22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C) [31 August 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us. For many, the holiday season is coming to an end and we are preparing to resume our normal rhythm of life. The Word of God comes to us with appropriate advice. 

*First Reading from the Book of Sirach (3:17-18, 20, 28-29 NV 3:19-21, 30, 31) 

This text becomes clearer if we begin reading it from the end: 'The wise heart meditates on parables, and an attentive ear is what the wise man desires' (v. 29). When the Bible speaks of wisdom, it means the art of living happily. Being a 'wise man' is the ideal of everyone in Israel: such a small people, born as a 'people' only at the time of the exodus from Egypt, has the privilege, thanks to Revelation, of knowing that 'all wisdom comes from the Lord' (Sir 1:1), in the sense that only God knows the mysteries of life and the secret of happiness. It is therefore to the Lord that we must ask for wisdom because, in his sovereign freedom, he chose Israel to be the repository of his wisdom. Yeshua Ben Sira (Jesus son of Sira), the author of the book, makes wisdom itself speak as if it were a person (cf. Sir 24:8); Israel seeks wisdom every day (cf. Sir 51:14) and, according to Psalm 1, finds its happiness in it: ' Blessed is the man who meditates on the law of the Lord day and night (1:2). 'Day and night' means always. Those who seek will find, Jesus will later say: but one must seek, that is, recognise that one does not possess everything and is always in need of something. Ben Sira had opened a school of theology (beth midrash) in Jerusalem around 180 BC and, to promote it, he said: "Come to me, you who are uneducated, and dwell in my school" (Sir 51:23). A true son of Israel knows that wisdom comes from God, allows himself to be taught by Him, meditates on the maxims of wisdom, and his ideal is an ear that listens. Israel has treasured this lesson so much that it recites the "Shema' Israel, Hear, O Israel" (Deut 6:4) several times a day. An "open ear" means listening to advice, instructions, commandments; the proud, on the other hand, believe they know everything and close their ears, but they forget that if the house has its shutters closed, the sun cannot enter. We read in verse 28: "There is no remedy for the miserable condition of the proud, for the plant of evil is rooted in them." In other words, the proud are incurably sick because, being full of themselves, they close their hearts. The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Lk 18) is interesting in this regard: the tax collector limited himself to being true because the humble have their feet on the ground and therefore recognise themselves as poor and rely only on God. The Pharisee, self-sufficient in everything, returned home as he had come, while the tax collector was transformed. Isaiah describes the joy of these humble people: ' The humble will rejoice more and more in the Lord, and the poor will exult because of the Holy One of Israel" (Isaiah 29:19), and Jesus will exclaim: "I praise you, Father... because you have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and revealed them to the little ones" (Matthew 11:25 // Luke 10:21). God can accomplish great things with the humble, making them servants of his plan, as with Moses, his great and tireless servant, whose secret, as we read in the book of Numbers, was that he was a very humble man, more than anyone else on earth" (12:3), and Jesus, the Servant of God, says of himself: "I am gentle and humble in heart" (Mt 11:29), while Paul writes: "If I must boast, I will boast of my weakness... The Lord has told me... for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 11:30; 12:9). Ultimately, humility is more than a virtue: it is a vital minimum and a prerequisite.

*Responsorial Psalm (67/68) 

"The Lord is his name" (v. 5), this very short phrase sets the tone for the whole: "Lord" is the tetragrammaton (YHWH) revealed to Moses, which expresses God's permanent presence among his people: "Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh" (I am who I am). And since He surrounds us at all times with His care, each of the verses can be read on several levels, and the richness and complexity of this psalm lies in being able to sing it in every age and feel involved. "The righteous rejoice, they exult before God and sing for joy. Sing to God, praise His name. Lord is His name" (vv. 4-5). David also dances before the Ark, but here we are talking about the joy of the people freed from Egypt: Moses' song after the crossing of the sea; Miriam, sister of Aaron (and Moses), took up the tambourine and all the women went out after her, dancing and playing the tambourine. Later, during the Exodus, there were many reasons to sing and dance. This emerges in the following verses: 'He brings out the prisoners with joy' (7). 'You have poured out abundant rain, O God, you have strengthened your weary inheritance, and your people have dwelt in it, in that which, in your goodness, you have made secure for the poor, O God' (10-11).  Here, different levels of interpretation overlap, but every allusion to liberation always refers to the exodus from Egypt, the return from Babylonian exile, and other liberations, that is, every time that individuals or entire peoples advance towards greater justice and freedom and, finally, the definitive liberation that we still await. "He brings out the prisoners with joy": for us Christians, this is a reminder of Christ's Resurrection, thinking of our own. "You have poured out abundant rain": this reference to the Exodus offers several interpretations: the manna in the desert (cf. Ex 16:4, 13-15) and most likely also the beneficial rain on which all life depends, because without "abundant rain" the promised land does not flow with "milk and honey". In the past, there have been memorable droughts (and therefore famines): the seven years of famine that led Jacob's sons and their father to go down to Egypt to Joseph; the drought in the time of Elijah (1 Kings 17-18) with the harsh confrontation between Elijah and Queen Jezebel, worshipper of Baal, the god of fertility, storms and rain; the famine under Emperor Claudius when the Christian communities of the Mediterranean basin, regions not affected, were invited to provide financial assistance to the victims, and St Paul called on the community of Corinth for their slowness in giving their contribution (cf. 2 Cor 8-9). Finally, we too have reason to give thanks for the new manna, our daily bread: Jesus Christ, the living bread that came down from heaven (Jn 6:48-51).

*Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (12:18-19, 22-24a)

Addressed to Christians of Jewish origin, the Letter to the Hebrews aims to place the New Covenant in its proper perspective in relation to the Old Covenant. With the earthly life, passion, death and resurrection of Christ, the entire past is considered by Christians as a necessary stage in the history of salvation, but now superseded, though not annulled, so that between the First and the New Covenant there is both continuity and radical novelty. In favour of continuity are elements familiar to Israel: Sinai, fire, darkness, gloom, hurricane, trumpets, Zion, Jerusalem, names written in the heavens, judge and justice, covenant with language that evokes the entire spiritual experience of the people of the Covenant and certainly familiar to listeners at that time. (cf. Ex 19:16-19; 20:18, 21; Dt 4:11). Israel feeds on these stories as titles of glory of the people of the Covenant. However, the Letter to the Hebrews seems to downplay this memorable experience because that Covenant has now been completely renewed. Moses approached God, but the people remained at a distance; in the New Covenant, the baptised are introduced into a true intimacy with God, and the author describes this new spiritual experience as entering a new world of beauty and celebration (cf. vv. 22-24). The "fear of God" in the Old Testament was fear in the face of manifestations of power, so much so that the people came to ask not to hear God's voice anymore, but later, little by little, their relationship with God was transformed and fear became filial trust. Those who knew Jesus discovered in him the true face of the Father: "The Spirit himself testifies to our spirit that we are children of God" (Rom 8:15-16). Jesus, therefore, fully fulfils the role of mediator of the New Covenant and allows all the baptised to approach God and become "firstborn" (in the sense of "consecrated"). Thus, the ancient promise to Moses on Sinai: "If you will listen to my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my special possession among all peoples... you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation" (Ex 19:4) is finally fulfilled in Christ, and for this reason we too "let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence" (Heb 4:16).

*From the Gospel according to Luke (14:1a, 7–14)

In Luke's Gospel, there are often scenes of meals: at the home of Simon the Pharisee (7:36); at Martha and Mary's house (10:38); again at the home of a Pharisee (11:37); at Zacchaeus' house (19); the Passover meal (22). The importance that Jesus attached to meals even led his detractors to say, "Here is a glutton and a drunkard" (Lk 7:34). Three of these meals take place in the homes of Pharisees and become occasions for disagreement. During the first, at Simon's house (Lk 7:36), a woman of ill repute threw herself at Jesus' feet and, contrary to all expectations, he took her as an example. The second (Lk 11:37) was also the occasion for a serious misunderstanding, this time because Jesus did not wash his hands before sitting down at the table: the discussion degenerates and Jesus takes advantage of it to launch into a severe diatribe, so much so that the episode ends with the scribes and Pharisees beginning to rage against him, setting traps for him to catch him in the act (cf. Lk 11:53). Today, the third meal in the house of a Pharisee takes place on the Sabbath, a day of rest ('Shabbat' in Hebrew means to cease all activity) and celebration: a memorial of the creation of the world, the liberation of the people from Egypt and the anticipation of the great feast of the Day when God will renew the entire creation. The Sabbath included a solemn meal, often an occasion to invite fellow believers, even though the ritual prohibitions of the Law were so numerous that, for some, observance of the prescriptions had obscured the essential: fraternal charity. On that Sabbath, Jesus had healed a man suffering from dropsy (a scene that does not appear in our liturgical reading: cf. Lk 14:2-6), and lively discussions ensued because Jesus was accused of breaking the Sabbath. Here I pause and ask a question: are the relations between Jesus and the Pharisees always a clash? In truth, they are a mixture of sympathy and severity: sympathy because their religious movement, born around 135 BC out of a desire for conversion, was esteemed, and the name 'Pharisee', which means 'separated', expressed the rejection of any political compromise or laxity in religious practice, two problems that were very present at the time. At the time of Christ, their fervent faith and courage in respecting tradition were appreciated, not in a pejorative sense, but as a treasure received from their fathers and transmitted in the form of precepts concerning the smallest details of daily life. These rules, written down after 70 AD, resemble those of Jesus himself and were therefore so respectable that Jesus did not refuse to speak with them, as demonstrated by these meals and the meeting with Nicodemus (cf. Jn 3). Under Herod the Great (39-4 BC), six thousand of them, in order to remain faithful to the Law, refused to swear allegiance to Rome and Herod and were punished with heavy fines. However, their strict observance sometimes led to excessive self-confidence and contempt for others, and Jesus reacted to this because it created certain ambiguities and deviations, well symbolised in the parable of the speck and the log (Mt 7:3-5; Lk 6:41-42). In today's text, Jesus invites us not to occupy the first places, not to recall a norm of good manners and philanthropy, but, in the manner of the prophets, he seeks to open their eyes before it is too late, because excessive self-satisfaction can lead to blindness. And so, precisely because they are people of value and faithful practitioners of the Jewish religion, Jesus unmasks the risk of their contempt for others by reminding them that to enter the Kingdom, they must become like children (cf. Lk 9:46-48; Mt 18:4), welcoming and respecting them without expecting anything in return and, indeed, opening one's heart to the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind (v. 13). This is a lesson for the Pharisees of yesterday and today, bearing in mind what St James writes: never mix personal favouritism with faith in Christ (cf. Jas 2:1).

