At the Cross, Mary shares in the drama of Redemption (John 19:17–28, 25).

Mary united herself to Jesus’ offering 

1. Regina caeli laetare, alleluia!

So the Church sings in this Easter season, inviting the faithful to join in the spiritual joy of Mary, Mother of the Redeemer. The Blessed Virgin’s gladness at Christ’s Resurrection is even greater if one considers her intimate participation in Jesus’ entire life. 

In accepting with complete availability the words of the Angel Gabriel, who announced to her that she would become the Mother of the Messiah, Mary began her participation in the drama of Redemption. Her involvement in her Son’s sacrifice, revealed by Simeon during the presentation in the Temple, continues not only in the episode of the losing and finding of the 12-year-old Jesus, but also throughout his public life. 

However, the Blessed Virgin’s association with Christ’s mission reaches its culmination in Jerusalem, at the time of the Redeemer’s Passion and Death. As the Fourth Gospel testifies, she was in the Holy City at the time, probably for the celebration of the Jewish feast of Passover. 

2. The Council stresses the profound dimension of the Blessed Virgin’s presence on Calvary, recalling that she “faithfully persevered in her union with her Son unto the Cross” (Lumen gentium, n. 58), and points out that this union “in the work of salvation is made manifest from the time of Christ’s virginal conception up to his death” (ibid., n. 57). 

 With our gaze illumined by the radiance of the Resurrection, we pause to reflect on the Mother’s involvement in her Son’s redeeming Passion, which was completed by her sharing in his suffering. Let us return again, but now in the perspective of the Resurrection, to the foot of the Cross where the Mother endured “with her only-begotten Son the intensity of his suffering, associated herself with his sacrifice in her mother’s heart, and lovingly consented to the immolation of this victim which was born of her” (ibid., n. 58). 

With these words, the Council reminds us of “Mary’s compassion”; in her heart reverberates all that Jesus suffers in body and soul, emphasizing her willingness to share in her Son’s redeeming sacrifice and to join her own maternal suffering to his priestly offering. 

The Council text also stresses that her consent to Jesus’ immolation is not passive acceptance but a genuine act of love, by which she offers her Son as a “victim” of expiation for the sins of all humanity. 

Lastly, Lumen gentium relates the Blessed Virgin to Christ, who has the lead role in Redemption, making it clear that in associating herself “with his sacrifice” she remains subordinate to her divine Son. 

3. In the Fourth Gospel, St John says that “standing by the Cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene” (19:25). By using the verb “to stand”, which literally means “to be on one’s feet”, “to stand erect”, perhaps the Evangelist intends to present the dignity and strength shown in their sorrow by Mary and the other women. 

The Blessed Virgin’s “standing erect” at the foot of the Cross recalls her unfailing constancy and extraordinary courage in facing suffering. In the tragic events of Calvary, Mary is sustained by faith, strengthened during the events of her life and especially during Jesus’ public life. The Council recalls that “the Blessed Virgin advanced in her pilgrimage of faith and faithfully persevered in her union with her Son unto the Cross” (Lumen gentium, n. 58). 

Sharing his deepest feelings, she counters the arrogant insults addressed to the crucified Messiah with forbearance and pardon, associating herself with his prayer to the Father: “Forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Lk 23:34). By sharing in the feeling of abandonment to the Father’s will expressed in Jesus’ last words on the Cross: “Father into your hands I commend my spirit!” (ibid., 23:46), she thus offers, as the Council notes, loving consent “to the immolation of this victim which was born of her” (Lumen gentium, n. 58). 

 4. Mary’s supreme “yes” is radiant with trusting hope in the mysterious future, begun with the death of her crucified Son. The words in which Jesus taught the disciples on his way to Jerusalem “that the Son of man must suffer many things, and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again” re-echo in her heart at the dramatic hour of Calvary, awakening expectation of and yearning for the Resurrection. 

Mary’s hope at the foot of the Cross contains a light stronger than the darkness that reigns in many hearts: in the presence of the redeeming Sacrifice, the hope of the Church and of humanity is born in Mary.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 2 April 1997]

At Santa Marta, on 21 May, Pope Francis celebrated Mass for the first time in the memory of the Blessed Virgin Mary Mother of the Church: as of this year, in fact, the feast day in the general Roman calendar is celebrated on the Monday after Pentecost, as ordered by the Pontiff in the decree Ecclesia mater of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments (11 February 2018), precisely to "foster the growth of the maternal sense of the Church in pastors, religious and the faithful, as well as of genuine Marian piety".

"In the Gospels every time Mary is spoken of, it is the 'mother of Jesus'," Francis immediately pointed out in his homily, referring to the Gospel passage from John (19:25-34). And if "even in the Annunciation the word 'mother' is not said, the context is one of motherhood: the mother of Jesus," said the Pope, emphasising that "this motherly attitude accompanies her throughout Jesus' life: she is mother". So much so that, he continued, "in the end Jesus gives her as mother to his own, in the person of John: 'I am going away, but this is your mother'". Here, then, is "the motherhood of Mary".

"Our Lady's words are mother's words," the Pope explained. And they are "all of them: after those, at the beginning, of availability to God's will and praise to God in the Magnificat, all of Our Lady's words are the words of a mother". She is always 'with her Son, even in her attitudes: she accompanies her Son, she follows her Son'. And again 'first, in Nazareth, she raises him, educates him, but then she follows him: 'Your mother is there'". Mary 'is mother from the beginning, from the moment she appears in the Gospels, from that moment of the Annunciation until the end, she is mother'. Of her "one does not say 'the lady' or 'Joseph's widow'" - and indeed "they could say that" - but always Mary "is mother".

"The Fathers of the Church understood this well," the Pontiff affirmed, "and they also understood that Mary's maternity does not end in her; it goes beyond". Again the fathers "say that Mary is mother, the Church is mother and your soul is mother: there is feminine in the Church, which is motherly". Therefore, Francis explained, 'the Church is feminine because she is "church", "bride": she is feminine and she is mother, she gives birth'. She is, therefore, 'bride and mother', but 'the fathers go further and say: "Your soul is also Christ's bride and mother"'.

"In this attitude that comes from Mary who is mother of the Church," the Pope pointed out, "we can understand this feminine dimension of the Church: when she is not there, the Church loses its true identity and becomes a charity association or a football team or whatever, but not the Church.

"The Church is "woman"," Francis relaunched, "and when we think about the role of women in the Church we must go back to this source: Mary, mother". And "the Church is 'woman' because she is mother, because she is capable of 'giving birth to children': her soul is feminine because she is mother, she is capable of giving birth to attitudes of fecundity".

"Mary's maternity is a great thing," the Pontiff insisted. God in fact "wanted to be born as a woman to teach us this way". What is more, 'God fell in love with his people like a bridegroom with his bride: this is said in the Old Testament. And it is "a great mystery". As a consequence, Francis continued, "we can think" that "if the Church is mother, women will have to have functions in the Church: yes, it is true, they will have to have functions, many functions they do, thank God there are more functions women have in the Church".

But "this is not the most significant thing," the Pope warned, because "the important thing is that the Church be a woman, that she have this attitude of bride and mother". With the knowledge that 'when we forget this, it is a male Church without this dimension, and sadly it becomes a Church of spinsters, living in this isolation, incapable of love, incapable of fruitfulness'. Therefore, said the Pontiff, 'without woman the Church does not go forward, because she is woman, and this attitude of womanhood comes to her from Mary, because Jesus wanted it that way'.

