Dear young people!

1. I come to you to announce the next World Youth Day. As I write these words, the memory is still fresh of the last Youth Day, culminating in the unforgettable meeting at Santiago de Compostela where, together with many of you, I went on pilgrimage. That was an ecclesial event of great importance, an exceptional witness of faith on the part of thousands of young people from every continent, an intense moment of evangelization. At Santiago, the Church presented once again to the world her youthful image, full of joy, of hope and of enthusiasm in the faith. The Santiago event was a great gift for the Church; I would even venture to say, for society as a whole. For this I shall never cease to thank Our Lord.

The theme of the last Youth Day, as you will remember, was centred on Christ. This year, instead, I should like to propose that you reflect on the theme of the Church. The correlation is not haphazard. Between Christ and his Church there is a very close and deep organic relationship. Christ lives in the Church, the Church is the mystery of Christ living and working among us, as St Paul says: "Christ in you, the hope of glory" (Col 1:27); and again: "You are the body of Christ and individually members of it" (1Co 12: 27).

On the occasion of this V World Youth Day, I want therefore to invite you all to a new discovery of the Church and of your mission in the Church, as young people.

The Church of Christ is a fascinating and wonderful reality. She is ancient, being almost two thousand years old, but, at the same time, forever young, thanks to the Holy Spirit working within her. The Church is young because her message of salvation is young, that is, relevant for all times. That is why there is a dialogue of such importance between the Church and youth: "The Church has so much to talk about with youth and youth have so much to share with the Church. This mutual dialogue, by taking place with great cordiality, clarity and courage ... will be a source of richness and youthfulness for the Church ...", as I wrote in the Apostolic Exhortation Christifideles Laici (n. 46). I should like the V Day to contribute towards developing this dialogue both at the level of the Church’s life and in the existence of each one of you.

2. In the Bible, among the many images expressing the mystery of the Church, we find also the image of the vine (cf. Jer 2:21; Is 5:1-7). The Church is the vine planted by the Lord himself, a vine that rejoices in his special love.

In John’s Gospel, Christ explains the fundamental principle of the life of this vine when He says: "I am the vine, you are the branches" (Jn 15:5). These are the very words that I have chosen as theme for the next World Youth Day. And so, I appeal to all of you: Young people, be living branches in the Church, be branches laden with fruit!

To be living branches in the vineyard of the Church means above all to be in living communion with Christ the vine. The branches are not self-sufficient; they are totally dependent on the vine. In the vine is the source of their life. Likewise, in Baptism, each one of us was grafted onto Christ, and received the free gift of new life. To be living branches, you must live this reality of your Baptism, deepening every day your communion with the Lord, by listening to his Word and obeying it, by participating in the Eucharist and the sacrament of Reconciliation, and by speaking personally with Our Lord in prayer. Jesus says: "He who abides in me and I in him bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing" (Jn 15:5).

To be living branches in the vineyard of the Church also means accepting a commitment in the ecclesial community and in society. The Second Vatican Council explains this very clearly: "As in the structure of a living body no member is merely passive, but each has a share in the functioning as well as in the life of the body: so too, in the Body of Christ, which is the Church, ‘the whole body ... when each part is working properly, makes bodily growth’ (Eph 4:16)" (Apostolicam Actuositatem, 2). We all share, according to our particular vocations, in the mission of Christ and of his Church. Ecclesial communion is a missionary communion.

The Church needs many labourers. For this V World Day, Christ himself extends to you young people a great invitation: "You go into my vineyard too" (Mt 20:4).

The Church is an organic communion, in which each one has his or her own place and his or her own task. You young people have also your own place. A very important one. On the threshold of the year Two Thousand, the Church feels called by the Lord to an ever more intense effort of evangelization; she has special need of you, of your dynamism, your authenticity, your ardent will to grow, the freshness of your faith. So, place your youthful talents unreservedly at the service of the Church, with the generosity that is characteristic of your age. Take your place in the Church. It is not merely the place of objects of pastoral care. It is above all one of active protagonists in the Church’s mission (cf.

Christifideles Laici, 46). The Church is yours. More still, you yourselves are the Church!

For her part, the Church has so much to offer to you young people. We are witnessing today a very significant phenomenon. After a period of distrust and indifference with regard to the Church, many young people are now rediscovering the Church as a sure and faithful guide, as an indispensable point of communion with God and with their brothers and sisters, as an area of spiritual growth and commitment. This is a most eloquent sign. Many of you are no longer content just with belonging to the Church formally, statistically. They are looking for something more.

