Pope Francis, in his homily at the Mass in the Casa Santa Marta, invites us to reflect on the hypocrisy of the righteous, who live Christianity "as a social habit", do not bring Jesus into their daily lives and thus expel him from their hearts. If we do this "we are Christians, but we live like pagans".

We, who are born into a Christian society, risk living Christianity "as a social habit", formally, with "the hypocrisy of the righteous", who are "afraid to let themselves be loved". And when Mass is over, we leave Jesus in church, "he does not come home with us", in daily life. Woe to us, so we drive Jesus out of our hearts: "We are Christians, but we live like pagans". Pope Francis invites everyone to an examination of conscience, in the homily of the morning Mass celebrated at Casa Santa Marta, commenting on the Gospel of St Luke and Jesus' rebuke to the people of Bethsaida, Chorazìn and Capernaum, who did not believe in him despite the miracles.

Jesus weeps for those who are incapable of love

Jesus "is grieved to be rejected", Francis explains, while pagan cities like Tyre and Sidon, seeing his miracles "surely would have believed". And he weeps, "because these people had not been able to love", while He "wanted to reach all hearts, with a message that was not a dictatorial message, but was a message of love".

We, born Christians, who forget Jesus

Instead of the inhabitants of the three cities, put us, put me, continued the Pope. "I who have received so much from the Lord, I was born in a Christian society, I have come to know Jesus Christ, I have come to know salvation," I was educated in the faith. And very easily I forget about Jesus. Then instead 'we hear news of other people who immediately hear the announcement of Jesus, convert and follow him'. But we, comments the Pontiff, are 'used to it'.

And this habit hurts us, because we reduce the Gospel to a social, sociological fact, and not to a personal relationship with Jesus. Jesus speaks to me, he speaks to you, he speaks to each one of us. Jesus' sermon is for each and every one of us. How is it that those pagans who, as soon as they hear Jesus' sermon, go with him, and I, who was born, here, in a Christian society, get used to it, and Christianity is like a social habit, a garment that I put on and then leave? And Jesus weeps, over each one of us when we live Christianity formally, not really.

The hypocrisy of the righteous is fear of letting oneself be loved

If we do this, Pope Francis clarifies, we are a little hypocritical, with the hypocrisy of the righteous.

There is the hypocrisy of sinners, but the hypocrisy of the righteous is the fear of Jesus' love, the fear of letting oneself be loved. And actually, when we do this, we are trying to manage our relationship with Jesus. "Yes, I go to Mass but you stay in the church I then go home".

"And Jesus doesn't go home with us: in the family, in the education of the children, in the school, in the neighbourhood..."

We pretend to have Jesus, but we cast him out

So Jesus remains there in the Church, bitterly comments Francis, "Either he remains in the crucifix or the little picture".

Today can be a day of examination of conscience for us, with this refrain: "Woe to you, woe to you", because I have given you so much, I have given myself, I have chosen you to be a Christian, to be a Christian, and you prefer a half-and-half life, a superficial life: a little yes of Christianity and holy water but nothing more. In fact, when we live this Christian hypocrisy, what we do is drive Jesus out of our hearts. We pretend to have him, but we kick him out. "We are Christians, proud to be Christians", but we live like pagans.

Prayer: you have given me much, I am ungrateful

Each one of us, the Pope concludes, thinks: "Am I Corazìn? Am I Bethsaida? Am I Capernaum?" And if Jesus weeps, ask for the grace to weep also. With this prayer: "Lord, you have given me so much. My heart is so hard that it will not let you in. I have sinned in ingratitude, I am ungrateful." "And we ask the Holy Spirit to open wide the doors of our hearts, so that Jesus may enter, so that we may not only hear Jesus," but hear his message of salvation and "give thanks for so many good things he has done for each of us."

[Pope Francis, s. Marta; Alessandro Di Bussolo (ed.)

https://www.vaticannews.va/it/papa-francesco/messa-santa-marta/2018-10/papa-francesco-omelia-messa-santa-marta-guai-cristiani-ipocriti.html]

Reputation and obedience: crossroads of the Truth of Faith

(Mt 10:34-42)

We ask ourselves: what prevents growth? What conversely makes us intimate with the Father?

To bear the Cross is to become "obedient" to one's personal Mission. Christ wants new and free people; not celebrities.

The apostle's identification is with the life of Jesus of Nazareth, the public rebel against official authorities, friend of publicans and sinners (Mt 11:19) condemned for lack of conformity.

Only by pushing down and meeting the same rejection, do we encounter God (v.40) in Freedom from all forms of conditioning.

The faithful is not recognized by heroic deeds (vv.41-42), or prestige - but in social choice.

It is an instinctive predilection for the lower class; the one that does not resist the Newness of God.

The missionary is not characterised by extraordinary qualities: he stands out in smallness (v.42).

Those who only appreciate great things do not build the new Kingdom, because underneath they cultivate the old ideology of power, that condemns only by proclamations.

A comparison of the parallel Greek-language texts of Mt 10:38 and Lk 14:27 (Jn 12:26) gives insight into the meaning of «taking up» or «lifting up the cross» for a disciple who relives Christ and communicates Him in human history.

The friend of Jesus stakes his honour. His source of life achieves total self-giving even in terms of public consideration.

After the court sentence, the condemned man was forced to carry the horizontal arm of the gallows on his shoulders.