In this regard, Francis also wanted to indicate 'the gesture, I would say the attitude, that most distinguishes the Church as a woman, the virtue that most distinguishes her as a woman'. And he suggested recognising it in Mary's 'gesture at the birth of Jesus: "She gave birth to her firstborn son, wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger"'. An image in which we find "precisely the tenderness of every mother with her child: caring for him with tenderness, so that he does not injure himself, so that he is well covered". And 'tenderness' is therefore also 'the attitude of the Church that feels woman and feels mother'."St Paul - we listened to him yesterday, we also prayed to him in the breviary - reminds us of the virtues of the Spirit and speaks to us of meekness, of humility, of these so-called 'passive' virtues," the Pope said, pointing out that instead "they are the strong virtues, the virtues of mothers". Here it is that, he added, 'a Church that is a mother goes on the path of tenderness; it knows the language of such wisdom of caresses, of silence, of a gaze that knows compassion, that knows silence'. And "a soul, a person who lives this belonging to the Church, knowing that she is also a mother must also go down the same path: a meek, tender, smiling person, full of love".

"Mary, mother; the Church, mother; our soul, mother," Francis repeated, inviting us to think "of this great richness of the Church and ours; and let the Holy Spirit fertilise us, us and the Church, so that we may also become mothers of others, with attitudes of tenderness, of meekness, of humility. Sure that this is Mary's way". And, in conclusion, the Pope also noted how "Mary's language in the Gospels is curious: when she speaks to her Son, it is to tell him about the things that others need; and when she speaks to others, it is to tell them: 'do whatever he tells you'".

[Pope Francis, St Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 22/05/2018]

Alternative Pentecost Vigil

(Jn 7:37-39)

During the Feast of Tabernacles - on the occasion of the fruit harvest - the priests performed the ritual of water, carrying it in a golden jug from the pool of Siloah ['Sent'] to the Temple (where it was poured to ask for autumn rain).

The rite is customized by Jesus, who invites the crowds to drink from Wisdom: those who welcome Him will have within them a spring of life, an expression of the divine gold that is bestowed upon all his intimates - enabled to renew all things.

Invitation to come to Christ and quench one's thirst of Him, and Promise of the same divine Spirit for those who drink from his Person. Here the Lord replaces the Torah.

To say: we cannot fully exist without humanity quenching its thirst at Beverage that provides fullness of being.

The Lord matches what we seek, and exceeds it, making of each one a sanctuary that irrigates.

A personal, abundant Source of life-giving currents - even in deserts, to turn them into gardens.

Pentecost is in Christ an ultimate and springing moment. Fire and Wave.

Unlike in Acts 2, the Master does not use the impressive imagery of natural phenomena of the First Testament [thunder, earthquakes, hurricanes, lightning, fire] to narrate the living manifestation of God in believers.

In order to portray the outpouring of the Spirit, the breaking down of barriers and the project of a new Wisdom, Jesus uses the quiet image of a Water that is to be absorbed, that makes persons grow and - in time - produces life.

The path of Revelation and Covenant in the Spirit is revealed to be progressive - up to Him, in whom it finds its culmination.

Crowning that transfuses itself into the regenerated people: they (from fearless who were) become heralds and pioneers.

The new Creation, the new mothers and fathers expression of His victory over death, are not born from dust, but from the same «blood mixed with water» of the «elevated» Christ [on the cross].

Flow that now pours into disciples - to sprout life in them, so as to provide, brighten up and cheer the path of others.

In the open relationship between God and man who by grace makes his contribution to Heaven's exuberant plan, the whole of creation also becomes a participant in the Pact of Communion.

After an initial cosmic alliance of peace with Noah, here is a personal one with Abraham - in view of the «multitudes».

The project of internalization and personal appeal had already shifted towards humanity, but with Moses it becomes energy and design of Liberation.

In Christ the chosen and holy people lay down all privileges: they become authentic in the recovery of opposing sides, and universal.

"Israel" moves from common religious feeling and from improved awareness of history lived alongside the Eternal, to the depths of his Heart - up to our own: that is, to reinterpretation and unprecedented adventure; properly, of Faith.

From the Prophets to Christ, the Covenant becomes global.

Under sudden or cadenced Action of the Spirit, 'Water' that goes beyond and overflows, but if assimilated makes everything grow - all and even dissimilarity becomes motion towards Unity: even chaos activates new cohesions.

The ancient Pact stretches far beyond borders.

Its circles become wider and wider - without making one fear that events might get out of hand with God - in moments of quietness and pauses, or even in unending upheavals.

The Water that the leaders or prophets of the First Testament had seen gushing out of rocks or cracked crags becomes Living - with no more corruptions.

[Solemnity of Pentecost: Vigil, May 23/24, 2026]

(John 20:11–31)

Frozen in memories, or Proclaimed by Brothers

The New Creation, through Listening

(John 20:11–18)

    Mark speaks of a young man dressed in white, Matthew of an angel, Luke of two men dressed in white, and John of two angels.

The accounts of the Annunciation and of those who announced the Resurrection do not align with our way of telling the story.

To avoid a limited view of the victory of Life, it is important to understand that we are not celebrating the week of the Risen One’s appearances, but of his Manifestations [Greek text].

He does not merely appear to some – and not to others (depending on the lottery): he Manifests himself. We experience this.

And there is a new Creation: now one does not recognise Jesus when one sees him, but when one hears him (v.16).

The Lord makes himself seen not at the moment of the vision, but in the time of the Word, of the personal Call that causes the ancient gaze to ‘turn’ away from the irrelevant direction clinging to the image of ‘yesterday’.

The experience of the living Christ excludes memories to be cherished with tears.

It is a present and grounded relationship, convincing, rich in facets and accessible – direct. Decidedly better than that offered later by the apostles, without pierced hearts (nor proclamations).

But the face-to-face encounter remained closed, until it seemed as though one were seeking the dead or distant museum pieces – to be found almost as before and, at best, held onto without too much upheaval.

Conditioned by expectations that are too ‘conventional’, we would expect to track down Jesus in graveyards and the wrong places. But in John, the Ascension takes place on the very day of Easter (v.17) .

The very observance of archaic religious law [v.1: in this particular case, the Sabbath] seems to delay the experience of the disruptive power of rebirth, in the Spirit.

Gradually, within the early communities, those primordial personal energies were being reactivated—energies that not even the blackmail, intimidation and marginalisation of the institutional apparatus could touch.

The Incarnation continued, unfolding within the believers; awakening in them new creative states.

The faithful were riding the virtuous and exhilarating wave of a further fundamental change: now they felt themselves to be ‘brothers’ of the Risen One (v.17).

The relationship of ‘discipleship’ (Jn 13:13), which had grown into ‘friendship’ (Jn 15:15), became that of blood relatives who felt themselves to be ‘sons’.

[Jn 1:11–12: ‘He came to his own, and his own did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, he gave the power to become children of God; to those who believe in his Name’ – that is, who adhere to his entire word, life and work; even when problematic, painful or critical].

Thus began the explicit Proclamation, even though the truly vital and increasingly determined part of the ‘church’ proved to be the peripheral one, coming from the pagans [in the figure of Mary Magdalene].