Special opportunities for rediscovering the Church and ecclesial commitment are found in associations, movements and the various ecclesial communities for youth. Today, indeed, we speak of a "new era of group endeavours" within the Church (cf.

Christifideles Laici , 29). This is an immense treasure and a precious gift of the Holy Spirit, for which we should be most grateful.

"You go into my vineyard too" (Mt 20: 4). The vineyard of the Church also needs special labourers, serving her in a specific way, with the radicalism of the Gospel, consecrating their whole life to her service. I refer to priestly and religious vocations, and also to the vocations of consecrated lay people in the world. I am sure that many of you, as you meditate on the mystery of the Church, will hear in the depths of your soul the call of Christ: "You go into my vineyard too ...". If you hear this voice addressed to you personally, do not hesitate to answer "yes" to Our Lord. Do not be afraid. Total service of Christ and his Church is a wonderful vocation and a magnificent gift. Christ will help you.

This, in broad outline, is the substance of the theme for the next World Day, a day for rediscovering the Church.

3. The V World Youth Day 1990 will be celebrated on Palm Sunday in each of your dioceses.

It is precisely the diocesan Church that you must discover. The Church is not an abstract and disembodied reality. On the contrary, it is a very concrete reality: precisely, a diocesan Church gathered around the Bishop, successor of the Apostles. It is also the parish Church that you must discover, its life, its needs and the many communities that exist and work within it. You will bring to this Church the joy and the enthusiasm you have experienced in world-wide encounters like that of Santiago and in the meetings of the movements and associations to which you belong. In this concrete Church you young people must be living and fruitful branches; you must, that is, be conscious and responsible sharers in its mission. Welcome this Church with all its spiritual riches; welcome it in the person of your Bishops, of the Priests, of the Religious and also of your brothers and sisters in the faith; welcome it with faith and with filial love.

The World Day, as you see, is not only a festival, but also a serious spiritual commitment. To be able to gather its fruits, it is necessary to follow a path of preparation under the guidance of your Pastors in the dioceses, in the parishes, in the associations, the movements and the ecclesial communities for youth. Try to know the Church better: her nature, her two thousand years of history, and her present situation. Try to discover your place in the Church and your mission as young people.

In this spiritual journey you can be helped by my Apostolic Exhortation Christifideles Laici (1988), dedicated precisely to meditation on the vocation and mission of the lay faithful in the Church and in the world. I invite your Pastors to help you in gaining a better understanding of its message.

I entrust the process of spiritual preparation and the actual celebration of the forthcoming World Youth Day 1990 to the special intercession of Our Lady. May She, whom we venerate as Mother of the Church, be your Teacher and Guide in this renewal of your ecclesial commitment.

To all of you I send, affectionately, my Blessing.

From the Vatican, 26 November 1989, Solemnity of O.L. Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the III. World Youth Day]

Today’s Gospel shows us Jesus during the Last Supper, in the moment He knows His death is close at hand. His ‘hour’ has come. For it is the last time He is with His disciples, and now He wants to impress firmly a fundamental truth in their minds: even when He will no longer be physically present in the midst of them, they will still be able to remain united to Him in a new way, and thus bear much fruit. Everyone can be united to Jesus in a new way. If, on the contrary, one should lose this unity with Him, this union with Him, would become sterile, or rather, harmful to the community. And to express this reality, this new way of being united to Him, Jesus uses the image of the vine and the branches: Just “as a branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches” (Jn 15:4-5). With this image He teaches us how to abide Him, to be united to Him, even though He is not physically present.

Jesus is the vine, and through Him — like the sap in the tree — the very love of God, the Holy Spirit is passed to the branches. Look: we are the branches, and through this parable, Jesus wants us to understand the importance of remaining united to him. The branches are not self-sufficient, but depend totally on the vine, in which the source of their life is found. So it is with us Christians. Grafted by Baptism in Christ, we have freely received the gift of new life from Him; and thanks to the Church we are able to remain in vital communion with Christ. We must remain faithful to Baptism, and grow in intimacy with the Lord through prayer, listening and docility to His Word — read the Gospel —, participation in the Sacraments, especially the Eucharist and Reconciliation.

