1. "Who do you say that I am?" (Mt 16: 15).

Jesus asks the disciples this question about his identity while he is with them in upper Galilee. It often happened that they would ask Jesus questions; now it is he who questions them. His is a precise question that awaits an answer. Simon Peter speaks for them all:  "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God" (Mt 16: 16).

The answer is extraordinarily clear. The Church's faith is perfectly reflected in it. We are reflected in it too. The Bishop of Rome, his unworthy successor by divine will, is particularly reflected in Peter's words. Around him and with him you are reflected in these words, dear Metropolitan Archbishops, who have come here from many parts of the world to receive the pallium on the Solemnity of Sts Peter and Paul.

I offer my cordial greetings to each of you, a greeting which I gladly extend to those who have accompanied you to Rome and to your communities who are spiritually united with us on this solemn occasion.

2. "You are the Christ!". Jesus replies to Peter's confession:  "Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven" (Mt 16: 17).

Blessed are you, Peter! Blessed because you could not have humanly recognized this truth, which is central to the Church's faith, except by God's action. "No one", Jesus said, "knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and any one to whom the Son chooses to reveal him" (Mt 11: 27).

We are reflecting on this extraordinarily rich Gospel passage:  the incarnate Word had revealed the Father to his disciples; now is the moment when the Father himself reveals his only Only-begotten Son to them. Peter receives inner enlightenment and courageously proclaims:  "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!".

These words on Peter's lips come from the depths of God's mystery. They reveal the intimate truth, the very life of God. And Peter, under the action of the divine Spirit, becomes a witness and confessor of this superhuman truth. His profession of faith thus forms the firm basis of the Church's faith:  "On this rock I will build my Church" (Mt 16: 18). The Church of Christ is built on Peter's faith and fidelity.

The first Christian community was very conscious of this. As the Acts of the Apostles recount, when Peter was in prison it gathered to raise an earnest prayer to God for him (cf. Acts 12: 5). It was heard, because Peter's presence was still necessary for the community as it took its first steps:  the Lord sent his angel to free him from the hands of his persecutors (cf. ibid., 12: 7-11). It was written in God's plan that Peter, after long strengthening his brothers in faith, would undergo martyrdom here in Rome together with Paul, the Apostle of the nations, who had also escaped death several times.

3. "The Lord stood by me and gave me strength to proclaim the word fully, that all the Gentiles might hear it" (2 Tm 4: 17). These are the words of Paul to his faithful disciple Timothy:  we heard them in the second reading. They testify to what the Lord accomplished in him after he chose him as a minister of the Gospel and "grasped" him on the road to Damascus (cf. Phil 3: 12).

The Lord had come to him in a blaze of light, saying:  "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? " (Acts 9: 4), while a mysterious force threw him to the ground. "Who are you, Lord?", Saul had asked him. "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting!" (Acts 9: 5). This was Christ's answer. Saul had been persecuting Jesus' followers, and Jesus told him that it was he himself who was being persecuted in them. He, Jesus of Nazareth, the Crucified One who Christians said had risen. If Saul now experienced his powerful presence, it was clear that God really had raised him from the dead. He, in fact, was the Messiah awaited by Israel; he was the Christ living and present in the Church and in the world!

Could Saul have understood with his reason alone all that such an event entailed? Certainly not! It was, in fact, part of God's mysterious plan. It would be the Father who would give Paul the grace of knowing the mystery of the redemption accomplished in Christ. It would be God who would enable him to understand the marvellous reality of the Church, which lives for Christ, with Christ and in Christ. And he, who had come to share in this truth, would continuously and tirelessly proclaim it to the very ends of the earth.

From Damascus, Paul would begin his apostolic journey which would lead him to spread the Gospel in so many parts of the then known world. His missionary zeal would thus help to fulfil the command Christ gave to the Apostles:  "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations ..." (Mt 28:  19).

4. Dear Brothers in the Episcopate who have come to receive the pallium, your presence eloquently highlights the Church's universal dimension which sprang from the Lord's command:  "Go ... and make disciples of all nations" (Mt 28: 19).

You come, in fact, from 15 countries on four continents and were called by the Lord to be Pastors of Metropolitan Churches. The conferral of the pallium clearly stresses the special bond of communion which joins you to the See of Peter and expresses the Church's universal nature.
Whenever you wear these pallia, remember, dear Brothers, that as Pastors we are called to safeguard the purity of the Gospel and the unity of Christ's Church, founded on the "rock" of Peter's faith. The Lord calls us to this; this is our inescapable mission as far-sighted guides of the flock which the Lord has entrusted to us.

5. The full unity of the Church! I feel Christ's command echoing within me. It is a particularly urgent command at the beginning of this new millennium. Let us pray and work for this, without ever growing weary of hoping.

With these sentiments, I affectionately embrace and greet the Delegation from the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople, which has come to celebrate with us the liturgical feast of Peter and Paul. Thank you, Venerable Brothers, for your presence and for your heartfelt participation in this solemn liturgical celebration. May God grant us to achieve as soon as possible the full unity of all believers in Christ.

May we obtain this gift through the Apostles Peter and Paul, who are remembered by the Church of Rome on this day that commemorates their martyrdom and therefore their birth to life in God. For the sake of the Gospel they accepted suffering and death, and became sharers in the Lord's Resurrection. Their faith, confirmed by martyrdom, is the same faith as that of Mary, the Mother of believers, of the Apostles and of the saints of every age.

Today the Church again proclaims their faith. It is our faith, the Church's unchanging faith in Jesus, the only Saviour of the world; in Christ, the Son of the living God, who died and rose for us and for all humanity.