It sought a life-giving redemption, and thus showed the right path to the assembly leaders themselves.

The Jewish-Christian community of the apostles was, in fact, entirely focused on seeking compromises precisely with the distant and conflictual religious establishment—that of power—which had sought to destroy the Master.

A hard-core ‘apostolic’ group, always lagging behind and in need of evangelisation: it is converted only by she who feels herself to be nothing (vv. 2, 18). And when she becomes aware that the realm of dead things will no longer seize her.

Woman: Authentic assembly in the Spirit.

An endless field of the humiliated, which nevertheless, in the Risen Christ, ‘sees itself’ and is set free; it gains new breath, overcomes despondency, disorientation and uncertainty.

Even today, filled with the Infinite, like pilgrims, the dreamers from the margins and the periphery seek their way.

They set themselves in motion with passion, to rekindle and make every fibre of the human being resound – previously governed by a world of calculated alternatives.

It is once again the experience of ‘Mary Magdalene’, who, by taking courage, can complete the perceptions and thoughts even of the top students.

The Risen One is always somewhere else entirely… compared to what the expert or an averagely religious soul, unprepared for change, expects.

His Person has unexpected, unconventional and unconventional features – like life, waiting to be discovered.

These are unfamiliar profiles – to be grasped and internalised, sometimes almost without a struggle.

Only a call by name – his direct Word, the personal Appeal – makes us realise that, under external influence, we were perhaps chasing a Lord [of the past, or a fashionable one] who was too recognisable, to be commemorated just as before.

To be carried in our saddlebags as always, with a closed and ordinary love, born of pain.

The search for our Rabbuni can also arise from a sense of loss, or from the blows we have suffered – but it is punctuated by Easter encounters and stages of new awareness.

New insights that shatter reassurances.

He remains a lukewarm stranger – at room temperature – to those who allow themselves to be swayed by limited (pre-packaged) ideas and presume to understand him through knowledge, recognise him with their eyes, or use him as a sleeping pill.

The Risen One is radical newness: an inner wound and a surge of energy. A journey that embraces and takes on all that is human and all of history.

He acts within us by shattering every sense of security; precisely that which still keeps us trapped within our small circle.

And whilst we struggle in the tension of the elusive [which cannot be made our own], it is in the thrill of perceiving the treasures of atypical and personal insights that regenerated life attracts and opens wide, astonishing us.

Only in the experience of being reborn and passing it on is the Spirit unleashed, which inspires and energises – and the Living One does not remain a stranger or someone about whom we have already formed an idea.

‘I have sought and seen the Lord!’ [v.18: meaning of the Greek text].

Christ is not experienced through mysticism, nor through reminiscences and trinkets; nor in an intellectual manner, or by merely performing pious commemorative rites on the body.

There is an unprecedented situation.

But who notices it? Despite the neglect they suffer, only the bridal souls – the little-regarded ones.

To internalise and live the message:

What transformation has taken place in you and in your neighbour when you accepted the Call and the invitation to the Proclamation?

How has the Person of Christ made you aware that you are fully desired: an inalienable subject, by Name?

The Lord’s Day, and Thomas: without hysteria

The Manifestation, the Spirit, the remission

(Jn 20:19–23)

    John’s Pentecost suffers no temporal delay whatsoever (v. 22); nevertheless, Luke’s account also highlights the link with Easter, of which it is, in essence, nothing more than a further specification.

Pentecost is not a matter of date, but an event that occurs ceaselessly within the gathered assembly; where a Peace—a fullness of joy brimming with reconciliation—is made present, which establishes the Mission.

Jesus had not promised an easy life. But the ‘locked doors’ indicate that the Risen One has not returned to his former existence: he has been raised to the divine state, to a form of total life.

The complete configuration of his being is not of the order of flesh and bone; it eludes our senses.

“Resurrection of the flesh” does not mean an improvement on previous conditions. From a man [as from a seed] has blossomed a form of life that subsists in God himself.

The disciples rejoice at seeing the wounds (v.20). Their reaction is not surprising: it is the dizzying perception of Presence, which gushes forth and pours out from their inner senses.

The Risen One who reveals himself is the same Jesus who gave life as a gift, in the Spirit.

The Father’s World bears his Name – that is, his entire history, wholly real.

The heavenly World is no longer that of religions. It is neither exclusive, nor fanciful or abstract; nor is it sterilised.

The Manifestation takes place on ‘one of the Sabbaths’ (v.19), signifying that the disciples can encounter and see the Risen One whenever they gather together on the Lord’s Day.

Thanks to the Gift of the Spirit (v.22), his own are sent on a Mission to continue and extend the Master’s work – with particular emphasis on the work of the forgiveness of sins (v.23).

At the time, it was widely believed that people acted wickedly and allowed themselves to be corrupted by idols because they were driven by an impure instinct that began to manifest itself from an early age.

People deluded themselves into thinking they could overcome, or at least keep at bay, this evil spirit through the study of the Torah – but it was easy to see the failures: the Law’s instructions, though correct, did not provide the strength to walk that path.

After so many failures, even on the part of kings and the entire priestly class, it was expected that God himself would come, precisely to free us from impurity, through the outpouring of a good impulse.

Throughout the ancient world [including classical culture: Ovid in particular], people wondered about the meaning of this human blockage.

Deep down, humanity found itself united and torn between intuition and the desire for good, and the inability to put it into practice (cf. Rom 7:15–19).

No religion or philosophy had ever realised that it is in discomfort and imperfection that the most precious malleable energies, our uniqueness, and the non-conformist solution to problems lie.

Through the mouth of the Prophets, God had promised the gift of a new heart – of flesh and not of stone (Ezek 36:25–27).

An outpouring of the Spirit that would renew the world, enliven and make the desert fruitful.

On Easter Day the prophecies were fulfilled.

Christ’s ‘breath’ recalls the moment of Creation (Gen 2:7; cf. Ezek 37:7–14).

We stand at the origin of a new humanity of mothers and fathers who bring forth life – now capable of bringing forth only life, eliminating death from the face of the earth.

Jesus creates the new man, no longer a victim of the invincible forces that lead him to evil, despite his deepest aspirations.

He imparts an enterprising, clear, alternative, self-assured energy that spontaneously drives one towards the good.

Where this Spirit comes, sin is annihilated.

This was the first ecclesial experience: the unequivocal action of divine Power, which became present and active in fearful people who were held in no account whatsoever.

Throughout the book of the Acts of the Apostles, the protagonist is precisely the impetuous Wind of the Spirit.

Up to this point, the concept of the forgiveness of sins was absent in John. But the meaning of the expression in v. 23 is not strictly sacramental.

Neutralising and overcoming transgressions concerns everyone who engages in the work of improving life in the world.

In short, we are called to create the conditions whereby, by tilling the soil of hearts, all may open themselves to divine action.

Conversely, the inability to do good drags on: in this way, sin is not ‘forgiven’.

The Shalom received by the disciples must be proclaimed by them and passed on to the world.

It is a Peace that is not the worldly fruit of calculated and astute compromises: the only powerful means to be used is forgiveness.

Not so much for tranquillity and ‘permanence’, but rather to introduce unknown powers, to accentuate life, to bring to the surface those aspects to which we have given no space; to convey a sense of adequacy and freedom.

In everyone and for all times, the Church is called to make effective the Lord’s complete and personal Gratis.