When one is intimately united to Jesus, he enjoys the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which are — as St Paul tells us — “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Gal 5:22). These are the gifts that we receive if we remain united in Jesus; and therefore a person who is so united in Him does so much good for neighbour and society, is a Christian person. In fact, one is recognized as a true Christian by this attitude, as a tree is recognized by its fruit. The fruits of this profound union with Christ are wonderful: our whole person is transformed by the grace of the Spirit: soul, understanding, will, affections, and even body, because we are united body and soul. We receive a new way of being, the life of Christ becomes our own: we are able to think like Him, to act like Him, to see the world and the things in it with the eyes of Jesus. And so we are able to love our brothers, beginning with the poorest and those who suffer the most, as He did and love them with His heart, and so bear fruits of goodness, of charity, and of peace in the world.

Each one of us is a branch of the one vine; and all of us together are called to bear the fruits of this common membership in Christ and in the Church. Let us entrust ourselves to the intercession of the Virgin Mary, so that we might be able to be living branches in the Church and witness to our faith in a consistent manner — consistency of one’s own life and thought, of life and faith — knowing that all of us, according to our particular vocations, participate in the one saving mission of Christ.

[Pope Francis, Regina Coeli 3 May 2015]

(Jn 20:1-2.11-18)

Mk tells of a young man dressed in white, Mt of an angel, Lk of two men dressed in white, Jn of two angels.

The stories on the annunciation and on the heralds of the Resurrection do not fit together according to our way of telling.

To avoid a limited view on the victory of Life, it is appropriate to understand that we are not celebrating an apparition of the Risen One, but his Manifestation  [Greek text].

He does not appear only to some - to others He does not: manifests itself. We experience Him.

And there is a new Creation: now we do not recognize Jesus when we see, but when we listen Him (v.16).

The Lord makes himself seen not in the moment of the vision, but in the time of the Word, of the personal Appeal that «turns» the gaze from the irrelevant direction of travel that clings to the image of "yesterday".

The experience of the living Christ excludes the memories to be kept crying.

It is a current and well-founded relationship, convincing, multifaceted and accessible - direct.

The very observance of ancient law [v.1: in the particular case, the sabbath] seems to delay the experience of the disruptive force of rebirth, in the Spirit.

Gradually, in the communities those personal primordial energies were being reactivated that not even the blackmail, intimidation and marginalization of the institutional apparatus could touch.

The faithful were on the virtuous and exciting wave of a further fundamental change: now they felt «brothers» of the Risen One (v.17).

The ‘discipleship’ relation (Jn 13:13) growing in ‘friendship’ (Jn 15,15) were becoming that of the blood relatives who felt they were ‘sons’.

[Jn 1,11-12: «He came among his own, and his own did not welcome him. But to those who received him he gave them power to become sons of God; to those who believe in his Name» - that is: adhering to all his word, story and action; also problematic, painful, denouncing].

Thus began the explicit Announcement, despite the fact that the truly vital and increasingly determined part of the "church" proved to be that wich was peripheral and came from the pagans [in the figure of Mary Magdalene].

Woman: authentic Assembly in the Spirit.

An endless field of humiliated people, who nevertheless in the Risen Christ «see themselves within» and are unblocked; by acquiring new breath, overcoming discouragement, disorientation, uncertainty.

Even today, the search for our Guide can also arise from the sense of loss, or from the beatings suffered - but it is marked by Easter encounters and stages of new awareness.

New Listens, which break the reassurances. The Risen is a radical novelty: a wound inside and an impulse.

Only in the experience of ‘being reborn by transmitting Him’, is the Spirit unleashed that thrills and charges - and the Living One does not remain a stranger or someone of whom we have already made up an idea.

There is an unprecedented situation.

But who notices? In spite of the neglect they suffer, only the bridal souls catch it - the very ones who are disregarded.

[st Mary Magdalene, July 22]

Fossilised in reminiscences, or Announced by Brethren

(Jn 20:1-2.11-18)

"In those days, in Israel, the testimony of women could not have official, juridical value, but women experienced a special bond with the Lord, which is fundamental for the concrete life of the Christian community, and this always, in every age, not only at the beginning of the Church's journey" [Pope Benedict, Regina Coeli 9 April 2012].

Mk tells of a young man dressed in white, Mt of an angel, Lk of two men dressed in white, Jn of two angels.

The accounts of the annunciation and the heralds of the resurrection do not fit together according to our way of telling.

In order to avoid a limited view of the victory of Life, it should be understood that we are not celebrating the week of the apparitions of the Risen One, but of his Manifestations [Greek text].

He does not just appear to some - to others he does not (depending on the lottery): he Manifests himself. We experience him.