[Pope John Paul II, 29 June 2000]

Saints Peter and Paul, whom we celebrate today, are sometimes depicted in icons as they support the edifice of the Church. This reminds us of the words in today’s Gospel in which Jesus says to Peter: “you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church” (Mt 16:18). It is the first time that Jesus utters the word ‘Church’ but more than the noun, I would like to invite you today to think about the adjective, which is possessive, ‘my’: my Church. Jesus does not speak of the Church as an external reality, but he expresses the great love he has for her: my Church. He is devoted to the Church, to us. Saint Paul writes: “Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” (Eph 5:25), that is, the Apostle explains, Jesus loves the Church as his bride. For the Lord we are not a group of believers or a religious organization. We are his bride. He looks upon his Church with tenderness. He loves her with absolute fidelity despite our mistakes and our betrayals. As he said that day to Peter, he says to all of us today: “my Church, you are my Church”.

And we too can repeat it: my Church. We do not say this with a sense of exclusive belonging but rather with an inclusive love. Not to distinguish ourselves from others but to appreciate the beauty of being with others because Jesus wants us to be united and open. Indeed the Church is not ‘mine’ because she responds to my ego, to my desires, but rather, because I pour my affection into her. She is mine because I care for her, because, like the Apostles in the icon, I too support her. How? With fraternal love. With our fraternal love we can say: my Church.

In another icon, Saints Peter and Paul are depicted as they are locked in an embrace. They were very different from each other: a fisherman and a Pharisee with rather different life experiences, characters, ways of doing things and sensitivities. Contrasting opinions and frank debates between them were not lacking (cf. Gal 2:11). But what united them was infinitely greater: Jesus was the Lord of both, together they would say “my Lord” to the One who says “my Church”. Brothers in the faith, they invite us to rediscover the joy of being brothers and sisters in the Church. On this feast day that unites two Apostles who were so different from each other, it would be beautiful for each of us to also say: “Thank you, Lord, for that person who is different from me: he or she is a gift for my Church”. We are different but this enriches us; it is brotherhood. It is good for us to appreciate the qualities of others, to recognize the gifts of others without malice or envy. Envy! Envy causes bitterness inside; it is vinegar to the heart. The envious have a bitter gaze. Many times when one meets an envious person, one feels like asking: what did he have for breakfast today, a caffelatte or vinegar? Because envy is sour. It makes life sour. Instead, how beautiful it is to know that we belong to each other because we share the same faith, the same love, the same hope, the same Lord. We belong to each other: and this is splendid, to say: our Church! Fraternity.

At the end of the Gospel Jesus says to Peter: “Tend my sheep” (Jn 21:17). He speaks of us and says “my sheep” with the same tenderness with which he says my Church. Jesus loves us with such love, such tenderness! He feels we are his own. This is the affection that edifies the Church. Through the intercession of the Apostles, today let us invoke the grace to love our Church. Let us ask for eyes that are able to see our brothers and sisters in her, a heart that knows how to welcome others with the tender love that Jesus has for us. And let us ask for the strength to pray for those who do not think as we do — this one thinks differently; I pray for him — pray and love, which is the opposite of gossiping, perhaps behind one’s back. Never speak ill of someone, pray and love. May Our Lady who brought harmony among the Apostles and prayed with them, (cf. Acts 1:14) keep us as brothers and sisters in the Church.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 29 June 2019]

                                                                                                                                                         The ham.

The Treccani dictionary defines ‘ham’ as: ‘one who acts in theatrical performances’. In common parlance and in a figurative sense: ‘someone who adopts exaggeratedly theatrical behaviour in life; someone who puts on a show in a blatant and undignified manner’.

Many years ago, when I was still a teenager, Charles Aznavour released a beautiful song containing these words: ‘I am a ham. But genius was born with me […] but theatricality flows within me’.

A song which, if I’m not mistaken, was later covered by Massimo Ranieri some time later.

Perhaps those of us who are a bit older will also remember the original version.

A few days ago, I bumped into a young man with a VIP-like air about him, whom I’ve known since he was born.

He stopped, greeted me warmly and began telling me about his life, his work in the world of politics and his travels.

He said that one of his goals is to visit the wonders of the world and that he’d just returned from one such destination. He solemnly declared that he’d already visited several of them.

All this without me having asked anything, partly because he didn’t give me the chance. 

He was too caught up in his soliloquy and I was merely a spectator.

At the end of his speech, he tells me that he has completed dental treatment for a tooth that had been causing him a great deal of trouble and that he is still in pain […] he lists the medicines he is taking. Then he looks at me and ironically reiterates that when doctors encounter difficulties in their work, they always say it’s down to the mind.

And here came a thunderous laugh, coupled with all the ‘pathos’ with which he’d woven his narrative.

The only thing missing was the final round of applause, which didn’t come. Just a cordial ‘goodbye’.                                                                          My professional bias kicked in as I reflected on what had happened.

There are people who, rather than simply connecting with others, need to put on a show and seek the approval of others.   

This is something we all do to a certain extent, within acceptable limits, and it gives us pleasure. Such people sometimes go in search of an ‘audience’ where they can express and display their feelings and experiences, without worrying about building a relationship or a genuine connection – and once they have communicated their emotions, they leave quickly, often in search of another ‘audience’. 

They must always be the centre of attention and often express their emotions in a  theatrical manner. Everything they achieve is something grand; all their actions are ‘a triumph’.

Behind this behaviour, there is usually an enormous fear of being alone, of being abandoned. Of course, we all have these fears to some extent, but we do not resort to compensatory mechanisms of that sort.

Sometimes we are afraid of certain emotions we feel, as if we feared that what we are feeling is unhealthy. 

We must always bear in mind that what happens within our psyche is not entirely random or pathological, but purposeful and constructive. There are not only demons; there are angels too.

I can’t recall whether I’ve already expressed this idea, but I’ll reiterate it because I consider it important and because I think we’ll be less frightened if we realise we’re experiencing certain feelings.