Like a Gift in the Spirit: without ever ‘holding on to’ (v.23) problems, nor making them the paradoxical protagonists of life [even of the assembly].

Such is the priestly, kingly and prophetic dimension of the fraternal Community. Such is its Newness.

Victory of the Risen One, Church of free people

Without hysteria

(Jn 20:24–31)

    The passage has a liturgical flavour, but the question we glimpse between the lines is stark. We too want to ‘see him’.

How can one believe without having seen?

And indeed, how could the identification of the one subjected to torture with the lived beatitude—and with divinity itself—be self-evident?

This is the most widespread question from the third generation of believers onwards, who not only had no opportunity to know the Apostles, but many of whom did not even know their disciples.

The evangelist assures us: compared to the first witnesses of the Resurrection, our situation is by no means at a disadvantage; on the contrary, it is more open and less subject to particular influences or circumstances.

We must go deeper than immediate experience.

Even the direct disciples struggled greatly, trying to move from one vocabulary and grammar of revelation to another; and from ‘seeing’ to ‘believing’.

Unfortunately, there are common features, such as Mary Magdalene’s search in the places of death. Or here the doors carefully bolted, where one cannot enter without forcing the locks – but above all, significant differences.

In particular, we reiterate the most pressing question. How do we move from ‘seeing’… to ‘believing’ in one who has been defeated, indeed subjected to torture?

We do not believe merely because there are truthful witnesses.

We are certain that life overcomes death because we have ‘seen’ it for ourselves; because we have undergone a personal recognition.

Indeed, He does not present Himself as a leader, but repeatedly ‘in the midst’ (vv. 19, 26).

In the collection of the Appearances of the Risen One [the so-called ‘Book of the Resurrection’] John sets out the conditions of Easter faith.

He recounts the witness of the early churches (morning and evening, and eight days later) as well as that of the disciples who accept the missionary mandate.

Then as now, perceiving realities hidden from the casual glance, and internalising the willingness to make an exodus towards the peripheries, depends on the depth of faith.

Nor does the willingness to stake one’s life follow from this, in order to build a kingdom with values that are the opposite of those common, ancient, imperial religious values.

At the time the episode of Thomas was written, the dimension of the eighth day [Dies Domini] had already taken on a predominant form, as opposed to the Sabbath of the early Messianic groups who were radically Judaistic.

‘Shalôm’, however, is still understood in the ancient sense: it is not a wish, but the present fulfilment of the divine Promises.

Messianic ‘Peace’ would have evoked the defeat of fears, liberation from death; reconciliation with one’s own life, the world, and God.

‘Shalôm’—here—comes as a surprise: it springs from the gift of self taken to its very limit; beyond one’s capabilities.

The wounds are part of the character of the Risen One.

Any image that does not explicitly convey the signs of the excessive gratuitousness of the new kingdom inaugurated by Christ is misleading [even the gilded bronze sculpture in the Sala Nervi].

Joy comes from the perception of the Presence ‘beyond’ biological life.

Our happiness fades and is lost if we lose the Witness of life – thanks to whom every tiny gesture or state of mind (even fear) becomes revelation, meaning, and the intensity of relationship.

Pouring themselves out into the world, the Envoys embrace the very same mission as Jesus: that all may allow themselves to be saved.

And the gift of the active Spirit is precisely like the beginning of a new creation.

Indeed, John’s Pentecost springs from a fresh and genuine perspective of salvation: lovable, serene, neither ‘complete’ nor forced.

On closer inspection, according to the Book of Acts, Peter’s preaching provokes a tumult of conversions. In John, on the other hand, everything is discreet: no roar, nor fire and storm; nothing appears on the outside, nor remains external.

These are apostles empowered to open locked doors, and to establish the conditions of gratuitousness.

This is achieved through passive rather than active virtues; for example, ‘forgiveness’, where it is lacking. 

In this way, every act of grace aims to lift people out of any predicament, so that good may triumph over evil and life over death.

All in concrete terms, therefore through a process that takes time; like walking a path on foot.

An intensity of a ‘quite different’ nature, to which, on our part, only contemplation is fitting – in contrast to the more propagandistic and less reflective literature of Acts 2, where the traces of unbelief and doubt disappear.

As if the identity of the Crucified and Risen Jesus posed no problem whatsoever!

And in the fourth Gospel, the concept of ‘forgiveness of sins’ had been missing up to this point.

But precisely, we must move from ocular ‘vision’ to Faith.

The Son’s new way of life is known in the life of the Church, but it is best and fully accessible only to those who, though somewhat inside and somewhat outside, do not remain closed off.

Thomas is chosen by John as the point of connection between generations of believers.

Like each of us, he is not an indifferent sceptic: he is not afraid of the world; on the contrary, he wants to verify, to examine things thoroughly.

In him, Jesus expresses his appreciation for future believers, who will recognise his divine nature on the basis of their own experience – as profound as it is intensely lived.

There is perhaps an elitist section of the authentic Church, yet held together by fear (v.19).

Not only because the warrant of arrest always hangs over true witnesses. But also out of fear of confrontation with the world, or an inability to engage in dialogue.

Even today: fear of culture, of science, of biblical studies, of emancipation, of philosophical, ecumenical and interreligious dialogue; and so on.

Thomas is not afraid to stand outside the barred doors.

He does not withdraw and does not fear the encounter, the relationship with life that pulses and comes forth.

In this sense, he is the ‘twin’ [δίδυμο] of each one of us – and of Jesus.

Our context resembles that of the small Johannine communities of Asia Minor, scattered across the vastness of the Roman Empire; at times seduced by its attractions.

Ephesus, in particular, had hundreds of thousands of inhabitants.

A commercial hub, banking centre and prominent cosmopolitan city [whose focal point was naturally the great Temple of Artemis – a wonder of the ancient world] – it was the fourth largest city in the empire.

Distractions were plentiful.

Even among the earliest generations of believers, routine was beginning to set in: the fervour of the early days was fading; attendance became sporadic.

Under Domitian, believers also suffered marginalisation and discrimination.

Some believers were then disappointed by the closed-minded and one-sided attitude of community leaders. Others were put off by ambiguous internal grey areas and the mix of compromises (especially on the part of leaders) that discouraged the more sensitive among them.

Even today, one of the key factors in the ability to manifest the Risen One’s Presence remains direct encounter with our brothers and sisters, within a living solidarity.

Coexistence not held hostage by closed circles, which admit members only upon the recommendation of those already in office.

People who welcome surprises and encourage critical thinking and debate.

Women and men who are true to themselves, and allow others to breathe.

Not gullible, indoctrinated and brainwashed individuals – or pretentious, spineless posers.

Sisters and brothers who share their material resources and wisdom, according to their particular histories and sensibilities.

Where each person, just as they are and wherever they are – fully real, not disconnected from themselves – becomes nourishment for others with the crumbs they have.

Here, then, is ‘recognition’: it is not a matter of obedience to an abstract world, but of personal likeness.

It is a matter of attuning our countenance and our small ‘actions’ to the Source of Love consumed to the very end [our ‘finger’ and His ‘Hands’; our ‘hand’ and its ‘pierced side’].

Even with our limitations, ‘entering into the wounds’. By attraction, Faith will spring forth spontaneously (v.28).

Thus (vv.29-31 and 21:25) John invites everyone to write their own personal Gospel.