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

The Lord makes Himself seen not in the moment of vision, but in the time of the Word, of the personal call that makes one "turn" the ancient gaze from the irrelevant direction that clings to the image of "yesterday".

The experience of the living Christ excludes memories to be wept over.

It is current and grounded, convincing, multifaceted and accessible - direct. Definitely better than that offered later by the apostles, without pierced hearts (or proclamations).

But the face-to-face still remained closed, to the extent that one seemed to be looking for deceased or distant museum pieces - to be found almost as before and at best kept without too many shocks.

Conditioned by too 'usual' expectations, we would pretend to trace Jesus to the wrong campsites and places. But in Jn the Ascension is placed on the same day as Easter (v.17).

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

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

The Incarnation was continuing, unfolding in the believers; awakening in them new creative states.

The believers were on the virtuous and exciting wave of a further fundamental change: they now felt themselves to be 'brothers' of the Risen One (v.17).

The relationship of 'discipleship' (Jn 13:13) grown into 'friendship' (Jn 15:15) became that of kinsmen who felt like 'sons'.

[Jn 1:11-12: "He came among his own, and his own received him not. But to those who received him he gave power to become children of God; to those who believe in his Name" - that is, they adhere to his entire word, event and action; even problematic, painful, denunciation].

Thus began the explicit proclamation, despite the fact that the part of the 'church' that was really vital and increasingly determined proved to be the peripheral and from the pagans [in the figure of Mary Magdalene].

It wanted the reviving redemption, and thus pointed the right way to the assembly leaders themselves.

The Judeo-Christian community of the apostles was in fact all out for compromise with the distant and conflicting religious institution, that of power, which had wanted to destroy the Master.

The 'apostolic' hard core always lags behind and needs to be evangelised: only she who feels she is a nothing (vv.2.18) converts him. And when she becomes aware that the reign of dead things will no longer greet her.

Woman: Authentic assembly in the Spirit.

A boundless field of the humiliated, which nevertheless in the Risen Christ "sees itself" and is unblocked; it acquires new breath, overcomes discouragement, disorientation, uncertainty.

Still filled with Infinity, like pilgrims, dreamers from below and from the periphery seek their way.

They activate themselves with passion, to rekindle and resonate every fold of the human being - previously commanded by a world of calculated alternatives.

It is again the experience of "Mary of Magdala", who, by gaining confidence, can complete the perceptions and thoughts of even the top of the class.

The Risen One is always somewhere else... than what the expert or an average religious soul not ready for change expects.

His Person has unforeseen, unconventional and unconventional physiognomies - like life, all to be discovered.

They are unseen profiles - to be grasped and internalised, sometimes almost without struggle.

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

To be carried in our saddlebags as always, with closed and normal love, the child of sorrow.The search for our Rabbuni may also arise from a sense of loss, or from the beatings suffered - but it is marked by Easter encounters and stages of new awareness.

New hearings, which shatter reassurances.

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

The Risen One is radical novelty: wounded within and impetus. A journey that welcomes and takes on the whole of humanity and history.

He acts in us by shattering all security; the very security that still does not let us out of the small circle.

And while labouring in the tension of the ungraspable [which cannot be made one's own] it is in the emotion of perceiving the treasures of atypical and personal intuitions that regenerated life attracts and opens wide, amazes.

It is only in the experience of being reborn by passing it on that the Spirit is unleashed and charged - and the Living One does not remain a stranger or someone of whom one has already had an idea.

"I have sought and seen the Lord!" [v.18: sense of the Greek text].

One does not experience Christ with intimism, nor with reminiscences and trinkets; not even in a cerebral way or by being content to fulfil pious memorial offices on the body.

There is an unprecedented situation.

But who notices? In spite of the neglect they endure, only the soulless - the disregarded.

To internalise and live the message:

What transmutation took place in you and your neighbour when you accepted the Call and the invitation to the Announcement?

How did the Person of Christ make you aware that you are fully wanted: inalienable subject, by Name?

Personal Manifestation: a law we find carved into many pages of the Gospels. But... soft happiness or wave sweeping over everything?

In these weeks our reflection moves, so to speak, in the orbit of the paschal mystery. Today we meet the one who, according to the Gospels, first saw the risen Jesus: Mary Magdalene. The Sabbath rest had recently ended. On the day of the passion, there had been no time to complete the funeral rites; therefore, in that dawn filled with sadness, the women go to Jesus' tomb with perfumed ointments. The first to arrive is her: Mary of Magdala, one of the disciples who had accompanied Jesus all the way from Galilee, putting herself at the service of the nascent Church. Her journey to the tomb mirrors the fidelity of so many women who are devoted for years to the paths of cemeteries, in memory of someone who is no longer there. The most authentic bonds are not broken even by death: there are those who continue to love, even if the loved one is gone forever.