It was the most harrowing moment, because of utmost loneliness and perceived failure.

The unfortunate and already shamed man had to thus proceed to the place of crucifixion, passing between two wings of the crowd who, out of religious duty, mocked and battered the wretch - deemed cursed by God.

Therefore, to his intimates Jesus does not point to the Cross in the corny sense of a necessary endurance of life's inevitable contrarieties, which then through forced exercise would chisel out souls more capable of coping [today we say: resilient].

Compared to the usual proposals of healthy outer and inner discipline, which are the same for everyone and only useful to keep things as usual, the Master is instead suggesting a much more radical behaviour.

The Lord points to an asceticism totally different from that of the many ancient beliefs, even inverted: the paradoxical opportunity of contemptuous rejection in public opinion.

The Father does not give any 'cross', nor are we obliged to accept it out of obedience or force majeure: the disciple «takes it up» (v.38) in a non-passive manner, regardless of the credit he expects!

In short, the follower of Christ renounces reputation and any outward showcase of consensus.

It is an essential, propulsive, diriment cue of the person of Faith. Commitment to renown is totally incompatible; it does not spread life without limits.

He who is tied to his good reputation, to the roles, to the character to play, to the task, to the level he has acquired, will never resemble the Lord.

So even today, the announcement of the authentic Messiah creates divisions.

The «sword» of his Person (v.34) separates each one's affair from the world of values of the clan to which he belongs, or from the idea of respectability.

And it charges every apostle of the Cross with consequent mockery.

Yet the 'night' that is pressing in can make us live more daringly, prepared for action and dialogue.

So: no bond of domestication - not even with God.

[Monday 15th wk. in O.T.  July 13, 2026]

Reputation and obedience: crossroads of the Truth of Faith

(Mt 10:34-11:1)

We ask ourselves: what prevents growth? What conversely makes one intimate with the Father?

Carrying the Cross... in the sense of being a devoted and submissive son... or... "obedient" to one's Mission?

Christ wants new and free people.

The identification of the apostle is not with celebrities and people of social or ascetic prominence, but with the life of Jesus of Nazareth, the public rebel against official authorities, the friend of publicans and sinners (Mt 11:19) condemned for lack of conformity.

Only by pushing down and encountering the same rejection, here - from the proponents of sacred values - do we encounter God (v.40) in Freedom from all forms of conditioning, religious, affective, mental.

The believer is not recognised for heroic and magnificent deeds (vv.41-42), excellence and visibility of office, charisma and credit, weight and prestige - but in social choice.

It is a matter of an instinctive predilection towards the lower rank on the scale, even ecclesial; that which does not resist the Newness of God.

The missionary is not characterised by extraordinary qualities: he stands out in smallness (v.42).

He who appreciates only great things does not build the new Kingdom, because underneath he cultivates the old ideology of power, which he condemns with proclamations.

A comparison of the parallel texts in the Greek language of Mt 10:38 and Lk 14:27 (Jn 12:26) gives insight into the meaning of "taking up" or "lifting up the cross" for a disciple who relives Christ and expands him into human history.

The friend of Jesus takes up the honour.

Immersed in his Source of life, he achieves total self-giving - even in terms of public consideration.

After the court sentence, the condemned man was forced to carry the horizontal arm of the gallows on his shoulders.

It was the most harrowing moment, because it was one of utmost loneliness and perceived failure.

The hapless and already shamed man had to proceed to the place of crucifixion, passing between two wings of the crowd who, out of religious duty, mocked and battered the one deemed cursed by God.

Therefore, Jesus does not point out the Cross to his intimates in the corrupt sense of a necessary endurance of life's inevitable contrarieties, which then through forced exercise would chisel out souls more capable of coping [today we say: resilient].

Compared to the usual proposals of healthy exterior and interior discipline, the same for all and useful only to keep the situation (of other people's privilege) at bay, the Master is on the contrary suggesting a much more radical behaviour.

The Lord is pointing to an asceticism totally different from that of the many ancient beliefs, even inverted: the paradoxical appropriateness of chastisement and scourge [deviance from the God of religions] and the contemptuous rejection of public opinion.

The Father does not give any 'cross', nor are we obliged to accept it out of obedience or force majeure: the disciple 'takes it up' (v.38) in a non-passive manner, regardless of the credit he expects!

In short, the follower of Christ very often has to renounce reputation and every outward showcase of consent - even devout and in itself appropriate [such as that of teachers, countrymen and family members].

It is an essential, propulsive and diriment cue of the person of Faith. The striving for prestigious renown - kept to oneself - is totally incompatible, it spreads life without limit (not even for oneself).

He who is tied to his good reputation, to the roles, to the character to be played, to the job description, to the level he has acquired, will never resemble the Lord - and neither will he who does not dilute the tribal dimension of 'kinship' interest.

From the earliest times, the proclamation of the authentic Messiah created divisions: the "sword" of his Person (v.34) separated each person's affair from the world of values of the clan to which he belonged, or from the idea of respectability, even national respectability.

Today, the same thing happens where someone proclaims the Gospel as it is, and attempts to renew the jammed mechanisms of the fashionable Church, or of the habitual, outdated, hypocritical, faux-blue-blood Church in the territory. Charging itself with the cross of consequent mockery.

A very clear separation and cut, for the new unity: that which is the crossroads of Truth without duplicity.