When our works are at least somewhat like those of Christ, everyone will ‘see’ him.

Is there, then, evidence that Jesus lives?

Certainly, he manifests himself tangibly in a gathering of non-conformist people; who are true to themselves.

Souls endowed with the capacity for independent thought. His ‘twins’ and those of Thomas.

Free beings to dwell in the world; outside the locked doors – to listen, to come down, to serve.

And to do so with conviction: personally, without coercion or hysteria.

We too want to ‘see him’.

Jn 7:37-39 (37-53)

The golden Pitcher and the River of Life

(Jn 7:37-39)

During the Feast of Tabernacles - on the occasion of the fruit harvest - the priests performed the ritual of water, carrying it in a golden jug from the pool of Siloah ['Sent'] to the Temple (where it was poured to ask for autumn rain).

The rite is customized by Jesus, who invites the crowds to drink from Wisdom: those who welcome Him will have within them a spring of life, an expression of the divine gold that is bestowed upon all his intimates - enabled to renew all things.

Invitation to come to Christ and quench one's thirst of Him, and Promise of the same divine Spirit for those who drink from his Person. Here the Lord replaces the Torah.

To say: we cannot fully exist without humanity quenching its thirst at Beverage that provides fullness of being.

The Lord matches what we seek, and exceeds it, making of each one a sanctuary that irrigates.

A personal, abundant Source of life-giving currents - even in deserts, to turn them into gardens.

Pentecost is in Christ an ultimate and springing moment. Fire and Wave.

Unlike in Acts 2, the Master does not use the impressive imagery of natural phenomena of the First Testament [thunder, earthquakes, hurricanes, lightning, fire] to narrate the living manifestation of God in believers.

In order to portray the outpouring of the Spirit, the breaking down of barriers and the project of a new Wisdom, Jesus uses the quiet image of a Water that is to be absorbed, that makes persons grow and - in time - produces life.

The path of Revelation and Covenant in the Spirit is revealed to be progressive - up to Him, in whom it finds its culmination.

Crowning that transfuses itself into the regenerated people: they (from fearless who were) become heralds and pioneers.

The new Creation, the new mothers and fathers expression of His victory over death, are not born from dust, but from the same «blood mixed with water» of the «elevated» Christ [on the cross].

Flow that now pours into disciples - to sprout life in them, so as to provide, brighten up and cheer the path of others.

In the open relationship between God and man (who by grace makes his contribution to Heaven's exuberant plan) the whole of creation also becomes a participant in the Pact of Communion.

After an initial cosmic alliance of peace with Noah, here is a personal one with Abraham - in view of the «multitudes».

The project of internalization and personal appeal had already shifted towards humanity, but with Moses it becomes energy and design of Liberation.

In Christ the chosen and holy people lay down all privileges: they become authentic in the recovery of opposing sides, and universal.

"Israel" moves from common religious feeling and from improved awareness of history lived alongside the Eternal, to the depths of his Heart - up to our own: that is, to reinterpretation and unprecedented adventure; properly, of Faith.

From the Prophets to Christ, the Covenant becomes global.

Under sudden or cadenced Action of the Spirit, 'Water' that goes beyond and overflows, but if assimilated makes everything grow - all and even dissimilarity becomes motion towards Unity: even chaos activates new cohesions.

The ancient Pact stretches far beyond borders.

Its circles become wider and wider - without making one fear that events might get out of hand with God - in moments of quietness and pauses, or even in unending upheavals.

The Water that the leaders or prophets of the First Testament had seen gushing out of rocks or cracked crags becomes Living - with no more corruptions.

How this man speaks: the primacy of the conscience of the plebs

(Jn 7:40-53)

In the Gospel passage the religious authorities judge everyone with contempt.

Those who have always fancied themselves masters will not be willing to become disciples of a subversive Revelation.

Unthinkable and undated novelty that dares to crumble pedestals and legalisms.

As the elite dump Christ, even the gendarmerie commanded to perpetuate and guard the security of the ancient world is stunned by the power of the new Word-Person.

The Lord replaces the Torah:

"Now on the last day, the great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink, he who believes in me. As Scripture has said: out of his belly shall flow rivers of Living Water" (vv.37-38).

He who comes into contact with the new Temple is guided by the intimate root in his womb, and wants to recognise it in himself.

As well as giving life, promoting it; loving, rejoicing life itself.

He himself becomes a bubbling Sanctuary, which begins to think and act in conscience - from his own (perhaps stifled, but indestructible) core.

A lesson in thinking from below, given to the 'superiors'.

An example that re-evaluates the theological judgement of the ungodly plebs (v.49).

And it is curious that the disobedience that saves the Christ present from seizure originates from a lack of minute knowledge of the Law.

There is a great confusion of opinions about Jesus among people. 

For the sects that have established the tyranny of norms, his unforeseen origin, neither mysterious nor overwhelming - unacceptable to calibrated thinking - is difficult.

Some consider him a son of David, others a Prophet; a deceiver or a good man (v.12) or someone who lacks studies (v.15).

The point is that He does not come to impose the old discipline again, nor to patch up the customs.

Not even to purify the Temple, renewing its propitiatory practice. 

Christ supplants him with the now of reality that reveals an inconceivable Face of God, which is grasped and expanded even from within each one of us.

It is by no means the quiet reconfirmation of the usual.

Tradition (written and oral) boasts deep-rooted arguments, but its fame causes confusion and harsh confrontation between opposing supporters, [even today] fashionable or not.

Nothing exceptional is ever found in this.

Fundamental is the understanding that we no longer need principals.

The distinction is the Person, in the uniqueness of his Vocation; not the point of view corresponding to a greatness or a mania.

It is in the unexpected Son that the present and the future arrive - not in a code of ideas that can summarise the cues of 'success' and embellish the already past.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (ii): 'The saint implements the unspoken teaching'. Master Wang Pi comments: "Spontaneity is enough for him. If he governs he corrupts".

Within each person dwells a naturalness that teaches, even to the masters of the law.

Spontaneity will not lead us to the feeble defence of Jesus made by Nicodemus (vv.51-53) who, in order to save the day, relies on another law, obvious after all.

When one stops wanting to be merely dependent - as one who is 'called' to stop the new that is appearing - there comes astonishment, the vertigo of God; different interests.

The Christ-icon of John 7 wants to develop in us the image and innate talent of the teacher of spirit who simply draws from personal experience of the Father, of himself and of reality.

We must not expect answers to always come from someone outside, assessed as more experienced - instead it is we who must teach the new one who comes to save us.

The Vocation by Name is entrusted to the unknown Rabbi who already dwells there - and wants to surface, expressing the unconscious divine already present.

The indispensable Gold, without induced mental burdens: only in conscience and character.

To internalise and live the message:

Do I feel capable of receiving the message of Life, or am I still stuck in the mechanism of the homologues who turn a blind eye and an ear?

Do I remain sensitive to the call of the Lord even in the details of a life without glory or under investigation?

Solemnity of Pentecost, living Tradition

In the Sacred Hymns, Manzoni compares the spiritual fall of humanity to the plummeting of a great stone down a "splintered" slope; a boulder that finally "beats on the bottom and stands".

By nature, we do not have the ability to push back our boulder, rolled downhill and "abandoned to the rush of noisy landslide" [nor indeed to provide for its splintering].

