction; every resource, even those that are not very virtuous. A mission uniquely his, impossible for other, more balanced and tranquil souls.

How to explain the passion for the freedom of the humiliated?

We find it within us, like a flame that burns and gives no respite. It rises spontaneously, despite prudent attempts to stifle it.

For his crazy redemptive designs, God needs someone exactly like us, just as we are. With our immense unexpressed resources, hidden even behind individual blood spots.

Qualities that arise spontaneously and have their own path to conversion, but that sooner or later have to come into play as they are.

They express ourselves deeply, and the call of the Father.

Various conditioning can create misperceptions of our personal uniqueness; likewise, of its development and destination.

The great risk is to spend our lives dissipating our character identity in search of induced illusions and conditioned reflections: of what we are not and do not even want.

Not only distractions, but also too much reasoning can lead us astray from the home that is truly ours.

Continuing to insist on that which damages the soul's development and its full flowering, makes it indecisive or cunning and stubborn - especially if suggestible, fearful, or even receptive and helpless.

Our founding Eros comes into play when it realises that reality or its (defined) cultural paradigm can lead us astray.

The Vocation then manifests itself to the personal 'vision' in a kind of energetic, reserved and unique Image, which makes us think in dreams, acts as a guide, and drags us no one knows why or where.

Believers who experience this inner Fire that is not extinguished are not ushered into a world that only wants to endure, all already chiselled out and knowing its destination.

The Father's Flame does not express itself through artifices to be recited: it wants to recover and bring home all resources, our essence and its jewels - to be exalted rather than hidden.

Jewels all to be extracted from the world of careless and locked-up certainties. Jewels - not infrequently concealed behind sides and propensities that (to the eye worn out by clichés) appear obscure.

Often it is precisely our unknown side to the schemes that is the 'spark' that presses in and acts as therapy to the sick soul; it takes it by the hand, and with due energy becomes a guide to relevant self-discovery - and great service to others.

The burning bush in the flesh - divine revelation - is kindled so that we realise the Dream of our own dreams. Not so that the soul becomes more and more equal and bound, or fundamentalist.

And only our torch-bearing Nucleus-that-doesn't-consume-itself continually in action, can prevent those who are born revolutionaries of the spirit from then [but also quickly] surviving as armchair.

It happens in the banality of ideologies as in the conformity of religions, but it cannot happen in the sphere of the life of Faith.

In this way, the dance is not conducted by controlling extraneousness: aims, intentions, ideas, projects, or codes... but by passionate and pulsive powers, which every day question us about the tide that comes to us.

Providence acts as director, wooing and mysteriously directing unrepeatable strategies, which plough through history attracting and dragging, unblocking mechanisms and empowering energies - even causing us to change, reshape, or accentuate characters.

One must abandon oneself to such personal lines. Not out of need, duty, calculation, nor just to understand something more, but to enjoy the spiritual Light; the rays of Love, near and far, creative of the inner and of genius forces [around].

The Flame returns to spur us on to rekindle the personal balm of instinctiveness, the possibilities of fulfilment of our nature.

The absurd desire that explodes within wants to expand the possibilities of the Lymph - both of the tree and of the roots themselves - to make us well-rounded persons.

Thus we will no longer seek to resemble our 'models':

The principle of such transmutation bursting upon the placid and conventional scenario has re-proposed why we are in the world.

It is our life-saving task... or the very barrenness of the 'types' to conform to.

Here, then, is our dead and nostalgic side, or the dark evil of living - and the exhaustion of a wisdom that has no more than Wisdom.

Having extinguished the radiance and beauty of the Torch, its energetic virtue on our flesh fades, dampening the enthusiasm of the soul - extinguishing action (as in a position of starvation).

The passionate state is the force of practical thought and intellect.

Intimate involvement makes our identity-character soar, and has significant repercussions on others.

It is the custodian of independence. And it integrates us, overcoming the sense of imperfection - or existential emptiness.

The intelligent Primordial Energy recognises our essence; and it brings the soul from external events back to the Core: from vicissitudes, from things, from wounds, to our innermost and richest being.

It knows that from the stimulus of that source centre - intimate link of origin, primordial - will burst forth astounding events, unknown propensities, magic of unforeseen happenings.

A new Creation.

From this House of new life and different hymns, a whole world of relationships is released... new engagements, brilliant intuitions; practical aptitudes, weaving the magic of the bride-matched soul.