The Gospel (cf. Jn 20:1-2, 11-18) describes Mary Magdalene by making it immediately clear that she was not a woman of easy enthusiasm. In fact, after the first visit to the tomb, she returns disappointed to the place where the disciples were hiding; she reports that the stone has been moved from the entrance of the tomb, and her first hypothesis is the simplest that can be formulated: someone must have stolen Jesus' body. So the first announcement that Mary brings is not that of the resurrection, but of a theft that unknown persons have perpetrated, while the whole of Jerusalem slept.

Then the gospels tell of a second journey of the Magdalene to Jesus' tomb. She was stubborn! She went, she returned ... because she was not convinced! This time her pace is slow, very heavy. Mary suffers doubly: first of all for the death of Jesus, and then for the inexplicable disappearance of his body.

It is while she is bending over by the tomb, her eyes full of tears, that God surprises her in the most unexpected way. The evangelist John emphasises how persistent her blindness is: she does not notice the presence of two angels questioning her, nor does she become suspicious when she sees the man behind her, whom she thinks is the guardian of the garden. Instead, she discovers the most shocking event in human history when she is finally called by name: "Mary!" (v. 16).

How beautiful it is to think that the first appearance of the Risen One - according to the gospels - happened in such a personal way! That there is someone who knows us, who sees our suffering and disappointment, and is moved by us, and calls us by name. It is a law that we find carved into many pages of the gospel. Around Jesus there are many people who seek God; but the most prodigious reality is that, much earlier, there is first of all God who cares for our lives, who wants to lift them up, and to do this he calls us by name, recognising the personal face of each one. Every man is a story of love that God writes on this earth. Each one of us is a story of God's love. Each one of us God calls by name: he knows us by name, he looks at us, he waits for us, he forgives us, he has patience with us. Is this true or not? Each one of us has this experience.

And Jesus calls her: "Mary!': the revolution of his life, the revolution destined to transform the existence of every man and woman, begins with a name that echoes in the garden of the empty tomb. The Gospels describe to us Mary's happiness: Jesus' resurrection is not a joy given with an eyedropper, but a cascade that invests one's whole life. Christian existence is not woven with soft happiness, but with waves that sweep over everything. Try to think too, right now, with the baggage of disappointments and defeats that each of us carries in our hearts, that there is a God close to us who calls us by name and says: "Get up, stop crying, because I have come to set you free!" This is beautiful.

Jesus is not one who adapts to the world, tolerating that death, sadness, hatred, the moral destruction of people endure in it... Our God is not inert, but our God - allow me the word - is a dreamer: he dreams of the transformation of the world, and he has realised it in the mystery of the Resurrection.

Mary would like to embrace her Lord, but He is now oriented to the heavenly Father, while she is sent to take the proclamation to her brothers and sisters. And so that woman, who before meeting Jesus was at the mercy of the Evil One (cf. Lk 8:2), has now become an apostle of the new and greater hope. May her intercession help us to live this experience too: in the hour of weeping, and in the hour of abandonment, listen to the Risen Jesus who calls us by name, and with a heart full of joy go and proclaim: "I have seen the Lord!" (v. 18). I have changed my life because I have seen the Lord! I am now different from before, I am a different person. I have changed because I have seen the Lord. This is our strength and this is our hope.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 17 May 2017]

The Gospel accounts that mention the appearances of the Risen One usually end with the invitation to overcome every uncertainty, to confront the event with the Scriptures, to proclaim that Jesus, beyond death, is alive for ever, a source of new life for all who believe in him.

This is what happened, for example, in the case of Mary Magdalene (cf. Jn 20: 11-18), who found the tomb open and empty and immediately feared that the body of the Lord had been taken away. The Lord then called her by name and at that point a deep change took place within her:  her distress and bewilderment were transformed into joy and enthusiasm. She promptly went to the Apostles and announced to them:  "I have seen the Lord" (Jn 20: 18).

Behold:  those who meet the Risen Jesus are inwardly transformed; it is impossible "to see" the Risen One without "believing" in him. Let us pray that he will call each one of us by name and thus convert us, opening us to the "vision" of faith.