But the Lord knows man in his need, and knows that not infrequently - in the time of our distress - by expressing ourselves even hastily, we make situations worse.

It is a condition rather than a fault.

Heaven comes to help us internalise; to set us on the path to indestructible Happiness, preventing tears from destroying even the soul.

To this end, the Spirit disposes to experience an eminent Attinence, of Abode and Reciprocity, of Interpretation and Root.

Its powerful wind - Ruah - is called 'Holy' both for its supreme quality and for its activity: to 'sanctify', that is, to separate people from the chasm of self-destruction.

And a profound discernment on the subject of life and death is not within our grasp.

That is why no less than four of the traditional seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit have a character of profound knowledge.

The global understanding of things is what characterises the Gift of Wisdom [from the Latin sāpere, to have taste] that transmits to concrete existence the taste of God Himself.

Wisdom infuses the believer with a subtle understanding, from the divine point of view, of the panorama and the individual sections of our journey: doubtful, uncertain, conditioned by outline situations.

God's eye catches the person in his or her radical destitution, which seeks completion (just as the rush of attempts or external opinions and influences plays tricks).

This is why, in traditional ascetics, Wisdom - the standard of God - was considered to bring the theological virtue of Charity to perfection. 

In short, man in himself is not autonomous: he needs to be filled and saved.

Wisdom is the source of insight into our limitations: the principle of tolerance of others. 

It conveys a balanced connaturality, and a different 'scent' in relationships; a pillar of a life dedicated to the good.

The Gift of Intellect [intus-lēgere, to read within things] uncovers God's weave in history and helps one evaluate oneself.

Deciphering the signs of the times with insight, we discover the not purely earthly dimension of events. Thus, divine grains deposited in creation and happenings.

We see deeply: that is why it was considered a Gift that brings to perfection the theological virtue of Faith: it guides us to the heart of things and does not let us judge trivially.

The Council leads to the evaluative exercise of the cardinal virtue of Prudence.

Once upon a time, the spiritual fathers associated it with the explanation of the passage of the adulteress: she saved from the hypocrites and the old rotters made immediately and finally conscious.

A gift that makes us understand the Plan of Salvation and helps us decide for the best in situations of unforeseen urgency or immediate danger.

It is capacity for discernment against precipitation.

The Council emphasises dialogue and synergy with regard to practice and prospects for personal fulfilment.

E.g.: how many times have we listened to the advice of parents and grandparents - to understand the world and treasure their experience and expertise!

For us who struggle to discover the things at hand, such a Gift opens wide God's direction: what is expedient in order to our maturity and ultimate Purpose.

The Gift of Science also brings the virtue of Faith to perfection, as it makes us understand the (extraordinary) value and the (so ordinary) limit of creatures.

Science from above does not allow one to fall into materialism, nor contempt for worldly things - which ultimately is denial of the ineffable and supreme work of the Creator.

From the indescribably small of Quantum Physics, to the infinitely large of Relativity [and their strange universe of missing correlations] we marvel at God.

Everything speaks of Him and can lead us to the Eternal. However, nothing captures it absolutely.

Knowing reality on a broad spectrum - as well as the vital contribution of different viewpoints and cultures - can also make one understand one's neighbour.

And it induces one to behave competently among things: of thought, of psyche, of soul.

Love unsupported by a capacity for versed discernment not infrequently drifts.

In the age of the fake connoisseur and dirigiste, there is perhaps nothing more devastating than an unprepared person unleashed into action.

My carpenter father knew that the best in his field is not the craftsman who makes the most chips.

The ancient spiritual fathers gladly reiterated: 'per Scientiam homo cognoscit defecus suos et rerum mundanarum'.We see this in the approximate teachings and even in the paroxysms of theologies devoured by vanity: intimate and closed, or practical but external; disembodied, fable-like, or baleful.

Thanks to the Gift of Fortitude, by recognising ourselves as weak we make room for God's vigour, not only in great trials.

A pinprick action can crumble our life more than a sabre rattling.

And he who has no inner strength is sick, conformist in his difficulties; he staggers and washes his hands of it.

Minimalism attenuates, it enervates, it makes men become bonsai men, who vegetate for a long time - remaining shrunken.

Constancy, courage and tenacity are an aid to weakness; only with grit do we give our best, even in our relationship with God - perfecting the same cardinal virtue of fortitude.

The Gift of Pietas - a family virtue - infuses religion with the heart; the character of intimacy and tenderness.

It is a childlike feeling that integrates and thins out the slave's fear of the master.

At one time it was considered a Gift that brought to the summit the cardinal virtue of Justice [towards God] not as a duty of worship, but as an expression of friendship.

Recognition of Gratuity received without merit: creaturely and redemptive.

The Fear of God finally drove to perfection the theological virtue of Hope, the character of the living being that awaits everything from the Father.

Pentecost was a Jewish festival celebrating the gift of the Law. The change of pace of the Faith has transformed it into the birthday of the people who unfold the Lord's loving Face in history.

Not because of a different doctrine, but because of the Action of a Motive and Engine that brings us, and renews the world in a way you do not expect.

Perhaps with passive rather than active virtues. Thanks to an infused or innate Knowledge, spontaneous and natural, rather than artificial.

Dwelling in the Person led back to the Source and in the web of the We, the Father does not pronounce Himself by issuing laws like the God-master of ancient religions.

Rather, it is expressed in the polyphonic creativity of life and in the unheard of love - the only convincing language capable of edifying. 

Understandable to all.

In short, in the conviviality of differences each one is himself, in a relationship of enriching exchange.

Transparency in the flesh of the celestial condition.

Thus the Incarnation continues: reflection in the human of the unity, truth and intensity of Father-Son understanding.

Here even dust can become Splendour, because the complex of individual cardinal and theological virtues is sublimated and perfected in Relation: the We of the Spirit.

Such founding Eros is something else: even capable of transmuting our incoherence into an energetic state for New Horizons.

Unable to sin

(Acts 2:1-11)

Pentecost is the feast of the Gift, quite simply. The language of Acts of the Apostles is quite striking and colourful: it infuses the event with symbolic prodigies that are good to decipher.

Thunder, lightning, wind and fire were the images that accompanied the revelation of the ancient law. With them Lk wants to emphasise the power of the world to come.

The rabbis claimed that at Sinai the Words of God took the form of seventy tongues of fire - saying that the entire Torah was intended for the multitudes, even the pagans.

According to traditional interpretation, the divine Words had made themselves visible ["the people saw the voices"; Hebrew text] in the form of flames that had carved the stone tablets prepared by Moses (Ex 20:18).

Against this backdrop, Lk intends to present the gift of the new Law - that of the Spirit - and employs the same biblical icons to make itself understood, not to chronicle details.

The vigorous figures suggest a powerful explosion, which throws all life into the air - that is the point.

This is to say: for a radical liberation from the old structures that masked sin and (too many) duplicities, obsessions or quietisms, the divine Spirit must come.

Only its unexpected and shattering power can change the face of the earth and bring about radical transformations.

It is impossible to achieve this authentically, generating any upheaval from the limit of our genius and muscles.

It is beyond our capabilities to bring down conditioning, atavistic barriers, and activate the multifaceted Newness of God that humanises us.

Only a founding relationship can convince us that courageous initiatives and the triumph of life pass through a form of death. Death of common thinking, of the old world, of conditionings and fashions - and of the emptiness of selfhood.