It is such a Source that takes over again, when it realises that we are not fulfilled, or that we feel betrayed by it - that is to say, to overcome fears, a sense of desolation, bitter abandonments. Like a power that calls us back to ourselves, to our unexpressed talents, to the energy of the gaze that captures the sense of a story, of the genius of our territory or time. And it crosses them, making us lean out.

It becomes the daily compass of life and transformation. But it bears the interference of external judgments poorly, which do not dwell in the depths but contribute to the atmosphere that circulates around it.

It feels like a force that happens, an energy that cannot be directed or explained by a universe of ready-made meanings, planned emotions and symbols, or manipulated into submission.

Ready to rise again as, when and why we do not expect; only to regenerate and make exponential the unusual, autonomous seed of the soul. As it is: ascetic effort would yield poor results.

The hidden Source expresses itself in events imbued with the future, drenched in an atmosphere of Presence.

Events imbued with a whole side of our personality, and not just some offshoot of its social sense [a nomenclature].

Roots manifest themselves in actions that contain as yet unexpressed but strongly potential, affectively vital knowledge. They solve problems by acting in their own way.

Precisely what we do not yet know about ourselves (attitudes, desires) may be the secret, the spring of our blossoming. A discovery that springs up innately, not a taught and recognised path.

The true measure is deeper.

One gets lost in trivialities, if one does not discover the personal seed - and assumes one already knows the direction: what to love, how to say and do according to instructions.

The world of acquired knowledge is conversely often the enemy of the hidden process, which keeps wanting to carry out its theme, and repudiating what it does not want to absorb, because it would counter it.

And that is the whole game: not to fade, but to sense attitudes and let them be, even contradictory.

And dance without placing them, identifying them, lining them up according to custom or ideal - thus intoxicating them.

The peculiar characteristic has the flavour of the Eternal.

It incessantly gives birth to a renewed gaze, which is formed spontaneously, along the way.

Preparing for the New, which does not bear expectations.

So the unforeseen spark of the heart [that never matches] cannot be humiliated, threatened, shattered, removed, or alienated.

It is our consistent Inclination, which releases a clear radiance of Oneness.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

In today's Gospel passage, St Luke reproposes the Biblical view of history for our reflection and refers to Jesus' words that invite the disciples not to fear, but to face difficulties, misunderstandings and even persecutions with trust, persevering through faith in him. The Lord says: "When you hear of wars and tumults, do not be terrified; for this must first take place, but the end will not be at once" (Lk 21: 9). Keeping this admonition in mind, from the beginning the Church lives in prayerful waiting for her Lord, scrutinizing the signs of the times and putting the faithful on guard against recurring messiahs, who from time to time announce the world's end as imminent. In reality, history must run its course, which brings with it also human dramas and natural calamities. In it a design of salvation is developed that Christ has already brought to fulfilment in his Incarnation, death and Resurrection. The Church continues to proclaim this mystery and to announce and accomplish it with her preaching, celebration of the sacraments and witness of charity. 

Dear brothers and sisters, let us welcome Christ's invitation to face daily events by trusting in his providential love. Let us not fear the future, even when it can appear with bleak colours, because the God of Jesus Christ, who entered history to open it to its transcendent fulfilment, is the alpha and the omega, the first and the last (cf. Rv 1: 8). He guarantees that in every little but genuine act of love there is the entire sense of the universe, and that the one who does not hesitate to lose his own life for him finds it again in fullness (cf. Mt 16: 25).

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 18 November 2007]

1. After meditating on the eschatological goal of our existence, that is, eternal life, we now reflect on the journey that leads to it. To do this, we develop the perspective presented in the Apostolic Letter Tertio millennio adveniente: “The whole of the Christian life is like a great pilgrimage to the house of the Father, whose unconditional love for every human creature, and in particular for the ‘prodigal son’ (cf. Lk 15:11-32), we discover anew each day. This pilgrimage takes place in the heart of each person, extends to the believing community and then reaches to the whole of humanity” (n. 49).

In fact, what Christians will one day live to the full is already in some way anticipated today. Indeed, the Passover of the Lord inaugurates the life of the world to come.