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

XXI Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [24 August 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us. It is useful in these times to reread these biblical texts in light of what is happening in the Middle East.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (66:18-21)

The prophets speak in the name of God, and their listeners know this well, but when they want to emphasise the importance of their statements, they remind them that these are the very words of the Lord, and therefore something very important. In this passage, there are at least two great announcements: the universal dimension of God's plan, 'I will come to gather', and the role of the small remnant of believers, 'the survivors', those who have escaped and who, amid general discouragement, preserve their faith.  While the first Isaiah or Micah (8th century BC) announced only the salvation of the 'little remnant of Israel', during and after the exile (6th century) Israel discovered the universal dimension of God's plan and learned to consider its election not as an exclusive privilege but as a vocation. This is a new discourse because it highlights the missionary role that God entrusts to Israel in the service of all humanity, the universal dimension of God's plan: "I will gather all nations and all languages" and even more surprising: "they will come and see my glory" (v. 18). The term glory indicates the splendour of God's presence (literally in Hebrew 'weight'). God does not need us to glorify him; rather, it is we who become happy when we live in a covenant of love with him. "They will see my glory" means recognising Him as the only God, freeing humanity from all forms of idolatry. And the text continues: "I will send their survivors to the farthest nations... these messengers will proclaim my glory among the nations... they will bring all your brothers from all the nations as an offering to the Lord... to my holy one in Jerusalem" (v. 20). Here is the fulfilment of the vocation of the chosen people: to be a light to the nations, so that salvation may reach to the ends of the earth (cf. Is 49:6). This is also the vocation of the Church, the people of God called to bear witness to the truth of God in the world, even if it does not replace Israel: to proclaim the glory of God to all peoples, to bear witness to the Gospel that enlightens life: 'I will put my sign upon them' (v. 19), and in this light we understand what Jesus will say: 'When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself' (Jn 12:32). The last sentence is a third important announcement: not only will the peoples draw near to the Lord, but 'I will take priests and Levites from among them' (v. 21), which means that the usual conditions for the priesthood will no longer be required and every human being can draw near to the living God. We can understand why, a few verses before this Sunday's reading, Isaiah invited all those who love Jerusalem to rejoice because the Lord will make "peace flow towards it like a river, and the glory of the nations like a torrent" (Isaiah 66:10-12).

Some notes *St Augustine writes: 'Who would be so foolish as to believe that God needs the sacrifices offered to him? The worship given to God benefits man and not God. It is not the source that benefits us if we drink from it, nor the light if we see it' (The City of God, X, 5-6).

*In Third Isaiah (the prophet after the exile), we find the theology of the "saving remnant," of which we read a trace in Psalm 39/40: "Many will see and fear and trust in the Lord" (Ps 39/40:4), which can be compared to the announcement we find here in Isaiah (vv. 20-21). 

*In the Bible, nations are not always spoken of in a positive way, and the term is sometimes loaded with decidedly negative meanings: The book of Deuteronomy, for example, speaks of the "abominations of the nations" (18:9-12) because of their religious practices in general and human sacrifices in particular. In biblical pedagogy, the chosen people are guided to remain faithful to God, to discover the face of the one God, avoiding all contact with nations at risk of idolatrous contagion. This positive vision is already present in Abraham: "All the families of the earth shall be blessed in you" (Genesis 12:3). With firmer faith, Israel will discover the universalism of God's plan, gradually understanding that it is the older brother, not the only child, with the role of opening the way to its God for all humanity: if God is the only true God, he is the God of all.

Responsorial Psalm 116/117

This psalm is shorter than the psalter and could be summed up in a single word: Alleluia, the last word of the psalm, but also the first, since Praise the Lord (v. 1) is equivalent to Alleluia: 'Allelu' is an imperative: Praise, and 'Ia' is the first syllable of God's name. The purpose of the entire psalter, which means 'Praises' (in Hebrew Tehillim), derives from the same root as Alleluia. Here is the rabbis' commentary on Alleluia: 'God has led us from slavery to freedom, from sadness to joy, from mourning to celebration, from darkness to splendour, from slavery to redemption. For this reason, we sing Alleluia before him." "God has led us from slavery to freedom": this is what God has done for his people, but it is also God's plan for all humanity. The salvation of his people is the beginning and promise of what God will do for all humanity when he announced to Abraham: "All the families of the earth will be blessed in you" (Gen 12:3). Solomon had already dreamed of this: 'All the peoples of the earth will recognise your name and worship you, as your people Israel do' (1 Kings 8:41-43; cf. the first reading). Hence the structure of this psalm, which is very simple but evocative: 'Praise God' (v. 1); "For he has shown his love" (v. 2). Looking more closely, we read: "Praise God, all you nations" (v. 1); For his work on behalf of his people: "For he has shown his love for us". Here the "for" is very important: when the nations see what God has done for us, they will believe. In other words, because God has proven himself by saving his people, other nations will be able to believe in him. The same reasoning is found in Psalm 39/40 (20th Sunday of the year C) where the psalmist says: "God has brought me out of the pit of death... seeing this, many will fear and put their trust in the Lord" (Ps 39/40:4). Similarly, Psalm 125/126 sings of the exile in Babylon: "Then it was said among the nations, 'The Lord has done great things for them'" (Ps 125/126:2). This idea is found several times in the prophets: when the people are in misfortune, other nations may doubt God's power. It is in this sense that Ezekiel dares to say that the exile in Babylon is a disgrace to God and even goes so far as to say that the exile of God's people "desecrated" God's name, while liberation, on the contrary, will be proof of his liberating power before all. This leads him to proclaim, in the midst of the Babylonian exile: "I will show the holiness of my great name, which has been profaned among the nations, which you have profaned among them; then the nations shall know that I am the Lord... when I have shown my holiness in you before their eyes" (Ezekiel 36:23; 36:36). Recognising God's Name in biblical language means discovering the God of tenderness and faithfulness revealed to Moses (Ex 34:6): tenderness and faithfulness that Israel has experienced throughout its history. This is the meaning of the second verse of the psalm: "His love for us is strong, and the Lord's faithfulness endures forever."  One final observation: this psalm is part of the Hallel (from Psalm 112/113 to 117/118) and occupies a special place in the liturgy of Israel because it is recited after the Passover meal. Jesus himself sang it on Holy Thursday evening, and the Gospels of Matthew and Mark echo it (cf. Mt 26:30; Mk 14:26). We too can repeat: "He has shown his love for us" by listening to Jesus: "No one has greater love than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends" (Jn 15:13) and "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but have eternal life" (Jn 3:16).

Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (12:5-7, 11-13)

The recipients of the Letter to the Hebrews, Christians going through a period of severe persecution, have already suffered greatly for their faith, as is clear in chapter 10:32-34. To console them and instil courage, the author tells them not to forget the exhortation addressed to them and delves into the Old Testament, taking up what the prophet Isaiah said to his compatriots exiled in Babylon: "Strengthen your limp hands and your weak knees" (v. 12). He speaks to them as if they too were living in exile and addresses the problem of suffering not to justify or explain it, but to give it meaning. He calls for perseverance, an indispensable virtue in times of trial when God, like a Father, shows his love even in seemingly absurd ways. The dominant image is therefore that of the pedagogical father of God present in the wisdom literature of the Bible, where suffering can become a journey, a test of the believer's faith, who knows that, whatever happens, God is silent, but is neither deaf nor indifferent. On the contrary, like a father, he accompanies us on this difficult path and helps us to emerge stronger from every evil. What you endure is therefore a 'correction' with references to the book of Proverbs: 'Do not despise the Lord's discipline, and do not resent his rebuke, for the Lord disciplines those he loves, as a father disciplines the child he delights in' (Pr 3:11-12). This theme was familiar to the early Christians, who knew well the book of Deuteronomy, which compared God to a teacher who accompanies the growth of those he educates (cf. Dt 8:2-5). Lived in trust in God, suffering can become an opportunity to bear witness to the hope and inner peace that the Spirit gives. Suffering can thus become a school in which we learn to live in the Spirit everything that happens because, as St. Paul writes, tribulation produces perseverance, perseverance a proven virtue, and proven virtue the hope that does not disappoint thanks to the love poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit (cf. Rom 5:3-4). Suffering is therefore part of the human condition: even in such a situation, God entrusts us with the honour and responsibility of bearing witness to the faith, and if persecution is part of the journey of life, it is not because God wants it, but for reasons linked to human behaviour. When Jesus said that it was necessary for the Son of Man to suffer, he was not speaking of a demand from God, but of the sad reality of human opposition. St. Paul, addressing the early communities in Asia Minor, which were also persecuted, reminded them that we must enter the Kingdom of God through many tribulations (cf. Acts 14:22).

From the Gospel according to Luke (13:22-30)

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and, visibly, does not miss an opportunity to teach, but what he says is not always what one would expect. Here, for example, someone asks a question concerning salvation, and he does not answer directly: 'Lord, are there few who are saved?' (v. 23). The answer does not concern who will be saved, as if there were those who were chosen and those who were excluded in advance, but what is the condition for entering the kingdom: to pass through the door! "Strive to enter through the narrow door, for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able to" (v. 24). The image of the narrow gate is evocative and eloquent: someone who is excessively obese or laden with bulky packages cannot pass through a narrow gate unless they undergo a drastic weight-loss programme or decide to abandon all their baggage. The text that follows allows us to understand what spiritual obesity is and what baggage prevents us from passing through.  Knocking at the door, they will say, 'We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets' (vv. 25-26). Here Jesus denounces the self-assurance of his interlocutors, who are convinced that, simply because they were born of the chosen people, they are entitled to salvation and that the door will open for them. Jesus, however, points out that the door is the same for everyone, so why will they not be able to pass through it? Indeed, the master will specify: "I do not know where you are from. Depart from me, all you who practise lawlessness' (v. 27). It is true that Jesus is one of them, that he ate and drank with them and taught among them; it is true that their ancestors Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and all the prophets are in the Kingdom of God, but all this does not give them any rights. Spiritual obesity and burdensome weights are their certainties: they do not welcome the kingdom of God as a gift, convinced that they have rights. Then the last sentence becomes clear: 'there are those who are last who will be first, and there are those who are first who will be last' (v. 30). The first in God's plan, as St Paul says, are the children of Israel, to whom belong adoption, glory, the covenants, the Law, worship, the promises, the patriarchs, and it is from them that Christ was born. (cf. Rom 9:4-5). The Jewish people are the people of the Covenant by God's sovereign choice, as we read in Deuteronomy: 'The Lord did not set his heart on any nation but your own, to be his people, as he promised to your ancestors and as he promised to you, because you were the people who were a stony ground and a dry rock, where no one lived, and he brought you out of the desert to give you a good land, a land flowing with milk and honey' (Deut 10:15). And with good reason, the people of Israel were happy and proud to be chosen by God, as it is said in Psalm 32/33: "Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord. Blessed are the people he has chosen as his inheritance... We wait for the Lord. He is our help and our shield. The joy of our hearts comes from him, and our trust is in his holy name." (Ps 32/33:12, 20-21). But, like every vocation, God's choice is a mission: the first ones invited to the kingdom had the task of bringing all humanity into it, as Isaiah reminded us several times (cf. Is 42:6; 49:5-6) so that salvation might be achieved for all. When Jesus speaks, they reject his teaching because it disturbs their certainties and their self-satisfaction, and when Jesus tells them to go away because they are doing evil, he does not mean evil actions, but refers to this closure of the heart. Shortly before, he had healed a sick woman in a synagogue on the Sabbath, and instead of rejoicing at her healing, they criticised the place and the time. This same spiritual obtuseness and selfish view of faith can mark our lives as Christians. By closing our hearts to Grace, we become blind and spiritually obese because, like some of Jesus' contemporaries who were closed in their certainties, we fail to recognise him and follow him as the Messiah. Pope Francis repeated that a closed heart does not hear the voice of God nor recognise the face of our brothers and sisters. Let us therefore accept the Lord's invitation to remove hardness from our hearts, so that we may receive the gift of a heart of flesh: only in this way will we be able to understand his will and proclaim his Gospel with joy.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

(Mt 24:42-51)

Key to the reading of the Gospel could be the famous expression of St. Augustine: «Timeo Dominum transeuntem».