Faith is born from the personal encounter with the Risen Christ and becomes an impulse of courage and freedom that makes one cry to the world:  "Jesus is risen and alive for ever".

This is the mission of the Lord's disciples in every epoch and also in our time:  "If, then, you have been raised with Christ", St Paul exhorts us, "seek the things that are above.... Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth" (Col 3: 1-2). This does not mean cutting oneself off from one's daily commitments, neglecting earthly realities; rather, it means reviving every human activity with a supernatural breath, it means making ourselves joyful proclaimers and witnesses of the Resurrection of Christ, living for eternity (cf. Jn 20: 25; Lk 24: 33-34).

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 19 April 2006]

On 22 July we celebrate the memorial of St Mary Magdalene, disciple of the Lord and first witness of the Resurrection. The story of St Mary of Magdala shows how decisive it is for each one of us to meet Christ personally. It is Christ who understands the human heart. It is he who can satisfy its hopes and longings and give answers to the concerns and the difficulties that humanity today faces in its daily endeavours.

[Pope John Paul II, Angelus 22 July 2001]

Today we meet the one who, according to the Gospels, was the first to see the Risen Christ: Mary Magdalene. The Sabbath had ended not long before. On the day of the Passion, there had not been enough time to complete the funeral rites. For this reason, at that sorrow-filled dawn, the women went to Jesus’ tomb with aromatic oils. The first to arrive was Mary Magdalene. She was one of the disciples who had accompanied Jesus from Galilee, putting herself at the service of the burgeoning Church. Her walk to the sepulchre mirrors the fidelity of many women who spend years in the small alleyways of cemeteries remembering someone who is no longer there. The most authentic bonds are not broken even in death: there are those who continue loving even if their loved one is gone forever.

The Gospel describes Magdalene by immediately highlighting that she was not a woman easily given to enthusiasm (cf. Jn 20:1-2, 11-18). In fact, after her visit to the sepulchre, she returns disappointed to the Apostles’ hiding place. She tells them that the stone has been removed from the entrance to the sepulchre, and her first hypothesis is the simplest that one could formulate: someone must have stolen Jesus’ body. Thus, the first announcement that Mary makes is not the one of the Resurrection, but of a theft perpetrated by persons unknown while all Jerusalem slept.

The Gospels then tell of Magdalene’s second visit to Jesus’ sepulchre. She was stubborn! She went, she returned ... because she was not convinced! This time her step is slow and very heavy. Mary suffers twice as much: first for the death of Jesus, and then for the inexplicable disappearance of his body.

It is as she is stooping near the tomb, her eyes filled with tears, that God surprises her in the most unexpected way. John the Evangelist stresses how persistent her blindness is. She does not notice the presence of the two angels who question her, and she does not become suspicious even when she sees the man behind her, whom she believes is the custodian of the garden. Instead, she discovers the most overwhelming event in the history of mankind when she is finally called by her name: “Mary!” (v. 16).

How nice it is to think that the first apparition of the Risen One — according to the Gospels — took place in such a personal way! To think that there is someone who knows us, who sees our suffering and disappointment, who is moved with us and calls us by name. It is a law which we find engraved on many pages of the Gospel. There are many people around Jesus who search for God, but the most prodigious reality is that, long before that, in the first place there is God, who is concerned about our life, who wants to raise it, and to do this, he calls us by name, recognizing the individual face of each person. Each person is a love story that God writes on this earth. Each one of us is God’s love story. He calls each of us by our name: he knows us by name; he looks at us; he waits for us; he forgives us; he is patient with us. Is this true or not true? Each of us experiences this.

And Jesus calls her: “Mary!”: the revolution of her life, the revolution destined to transform the life of every man and every woman begins with a name which echoes in the garden of the empty sepulchre. The Gospels describe Mary’s happiness. Jesus’ Resurrection is not a joy which is measured with a dropper, but a waterfall that cascades over life. Christian life is not woven of soft joys, but of waves which engulf everything. You too, try to imagine, right now, with the baggage of disappointments and failures that each of us carries in our heart, that there is a God close to us who calls us by name and says to us: ‘Rise, stop weeping, for I have come to free you!”. This is beautiful.

Jesus is not one who adapts to the world, tolerating in it the persistence of death, sadness, hatred, the moral destruction of people.... Our God is not inert, but our God — allow me to say — is a dreamer: he dreams of the transformation of the world, and accomplished it in the mystery of the Resurrection.