2. The Old Testament prepares for the announcement of this truth through the complex theme of the Exodus. The journey of the chosen people to the promised land (cf. Ex 6:6) is like a magnificent icon of the Christian’s journey towards the Father's house. Obviously there is a fundamental difference: while in the ancient Exodus liberation was oriented to the possession of land, a temporary gift like all human realities, the new “Exodus” consists in the journey towards the Father’s house, with the definitive prospect of eternity that transcends human and cosmic history. The promised land of the Old Testament was lost de facto with the fall of the two kingdoms and the Babylonian Exile, after which the idea of returning developed like a new Exodus. However, this journey did not end in another geographical or political settlement, but opened itself to an “eschatological” vision that was henceforth a prelude to full revelation in Christ.  The universalistic images, which in the Book of Isaiah describe the journey of peoples and history towards a new Jerusalem, the centre of the world (cf. Is 56-66), in fact point in this direction.

3. The New Testament announces the fulfilment of this great expectation, holding up Christ as the Saviour of the world: “When the time had fully come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Gal 4:4-5). In the light of this announcement, this life is already under the sign of salvation. It is fulfilled in the coming of Jesus of Nazareth, which culminates in the Passover but will have its full realization in the “parousia”, the final coming of Christ.

According to the Apostle Paul, this journey of salvation which links the past to the present, directing it to the future, is the fruit of God's plan, totally focused on the mystery of Christ. This is the “mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth” (Eph 1:9-10; cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1042f.).

In this divine plan, the present is the time of the “already and not yet”. It is the time of salvation already accomplished and the journey towards its full actualization: “Until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Eph4:13).

4. Growth towards this perfection in Christ, and  therefore growth towards the experience of the Trinitarian mystery, implies that the Passover will be fulfilled and fully celebrated only in the eschatological kingdom of God (cf. Lk 22:16). But the events of the Incarnation, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection already constitute the definitive revelation of God. The offer of redemption which this event implies is inscribed in the history of our human freedom, called to respond to the call of salvation.

Christian life is a participation in the paschal mystery, like the Way of the Cross and the Resurrection. It is a Way of the Cross, because our life is continually subject to the purification that leads to overcoming the old world marked by sin. It is a way of resurrection, because, in raising Christ, the Father conquered sin, so that for the believer the “justice of the Cross” becomes the “justice of God”, that is, the triumph of his truth and his love over the wickedness of the world.

5. In short, Christian life is growing towards the mystery of the eternal Passover. It therefore requires that we keep our gaze on the goal, the ultimate realities, but at the same time, that we strive for the “penultimate” realities: between these and the eschatological goal there is no opposition, but on the contrary  a mutually fruitful relationship. Although the primacy of the Eternal is always asserted, this does not prevent us from living historical realities righteously in the light of God (cf. CCC, n. 1048f.).

It is a matter of purifying every human activity and every earthly task, so that the Mystery of the Lord’s Passover will increasingly shine through them. As the Council in fact reminded us, human activity which is always marked by the sign of sin is purified and raised to perfection by the paschal mystery, so that “when we have spread on earth the fruits of our nature and our enterprise — human dignity, brotherly communion, and freedom — according to the command of the Lord and in his Spirit, we will find them once again, cleansed this time from the stain of sin, illuminated and transfigured, when Christ presents to his Father an eternal and universal kingdom” (Gaudium et spes, n. 39).

This eternal light illumines the life and the entire history of humanity on earth.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 11 August 1999]

Today’s Gospel passage contains the first part of Jesus’ discourse on the end times, [according to] the writing of Saint Luke (21:5-19). Jesus made this proclamation while standing before the Temple of Jerusalem, and was prompted by the peoples’ words of admiration for the beauty of the sanctuary and its decorations (cf. v. 5). Then Jesus said: “the days will come when there shall not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down” (v. 6). We can imagine the effect these words had on Jesus’ disciples. However, he did not want to insult the temple, but rather make it understood — to them as well as to us today — that human structures, even the most sacred, are fleeting, and we should not place our security in them. How many supposedly definitive certainties have we had in our lives, which later were revealed to be ephemeral! On the other hand, how many problems have appeared to be a dead end, and then were overcome!

Jesus knows that there are always those who speculate about the human need for safety. For this reason, he says: “Take heed that you are not led astray” (v. 8), and guard against the many false Messiahs who will appear (v. 9). Even today there are these! And, he adds, do not be frightened and bewildered by wars, revolutions, and disasters, since even these are part of the world’s reality (cf. vv. 10-11). The history of the Church is rich with examples of people who withstood tribulations and terrible suffering with serenity, because they were aware that they were firmly in God’s hands. He is a faithful Father, an attentive Father, who does not abandon his children. God never abandons us! We must have this certainty in our heart: God never abandons us!