Without referring to psychological manuals or classifications… we’ve all probably experienced feelings like those described above at certain times in our lives.

People with these characteristics are ‘theatrical’ and express their experiences in an exaggerated manner.

They can be seductive or even provocative.

They use their physical appearance in an exaggerated way to get noticed and appear interesting.

They rely more on emotion than on reflection, and tend towards superficiality and banality.

They are also easily influenced and idealise the people they admire; sometimes to the point of imitating them.

They dream of ideal love, but often become involved in unsuitable and unattainable relationships.

They exaggerate every physical sensation, even when there is no actual physical pain.

In severe cases, many people channel and project these emotions onto parts of the body that are psychologically significant to the individual and their personal history.

And so, as the young VIP mentioned above humorously put it, the psyche comes into play.

I do not wish to bore readers or come across as melodramatic myself, but many individuals have often expressed their unease through their bodies.

Some do so more visibly, others in a more subtle way – though perhaps more interesting and fascinating to an ‘insider’.

The literature often refers to ‘hysterical blindness’.

These people are unable to see properly – to a greater or lesser degree. I recall a teenager with visual problems being referred to our department’s psychological assessment (sent by the ophthalmology department).

However, it is not always accepted that objective problems may have an ‘internal’ cause, and so often either the psychological assessment – deemed offensive – is abandoned, or other solutions are sought that may give the illusion of a way out.

It also happens that some individuals, having been referred for an ‘internal’ assessment by leading Italian centres of excellence, but subsequently rejecting what was suggested to them, turn to private practitioners who offer solutions that are, unfortunately, sometimes harmful.

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi, Psychologist and Psychotherapist.

12th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [21 June 2026]

First reading from the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah (20:10–13)

This passage is one of what are known as the ‘Confessions of Jeremiah’; we might also call them the ‘Confidences of Jeremiah’. Here the prophet reveals what lies deepest in his heart, and today’s few lines sum up his feelings well. His life is a constant paradox: that which constitutes his deepest joy, his reason for living, his security, is also the source of all his suffering. It is the Word of God. It is not explicitly named in this text, but it is clearly implied. It is because he proclaims the Word of God “in season and out of season” (as St Paul would say) that he is persecuted; yet it is precisely this same Word that gives him the strength to carry on. It is often said that no one is a prophet in his own land, and this applies perfectly to Jeremiah. He was a great prophet, but this was only realised after his death. During his lifetime, his message proved too uncomfortable. He himself specifies the period of his preaching: from the thirteenth year of Josiah’s reign until the deportation from Jerusalem, that is, from 627 to 587 BC. Forty years during which he saw several kings succeed one another in Jerusalem, but very few listened to him. What was he reproached for? Simply the courage to speak the truth. And the truth was by no means reassuring: from the top to the bottom of the social ladder, breaches of the Covenant were multiplying in every sphere. Here is an example of his preaching: “They are all adulterers, a band of traitors” (Jer 9:1)… “From the least to the greatest, all are greedy for gain; from the prophet to the priest, all practise deceit” (Jer 8:10). In other words, corruption and the love of money had corroded the whole of society, and religion was nothing more than a façade. For this reason, he spent much of his life crying out, provoking, and denouncing. At times he even performed unusual acts to warn the king, the court, the priests and all those in authority who were leading the people to ruin. On a political level, he sought to open the eyes of his compatriots and dared to announce what was by now evident: Nebuchadnezzar would soon overrun Jerusalem. To make himself better understood, he performed a spectacular act: he publicly smashed a brand-new jug fresh from the potter’s hands, to announce the fate awaiting Jerusalem, which would be reduced to shards (Jer 19:1–11). But instead of listening to him, they accused him of being an accomplice of the enemy because, as the saying goes, there is none so deaf as those who will not hear.

Nevertheless, nothing and no one could divert him from his mission, and his secret lay simply in the awareness that he had been sent by God. His second secret was knowing that he was too small for the task entrusted to him and therefore did not seek strength in himself, but in God. And he experienced God’s presence at the heart of all his trials. In this regard, his prayer remains striking: “Lord, let me see the vengeance you will take upon them, for to you I have entrusted my cause.” An expression that suggests three observations. First of all, the desire for revenge is deeply human, and the prophet remains a man; his particular mission makes him neither insensitive nor a superman. Secondly, he does not seek revenge, but entrusts everything to God. Finally, beyond personal retribution, what Jeremiah ardently desires is the triumph of truth. Like every true prophet, he already knows that God’s love will be stronger than anything and that one day it will succeed in eliminating all evil from the earth. This is what he calls God’s vengeance: God’s eternal triumph over the forces of evil.

Responsorial Psalm (68/69)      