Incarnation is a direct thread with reality and divine condition together.

Time of the person of faith is like a season of waiting, but not of provisionality: rather, of continuous capitalization and upheaval.

Nor does the moment of the Church take the form of an institutional season, a period of pause - on schedule, with an expiration date.

Certainly, it is not even an age of preparation starting from our ideas, but of acceptance of the Kingdom, which comes in its Appeal - today with very clear proposals (even in subtractions).

We are called to be ready at all times, and fast as a ‘thief at night’... 

Maybe “he” wants to take away something that we believe absolutely ours, to wich we are too attached.

From the earliest generations of believers there were groups of visionaries - unfortunately unwary - linked to an idea of imminent catastrophe.

The expectation of the sudden ‘return’ of a Messiah who was to put an end to injustice and to carry out the Final Judgment, was a common expectation of those who wished a new phase of history to be inaugurated.

However, nowhere in the Gospels is it written: Jesus "returns", as if he had strayed away.

He is arriving, of course: «He comes» - he does not "come back".

In the New Testament, the Risen is the One Coming [‘o Erchòmenos], that is, the One who breaks in, who ceaselessly makes himself Present.

The point of Life is to realize, to perceive the Presence of Someone inside something; in day-to-day things and in the events of liberation.

Even in the drama of rebirth from global crisis.

No form of alienation comes from the Gospels: Christ is «with us» at all times; in our commitment to nature, to cultures, to everyone’s existence.

The full, total experience of completeness is not given in particular time. 

But eg. the spirit of disinterest that spreads and already makes relationships and things new remains a guarantee of the Kingdom.

Seed and prelude to the alternative world that the Church is called to proclaim and build - including it with open arms.

With at the centre the «Son of Man» who «comes», step by step, we’ll not lose our understanding.

Every moment is good for sharpening perspicacity in the Spirit.

Flexibility of the heart will prevail over predictions, over the imperatives of the mind.

This is the realization and perception of opportunities; opening our eyes, deciphering events, shifting our gaze - in order to grasp the Coming of the Lord, smelling its Meaning, intuiting it as Source of Hope.

In the Eucharist we proclaim precisely the Coming of the Lord, because life in Christ is in every event anticipation and preparation for the spousal Encounter.

From the point of view of Faith, any critical moment cooperates in the good.

It is a Call and opportunity for response, not permanent fear.

[Thursday 21th wk. in O.T.  August 28, 2025]

Coming, Prayer and turning point, amid the roar of the waves.

(Mt 24:37-51)

What kind of Coming is it?

And why do we want the Lord to be present in our lives?

Are we waiting for a shortcut - an act of power - that will calm the stormy sea?

Indeed, it does not seem in keeping with the style of Good News to resurrect the 'days of Noah' and the flood that 'swept away all'.

But there is a wise way of understanding these expressions, which is not the one already found in the moral paradigm of religious cultures.

In the observant tradition of all peoples, insecurity is perceived as a disadvantage.

According to commonplace ideas, spiritual masters see progress when a soul with a mixed and disordered existence overcomes its turmoil in favour of order and tranquillity.

But the experience in the Spirit is more intimately restless than obvious. Nor is it the same as a generic 'spiritual life' animated by a devout sense that detaches itself from transversal instances, for an ideal of 'coherent calm'.

Thus conditioned by indoctrination that is standardised to 'being in society', we piously wait to meet our Lord in dark moments, but only so that he may restore our fortune.

We wait for him in times of economic hardship, so that he may give us an advantage with a win; in humiliating circumstances, so that he may help us get back on our feet.

In loneliness, so that he may bring us together with the right person. 

In danger... hoping that at least He will give us the strength to turn the situation around.

And in sickness, we imagine that he will restore our youthful vigour.

Thus, in the Babel, that (at least in the end) he will communicate relaxation - better still, triumph.

In the Gospels, Jesus tries to make his followers understand where and when to encounter God authentically.

But as we wait for his 'Promises' - and for him to manifest himself as a new Justice, without any more 'art of war' [first reading] - we find it difficult to go beyond the exterior.

We project our ideas even onto religion - but Faith detaches itself from them. It evaluates with a different mindset.

For example, we may fail to meet a friend because we get the time and place of the appointment wrong.

The same thing happens with God.

The uncertainty proclaimed by the Gospels is like a 'flood that sweeps everything away' [cf. v. 39]... but it is Good News!

Although we tend to give a sense of permanence to what we have experienced and believed ourselves to be, we repeatedly experience that our certainties change - just like the waves.

Jesus teaches that true doubt paradoxically arises from some aspect of our identity that (comically) attempts to balance the waves of life.

Instead, the essence of each of us flows from a lively Source, which does what it must every day.

Habits, perspectives, reassuring ways of being with people and dealing with situations cut off the richness of our precious nuances; a large part of our very faces.

And the births and rejuvenations that belong to us.

The inner impact of the many stimuli of this cosmic [and personal] Core insinuates an inevitable and fruitful imbalance, which we risk interpreting in a negative way; precisely, as a nuisance.

In the mind of the person who avoids oscillations, that kind of 'wave' that comes to make us think about ancient things is immediately identified as a threat to our identity.

Providence itself – the 'wave' that sees ahead – is perhaps branded with restlessness, even by those who advise us.

In the ideal man, as chiselled by normalising moralism, the swampy 'water' of the drives is what dirties and drags us down. And the sky would always be clear and clean 'above' the earth.

Instead, it is often thought, a cultural identification upstream, that produces insecurity and torment.

Prejudice oppresses us far more than objective reality, which comes into play to refresh our soul and make it as light as the 'sea foam' crudely embodied.

For an evolution towards improvement, Jesus wants a disciple who is permeable to the New that shakes up the old 'status quo'.