We don't realise it, but milestones and intermediate stages absorbed through the influence of civilisation from outside are not really ours - despite the fact that this epidermal 'second brain' tends to invade our being.

Conformity on the side seems a refuge that attracts, but becomes only a den of flattery.

According to Chinese thought, in order to gain polish and escape a polluted and worn-out servility, the saints 'are taught by beasts the art of avoiding the harmful effects of domestication, which life in society imposes'.

Indeed: 'Domesticated animals die prematurely. And so do men, whom social conventions forbid to obey spontaneously the rhythm of universal life'.

"These conventions impose continuous, self-interested, exhausting activity [whereas it is appropriate] to alternate between periods of slow life and jubilation".

"The saint does not submit himself to retreat or fasting except in order to achieve, through ecstasy, to escape for long journeys. This liberation is prepared by life-giving games, which nature teaches".

"One trains oneself for the paradisiacal life by imitating the amusements of animals. In order to sanctify oneself, one must first brutalise oneself - meaning: learn from children, from beasts, from plants, the simple and joyful art of living only in view of life' [M. Granet, The Chinese Thought, Adelphi 2019, kindle pp. 6904-6909].

The suggestion of the past to perpetuate, the lace of narrow or glamorous judgements, and club ties, can rob us of hidden wealth, stealing the present and the future: this is the real mistake to avoid!

What matters is not to be cool or to copy the ancients, and to identify ourselves in order to be quiet and not make mistakes, but to renew ourselves in order to evolve, to grow, to expand, to amaze in a personal way. 

Otherwise our awkward problems will always be the same - and there will be no exuberant Path nor Promised Land, but only a vicious circle of fantasies or regrets, and fake reassurances.

To live the Faith of the real moment - an adventure that does not give up and puts things in line - one cannot be a repeating schoolboy of the place, the time, or the day before.

If we are forced to remove or hide our authentic emotions from the homologising opinions of the 'best', we will vainly resemble them - dissipating the richness of the Vocation.

When the expert instead of helping to broaden the view imposes no character changes, the person does not regain his or her simplicity.

And life [even that spent most nobly, in the gift of self] sooner or later becomes a nightmare.

Enough of managers pretending to intervene with their conformisms and 'adequate' or inadequate lifestyles!

Managers not infrequently place under an asphyxiating cloak of manner, the very path that is ours according to nature.

Earthly Faith: Our life is not played out on the initiative of what we are already able to set up and practise - or interpret, design and predict - but on Attention.

Here the dimension of 'Gospel discernment' takes over from the clichés of ideas and doing.

The illusion of feeling in the light instead of in the underworld - or vice versa - jams the unseen mechanisms, absorbs the being that we are, its eye and the high (non-brain) reflexivity of our consciousness.

The obtuse gaze under the influence of official approval [or easy success at court and in society] clutters one's own and others' essence with epidermal clichés, dependent impulses, which are the true impurity of life.

Thus the conventional person finds himself unable to produce fundamental changes, the more real the less immediately apparent.

Disorders enlightened by deep nature, on the other hand, have much to teach.

Personal and sibling issues do not come to us in order to be hastily placed under the cloak of a qualitative evaluation, but rather to make us a proposition of new visions that could make us more independent - only so intimate with the Lord.

The soul calls to oneness and the One, to diversity and Conviviality - in a radical relationship of interest between giver and receiver.

The 'night' that presses in can make us live more boldly, prepared for action and Dialogue.

So: no bond of domestication - not even with God.

To internalise and live the message:

What changes do you feel as your Calling?

Does the reputation and opinion of others in the community favour or block you? For what reason?

Is your 'family' closed in on itself or does it motivate openness of horizon?

There is an expression of Jesus that always attracts our attention and needs to be properly understood.

While he is on his way to Jerusalem, where death on a cross awaits him, Christ asked his disciples: "Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division". And he adds: "[H]enceforth in one house there will be five divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against her mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Lk 12: 51-53).

Anyone who has even the slightest knowledge of Christ's Gospel knows that it is a message of peace par excellence; as St Paul wrote, Jesus himself "is our peace" (Eph 2: 14), the One who died and rose in order to pull down the wall of enmity and inaugurate the Kingdom of God which is love, joy and peace.

So how can his words be explained? To what was the Lord referring when he said he had come - according to St Luke's version - to bring "division" or - according to St Matthew's - the "sword" (Mt 10: 34)?

Christ's words mean that the peace he came to bring us is not synonymous with the mere absence of conflicts. On the contrary, Jesus' peace is the result of a constant battle against evil. The fight that Jesus is determined to support is not against human beings or human powers, but against Satan, the enemy of God and man.

Anyone who desires to resist this enemy by remaining faithful to God and to good, must necessarily confront misunderstandings and sometimes real persecutions.

All, therefore, who intend to follow Jesus and to commit themselves without compromise to the truth, must know that they will encounter opposition and that in spite of themselves they will become a sign of division between people, even in their own families. In fact, love for one's parents is a holy commandment, but to be lived authentically it can never take precedence over love for God and love for Christ.

Thus, following in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus, in accordance with St Francis of Assisi's famous words, Christians become "instruments of peace"; not of a peace that is inconsistent and only apparent but one that is real, pursued with courage and tenacity in the daily commitment to overcome evil with good (cf. Rom 12: 21) and paying in person the price that this entails.