This psalm arises from the cry of a believer persecuted because of his faithfulness to God. The psalmist suffers humiliation, insults and perhaps even imprisonment, yet he continues to trust in the Lord, certain that God hears the humble and does not abandon those who belong to him. His suffering stems precisely from his love for God: “My love for your house consumes me”, and the insults directed at God also fall upon him. This experience recalls the story of the prophets of Israel, often persecuted by their own people. Among them stands out Jeremiah, who, like all true prophets, had the courage to proclaim God’s truth even when it was inconvenient. The prophet is, in fact, the voice of God in the world and, since God’s thoughts do not coincide with those of men, he inevitably goes against the tide. His word calls for justice, holiness, brotherhood and conversion, bringing to light what many would prefer to hide. For this reason, prophets often experience rejection and discouragement. Moses, Elijah and, above all, Jeremiah went through moments of profound suffering. Jeremiah even went so far as to curse the day of his birth, overwhelmed by persecution and humiliation. His experience recalls that of Job and, in a broader sense, that of the entire people of Israel in times of trial. The psalmist describes his condition as that of a man who is drowning: the waters overwhelm him, the mud drags him down, and there seems to be no hope left. Yet, even in the darkest hour, he continues to pray. The very Word of God that causes him suffering is the source of his strength. The imagery of the psalm recalls the story of Jeremiah, thrown into a cistern for denouncing the religious corruption of the people and the Temple. In the same way, Jesus will take up this prophetic tradition when he drives the merchants out of the Temple; and on that occasion, the evangelist John will apply the words of the psalm to Christ: ‘Zeal for your house will consume me’. The psalm concludes, finally, on a note of trust and thanksgiving. In biblical tradition, supplication and thanksgiving are closely linked: the believer praises God even before seeing deliverance realised, because he is certain of God’s faithfulness. For this reason, the psalmist already proclaims God’s victory, the salvation of the poor and the joy of those who seek the Lord. Thus, lamentation is transformed into hope, and the suffering of the righteous becomes a testimony to the certainty that God never abandons his faithful.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (5:12–15)

 St Paul contrasts Adam and Jesus Christ, not as two historical figures to be compared, but as two opposing ways of life. Adam represents humanity seeking happiness, power and fulfilment far from God, relying on its own strength. Jesus Christ, on the other hand, represents the man who lives in full communion with God, welcoming his love and his life. According to the account in Genesis, God created man to share in his own life. The ‘breath of life’ received from God indicates that human beings truly live only when they remain united with him. The desire for greatness, happiness and the infinite that dwells in the human heart is therefore good and corresponds to God’s plan. The serpent’s error lies in leading Adam and Eve to believe that they can become “like God” without God, through disobedience. In doing so, they voluntarily sever the vital bond with the Creator and fall into spiritual death. Paul, in fact, speaks of death and life primarily in a spiritual, not a biological, sense.

Adam thus symbolises original sin: the man who seeks to appropriate what belongs to God and ends up turning away from the source of life. Jesus Christ, on the contrary, does not seek to seize equality with God, but lives in total acceptance of the Father’s love. For this reason, He is without sin, ‘full of grace and truth’. Thanks to Christ, humanity can be restored to communion with God. In Him, the bond between God and man is perfectly realised: He draws all to Himself and enables people to receive divine life once more.

Paul thus presents two fundamental choices: to live like Christ, welcoming God’s breath and love, and growing in the spiritual life; Or to live like Adam, seeking happiness independently of God, with the result of spiritual death. Grace is not an object one possesses, but the loving relationship between God and humanity. Jesus Christ has restored this vital relationship, for which we were created. As St Augustine says: ‘You have made us for Yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.’ Similarly, for St John, eternal life consists in knowing and loving God and Jesus Christ. True life and true joy are found only in union with God; to seek them elsewhere is an illusion that leads to spiritual death

From the Gospel according to Matthew (10:26–33)

Jesus warns his disciples that the mission of proclaiming the Gospel will not be easy. He sends them “like sheep among wolves” and foretells persecutions, trials, floggings and even the hatred of all because of his Name. For this reason he repeats several times: Do not be afraid. The reason for this encouragement is that the truth of God cannot be stopped. All that was hidden will be revealed, and what Jesus has entrusted to his disciples must be proclaimed openly. In Christ, God’s plan of love is fully revealed, a plan that in the Old Testament had been revealed only gradually through prophets and sages. The disciples, having seen and heard Christ, cannot remain silent about what they have experienced. When Matthew writes his Gospel, Christians are already suffering persecution, especially from certain Jewish circles. This teaching therefore serves to strengthen their faithfulness. If the Church exists today, it is also because those first believers overcame their fear and remained steadfast in the faith. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. Jesus distinguishes between two kinds of danger: physical death, which the disciples may suffer as a result of persecution; and spiritual death, which is far more serious, consisting in separation from God. This is why he says: “Do not fear those who kill the body” but rather those who can cause a person to lose their communion with God. The true fear must be that of abandoning the mission by yielding to the temptation of unfaithfulness. To reassure his disciples, Jesus reminds them that they are constantly under the Father’s protection: not a single sparrow falls to the ground without God knowing it, and even the hairs on their heads are counted. God knows and watches over each one personally. Jesus also promises that whoever acknowledges him before men will be acknowledged by him before the Father. To be a Christian therefore means to declare oneself united to Christ not only in words, but through one’s life, for through Baptism we are grafted into him and share in his relationship with the Father. This is why St Paul can affirm that nothing can separate us from the love of God manifested in Christ. When Jesus says: ‘Whoever denies me before men, I too will deny him before the Father’, he is not pronouncing a definitive condemnation, but reminding us of human freedom. Like Peter, who denied Jesus during the Passion, even those who stray can always return. And Christ, as He did with Peter after the Resurrection, continues to ask but one question: Do you love me? The disciple of Christ may encounter hostility and persecution, but must not fear. The real threat is not losing one’s earthly life, but turning away from God. Those who remain faithful to Christ live in the certainty that nothing can separate them from His love.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

11th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [14 June 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Exodus (19:2–6a)

This passage from Exodus describes the moment when God is about to establish the Covenant with Israel on Mount Sinai. Before giving the commandments, God reminds the people of what he has already done for them: he has freed them from Egypt and has always guided them with love and care. The image of the eagle carrying its young on its wings aptly expresses the way in which God accompanies his people: not to make them dependent, but to teach them freedom, like a parent who teaches their children to walk on their own. Deuteronomy, too, presents God as an eagle that protects, sustains and instructs its young. The Covenant is founded on this experience of love and liberation: the people’s trust arises from the fact that God has already demonstrated his faithfulness. For this reason, in the Bible, liberation always precedes the commandments. God promises Israel: ‘You shall be my special possession among all peoples, for the whole earth belongs to me; you shall be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’ The election of Israel is therefore not a privilege to boast of, but a mission received in order to learn to love. Israel was chosen not because it was stronger or more numerous, but because it was loved by God. Over time, the people would come to understand more fully that God is not merely the God of Israel, but the Lord of the earth. Israel’s vocation is therefore universal: to be a sign of God’s presence for all peoples. The expression ‘a kingdom of priests, a holy nation’ indicates that the whole people is consecrated to God. This idea will be taken up by Christianity: according to the Apostle Peter, all the baptised share in a ‘royal priesthood’ and are called to proclaim the wonders of God. The central message is that God liberates, educates for freedom and calls his people to live a relationship of trust with him, not as an exclusive privilege, but as service and witness for the good of all.