The lack of doubt that the Lord intends to convey does not rhyme with the mechanism of habit.

The certainty he wishes to give us is not a false one - that of the lazy immutability of things that are always the same.

The state of defence and 'prevention' may be characteristic of a life spent in self-interested withdrawal, dodging shocks - not a sign of Life in the Spirit.

Today's Gospel wishes believers to be strongly critical, and even insecure: it does not say 'you must be like this', nor 'you are this' - 'we have made it, why not you?'.

[The identity of St. Benedict is not that of St. Francis, although both are figures deeply rooted (like the circumstances) in the same Source; the original source, however, of gushing water].

We must dive into the 'waves', we must know these 'waves'; because our anchor is not in external things or in what we display in shop windows, but in the Source of Being.

The shell of appearances condemns us to the worst kind of fluctuation, to the least advantageous of insecurities: believing that by maintaining (for example) our economic status or prestige, by reaching that goal, by climbing the ladder of success, and so on, we will avoid frustration, we will escape anxiety, we will finally be free of conflict and even happy.

But in this way, our soul is not strengthened, nor does it fly towards unknown territories; rather, it settles in the most conformist enclosure.

Instead, we are alive, and the youth that conquers the Kingdom comes from the chaos of upheavals.

Missionaries are animated by this one certainty: the best stability is instability: that 'roar of the sea and the waves' where no two waves are alike.

In short, based on the Word of God, perhaps even the liturgical colour purple should be reinterpreted - in a much more vital, incisive and profound way than we thought we understood.

To internalise and live the message:

Advent: why do you want the Lord to come and be present in your life? 

Vigilance is now

(Mt 24:42-51)

    The key to understanding this passage could be St Augustine's famous expression: 'Timeo Dominum transeuntem'. Incarnation is a direct link between reality and the divine condition.

The time of the person of Faith is like a season of waiting, but not of impermanence: rather, it is one of continuous capitalisation and transformation.

Nor is the moment of the Church configured as an institutional period, a pause with a set time and an expiry date.

Of course, it is not even a time of preparation based on our ideas, but rather of welcoming the Kingdom, which comes in its Appeal - today with very clear proposals (even in its subtractions).

We are called to be ready at every moment, and quick as a "thief in the night"... perhaps he wants to take away something that we believe is absolutely ours, but to which we are too attached.

From the earliest generations of believers, groups of visionaries arose - unfortunately misguided - connected to an idea of imminent catastrophe.

The expectation of the sudden "return" of a Messiah who was to put an end to injustice and bring about the Final Judgment was common among those who desired the beginning of a new phase in history.

However, nowhere in the Gospels is it written that Jesus 'returns', as if he had left. He is coming, certainly: 'He is coming' - not 'He returns'.

In the New Testament, the Risen One is the Coming One [‘o Erchòmenos], that is, the One who bursts in, who incessantly makes himself present.

The end of the world and the return of the Lord on a white cloud is a suggestion that is still used today to intimidate simple people and condition them into fanatical groups. Social networks are full of it.

The point of Life is to notice, to perceive the Presence of Someone within something, in the summary things and in the events of liberation; even in the drama of rebirth from the global crisis.

No form of alienation comes from the Gospels: Christ is with us at all times, in our commitment to nature, cultures and the life of all.

The full, total experience of completeness is not given in a particular time. But, for example, the spirit of selflessness that is spreading and already making relationships and things new remains a guarantee of the Kingdom.

It is the seed and prelude to the new world that the Church is called to proclaim and build, welcoming it with open arms.

With the 'Son of Man' who 'is coming' at the centre, step by step, let us not lose sight of the goal.

Every moment is a good moment to sharpen our discernment in the Spirit. Flexibility of heart will prevail over predictions and the imperatives of the mind.

This is how we become aware of and perceive opportunities; open our eyes, decipher events, shift our gaze - in order to grasp the Coming of the Lord, sense its meaning, intuit it as a source of Hope.

In the Eucharist, we proclaim the Coming of the Lord, because life in Christ is, in every event, anticipation and preparation for the Spousal Encounter.

From the perspective of Faith, every critical moment cooperates for good. It is a call and an opportunity to respond, not a permanent fear.

Son of Man

'Son of Man' is therefore not a 'religious' or selective title, but a possibility for all those who adhere to the Lord's proposal of life and reinterpret it in a creative way.

They overcome their fixed and natural boundaries, making room for the Gift; welcoming from God the fullness of being, in its new, unrepeatable paths.

Feeling totally and undeservedly loved, they discover other facets of themselves, change the way they are with themselves, and can grow: they fulfil themselves, blossom and radiate the completeness they have received.

By leaving behind the poor or static idea we have of ourselves—a serious problem in many sensitive and dedicated souls—even the relational personality can begin to imagine.

And dream, discovering that it no longer has to give weight to those who want to influence a person's journey (in the fullness of being and vocation).

Those who activate the idea that they can do it then transmit the power of the Spirit they have received and welcomed, and the world flourishes.

By emanating a different atmosphere, people who are integrated in all their aspects, even their opposite ones, feel awareness arise, create projects, emit and attract other energies, and activate them.

God wants to extend the sphere in which he 'reigns' - relating in an interpersonal way - to all humanity... A Church without visible boundaries, which will begin with the 'Son of Man' (a figure not exclusive to Jesus).

This universalistic perspective emerges, among other things, from Jesus' presentation of himself not only as 'Son of David' but as 'Son of Man' (Mk 10:33). The title 'Son of Man', in the language of Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history in the Book of the Prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13-14), refers to the figure who comes 'with the clouds of heaven' (v. 13) and is an image that heralds a completely new kingdom, a kingdom supported not by human powers, but by the true power that comes from God. Jesus uses this rich and complex expression and refers it to himself to reveal the true character of his messianism, as a mission destined for all people and for every person, overcoming all ethnic, national and religious particularism. And it is precisely in following Jesus, in allowing oneself to be drawn into his humanity and thus into communion with God, that one enters this new kingdom, which the Church proclaims and anticipates, and which overcomes fragmentation and dispersion.