Remaining firm in the Lord, in this certainty that he does not abandon us, walking in hope, working to build a better world, despite the difficulties and sad circumstances which mark our personal and collective existence, is what really counts; it is how the Christian community is called to encounter the “day of the Lord”. It is precisely within this context that we want to place the undertaking that we have lived with faith during these months of the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy, which concludes today in the Dioceses of the world with the closing of the Holy Doors in the cathedral Churches. The Holy Year impelled us, on the one hand, to fix our gaze toward the fulfillment of the Kingdom of God and, on the other, to build a future on this earth, working to evangelize the present, so we can make it a time of salvation for everyone. 

In the Gospel Jesus encourages us to keep firmly in mind and in heart the certainty that God guides our history, and that he knows the final end of things and events. Under the the Lord’s merciful gaze, history unravels in flowing uncertainty, and weaves between good and evil. However, all that happens is contained within him. Let us pray to the Virgin Mary that she may help us, through the happy and sad events of this world, to firmly maintain hope in eternity and in the Kingdom of God. Let us pray to the Virgin Mary, that she may help us deeply understand this truth: that God never abandons his children!

[Pope Francis, Angelus 13 November 2016]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

Small coins and festival of the voracious God, in solemn appearances

(Lk 21:1-4)

Jesus faces the treasure of the Temple, the true "god" of the whole sanctuary. The comparison is ruthless: one as opposed to the other (v.1; cf. Mk 12:41).

Enigma that could not be solved with a simple "purification" of the sacred place, or a replenishment of devotion.

It will be surprising, but the Gospel passage does not sing praises of individual humility which by faith deprives itself of everything: it’s rather a radical appeal to church leaders and to the sense of institution.

The Lord is saddened by every expropriation conditioned by awe. Indeed, fear takes life from those who do not enjoy fullness.

Christ weeps the subordinate condition of the poor and neglected: He does not make her take the chair. He does not credit the situation. He doesn’t want the woman already naked by two cents to undress all.

He seems distraught for that one silent figure; to underline the difference between the voracious demands of the ancient religions’ God and those of a completely different sign - in our favor - of the Father in the Faith.

While Jesus noticed and was mourning on the minuteous gesture of the little woman, the Apostles did not even notice the irrelevant poor creature, continuing to gape at the magnificence of the Temple.

Who knows what they were dreaming about... seduced by honor.

To divert them from the fever of reputation and considerations they desired to boast of, there was a need for an awareness; but to move them out of their place and yardstick the miracles would not have been enough.

Thus Jesus seeks to convey in conscience the Good News that the Father is the exact opposite of how he had been painted to them by the spiritual guides of the time.

The Eternal disconcerts: He does not take, does not appropriate, does not plunder, nor does absorb or debilitate us - but He is the One who gives.

He does not punish if you do not placate Him with both the little coins you have, without withholding a single one - even if only by doing in half (v.2).

The honour to God is not exclusive, but inclusive.

Paraphrasing the encyclical Fratelli Tutti, we could say that in authentic communities [as in families] «everyone contributes to the common purpose; everyone works for the common good, not denying each person’s individuality but encouraging and supporting it» (n.230).

The Son notes with bitterness that the beautiful protagonists themselves «devour the houses of widows» (Lk 20:47) as vampires. So convincing as to make the souls of the simple even their supporters and victims.

Christ is saddened by such unconscious complicity, induced by the lack of knowledge of the Father’s Face - preached as a leech God.

In fact, in the path of personal Faith true believers are not repeaters of external roles (Lk 20:45-47).

We collaborate with the creative and deifying work of the Eternal in offering ourselves as a vital food for the humanity to which the Bridegroom has been taken away - here in the figure of the poor «widow» who bleed out.

In short, we must no longer macerate and wear ourselves out, because of the glory of the Almighty, but enrich ourselves with Him and pronounce fully!

A God all substance, of little epidermal appearance.

Yet the antithesis of the rich and poor was resurfacing in the early communities... to the detriment of the isolated.

Here, precisely the reversal of the fortunes had to become characteristic of the adoring Church, which is immersed in the same rhythm of the supreme vital Source.

It will therefore be the amiable institution that will remain naked and pilgrim, even in the space of the small and unsteady.