Responsorial Psalm (99/100) 

This Psalm was composed to accompany a thanksgiving sacrifice in the Temple of Jerusalem. A liturgical atmosphere emerges from its very words: the people are invited to praise God, serve him with joy and enter his presence to give him thanks. The central theme of the Psalm is therefore the Covenant between God and Israel. Each verse recalls the memory of the deliverance from Egypt and the faithful love with which God chose and guided his people. For Israel, giving thanks means first and foremost remembering that God delivered them when they were slaves in Egypt and made them a people. He then entered into a covenant of communion with this people. The invocation “Praise the Lord, all you of the earth” proclaims that God is the true King and anticipates the day when all humanity will recognise his lordship. Israel thus understands that its election is not an exclusive privilege, but a mission in the service of all peoples. The expression “Serve the Lord with gladness” thus takes on a special meaning: after having been slaves in Egypt, the Israelites learn that service to God is not slavery, but a free response of love. When the Psalm states “He has made us, and we are his”, it does not refer primarily to the creation of man, but to the birth of Israel as the people of the Covenant. God has given identity and freedom to those who were slaves and scattered. The words “We are his people” recall the fundamental promise of the Covenant: “You shall be my people and I shall be your God”. The Psalm concludes by celebrating two essential characteristics of God: his eternal love and his unfailing faithfulness. In the Bible, in fact, “love and truth or faithfulness” are the expressions that best describe God’s relationship with his people. The believer is called to acknowledge the Lord as the one and only God, remembering with gratitude his work of liberation and trusting in his love and faithfulness that endure forever.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (5:6–11) 

For Saint Paul, the coming of Jesus Christ marks a decisive turning point in human history. Before Christ, humanity, enslaved by sin, was unable to find the way back to God on its own and drifted ever further from Him. The great news of the Gospel is that Christ has set us back on the right path. Paul affirms that we have been justified and reconciled with God not because of our own merits, but by pure grace. It is a free gift: God takes the initiative and offers salvation to all through Jesus Christ. The expression ‘Christ died for us’ does not mean that God willed or demanded the violent death of His Son as compensation for humanity’s sins. God is love and does not act according to a logic of debts and payments. Jesus’ death must be understood as the consequence of His total fidelity to the mission He received: to proclaim God’s love, forgiveness, non-violence and mercy. Like a man who risks his life to save others, Jesus accepted the risk of being rejected. He was killed by men, a victim of hatred and violence, not by God’s will. Until the very end, however, he continued to bear witness to forgiveness. Looking at the cross, we then discover the true face of God: not an angry God seeking vengeance, but a God of love and mercy. In Jesus, who forgives even his persecutors, the goodness of the Father is fully revealed. The reconciliation of which Paul speaks consists precisely in overcoming mistrust towards God, that very mistrust represented by Adam. Thanks to the Holy Spirit, humanity can finally live at peace with God and receive his love. This is why Paul affirms that God’s love has been poured into our hearts: through Christ we are once again brought into communion with God and become his children. Salvation, therefore, is a free gift from God. Christ’s death is not a price demanded by God, but the supreme testimony of his love and forgiveness, which reconcile us with the Father and open up a new life for us.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (9:36–10:8) 

The people of the Old Testament had already discovered that God is merciful, that is, he bends down to human suffering. Whilst Jesus in the Gospel shows the same compassion, he does not limit himself to feeling pity, but intervenes concretely to heal and set free. This is why the mission of Jesus and his apostles is first and foremost a mission of healing. Jesus proclaims the Kingdom of God and, at the same time, offers visible signs of it: he heals the sick, frees people from evil spirits and restores life and hope. When he sends out his disciples, he entrusts them with the same task: proclaim that the Kingdom is near and fight evil in all its forms. Jesus is moved by compassion not only for individual suffering, but also for the whole people, whom he sees ‘as sheep without a shepherd’. In him are fulfilled the Old Testament promises concerning the Messiah-shepherd who would gather and guide his people. When Jesus asks the apostles to turn first to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, he does not exclude other peoples, but recalls Israel’s particular mission: to be the first recipient of salvation and then to bring it to all nations. “Freely you have received, freely give”: this expression sums up the life of the believer. Everything we receive from God is, in fact, free. His grace cannot be bought or earned; it is a gift of love. Yet we often struggle to accept this gratuitousness and think we must “earn” God’s favour. Just as God gives freely, so too are we called to give freely. This means helping, serving, loving and forgiving without seeking rewards, recognition or personal gain. Indeed, Jesus invites his disciples to love even their enemies unconditionally and not to wait for others to deserve our help. Those who have experienced God’s free forgiveness are called in turn to become instruments of forgiveness and mercy. Finally, Jesus teaches trust: he chose apostles who were very different from one another and entrusted them with a great mission without demanding guarantees. So too today, God continues to call fragile people to collaborate in his work. Ultimately, we understand that the Kingdom of God is realised in spite of our frailties and, at times, our betrayals. It is also manifested through healing, compassion and, above all, in the victory over evil. Those who have received God’s love freely are called to give it to others with the same generosity, trust and mercy, in the certainty that God is the author of all things and we are merely instruments in his hands.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Solemnity of Corpus Christi [7 June 2026]