An essential work - to encounter the multiplicity of faces; our own and others'.

The "many tongues spoken" are precisely to indicate the now biting universalism of the message of Christ and his Church.

The Gift comes from a Presence 'within' us and events. But it is destined precisely for the multitudes, with no more barriers.

The disaster of Babel is redeemed both from above and from below, because here and now dissimilarities become valuable resources.

He who allows himself to be guided by the Spirit recovers the many facets, also of the [personal and non]shadow sides.

In this way it is expressed in the language that everyone understands: Communion, conviviality of differences.

It is the love that treasures everything and brings everyone together (vv.7-11), doing away with the idolatrous fixations of selective religion - that of purities with individualist or ethnic overtones; idolatries linked to cultural extraction.

All New Testament authors start from the reality of the Spirit's presence; Lk dares to 'describe' it.

The descent of the Spirit is thus placed on the day of Pentecost, fifty days after Easter.

But in Jn (20:22) Jesus communicates the Spirit that animates believers and the Church... on the very day of the Resurrection.

As the liturgy itself proposes in its signs and symbolic expressions, the Easter Mystery is One.

To put it bluntly: the Crucified One "delivered the Spirit" already from the Cross (Jn 19:30).

Lk describes the dense meaning of the one Paschal Mystery-reality in three successive 'moments'-aspects of the disciples' maturation.

They become 'apostles' [Resurrection, Ascension, Pentecost] not to convey to us a chronicle of particular events, but to help us understand their significance and manifold aspects.

Jn instead places the delivery of the Spirit from the Cross and on Easter evening, to highlight it as the global Gift of the Risen Crucified.

The author of Acts emblematically places this delivery on the day of Pentecost, to emphasise the relationship and detachment from the Jewish feast.

This feast, however, provided a perfect setting: it was a pilgrimage feast that drew both Palestinian and Diaspora Jews to Jerusalem.

The "official" origins of the Community made aware of its task as "Outgoing Sender" was nourished - in addition - by a subtle reference to the Spirit of Creation.

The breath of the Ruah - divine Spirit [in Hebrew of the feminine gender] becomes the vital breath and impetuous wind that invests the "House" (v.2) regenerating and forcing the fearful followers, still seated in the Temple (Lk 24:53).

The ancient Pentecost celebrated the arrival of the people at Mount Sinai and the gift of the Law [which theologised the agricultural feast of thanksgiving for the wheat harvest, which in turn concluded the cycle of reborn nature that had begun at Passover and preceded the Feast of Tents later held at the great autumn harvest; In the tradition of the shepherds, Passover was a theologisation of the apotropaic rite of the sacrifice of a lamb to propitiate the outcome of the spring transhumance, while Pentecost was its concluding feast on the heights and preceded the return to the folds the following autumn].

Lk wants to teach that the Spirit has replaced the Torah: it has become the new norm of behaviour and the only non-external criterion of communion with God.

The author evokes the traditional Jewish feast, almost by comparison - to mark its fulfilment-fullness. But like Easter, Pentecost is also stretched towards the future.

The evangelist wants to demonstrate the breadth of the Spirit's destination over "twelve" different regions, conveyed by the fire of the Word (v.3), which empowered the Proclamation to all nations on earth.

But first of all, Lk intends to make us understand its real incisiveness.

The author of the third Gospel and of Acts realises that in order to obtain works of righteousness and love, it is not enough for men to show the right way.

It is the Eternal Himself who must become the reliable subject of history, the sole propeller of life.

Therefore, God had to change our hearts: precepts and counsels are not enough to change the deep instincts of people and peoples.

External regulation only makes us epidermic: it does not grasp the intimate, it does not convince the heart.

Every genuine action is the expression of a profound adhesion, of a desire of the soul, of a compelling intimate impulse.

The law of the Spirit is a kind of fantasy in power, but it does not stand outside, nor does it require in itself any effort against its own character - at root.

The 'new heart' is the very Life of God that enters into us to transform us, not in moralistic or model terms - but by expanding existence in a genuine way, starting from the seed, from our core.

When the Life of the Eternal pulsates in anyone's soul, it spontaneously manifests God in human history.

And it produces its vital works - with an unthinkable action, transmuting us from brambles into fruitful trees.

With no more artifice and duplicity, our uncertain desert becomes a garden.

We even begin to love with God's own quality of love - sometimes without even the purpose or discipline, or the very knowledge that we want to do so.

Since the Spirit takes up residence in any woman or man, they no longer need to be taught by the opinion of others: they can finally be themselves.

"And this is the Promise that He has made to us: the Life of the Eternal. This I have written to you concerning those who seek to deceive you. And as for you, the anointing you have received from Him remains in you and you do not need anyone to instruct you. But just as His anointing teaches you all things and is true and does not lie, so now abide in Him as He has instructed you" (1 John 2:25-27).

All that remains external or distant vanishes, and effortlessly loses consistency.

This is because there is no longer any law or cerebral thought that holds, nor any obligation of any kind.

We become 'incapable of sin': we have passed from the religious sense that intimidated and made us prone, to the full dignity of Faith.

"Whoever is born of God does not commit sin, because a divine seed dwells in him, and he cannot sin, because he is born of God" (1Jn 3:9).

Gathered this morning in this house of prayer consecrated to the Lord, how can we not evoke the other fine image that Saint Paul uses in speaking of the Church, the image of the building whose stones are closely fitted together to form a single structure, and whose cornerstone, on which everything else rests, is Christ? He is the source of the new life given us by the Father in the Holy Spirit. The Gospel of Saint John has just proclaimed it: “out of his heart shall flow rivers of living water”. This gushing water, this living water which Jesus promised to the Samaritan woman, was seen by the prophets Zechariah and Ezechiel issuing forth from the side of the Temple, so that it could make fruitful the waters of the Dead Sea: a marvellous image of the promise of life that God has always made to his people and that Jesus came to fulfil. In a world where men are so loath to share the earth’s goods and there is a dramatic shortage of water, this good so precious for the life of the body, the Church discovers that she possesses an even greater treasure. As the Body of Christ, she has been charged to proclaim his Gospel to the ends of the earth (cf. Mt28:19), transmitting to the men and women of our time the Good News which not only illuminates but overturns their lives, even to the point of conquering death itself. This Good News is not just a word, but a person, Christ himself, risen and alive! By the grace of the sacraments, the water flowing from his open side on the Cross has become an overflowing spring, “rivers of living water”, a flood that no one can halt, a gift that restores life. How could Christians keep for themselves alone what they have received? How could they hoard this treasure and bury this spring? The Church’s mission is not to preserve power, or to gain wealth; her mission is to offer Christ, to give a share in Christ’s own life, man’s most precious good, which God himself gives us in his Son.

[Pope Benedict, homily in Istanbul, 1 December 2006]

The Spirit and the "seeds of truth" in human thought

1. Repeating a statement in the book of Wisdom (1:7), the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council teaches us that “the Spirit of the Lord”, who bestows his gifts upon the People of God on pilgrimage through history, “replet orbem terrarum”, fills the whole universe (cf. Gaudium et spes, n. 11). He ceaselessly guides people to the fullness of truth and love which God the Father revealed in Jesus Christ.

This profound awareness of the Holy Spirit’s presence and action has always illumined the Church’s consciousness, guaranteeing that whatever is genuinely human finds an echo in the hearts of Christ's disciples (cf. ibid., n. 1).