And the action of the assemblies of believers will be able to activate a new, convivial world, humanizing disharmonies.

A reality that beats ‘time’. For a ‘Kingdom’ really not neutral. But where does the soul counts, not the curriculum.

[Monday 34th wk. in O.T.  November 24, 2025]

Pennies and festivals of the voracious God, in solemn appearances

(Lk 21:1-4)

Jesus conveys the Glad Tidings that the Father is the exact opposite of what was imagined.

He does not take, or appropriate, or absorb, or debase, but it is He who gives; He does not chastise unless you appease Him with both coins you have, without withholding even one (v.2).

Honour to God is not exclusive, but inclusive.

Paraphrasing the encyclical Fratelli Tutti, we could say that in authentic communities [as in families] "all contribute to the common project, all work for the common good, but without annulling the individual; on the contrary, they support him, they promote him" (n.230).

In particular, the rich-poor antithesis is heralded by the reversal of lifestyle, situations and destinies: characteristic of the ideal Church, which remains a pilgrim - even in the space of the Person.

Its good reason, virtuous practices and public implications are immersed in the same rhythm as the supreme Life Source - which loves uniqueness, for the sake of common wealth.

With the exception of good relations, the institution can appear unattractive. It does not impose itself by force of 'favourable' social conditions, but is Presence on the plane of Faith.

Friendship that contemplates a new world, capable of humanising disharmonies.

Reality that beats time - because it is inside and outside of it, like Love.

It is the soul that counts, not the curriculum; not even conditioning influences, which only make things difficult.

Indeed, the feeling of being poor or late starts with making comparisons - and wanting to add, to anticipate, to demand an external more.

But what counts in the relationship with oneself, with others and with God is only being able to express one's own nature. Making choices in tune with the essence that characterises.

Calculations are deviant, not consonant; so are comparisons. The small fleeting but personal detail is decisive.

It is only important to coincide with what we are, in that present; in synchrony with one's character.

We are what we are. The development will go well.

Jesus confronts the treasure of the Temple, the true 'god' of the whole sanctuary. The confrontation is merciless: one pitted against the other [v.1; cf. Mk 12:41].

An enigma that could not be resolved by a simple "purification" of the sacred place, or a rekindling of devotion.

The Son announces a Father: he is not the one who sucks the resources and energies of creatures, to the point of plucking them out.

The great places of worship of antiquity were veritable banks, the proceeds of which were to provide in part for the needs of the poor.

Fear of divine chastisements inculcated by false spiritual leaders had perverted the situation: even the needy felt they had to provide for the pomp, worship, the decorations of the sacred buildings, and the livelihood of the practitioners of the ritual.

Jesus here does not praise the austerity and humility of an outcast, but looks with sadness at the poor woman who allowed herself to be cheated out of her thoughts, becoming a paradoxical accomplice of the diseducational system.

She could have kept a coin; she throws them both away in vain, and with them "her whole life" (v.4 Greek text).

The original and Jesuit episode is taken up by Lk for a catechesis to his communities, based on events [cf. the ancient writings of James and Paul] under the eyes of second and third generation Christians.

The first fraternities were composed of simple people, but with the entry of the first well-to-do and their magnificent offerings, the same social frictions that were present in the life of the empire began to reappear.

Tensions became more and more evident at both meetings and the breaking of the Bread.

The teaching of the widow's gesture was meant to be a warning to the Royal Communion.

In short, the Kingdom of God is penetration into the depths of life; with dedication that is not reduced to material quantities, nor to handing over what one advances - but what one is.

In the context of the plural society [of the Roman empire and today] from the responsible and motivated Faith arises the elemental Call of the Gospels.

Ancient and current call - for a singular and common experience. Truly non-neutral.

To internalise and live the message:

Who do you consider to be the outstanding characters in your community?

What about your two cents? Do you withhold at least one?

What do you put in the most?

Can people's problems only be solved with a lot of money?

Are the coins of the notable really more useful than your few pennies?

Church, and Light

In the widow who throws her two coins into the treasury in the temple, we can see the "image of the Church" that must be poor, humble and faithful. Pope Francis began from the Gospel of the day, taken from Luke chapter 21 (1-4), his reflection during the Mass at Santa Marta on Monday 24 November. The homily recalls the passage in which Jesus, "after lengthy discussions" with the Sadducees and disciples about the Pharisees and scribes who "take pleasure in having the first places, the first seats in the synagogues, in the banquets, in being greeted", looked up and "saw the widow". The "contrast" is immediate and "strong" compared to the "rich who threw their offerings into the temple treasury". And it is precisely the widow "who is the strongest person here, in this passage".