First reading from the Book of Deuteronomy (8:2–3, 14b–16)

The text calls on the people of Israel to remember their long journey through the desert following their exodus from Egypt under the leadership of Moses. The forty years in the desert were marked by hunger, thirst, poverty, snakes, scorpions and loneliness. But the central point is not the suffering itself: it is God’s faithful presence in the midst of trials. God fed the people with manna; he brought water forth from the rock; he protected Israel during their journey; he concluded the Covenant on Mount Sinai. The trials of the desert are presented as a divine ‘pedagogy’: God educates his people as a father educates his son. Through fragility, Israel learns two truths: its own poverty and dependence, and at the same time God’s constant care. The fundamental message is that man does not live by bread alone, but by everything that comes from God: his Word, his Spirit, his presence. The text also emphasises the duty of remembrance: ‘Remember’, ‘do not forget’. To remember means to remain faithful to one’s roots and to the Covenant. Forgetting God leads to idolatry and enslavement to other powers. When Israel settles in the Promised Land of Canaan, the danger will no longer be the desert, but prosperity and forgetfulness. For this reason, obedience to the commandments becomes essential. The final section offers a significant image: memory is like the roots of a tree; a people without memory dies spiritually; the future depends on fidelity to one’s roots. Finally, the text links everything to Jesus Christ, who in the desert echoes the words of Deuteronomy: ‘Man does not live by bread alone’. On the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ, the believer is invited to welcome God into their heart. The memory of a people (or a community, or a couple) is a bit like the roots of a tree: today we see the tree, we do not see the roots… yet it lives only thanks to them and owes everything to them, in a sense. Imagine a tree saying: ‘I am separating myself from my roots; they prevent me from moving, worse still, they prevent me from flying’. The rest of the story would be the death of the tree. In the truest sense of the word, the tree’s future lies in its roots. When Moses tells his people “Remember” or “do not forget”, it is as if he were saying to them “do not cut yourself off from your roots”, “your future lies in your faithfulness to your roots”. Moses does not look to the past out of sentiment; but it is precisely because he is entirely focused on the future that he is concerned with fidelity to one’s roots. He says something along the lines of: ‘If you want to still be standing tomorrow, do not forget today who you are and to whom you owe it.’ From century to century, Israel has built itself up by remaining faithful to its roots. Jesus, in turn, to resist the tempter, simply echoed the words of Deuteronomy: “Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” (Mt 4:4).

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 147/148 

Praise the Lord, Jerusalem! Praise your God, O Zion! We must note this parallel: Zion and Jerusalem are one and the same. And, moreover, when we speak of Zion or Jerusalem here, we are referring not so much to the city as to its inhabitants—that is, ultimately, the people of Israel. The expression: ‘Praise the Lord, Jerusalem!’ can be easily dated: we are at the time of the return from the Babylonian exile, that is, at the end of the 6th century, when it was necessary to rebuild the city and restore the Temple. Without God’s help, none of this would have been possible: He has strengthened the bars of Jerusalem’s gates! In the previous psalm, God is called the ‘builder of Jerusalem’ and the ‘gatherer of the scattered of Israel’ (Ps 146/147 A,2). But this is not merely a task of architecture that God has accomplished: this return to the homeland is a true restoration of the people; a new life is about to begin—a life of peace and security: ‘He grants peace within your borders and satisfies you with the finest wheat’. In exile, the people ate the bread of tears and bitterness; the return to the homeland is a time of abundance. The second very strong emphasis of this psalm is the keen awareness of the privilege represented by the election of Israel: the Lord has not done this for any other nation; he has not made his laws known to them. We read in the Book of Deuteronomy: ‘You are a people consecrated to the Lord your God: he has chosen you to be his people, his special possession among all the peoples of the earth (Dt 7:6; 10:15). This is a free and inexplicable choice of God, one that never ceases to amaze us and for which we never cease to give thanks. From a human perspective, this choice cannot be explained; the only explanation Moses found is that because he loved your forefathers, he chose their descendants and brought you out of Egypt by his presence and his great power (cf. Dt 4:37). It is therefore simply a love story with no other explanation. At first, Israel did not feel it was living in an exclusive Covenant with the God of Sinai and thought that other peoples had their own protective gods: Israel was not yet monotheistic, but ‘monolatrous’ (also known as ‘enotheistic’), that is, it worshipped a single God, the God of Sinai, who had delivered it from Egypt. It only truly became “monotheistic” during the Babylonian exile (in the 6th century BC). A new leap in faith then took place alongside the discovery of universalism: if the God of Sinai was the one and only God, then He was also the God of all peoples. However, this did not negate the election of Israel, as can be seen in certain texts of the prophet Isaiah: “You, Israel, my servant whom I have chosen, descendant of Abraham my friend… Fear not, for I am with you… I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, and uphold you with my victorious right hand” (Isa 41:8–10). Isaiah also helped his contemporaries understand that their election now took on a different form: that of a vocation to serve other peoples, to be witnesses of God among them. “I will make you a light to the nations, so that you may bring my salvation to the ends of the earth” (Is 49:6).

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians (10:16–17)

In this text, Paul frames the whole matter with two warnings: ‘Beloved, flee from idolatry’ (v. 14) ‘Do we wish to provoke the Lord to jealousy?’ (v. 22) In the Bible, God’s “jealousy” is always a warning against idolatry.   In Corinth, some Christians, converts from paganism, were tempted to continue taking part in the sacred feasts in the temples of idols, offering animal sacrifices. For Paul, there are no half-measures: either one enters into communion with the living God in the Eucharist, or one seeks another communion. One cannot partake “of the Lord’s table and of the table of demons”. Another practical question was whether a Christian could eat the meat from idolatrous sacrifices sold in the market. Paul replies that one may eat it because idols do not exist and therefore there is no sacred meat; nevertheless, one must avoid causing offence to those who are  weak in faith.