[Pope Benedict, Consistory, 24 November 2012]

With the image of the Son of Man, the prophet Daniel already wanted to indicate a reversal of the criteria of authenticity (human and divine): a man or a people, a leader, finally with a heart of flesh instead of a beast.

In the icon of the 'Son of Man', the evangelists wish to reveal and trigger the triumph of the human over the inhuman, the gradual disappearance of everything that blocks the communication of full life.

The People who shine in a divine way are no longer entangled in fears or hysteria, but rather bring to the fore all their varied potential for love and the effusion of life.

The 'Son of Man' - a possible reality - is anyone who reaches fulfilment, the flowering of their capacity to be, in the extension of relationships... entering into harmony with the sphere of God the Creator, the Lover of life.

They do so in their varied facets, and merge with Him - becoming One. Creating abundance.

"Son of Man" is the man who behaves on earth as God himself would, who makes the divine and its power present in history.

He can therefore afford to replace the sombre seriousness of being pious and submissive with the wise light-heartedness that makes everything light.

"Son of Man" represents the highest form of humanity, the Person par excellence - who becomes liberating instead of oppressive.

The consequences are unimaginable, because each of us in Christ (and for our brothers and sisters) no longer has dead paths to retrace.

"Watch therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming" (Mt 24:42). Jesus, who came among us at Christmas and will return in glory at the end of time, never tires of visiting us continually, in the events of every day. He asks us and warns us to wait for him, keeping watch, because his coming cannot be planned or predicted, but will be sudden and unpredictable. Only those who are awake will not be caught off guard. He warns us not to let what happened in Noah's time happen to us, when people were eating and drinking carefree and were caught unprepared by the flood (cf. Mt 24:37-38). What does the Lord want us to understand with this warning, if not that we must not allow ourselves to be absorbed by material realities and concerns to the point of becoming ensnared?

"Watch therefore..." Let us listen to Jesus' invitation in the Gospel and prepare ourselves to relive with faith the mystery of the birth of the Redeemer, who filled the universe with joy; let us prepare ourselves to welcome the Lord in his unceasing coming to meet us in the events of life, in joy and in sorrow, in health and in sickness; let us prepare ourselves to meet him in his final coming. His passing is always a source of peace, and if suffering, the legacy of human nature, sometimes becomes almost unbearable, with the coming of the Saviour "suffering - without ceasing to be suffering - becomes, in spite of everything, a song of praise" (Encyclical Spe salvi, 37).

[Pope Benedict, homily at the Roman hospital of St. John the Baptist, 2 December 2007]

"Watch, therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming" (Mt 24: 42). Jesus, who came among us at Christmas and will return in glory at the end of time, does not tire of visiting us continuously in everyday events. He asks us to be alert to perceive his presence, his advent, and recommends that we watch and wait for him since his coming is not programmed or foretold but will be sudden and unexpected. Only those who are alert are not taken by surprise. He warns: may it not happen to you as in Noah's day, when men ate and drank heedlessly and were swept away unprepared by the flood (cf. Mt 24: 37-38). What does the Lord want to make us understand with this warning, other than we must not let ourselves be absorbed by material realities and concerns to the point of being ensnared by them? We must live in the eyes of the Lord with the conviction that he can make himself present. If we live in this way, the world will become better. 

"Watch, therefore". Let us listen to Jesus' Gospel invitation and prepare ourselves to relive with faith the mystery of the Redeemer's birth, which filled all the world with joy; let us prepare ourselves to welcome the Lord in his constant coming to us in the events of life, in joy and in pain, in health and in sickness; let us prepare ourselves to meet him at his definitive coming. His nearness is always a source of peace, and if suffering, a legacy of human nature, sometimes becomes unbearable, with the Saviour's advent "suffering - without ceasing to be suffering - becomes, despite everything, a hymn of praise" (Spe Salvi, n. 37).

[Pope Benedict, homily at the Roman hospital of St. John the Baptist, 2 December 2007]

1. “Faith is the foundation of things hoped for, the proof of things not seen” (Heb 11:1).
These are the words of the author of the Letter to the Hebrews in today’s second reading.

Faith, which brings man from the world of visible things to the invisible reality of God and eternal life, resembles the journey to which Abraham was called by God - and for this reason he is called "the father of all who believe" (cf. Rom 4:11-12). Later in the Letter to the Hebrews, we read: "By faith Abraham, when called, obeyed and went out to a place which he was to receive for an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he lived in the land of promise . . ." (Heb 11:8-9). Yes, that is how it is. Faith is the spiritual pilgrimage on which man sets out, following the word of the living God, to reach the land of promised peace and happiness, union with God "face to face"; that union which will fill the human heart with the deepest hunger and thirst: the hunger for truth and the thirst for love.

Therefore, as we hear later in today's liturgy, the attitude of mind that befits the believer is one of vigilance: 'You too must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him' (Lk 12:40). Such vigilance is also an expression of spiritual aspiration to God through faith.