Already in the first half of the second century, the philosopher St Justin could write: “Everything that has always been affirmed in an excellent way and has been discovered by those who study philosophy or make laws has been accomplished by seeking or contemplating a part of the Word” (Apologia II, 10, 1-3).

2. The opening of the human spirit to truth and goodness always takes place in the perspective of the “true light that enlightens every man” (Jn 1:9). This light is Christ the Lord himself, who has enlightened man’s steps from the very beginning and has entered his “heart”. With the Incarnation, in the fullness of time, the Light appeared in this world in its full brilliance, shining in the sight of man as the splendour of the truth (cf. Jn 14:6).

Already foretold in the Old Testament, the gradual manifestation of the fullness of truth which is Jesus Christ takes place down the centuries by the work of the Holy Spirit. This particular action of the “Spirit of truth” (cf. Jn 14:17; 15:26; 16:13) concerns not only believers, but in a mysterious way all men and women who, though not knowing the Gospel through no fault of their own, sincerely seek the truth and try to live an upright life (cf. Lumen gentium, n. 16).

In the footsteps of the Fathers of the Church, St Thomas Aquinas can maintain that no spirit can be “so darkened as not to participate in some way in the divine light. In fact, every known truth from any source is totally due to this 'light which shines in the darkness', since every truth, no matter who utters it, comes from the Holy Spirit” (Super Ioannem, 1, 5 lect. 3, n. 103).

3. For this reason, the Church supports every authentic quest of the human mind and sincerely esteems the patrimony of wisdom built up and transmitted by the various cultures. It expresses the inexhaustible creativity of the human spirit, directed towards the fullness of truth by the Spirit of God.

The encounter between the word of truth preached by the Church and the wisdom expressed in cultures and elaborated by philosophies calls on the latter to be open to and to find their own fulfilment in the revelation which comes from God. As the Second Vatican Council stresses, this encounter enriches the Church, enabling her to penetrate the truth ever more deeply, to express it in the languages of the different cultural traditions and to present it — unchanged in its substance — in the form most suited to the changing times (cf. Gaudium et spes, n. 44).

Trust in the presence and action of the Holy Spirit, even in the travail of the culture of our time, can serve as a starting point, at the dawn of the third millennium, for a new encounter between the truth of Christ and human thought.

4. In view of the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000, it is necessary to look more closely at the Council’s teaching on this ever fresh and fruitful encounter between revealed truth, preserved and transmitted by the Church, and the many different forms of human thought and culture. Unfortunately, Paul VI’s observation in the Encyclical Letter Evangelii nuntiandi that “the division between the Gospel and culture is without a doubt the tragedy of our time” (n. 20) is still valid.

To prevent this division which has serious consequences for consciences and behaviour, it is necessary to reawaken in Christ’s disciples that vision of faith which can discover the “seeds of truth” scattered by the Holy Spirit among our contemporaries. This can also contribute to their purification and maturation through the patient art of dialogue, whose particular goal is to present Christ’s face in all its splendour.

It is particularly necessary to keep well in mind the great principle formulated by the last Council, which I wanted to recall in the Encyclical Dives in misericordia: “While the various currents of human thought both in the past and at the present have tended and still tend to separate theocentrism and anthropocentrism, and even to set them in opposition to each other, the Church, following Christ, seeks to link them up in human history, in a deep and organic way” (n. 1).

5. This principle proves fruitful not only for philosophy and humanistic culture but also for the areas of scientific research and art. In fact, the “humble and persevering investigator of the secrets of nature is being led, as it were, by the hand of God in spite of himself, for it is God, the conserver of all things, who made them what they are” (Gaudium et spes, n. 36b).

On the other hand, the true artist has the gift of perceiving and expressing the luminous and infinite horizon in which the existence of man and the world is immersed. If he is faithful to the inspiration that dwells within him and transcends him, he acquires a hidden connaturality with the beauty with which the Holy Spirit clothes Creation.

May the Holy Spirit, the Light that enlightens minds and the divine “artist of the world” (S. Bulgakov, Il Paraclito, Bologna 1971, p. 311), guide the Church and contemporary humanity on the paths of a new and surprising encounter with the splendour of the Truth!

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 16 September 1998]

Today that the Square is open, we are able to return. It is a pleasure!

Today we celebrate the great feast of Pentecost, in memory of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the first Christian community. Today’s Gospel (cf. Jn 20:19-23) takes us back to the evening of Easter and shows us the Risen Jesus who appears in the Upper Room, where the disciples have taken refuge. They were afraid. He “stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you!’” (v. 19). These first words pronounced by the Risen One — “Peace be with you” — are to be considered as more than a greeting: they express forgiveness, the forgiveness granted to the disciples who, to tell the truth, had abandoned him. They are words of reconciliation and forgiveness. And when we wish peace to others, we too are granting forgiveness, and asking for forgiveness as well. Jesus offers his peace precisely to these disciples who are afraid, who find it hard to believe what they have seen, that is, the empty tomb, and they underestimate the witness of Mary of Magdala and of the other women. Jesus forgives; he always forgives, and offers his peace to his friends. Do not forget: Jesus never tires of forgiving. It is we who tire of asking for forgiveness. 

By forgiving and gathering his disciples around him, Jesus makes them a Church, his Church, which is a community reconciled and ready for mission. Reconciled and ready for mission. When a community is not reconciled, it is not ready for mission: it is ready for discussions within it; it is ready for internal [discussions]. The encounter with the Risen Lord upends the lives of the Apostles and transforms them into courageous witnesses. Indeed, immediately afterwards he says, “As the Father has sent me, even so I send you” (v. 21). These words help us understand that the Apostles are sent to continue the same mission that the Father entrusted to Jesus. “I send you”: it is not time to stay locked up, nor to regret: to regret the ‘good times’, those times spent with the Master. The joy of the Resurrection is great, but it is an expansive joy, which should not be kept to oneself: it is to be given. On the Sundays of the Easter Season we first heard this same episode, then the encounter with the disciples of Emmaus, then the Good Shepherd, the farewell discourses and the promise of the Holy Spirit: all this is directed toward strengthening the disciples’ faith — and ours as well — in view of the mission.

And precisely to inspire mission, Jesus gives his Spirit to the Apostles. The Gospel states: “he breathed on them, and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’” (v. 22). The Holy Spirit is fire that burns away sins and creates new men and women; he is the fire of love with which the disciples can ‘set the world on fire’, that tender love that favours the little ones, the poor, the excluded... In the sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation we received the Holy Spirit with his gifts: wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of God. This last gift — fear of God — is the very opposite of the fear that first paralyzed the disciples: it is love for the Lord; it is the certainty of his mercy and his goodness; it is the confidence that we are able to move in the direction he indicates, without ever lacking his presence and support.

The feast of Pentecost renews the awareness that the life-giving presence of the Holy Spirit abides in us. He also gives us the courage to go outside the protective walls of our “Upper Rooms”, of our little groups, without easing into a quiet life or withdrawing into sterile habits. Let us now raise our thoughts to Mary: when the Holy Spirit came, she was there, with the Apostles, a protagonist with the first Community that experienced the wonders of Pentecost, and let us pray that she obtain for the Church the ardent missionary spirit.

[Pope Francis, Regina Coeli, 31 May 2020]