He then emphasises the Christian meal of the Eucharist, which is, in contrast, true communion with Christ. Paul highlights the significance of the Christian meal and asks: ‘Is not the cup of blessing a communion with the blood of Christ? Is not the bread we break a communion with the body of Christ?’ The Greek word is koinonia: communion, intimate participation, mutual belonging.  Christ himself, at the Last Supper, spoke of the ‘New Covenant in my blood’. And in the biblical Covenant there is mutual belonging: ‘You shall be my people and I shall be your God’. The entire Eucharistic Liturgy is the place where the Covenant is fulfilled.  The Eucharist is a meal of communion as in ancient cults, but the value of the sacrifice has changed. God no longer asks for the killing of animals, but for the gift of life: ‘You do not desire sacrifice and offering, [...] so I said: “Here I am”’ (Ps 39/40).   Christ offered his whole life. And, by participating in the Eucharist, we unite our lives to his to offer them to the Father. Paul dares to say: ‘The bread we break is communion with the body of Christ’, that is, we form one body with him, and for this reason we can live as he did. St Augustine sums it up: ‘You become what you receive; you receive what you are.’ By receiving the Body and Blood of Christ, we in turn become lives offered for the birth of a new humanity; an exclusive choice, for one cannot serve both God and idols, and, in the logic of the gift, 

the Christian sacrifice is to offer one’s own life united with that of Christ. We become bread broken for others; thus, in a single sentence: we understand that the Eucharist is the place where the transcendent God draws intimately near to us and transforms us into a gift for the world. 

From the Gospel according to John (6:51–58)

Here is a discourse that is hard to accept, yet it is the word of Life. After the discourse on the Bread of Life, many disciples abandon Jesus. His words are, humanly speaking, incomprehensible. Jesus then addresses the Twelve directly: ‘Do you also wish to go away?’ And Peter replies: ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.’ It is the paradox of faith: these words cannot be explained by strict logic, but only by living them, and the lesson is clear: it is not from books that one understands what the Eucharist is, but by participating in it and allowing oneself to be drawn into the mystery of Christ. The word ‘life’ recurs several times in this discourse: ‘The bread that I will give is my flesh, given for the life of the world’ and, as we read in the Letter to the Hebrews: ‘Entering the world, Christ says: “Behold, I come to do your will.” And God’s will is that the world may have life.  It is a free gift, as Isaiah had already announced: ‘All you who are thirsty, come to the water… buy without money, without payment’ (Is 55:1-3), because what gives us life is the gift of Christ’s life, that is, his sacrifice. The biblical teaching on sacrifice reveals a progressive conversion: from the idea of bloody sacrifices, including human ones, to the absolute prohibition of human sacrifice, leading to the acceptance of sacrifice as an offering of bread and wine (Melchizedek, Gen 14:18). The Songs of the Servant also help us understand that the true sacrifice is to give one’s life for others. And Jesus says that his life is given entirely for humanity. The bread that I will give is my flesh, given so that the world may have life. In the Eucharistic sacrifice, by eating his flesh and drinking his blood, Christ remains in us and we in him; in Jesus, therefore, we receive the very life of God: ‘Just as the Father, who has life, sent me and I live for the Father, so whoever eats me will live for me’. The essential conversion is to move from ‘performing the sacred’—that is, offering things to God—to learning to receive the Life that God gives us in Christ, so that we too may become life given to others. In short: the Eucharist cannot be explained but must be lived, for it is the gift of Christ’s life that draws us into Him, transforms us and enables us to give life for the world. A final note: the word ‘flesh’ that Jesus uses here is equivalent to ‘life’, and we can therefore understand that the Eucharist is his life given so that the world may have life. How? Through his passion, death and resurrection. Immersed in the Paschal Mystery through the Eucharist, each of us is called to welcome the life that God gives us so that we, in turn, may be the Eucharist, a gift of life for all.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity (year A)  [31 May 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Exodus (34:4–6, 8–9)

The text presents one of the most precious moments of biblical revelation: God speaks of himself and proclaims his name before Moses, who prostrates himself in recognition of the greatness of what he hears. God defines himself as ‘the Lord (YHWH), a God who is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in love and faithfulness. This name, already revealed in the burning bush, is the foundation of Israel’s faith. Even then, God had shown his face: he sees the misery of his people in Egypt, hears their cry, knows their sufferings and comes down to set them free, inspiring Moses with the necessary strength. This means that man is never alone in his trials: God is present, accompanying and sustaining him. The Jewish Passover commemorates this liberating intervention every year. In today’s text, however, a further step is taken: God does not merely feel compassion, but loves deeply. His ‘passing’ before Moses recalls the passage during the Exodus: whenever God passes by, he sets free. This second revelation is even more important because it frees man from false images of God. It is not man who has invented a good God: it is God himself who has revealed himself in this way, unexpectedly. Moses fully understands the meaning of ‘slow to anger’ and asks forgiveness for the people, aware of their unfaithfulness. Israel is described as a “stiff-necked people”, an image drawn from the agricultural yoke: just as animals resist the yoke, so the people struggle to walk in step with God in the covenant. Despite this, Moses trusts that God will continue to forgive and keep the people as his inheritance. Finally, God’s faithfulness (“truth”) remains the foundation of hope: He does not abandon His people nor forget the covenant. For this reason, Israel remains the chosen people and, as the New Testament also reminds us, God remains ever faithful, even when man is unfaithful.