[Pope John Paul II, Angelus, 10 August 1980]

Today I would like to pause on that dimension of hope that is vigilant waiting. The theme of vigilance is one of the guiding threads of the New Testament. Jesus preaches to his disciples: “Let your loins be girded and your lamps burning, and be like men who are waiting for their master to come home from the marriage feast, so that they may open to him at once when he comes and knocks” (Lk 12:35-36). In this time that follows the Resurrection of Jesus, in which peaceful moments continually alternate with painful moments, a Christian never rests. The Gospel recommends being as servants who never go to sleep until their master has returned. This world requires our responsibility, and we accept all of it and with love. Jesus wants our existence to be laborious, that we never lower our guard, so as to welcome with gratitude and wonder each new day given to us by God. Every morning is a blank page on which a Christian begins to write with good works. We have already been saved by Jesus’ redemption, however, now we await the full manifestation of his power: when at last God will be everything to every one (cf. 1 Cor 15:28). Nothing is more certain, in the faith of Christians, than this “appointment”, this appointment with the Lord, when he shall come. And when this day arrives, we Christians want to be like those servants who spent the night with their loins girded and their lamps burning: we must be ready for the salvation that comes; ready for the encounter. Have you thought about what that encounter with Jesus will be like, when he comes? It will be an embrace, an enormous joy, a great joy! We must live in anticipation of this encounter!

Christians are not made for boredom; if anything, for patience. We know that hidden in the monotony of certain identical days is a mystery of grace. There are people who with the perseverance of their love become as wells that irrigate the desert. Nothing happens in vain; and no situation in which a Christian finds himself is completely resistant to love. No night is so long as to make us forget the joy of the sunrise. And the darker the night, the closer the dawn. If we remain united with Jesus, the cold of difficult moments does not paralyze us; and if even the whole world preached against hope, if it said that the future would bring only dark clouds, a Christian knows that in that same future there will be Christ’s return. No one knows when this will take place, but the thought that at the end of our history there will be Merciful Jesus suffices in order to have faith and not to curse life. Everything will be saved. Everything. We will suffer; there will be moments that give rise to anger and indignation, but the sweet and powerful memory of Christ will drive away the temptation to think that this life is a mistake

After we have met Jesus, we cannot but examine history with faith and hope. Jesus is as a house, and we are inside, and from the windows of this house we look at the world. For this reason we do not close in on ourselves, we do not long with melancholy for a supposedly golden past, but we look ever forward, to a future that is not only our handiwork, but that above all is a constant concern of the providence of God. All that is lacklustre will one day become light.

Let us consider that God never contradicts himself. Never. God never disappoints. His will in our regard is not nebulous but is a well-defined salvific plan: God “desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4). Therefore let us not abandon ourselves to the flow of events with pessimism, as if history were a runaway train. Resignation is not a Christian virtue. 

As it is not Christian to shrug one’s shoulders or bow one’s head before a seemingly inescapable destiny.

One who brings hope to the world is never a submissive person. Jesus recommends we not await him with idle hands: “Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes” (Lk 12:37). There is no peacemaker who at the end of the day has not compromised his personal peace, taking on the problems of others. A submissive person is not a peace-builder but is an idler, one who wants to be comfortable. Meanwhile a Christian is a peacemaker when he takes risks, when he has the courage to take risks in order to bring good, the good which Jesus has given us, given us as a treasure.

In each day of our life, we repeat that invocation that the first disciples, in their Aramaic language, expressed with the words Marana tha, and which we find in the last verse of the Bible, “Come, Lord Jesus” (Rev 22:20). It is the refrain of every Christian life: in our world we need nothing other than Christ’s caress. What a grace if, in prayer, in the difficult days of this life, we hear his voice which responds and assures us: “Behold, I am coming soon” (Rev 22:7)!

[Pope Francis, General Audience, 11 October 2017]

(Mt 23:27-32)

John Chrysostom writes in his Commentary on the Gospel of Mt:

«If the conscience of each one could be opened, how many worms, how much rottenness and what unimaginable filth we would find in it. Vile and perverse desires, more filthy than the worms themselves» (73:2).

In his effective Commentary on the Gospel of Mt, St Jerome writes:

«The sepulchres on the outside are white with lime, adorned with marble and gold, resplendent in their colours; but inside they are full of the bones of the dead. So also the perverse teachers, who say one thing and do another: in dress they show purity and in speech humility; but inside they are full of all decay and impure desire» (4).

Jesus takes a stand against hypocrisy and inconsistent extrinsicism. He does so against authorities who save clothing, ideas and image, but radically unfaithful.

He regrets that they appear fictitious and correct, while inside they are a total denial of the respect for God that they showcase.

Thus they let the dark side of the world stagnate, instead of helping us to remove it.

The ostentatious pity for the great ancestors denounces a guilt complex (vv.29-32), not a profoundly intimate key feature - a unifying sphere of being and acting.

Spiritual masters are in the field not to show off - but to benefit, to give colour, new life; to promote authentic and cheering, creative situations.

The Lord proposes a renewal that reaches deep within, more intimate than the epidermal fuss; that touches the place and dimension of the encounter with the Father.

He is not content with 'monuments' with unseemly surprise, inside.

We are always tempted to remain on the level of an embellished surface, seeking easy and immediate gratification, esteem, honour - especially we priests, who not infrequently like to lull ourselves into accolades.

We satisfy ourselves with epidermal things, why? Encountering oneself, others and reality requires an onerous commitment: that of questioning oneself; stepping out of forms, and external fashions.

The whitewashed tombs appear sacred and graceful, but one knows what they sometimes contain.

Not always crystal-clear diamonds; not always expressions of a direct line with others and with God.

In short, the conspicuousness of pomp and paraphernalia, or winking patinas, is a kind of projection.

Artifice that does not allow thoughts to be processed; it only drives away tiring nightmares - in the most childish way.

Love, on the other hand, lives on real sparks - it does not cross them unscathed by contenting itself with self-representation in decorative signs, or in ideology that lures the naive.

Screens of incredible emptiness.

While recognizing the facets of great artistic expression and differing opinions as legitimate, Jesus would have subscribed to a principle of the Puritan laity: «The greater the ceremonies, the lesser the Truth».

[Wednesday 21st wk. in O.T.  August 27, 2025]