The Virgin Mary, Queen of Peace, shared until his martyrdom her Son Jesus' fight with the Devil and continues to share in it to the end of time. Let us invoke her motherly intercession so that she may help us always to be witnesses of Christ's peace and never to sink so low as to make compromises with evil.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 19 August 2007]

5. As the cross can be reduced to being an ornament, “to carry the cross” can become just a manner of speaking. In the teaching of Jesus, however, it does not imply the pre-eminence of mortification and denial. It does not refer primarily to the need to endure patiently  the great and small tribulations of life, or, even less, to the exaltation of pain as a means of pleasing God. It is not suffering for its own sake that a Christian seeks, but love. When the cross is embraced it becomes a sign of love and of total self-giving. To carry it behind Christ means to be united with him in offering the greatest proof of love.

We cannot speak about the cross without considering God’s love for us, the fact that God wishes to shower us with good things. With his invitation “follow me”, Jesus not only says again to his disciples: take me as your model, but also: share my life and my choices, and stake your life for love of God and for neighbour together with me. This is how Jesus opens up before us the “way of life”. Unfortunately, this is constantly being threatened by the “way of death”. Sin is this way that separates a person from God and neighbour and brings about division and undermines  society from within.

The “way of life” continues and renews the mind of Christ in us  and becomes the way of faith and conversion. It is indeed the way of the cross. It is the way that leads one to trust in him and his plan of salvation, and to believe that He died in order to show God’s love for each one. It is the way to salvation in a society often divided, confused and contradictory. It is the way to the happiness found in following Christ right to the end, in the sometimes dramatic circumstances of daily life.  It is the way that does not fear  failure, difficulties, isolation, loneliness, because it fills our hearts with the presence of Jesus. It is the path of peace, self-control and a joyful heart.

6. My dear young people, do not think it strange that, at the beginning of the third millennium, the Pope once again directs you towards the Cross of Christ as the path of life and true happiness. The Church has always believed and proclaimed that only in the Cross of Christ  is there salvation.

There is a widespread culture of the ephemeral that only attaches value to whatever is pleasing or beautiful, and it would like us to believe that it is necessary to remove the cross in order to be happy. The ideal presented is one of instant success, a fast career, sexuality separated from any sense of responsibility, and ultimately, an existence centred on self affirmation, often bereft of respect for others.

Open your eyes and observe well, my dear young people: this is not the road that leads to true life, but it is the path that sinks into death. Jesus said: “Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.” Jesus leaves us under no illusions: “What profit is there for one to gain the whole world yet lose or forfeit himself?” (Lk 9:24-25). With the truth of his words that sound hard but  fill the heart with peace, Jesus reveals the secret of how to live a true life (cf. Talk to the young people of Rome, 2 April 1998).

Therefore, do not be afraid to walk the way first trodden by the Lord. With your youthfulness, put your mark of hope and enthusiasm, so typical of your age, on the third millennium that is just beginning. If you allow the grace of God to work in you, and earnestly fulfill this commitment daily, you will make this new century a better time for everyone.

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the 16th World Youth Day, 14 February 2001]

It is not just a matter of patiently enduring daily tribulations, but of bearing with faith and responsibility that part of toil, and that part of suffering that the struggle against evil entails. The life of Christians is always a struggle. The Bible says that the life of Christians is a military undertaking: fighting against the evil spirit, fighting against Evil.

Thus the task of “taking up the cross” becomes participating with Christ in the salvation of the world. Considering this, let us make sure that the cross hanging on the wall at home, or that little one that we wear around our neck, is a sign of our wish to be united with Christ in lovingly serving our brothers and sisters, especially the littlest and most fragile. The cross is the holy sign of God’s Love, it is a sign of Jesus’ Sacrifice, and is not to be reduced to a superstitious object or an ornamental necklace. Each time we fix our gaze on the image of Christ crucified, let us contemplate that he, as the true Servant of the Lord, has accomplished his mission, giving life, spilling his blood for the pardoning of sins. And let us not allow ourselves to be drawn to the other side by the temptation of the Evil One. Therefore, if we want to be his disciples, we are called to imitate him, expending our life unreservedly out of love of God and neighbour.

May the Virgin Mary, united to her Son unto Calvary, help us not to retreat in the face of the trials and suffering that witnessing to the Gospel entails.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 30 August 2020]

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [12 July 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (55:10–11)