Responsorial Psalm: Song of Daniel (3:52–56)

To understand the Book of Daniel, we can use a modern comparison: in the 1980s, during Soviet rule in Czechoslovakia, a young actress staged a play about Joan of Arc. On the surface, it spoke of 15th-century France, but between the lines the message was clear: like Joan, the Czech people too could resist oppression. Similarly, the Book of Daniel, written in the 2nd century BC during the persecution by the Greek king Antiochus IV Epiphanes, is a text of resistance. It tells stories set in an earlier era, under the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar, but in reality it speaks of the author’s contemporary situation. Its aim is to encourage the faithful to remain steadfast, even unto martyrdom. A central episode is that of the three young men, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, condemned to be burned alive for refusing to worship a statue. Thrown into a blazing furnace, they are miraculously saved: the flames kill their executioners, whilst they walk unharmed through the fire, praising God. The greatest miracle, however, is their faith: they acknowledge the sins of the people and humbly entrust themselves to God’s mercy. In their song they proclaim: “Blessed are you, Lord, God of our fathers”. It is a reference to the covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Israel, to the divine promises and the history of salvation, but also to God’s continual forgiveness despite the people’s unfaithfulness. When speaking of God’s “Name”, God himself is referred to with respect. The reference to the “holy temple” reflects the historical context of persecution: even when worship is desecrated, it is affirmed that God alone is the true Lord. The images of the throne and the cherubim recall the Holy of Holies in the Temple, a sign of God’s presence among his people. This is a message of hope: even in the harshest trials, God is present and evil will not have the last word. The hymn thus becomes a song of trust and victory: despite violence and persecution, faith remains steadfast. This message of resilience and hope remains relevant even today.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians (13:11–13)

The final sentence: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all”, is the formula with which the Eucharistic celebration begins, and this is no coincidence: St Paul concludes his Second Letter to the Corinthians in this way, summarising God’s entire plan. This expression, spoken by the celebrant in the name of God, indicates that God invites humanity to enter into his intimacy, that is, into the communion of love of the Trinity. “Grace”, “love” and “communion” express the same reality: the Trinitarian life of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The subjunctive verb “may be with you” does not indicate any doubt about God, who is always the source of forgiveness, blessing and presence, but rather points to human freedom: God continually offers his love, but man is free to accept or reject it. This clear expression of the Trinity is rare in the Bible and marks the fulfilment of revelation in Jesus Christ. From this spring Paul’s exhortations, beginning with joy: “Brothers and sisters, rejoice.” In the Bible, joy is linked to the experience of liberation, such as at the end of a war or the return from exile, when the people experience God’s salvation. These liberations that occur in history foreshadow the definitive joy promised by God, that of a new creation. Jesus himself speaks of this full and definitive joy at the end of his discourse at the Last Supper: “Take heart, I have overcome the world”, and promises a joy that no one can take away, even through trials. Paul’s second exhortation concerns unity and peace: “Be of one mind… live in peace”. Unity among believers is essential, for it is God’s witness to the world and echoes Jesus’ prayer: “May they be one.” Paul insists on one faith, one Lord, one baptism, one God and Father of all. This communion is also expressed in the liturgical gesture of the kiss of peace, already present in the early Christian communities. Ancient testimonies, such as those of Saint Justin and Saint Hippolytus, show how this gesture was an integral part of the celebration, a concrete sign of unity and brotherhood.

From the Gospel of John (3:16–18)

‘God so loved the world that he gave his only Son’: this sentence expresses the great transition from the Old to the New Testament. That God loves humanity was already known, and was Israel’s great discovery; the novelty lies in the gift of the Son for the salvation of all. God so loved the world… that whoever believes in him may not perish, but have eternal life. According to the Gospel of John, it is enough to believe to be saved: whoever receives Christ becomes a child of God and already possesses eternal life. This “eternal life” is the life of the Spirit received at Baptism: it is true salvation, that is, living in peace with oneself and with others, as brothers and sisters amongst men and children of God. To be saved, one need only turn to Jesus, allow oneself to be transformed by him, and pass from a heart of stone to a heart of flesh. In biblical language: “to lift one’s gaze towards him”. It is extraordinary news, if taken seriously, for in the face of the Crucified One the true face of God is revealed. In the face of the crucified Christ, who freely gives his life, humanity discovers the true face of God: not a domineering or vengeful God, but a God who is love and mercy. “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father,” says Jesus. All that is required is faith: to believe in God who saves in order to be saved. In the Gospels, in fact, Jesus often repeats: “Your faith has saved you.” The evangelist John links this mystery to Zechariah’s prophecy: looking upon the one who has been pierced leads to conversion and purification. This vision also recurs in Revelation: all will see the one whom they have pierced. The expression ‘only Son’ indicates that Jesus is the fullness of grace and truth, the sole source of eternal life and the head of the new humanity. God’s plan is for all humanity to be united in Christ and to share in the life of the Trinity: this is salvation, true life, already present from this moment onwards. Eternal life is to know you, the one true God, and the one you have sent, Jesus Christ: to know God means to recognise him as mercy and to enter into a profound relationship with him, in accordance with the meaning that ‘to know’ holds in St John. ‘Avoiding judgement’ means avoiding separation from God: it is enough to believe in his forgiveness. As in human relationships, if one believes in forgiveness, one can return and be reconciled; if one does not believe, one remains trapped in one’s own error. So it is with God. God offers salvation, but does not impose it, and man remains always free. Those who believe are saved; those who reject faith exclude themselves. This is shown in an extraordinary way by the good thief when he turns to Jesus, who is crucified alongside him. Despite having lived a life of sin, at the very last moment before dying he entrusts himself to Jesus and receives a surprising promise: ‘Today you will be with me in Paradise.’

+Giovanni D’Ercole