Mary would like to embrace her Lord, but he is already oriented towards the heavenly Father, whereas she is sent to carry the news to the brethren. And so that woman, who, before encountering Jesus, had been at the mercy of evil (cf. Lk 8:2) now becomes the Apostle of the new and greatest hope. May her intercession also help us live this experience: in times of woe and in times of abandonment, to listen to the Risen Jesus who calls us by name and, with a heart full of joy, to go forth and proclaim: “I have seen the Lord!” (v. 18). I have changed my life because I have seen the Lord! I am now different than before. I am another person. I have changed because I have seen the Lord. This is our strength and this is our hope. Thank you.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 17 May 2017]

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)   [19 July 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Wisdom (12:3, 16–19)

The Book of Wisdom, written in Greek by a Jew from Alexandria shortly before the coming of Christ, is addressed to people steeped in Greek culture, which exalted intelligence and philosophy as the highest paths to knowledge. The author, however, reminds us that true wisdom belongs to God and that his mysteries are not attained through human knowledge, but are received as a gift and with humility. This is the same truth that Jesus expresses when he points out that the Father reveals his secrets to the little ones rather than to the wise of this world (Mt 11:25, Lk 10:21). The central theme of the text is the relationship between omnipotence and mercy. On the one hand, God is the absolute Lord of the universe: there is no other God; he rules over all things and possesses infinite power. On the other hand, this power is not manifested through violence, but through gentleness and goodness: God cares for all things, judges with leniency, governs with tenderness and, after sin, always offers the possibility of conversion. The author puts forward a surprising idea: God is merciful precisely because he is almighty. Human beings, often insecure about their own authority, feel the need to flaunt their power; God, on the other hand, who possesses all power, has nothing to prove. This is why his power is expressed in patience, forgiveness and tenderness. This image of God is the fruit of a long journey of revelation. Through the prophets, Israel learnt that God is not a tyrannical ruler, but a loving Father. Like Elijah on Mount Horeb, believers discover that God does not reveal himself in the storm or the earthquake, but in the gentle breeze. His strength is unobtrusive yet invincible, for it is the strength of love. This discovery also has implications for humankind. If we are created in God’s image, we are called to imitate his way of acting. Therefore, the righteous do not seek domination or violence, but humanity, compassion and service. Jesus takes up this same teaching when he instructs his disciples that the logic of power must not prevail amongst them, but rather that of the service of love (Mk 9:35; Mt 20:26–27; Mt 23:11; Lk 22:26). In short, God’s greatness does not lie in dominating by force, but in saving through mercy; and his omnipotence is manifested in forbearance, forgiveness and the ability to always offer humankind a new chance. Those who wish to resemble God must make goodness—and not power—the measure of their lives.

Responsorial Psalm (85/86)  

In this psalm, the image of a tender and merciful God emerges, one who reveals his power through mercy. If we read the psalm in the light of the first reading, taken from the Book of Wisdom, we realise that the author marvels at both God’s greatness and his tenderness. One explains the other, for if God is forgiving towards humankind, it is precisely because He is almighty. And this dual emphasis – forgiveness and greatness – recurs in the stanzas of the psalm: the 1st and 3rd stanzas focus on forgiveness; the second stanza is about greatness.  First stanza: ‘You who are good and forgiving, you are full of mercy towards those who call upon you.’  Third stanza: ‘You, Lord, are a merciful and compassionate God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Turn to me and have mercy.’  2nd stanza: “Great are You and You work wonders; You alone are God”. In the third stanza, “a merciful and compassionate God” leads us to God’s great revelation to Moses on Mount Sinai (Ex 34:6). It comes at the worst possible moment, immediately after the episode of the golden calf, when Moses, in his anger, had broken the tablets of the Law. The Covenant had been desecrated by the people, who had made themselves an idol. God does not renounce the Covenant: he tells Moses to carve two new stone tablets, upon which he will inscribe the same words. This is a sign of mercy. And it is precisely here that he says: “God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger…”. It is interesting to note Moses’ reaction here (cf. Ex 34:8–9). The author of the psalm reacts just as Moses did: he recalls God’s mercy and ‘takes Him at His word’, imploring Him: ‘You, Lord, God of tenderness and compassion… Turn your gaze upon me and have mercy on me’.  In all our prayers, we too recall his merciful plan for humanity and implore him to hasten its fulfilment (cf. Rom 8:26–27). The parallel with the Book of Exodus continues because, following the revelation and Moses’ response, God establishes a covenant (cf. Ex 34:10). But the psalm adds something new compared with the Book of Exodus, as it was written much later. During the Babylonian exile, Israel became aware of the universal nature of God’s plan—namely, that all nations are called to know him. But how can they come to know him? By discovering God’s work on behalf of his people. The Jewish people do not presume to convert others, but they understand that God’s work on their behalf becomes a means of conversion for other nations: if they open their eyes, they recognise the God of Israel as their Saviour and turn to him. 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:26–27)