The central theme of this passage is the image of rain: the Word of God is life-giving rain; it does not return until it has fulfilled its mission of forgiveness and reconciliation. This oracle concludes the Second Isaiah (Isaiah 40–55) As prophets often do, Isaiah uses an image: rain and snow are daydreams for an Eastern farmer accustomed to often arid soil. In Babylon, where he is in exile with his people in the 6th century BC, the benefits of rain are experienced. A sun-drenched land, such as Israel or Babylon, flourishes anew at the first rain. The prophet applies this effectiveness to the Word of God: ‘So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth: it shall not return to me empty.’ Isaiah emphasises this effectiveness for two reasons. 1) He announces the end of the Exile and the return to Jerusalem. For 50 years, the inhabitants of Jerusalem have been in exile in Babylon. Isaiah promises, on God’s behalf, their liberation and their departure from Babylon. To believe in a promise long awaited requires trust in the Word of God. This is why Isaiah is so firm: ‘my word… shall not return to me empty…’. Statements about the effectiveness of the Word (‘Davar’ means both ‘word’ and ‘event’) are always made during difficult times in Israel’s history, when it is necessary to cling to faith.  Examples: ‘All flesh is like grass… dry grass; the flower withers, but the word of our God stands for ever’ (Isa 40:6–8); ‘I am watching over my word to bring it to pass’ (Jer 1:12). These words were spoken to combat idolatry, for during the exile the temptation was strong amongst the inhabitants of Jerusalem, who, in the face of defeat, thought it better to turn to the gods of the victorious Babylonians, since they were effective. There is a sarcastic passage by the prophet Isaiah: poor people who use the same wood to make a fire and to carve idols; then they expect help from those lifeless idols they have made themselves (cf. Isa 44).  2) The other reason for emphasising the power of the word is that the ‘mission’ of the Word is forgiveness and reconciliation. Immediately before this text, he notes: ‘Seek the Lord whilst he may be found; call upon him whilst he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, who will have mercy on him, and to our God, who abundantly forgives. For my thoughts are not your thoughts…’ (Isaiah 55:6–8).  The ‘mission’ referred to here is therefore a mission to proclaim God’s free forgiveness and the reconciliation of humanity with Him: God will ultimately reconcile humanity to Himself. Later, Paul will say the same: ‘God our Saviour desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth’ (1 Tim 2:4). This plan of God is fulfilled through the Incarnation of the Word and the sending of the disciples as ambassadors of reconciliation: “God has reconciled us to himself through Christ and has entrusted to us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:18). 

Responsorial Psalm (64/65)

Psalm 64 is a votive offering from a people written upon their return from exile to thank God for their deliverance: on the surface, it is a song of renewed creation, but it is not merely a song about nature. The liturgy presents us only with the final verses (10–14), which appear to be a contemplation of nature, but the preceding verses are fundamental, and without them the true meaning of the psalm is lost. This is a vow of thanksgiving for the return from exile, made in Babylon in the 6th century BC: if God frees us and brings us back to Israel, we shall celebrate in his temple. Deliverance is experienced as forgiveness because the exile was regarded as a punishment for the sins of the people and their leaders, and the return is a ‘return to favour’: God wipes the sinful past clean.  ‘Our sins have overwhelmed us; you forgive them’. It is clear that Israel’s election becomes a mission, and the people celebrate God’s faithfulness: “Blessed are those whom you have chosen and brought near: they shall dwell in your courts.” Just as the Levites had a special place to serve God in the temple, so Israel has a special place amongst the nations: when the other nations see Israel’s salvation, they will recognise that the God of Israel is the only Saviour. With the return to the homeland, a new life begins; it is a true re-creation. For this reason, the final bucolic section should not be separated from the central theme, which is thanksgiving. Lush nature is an image of new life and of God’s greatest gift: forgiveness

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Romans (8:18–23)

Creation is not complete; it is a work in progress and eagerly awaits the revelation of the children of God. This means that creation is not an event of the past: it is an ongoing project, comparable to a work of art.  Let us imagine the creation of an immense bronze sculpture. From the very first day, the artist knows that it will require patience and time: the process involves many successive stages.  There are hardships, struggles and risks to face; one must have a clear understanding of where this sometimes thankless work is leading and assess every possible difficulty. Only the artist can already visualise the finished work in his mind, but the challenge lies in how to describe the glimpsed beauty to his collaborators, and to share it with them with the same passion. God’s project is comparable to the birth of a work of art: Paul speaks specifically of ‘childbirth’. Only God, for now, can describe the finished work. And who has the mission to complete it? We do, each in our own small way, but above all the Spirit who breathes upon the world to direct it towards God. ‘We have received the firstfruits of the Spirit, but we await adoption as children, the redemption of our body’. In the biblical sense, ‘body’ refers to our whole being. Redemption of the body: our whole being, still in chains today, bound by sin, will finally be set free and free to live as children of God. We speak of the ‘firstfruits’, which biblically refer to the first handful of ears of corn or the firstborn lamb of the flock in spring. They were both the beginning and the promise of the entire harvest. A beautiful image to convey that we already possess the down payment of our ultimate salvation: “the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom 5:5). And it is because we already possess the firstfruits, because we are already animated by the Spirit, that we groan as we await our final transformation. Yet it is always the Spirit who continues the work in the world.  In the Fourth Eucharistic Prayer we say: “ He – your Son – has sent from you, Father, as a first gift to believers, the Holy Spirit who continues his work in the world and brings every sanctification to fulfilment”. “Every sanctification” – that is, every transformation.  For now, creation is still “subject to futility”, but in the new heavens and new earth that we await, towards which we strive, this energy will become a passion for unity: ‘According to his promise, we await new heavens and a new earth, in which righteousness dwells’ (2 Pet 3:13). Then creation will be ‘set free from the bondage of corruption to enter into the freedom of the glory of the children of God’.  Paul speaks of the whole of creation and the cosmos, not just of us. He takes up a theme familiar to the Bible: the disharmony caused by Adam’s wrong choice plunges the entire garden—that is, the whole of creation—into chaos: “The ground shall be cursed because of you” (Gen 3:17).  Conversely, when righteousness dwells on the earth, not only humans but also animals will know peace. Humanity is part of the cosmos and cannot be conceived of without it. This is one of the meanings of Isaiah’s magnificent ‘parable’ of the animals: ‘The wolf shall dwell with the lamb… the lion shall feed on straw like the ox… They shall do no harm or destroy any more on all my holy mountain, for the knowledge of the Lord shall fill the earth as the waters cover the sea’ (Isaiah 11:6–9). As Paul says in Ephesians: it is ‘the whole universe, the things in heaven and on earth’ that will one day be brought together under one Head, Christ (Ephesians 1:9–10). It is our privilege to be able to catch a glimpse of the completed work even now. Returning to the analogy of the work of art: we who are engaged in God’s plan have an immense privilege compared to an artist’s collaborators: we can already glimpse the completed work: “The Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us; and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth” (Jn 1:14).  Meanwhile, this great labour of bringing forth the new humanity continues amidst pain and groaning. All the more reason for believers to find the courage to proclaim, even now, the glory promised to all creation.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (13:1–23)