Of the widow, the Pontiff explained, 'it is said twice that she is poor: twice. And that she is in misery'. It is as if the Lord wanted to emphasise to the doctors of the law: 'You have so many riches of vanity, of appearance, or even of pride. This one is poor. You, who eat widows' houses...". But "in the Bible, the orphan and the widow are the figures of the most marginalised" as well as lepers, and "that is why there are so many commandments to help, to care for widows, for orphans". And Jesus "looks at this woman alone, simply clothed" and "who throws away everything she has to live on: two coins". The thought also runs to another widow, that of Sarepta, "who had received the prophet Elijah and gave everything she had before she died: a little flour with oil...".

The Pontiff recounted the scene narrated by the Gospel: "A poor woman in the midst of the powerful, in the midst of doctors, priests, scribes... also in the midst of the rich who were throwing their offerings, and even some to be seen". To them Jesus says: "This is the way, this is the example. This is the way by which you must go". The "gesture of this woman who was all for God, like the widow Anna who received Jesus in the Temple: all for God. Her hope was only in the Lord".

"The Lord emphasises the person of the widow", Francis said, and continued: "I like to see here, in this woman an image of the Church". First of all the "poor Church, because the Church must have no other riches than her Bridegroom"; then the "humble Church, as the widows of that time were, because at that time there was no pension, no social aid, nothing". In a certain sense the Church 'is a bit of a widow, because she is waiting for her Bridegroom who will return'. Of course, 'she has her Bridegroom in the Eucharist, in the word of God, in the poor: but she waits for him to return'.

And what drives the Pope to "see in this woman the figure of the Church"? The fact that 'she was not important: this widow's name did not appear in the newspapers, nobody knew her, she had no degrees... nothing. Nothing. She did not shine by her own light'. And the 'great virtue of the Church' must be precisely that of 'not shining with her own light', but of reflecting 'the light that comes from her Bridegroom'. All the more so because "over the centuries, when the Church has wanted to have its own light, it has erred". The 'early Fathers' also said so, the Church is 'a mystery like that of the moon. They called it mysterium lunae: the moon has no light of its own; it always receives it from the sun".

Of course, the Pope specified, "it is true that sometimes the Lord may ask his Church to have, to take a little light of its own," as when he asked "the widow Judith to lay down her widow's robes and put on the robes of a feast to go on a mission". But, he reiterated, 'always remains the attitude of the Church towards her Bridegroom, towards the Lord'. The Church 'receives light from there, from the Lord' and 'all the services we do' in it serve to 'receive that light'. When a service lacks this light "it is not good", because "it causes the Church to become either rich, or powerful, or to seek power, or to take the wrong path, as has happened so many times, in history, and as happens in our lives when we want to have another light, which is not the Lord's: a light of our own".

The Gospel, the Pope noted, presents the image of the widow at the very moment when "Jesus begins to feel the resistance of the ruling class of his people: the Sadducees, the Pharisees, the scribes, the doctors of the law. And it is as if he were saying, "All this is happening, but look there!" to that widow. The comparison is fundamental in order to recognise the true reality of the Church that 'when she is faithful to hope and to her Bridegroom, she is joyful to receive light from him, to be - in this sense - a widow: waiting for that sun that will come'.

Moreover, 'it is no coincidence that the first strong confrontation, after the one with Satan, that Jesus had in Nazareth, was for naming a widow and for naming a leper: two outcasts'. There were "many widows in Israel at that time, but only Elijah was sent to that widow of Sarepta. And they became angry and wanted to kill him'.

When the Church, Francis concluded, is 'humble' and 'poor', and also when it 'confesses its miseries - then we all have them - the Church is faithful'. It is as if she were saying: 'I am dark, but the light comes to me!' And this, the Pontiff added, 'does us so much good'. So 'let us pray to this widow who is in heaven, safe', that 'she may teach us to be Church like this', renouncing 'everything we have' and keeping 'nothing for ourselves' but 'everything for the Lord and for our neighbour'. Always "humble" and "without boasting that we have light of our own", but "always seeking the light that comes from the Lord."

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 25/11/2014]