Saint Paul has already said that the life of the baptised is under the influence of the Spirit. He emphasises once again the role of the Holy Spirit (in this chapter he mentions him 18 times). He highlights that the life of the baptised unfolds entirely under his influence, if we allow ourselves to be guided by him. The Spirit dwells within us, and God’s great plan is like the process of childbirth. The labour pains are the prelude to great joy. “I consider that the sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed… We know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth.” And it is the Spirit who guides our prayer, as we read in this very brief text which nevertheless contains an important contrast: on the one hand, in the last verse: ‘it is in accordance with God’s will that the Spirit intercedes for the saints’; on the other: ‘he comes to the aid of our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we ought’. It teaches us that we pray by entering into God’s will, looking at the world and at ourselves through God’s eyes; rejoicing in the signs—however small—of the Kingdom’s advance, which are brotherhood, sharing, solidarity and respect. We must never lose heart in the face of humanity’s slow progress, for the Spirit blows ceaselessly even if it is not always visible. The reference to the Lord’s Prayer is immediate: ‘Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven’—three expressions that draw us into God’s plans.  We need the help of the Holy Spirit to enlighten our prayer, just as Jesus promised: “I will pray to the Father, and he will give you another Paraclete to be with you for ever” (Jn 14:16). He knows the secrets of God’s plan, as Paul so aptly puts it: “The Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God… We have not received the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who comes from God, so that we may know what God has bestowed upon us’ (1 Cor 2:10–12). And the model is Jesus, always guided by the Spirit: his whole life is marked by the fulfilment of the Father’s mission, right up to Gethsemane, when he proclaims, ‘Father, not my will, but yours be done’ (Mark 14:36). And the author of the Letter to the Hebrews sums up his life thus: “Upon entering the world, Christ says… ‘Behold, I have come to do your will, O God’” (Hebrews 10:5, 9).

From the Gospel according to Matthew (13:24–43) 

The parable of the weeds is not primarily intended to explain the origin of evil, although it reaffirms a fundamental principle: God is not the author of evil. As in the account in Genesis, everything God has created is good; the owner of the field sows only good wheat, whilst the weeds are the work of an enemy. In the context of the Gospel of Matthew, however, this parable is linked to that of the sower. Having shown that the proclamation of the Kingdom does not always bear the hoped-for fruit, Jesus addresses a new question: why not immediately remove what stands in the way of good? The servants suggest pulling up the weeds, but the owner forbids this so as not to uproot the wheat as well. Only at harvest time will the separation take place.

The message is clear: it is not for human beings to pass final judgement or to eliminate evil in others; this task belongs to God. Jesus therefore invites us to live with the simultaneous presence of good and evil in the world and within communities, avoiding elitist or fanatical attitudes. Matthew was probably addressing a community tempted to draw a rigid distinction between the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’. At the end of time, God will make the final judgement. The Bible often presents judgement as a separation between the righteous and the wicked, but the reality is deeper: the line separating good from evil runs through the heart of every person. No one is merely righteous or merely holy, but we all carry within us both the good wheat and the weeds. God will not destroy the good along with the evil: he will save that which, in each of us, is capable of bearing fruit. After the parable of the weeds, Jesus tells the parables of the mustard seed and the yeast. Whilst the previous parables highlighted the obstacles to the Kingdom, these reveal its inner strength. What is small and hidden inevitably grows to full realisation: the seed becomes a great tree and the yeast causes the whole dough to rise. Herein lies the central teaching that Jesus sets out in three fundamental attitudes: trust, because the Kingdom of God grows even when we cannot see it; patience, because the harvest will come at the time appointed by God; and humility, because no one can consider themselves entirely righteous or authorised to judge others. God’s patience stems from his desire not to lose even a single good ear of corn amongst the weeds. But above all, it reveals that God never ceases to hope for humanity’s conversion and for the transformation of the ‘tares’ in our hearts into good grain. This is the true meaning of his merciful patience.     

+Giovanni D’Ercole

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