Jesus speaks in parables because the ‘parable’ is a literary genre of the Jewish tradition, similar to a narrative with a pedagogical purpose, designed to lead the listener to change their perspective. A parable is not an allegory: not every detail has a precise meaning; the lesson comes from the overall context.  

  The disciples ask why Jesus speaks in parables, and Jesus gives three reasons: firstly, to distinguish between the disciples and the crowd: ‘To you it has been given to know the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven, but to them it has not been given.’ Secondly, to console them, because their opponents ‘look without seeing, listen without hearing or understanding’. Jesus quotes a passage from Isaiah to them: “This people’s heart has grown callous; their ears are hard of hearing, and they have closed their eyes…” (Isaiah 6:9–10). Thirdly, to recall the Old Testament theme of the two paths: “To those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have not, even what they have will be taken away.” In Matthew and Mark, this teaching in parables immediately follows the disputes with the Pharisees and with those who refuse to recognise Jesus as the Messiah, revealing their hardened hearts and their imperviousness to the Word. Indeed, the more the listeners shut themselves away in their certainties, the more impervious they become to the Word. The parables are a pedagogical means of touching those hardened hearts. However, the disposition of the heart is decisive in understanding Jesus. I shall now return to these words: ‘To those who have, more will be given’ – which is the theme of the two paths already present in the Old Testament and which always presents human existence as a crossroads. If you take the right path, every step brings you closer to your goal: ‘Give to the wise, and he will become wiser still; instruct the righteous, and he will increase his knowledge’ (Prov 9:9). If, on the other hand, you choose the wrong path, every step takes you further away. A clear choice is therefore required: either to listen, to open your ears to be taught and transformed by the Word; or to refuse to listen and become increasingly hard of hearing. In the parable of the sower, Jesus shows what the obstacles to preaching are.  Jesus is the Word of God made flesh (Jn 1:14); and he communicates only the Father’s Word: “The word that you hear is not mine, but the Father’s who sent me” (Jn 14:24). Yet he finds it difficult to find fertile ground.  What are the difficulties involved in listening to the Word? First of all, the cares of the world which choke out the demands of the Kingdom (Mt 6:25–34). A deeper difficulty is not trusting Jesus and recognising him as the Messiah. The disciples themselves stumbled: after the discourse on the bread of life, many said, ‘This teaching is hard! Who can accept it?’ From that moment on, many of the disciples turned back, and Jesus said to the Twelve, ‘Do you also wish to go away?’ Peter replied, ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life’ (John 6:60–68). Despite the difficulties, Jesus proclaims that the harvest—‘a hundredfold, sixtyfold or thirtyfold’—is certain, though it comes at a high price. The Kingdom of God will be established through many failures. To enter into the understanding of the Kingdom is solely a gift from God: ‘It has been granted to you to know the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven… Blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear…’ Those who have received the seed in good soil are those who hear the Word and understand it with a receptive heart, capable of receiving from God the light that comes only from Him. This openness, too, is a gift. The Pharisees and the crowd were not yet ready. Jesus had Ezekiel in mind when he said, ‘Those who received the seed among the thorns are those who hear the Word, but the cares of the world and the allure of wealth choke the Word.’ Ezekiel writes: “They come to you as a people gather; they listen to your words, but do not put them into practice; their mouths are full of lusts, their hearts are set on gain. To them you are like a love song, with a sweet voice, well played” (Ezek 33:30–32).  

+ Giovanni D’Ercole

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [5 July 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Zechariah (9:9–10)

This text could be summarised as follows: for the prophet Zechariah, the Messiah is a King of peace, not of war, and humble like the Servant. ‘Rejoice, O Daughter of Zion’ is a message of consolation in times of war. For thus says the Lord: Rejoice, shout for joy, O Daughter of Jerusalem! ‘Daughter of Zion/Jerusalem’ is not a young woman, but the city itself: it is as if to say ‘Jerusalem, rejoice’. The paradox is that whilst the tone is triumphant, in reality it is a time of war because the prophet Zechariah carried out his mission at the beginning of Greek rule (c. 330 BC), following Alexander’s conquests, and it is an ‘oracle of consolation’. This helps us to understand certain expressions such as ‘He will remove the war chariots from Ephraim and the war horses from Jerusalem; he will break the bow of war and proclaim peace to the nations’. At a time when all seems lost, Zechariah leads Israel to hope in God’s intervention. And when Zechariah speaks of the Messiah, he uses the classic terms of the expected Messiah: a king who brings justice and peace: ‘O God, entrust your judgement to the king… May he rule from sea to sea, from the River to the ends of the earth’ (Ps 71/72).  The boldness lies in proclaiming this hope precisely when all human hope has collapsed. Here are three statements by Zechariah, the last of which is decisive. First: “He will proclaim peace to the nations”: it was only after the exile to Babylon that Israel realised that God’s plan encompasses all humanity.  Second: “He will remove… from Ephraim… from Jerusalem”: mentioning Ephraim (the North) and Jerusalem (the South) together is a subtle way of announcing the restoration and reunification of the ancient kingdom of David. By the time Zechariah was writing, the North and South had long since lost their unity and sovereignty. Third: The real novelty: “poor and riding on a donkey, a colt, the foal of a donkey”. The donkey is a humble mount. Alexander’s conquerors rode on quite different steeds. In Jerusalem, Solomon had introduced the warhorse and the parade horse, and was reproached for his taste for grandeur. A king on a donkey had never been seen before.  Jesus presents himself as the Messiah ‘in the manner of Zechariah’. Isaiah had already glimpsed a humble Messiah (Isaiah 50:6; 53:7). The Servant does not bear the title of ‘king’, but carries out the work of the Messiah and is filled with the Spirit of God.  Zechariah, on the other hand, immediately presents the Messiah as King: he takes up the traditional expectation of the Messiah-King. The novelty lies in combining this royal expectation with the humility of Isaiah’s Servant. For his king is humble: the dreams of grandeur, war and power come to an end. Only one thing matters: establishing peace for his people. The four Gospels describe Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem precisely as the coming of this King riding on a donkey. Matthew (Mt 21:5) and John (12:15) quote Zechariah. Perhaps Jesus himself quoted it to the disciples on the road to Emmaus, whilst ‘explaining to them what was written about himself in the Scriptures’ (Lk 24:27). 

Responsorial Psalm (144/145)

In this psalm, it is clear that God’s kingship is mercy towards all. Moreover, Psalm 144/145 is the only one entitled ‘Praise’. Whilst it is true that the entire Hebrew Psalter is called ‘praises’, this is the only psalm actually titled ‘praise’. The tone is one of wonder; the theme is the kingship of the God of the Covenant. In a celebration of the renewal of the Covenant, Israel contemplates the King who protects them freely, without merit. Hence the royal language: “I will exalt you, my God, my King… your faithful ones will proclaim the glory of your kingdom; they will speak of your mighty deeds”. We can discern in this psalm an “alphabet” of tenderness because it is an “alphabetical” psalm, and from Aleph to Tav—that is, “all of life, from A to Z, is immersed in the Covenant, in God’s tenderness”. The verse-by-verse parallelism is very marked: it should be read by two alternating choirs. And it is precisely this parallelism that is instructive, because in the liturgy two pairs of verses are joined which, at first glance, are surprising: “The Lord is faithful in all his words and good in all his deeds; the Lord upholds those who falter and lifts up all who have fallen”.  “The Lord is faithful in all his words and good in all his deeds / He is close to those who call upon him, to those who call upon him in sincerity.” This means that God’s justice, truth and faithfulness are nothing other than his mercy. The greatest justice in the world is not that of the scales, but that of love. If we live “according to the Spirit of God”, as Paul urges the Romans – Sunday’s second reading – we set out precisely on this path: a justice that is synonymous with mercy. The King spoken of in the psalm is not like the kings of the earth; he is almighty and good: he desires only our happiness. When Israel speaks of the power of this King ‘not like the others’, it knows that his power is nothing but love: ‘The Lord is good; he is full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger and abounding in love.’ This is the finest summary of the entire biblical revelation. Israel speaks from experience: how many times, especially during the exile in Babylon, did it call upon God and plead for forgiveness and a return… Now the people gathered in the rebuilt Temple sing: ‘The Lord is merciful and compassionate.’ ‘May all your works praise you, O Lord, and may your faithful bless you’—may they bless you!... O God, my King, I will exalt you and bless your name for ever and ever.’ The task is to sing it loud enough for everyone to know: the abundance of the Lord’s forgiveness, tenderness and compassion is for everyone, for God loves humanity and his ‘merciful plan’ encompasses all humanity and the whole of creation. It is easy to see why Psalm 144/145 has become the morning prayer of the people who were the first to learn to speak to God as to a father. For the Jewish believer, the morning – the dawn of a new day – irresistibly evokes the dawn of the final Day, of the world to come, of the renewed creation. The rabbinic tradition of the Talmud states that whoever recites this psalm three times a day ‘can be sure of being a child of the world to come’.  

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:9, 11–13)

For Saint Paul, living according to the Spirit means allowing God’s Love to dwell within us. 

The difficulty with this text lies in the word ‘flesh’. For Paul, it does not have the same meaning as it does in our 21st-century English. We contrast ‘body’ and ‘soul’ and risk a huge misunderstanding. When Paul says ‘flesh’, he does not mean the body; when he says ‘Spirit’, he does not mean the soul. Nor does he set two words—‘flesh’ against ‘Spirit’—but rather two expressions: ‘living according to the flesh’ and ‘living according to the Spirit’. For him, it is a matter of choosing between two ways of life, two masters, two courses of action. For Paul, to live ‘according to the flesh’ is to live without God, relying solely on our own strength, confined within the limits of human intelligence and strength. Obviously, that doesn’t get us very far! Or rather, it can take us very far, but in the wrong direction. This is the theme of the ‘two paths’ that recurs constantly in Paul’s writing. Living without God always ends up meaning living far from God, in a state of estrangement that can only get worse. He described this in the opening chapters of the Letter to the Romans, using images from Genesis: to live according to the flesh is to live like Adam – he wants to become like God, but without God’s help. He is mistaken. We, too, sometimes seek happiness on our own, without Him or in opposition to Him, without realising that this is the best way to harm ourselves. ‘Living according to the Spirit’ is the great news  

because living ‘according to the Spirit’ means allowing oneself to be guided by Him, and thus living by the power of God: it changes everything!  The great news of the text is: ‘The Spirit of God dwells in you’, so ‘you are not under the dominion of the flesh, but under the dominion of the Spirit’.  The verb ‘to dwell’ appears three times today: whoever dwells in a house is the master; it is he who is in charge. We have literally become the Spirit’s dwelling places: it is He who is now in command. Our freedom lies in opening the door to Him. We must, however, consider what place we leave for Him in our home, for we are free to open the door to a greater or lesser extent. In many passages, Paul emphasises our freedom: ‘you are not under the dominion of the flesh’ means that we are no longer slaves to the forces of evil; we now have the strength to ensure that true values triumph: love, peace, truth and justice. We have the strength, but we are not obliged: the choice must be made anew at every moment. The more space we make for the Holy Spirit in our home – that is, the more we do what he suggests on the path of love, kindness and forgiveness – the more truly alive we will be. Before his conversion, Paul faithfully observed many moral and religious rules, but the Spirit of Christ did not dwell within him; he still lived ‘under the dominion of the flesh’. And this could have led him to violence and murder, in perfect good faith. Now his whole life is inspired by the Spirit of Christ, to the point of saying: ‘It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me’ (Gal 2:20). Two consequences can be drawn for us who are baptised: 1) We shall rise with Christ: a promise for the future. ‘The Spirit will exercise his power in us and bring to fulfilment in us what he brought to fulfilment in Jesus’ (Rom 8:11).  2) Even now, our lives are transformed just as Paul’s was, because we are now ‘under the rule of the Spirit’. ‘I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live,’ proclaimed Ezekiel (37:14). Paul often speaks of the new spiritual life that springs from Baptism: whilst remaining in our mortal bodies, we can already live by the Spirit of Christ. This is what John calls ‘eternal life’. In practical terms: the Spirit is Love. Simply replace ‘Spirit’ with ‘Love’, and to live according to the Spirit is to allow Him to inspire our words and deeds of love.  A few chapters earlier, Paul wrote to the Romans: ‘God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us’ (Rom 5:5). And to the Galatians he explains the fruits of the Spirit: ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control’ (Gal 5:22): in a word, it is love expressed in all the concrete circumstances of life.  Paul is the heir to the prophets: they all affirm that our relationship with God is reflected in the quality of our relationship with others. In the Servant Songs, Isaiah affirms that to live according to the Spirit of God is to love and serve one’s brothers and sisters. As John says: ‘Whoever does not love remains in death… We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love our brothers and sisters’ (1 John 3:14). 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (11:25–30)

In this text, we find the central theme in Jesus’ ‘gentle yoke and light burden’, which is, in fact, the Law of love that brings rest: ‘ ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.’ What is the ‘yoke’?  The yoke is a heavy, solid piece of wood that joins two oxen for ploughing. They join forces, and the stronger one sets the pace. Figuratively speaking, ‘taking up the yoke’ means binding oneself to someone to walk at the same pace, yoked to the same task. In the Old Testament and in Judaism, the expression was commonly used to refer to the Covenant: ‘to take up the yoke of the Torah’, that is, to commit oneself to following God’s Law, knowing that all the strength of the ‘team’ comes from God himself. For a Jew, the service of the Torah is not an unbearable burden; it is the path to true happiness. Ben Sirach said: “You will find your rest in it, and it will become your joy” (Sir 6:28). Jesus takes up this image, linking it to the yoke of the Torah and to rest: “Take my yoke upon you, become my disciples, practise my commandments, and you will find rest for your souls”.  And he adds: “Yes, my yoke is easy to bear and my burden is light.” One senses a criticism of certain Pharisees who had turned the Law into a litany of meticulous obligations. Of them, Jesus says: “They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders; but they themselves are not willing to move them even with a finger” (Mt 23:4). Meanwhile, the majority of the people struggled to observe all the commandments imposed by the religious authorities and felt the contempt directed at them. Jesus invites his disciples to lay aside these burdens that are too heavy: ‘Take my yoke upon you… my yoke is easy and my burden is light’. His yoke is simply the law of love, and it is He who gives us the strength to bear it. ‘Rest’ was also a familiar word. The Old Testament presented the Promised Land as the place of rest given by God to his people. Conversely, when the people were unfaithful, Psalm 94/95 expressed God’s sorrow: ‘This people’s heart is led astray… they shall not enter my rest’. Taking up that psalm, the Letter to the Hebrews announces a new day when, with Christ, we shall enter God’s rest with confidence: ‘Let us therefore strive to enter that rest’ (Heb 4:11). The absolute novelty is that Jesus identifies himself with God, and he alone can say, ‘I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you… my yoke is easy…’. The religious leaders were annoyed by this, whilst those who were weary under the weight of their burdens were drawn to the respect and care he showed to each one.

+Giovanni D’Ercole