First Lent Sunday [22 February 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. I apologise if I dwell too long  today on the presentation of the texts, but it is central to Christian life to understand in depth the drama of Genesis (first reading), which St Paul takes up in the second reading, bringing it to full understanding. Similarly, the responsorial psalm can be understood starting from the drama recounted in Genesis chapter 3, and likewise the Gospel shows us how to react in order to live in the kingdom of God already on this earth. In my opinion, it is a vision of life that must be clearly focused in order to understand the drama of the practical and often unconscious rejection of God that is consummated in the world in the face of the crucial question: why is there evil in the world? Why does God not destroy it?  

 Have a good Lent.

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (2:7-9; 3:1-7a)

In the first chapters of Genesis, two different figures of man appear: the first who lives happily in complete harmony with God and with woman. and creation (chap. 2), and then the man who claims his autonomy by taking for himself the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (chap. 3). Jesus sums up in himself 'all our weaknesses' (Heb 4:15), and, put to the test, he will be the sign of the new humanity: 'the last Adam became a life-giving spirit' (1 Cor 15:45).  Before tackling this text, we must remember that its author never claimed to be a historian. The Bible was written neither by scientists nor by historians, but by believers for believers. The theologian who wrote these lines, probably at the time of Solomon in the 10th century BC, seeks to answer the questions that everyone asks: why evil? Why death? Why misunderstandings between couples? Why is life so difficult? Why is work so tiring? Why is nature sometimes hostile? To answer these questions, he draws on a certainty shared by his entire people: the goodness of God. God freed us from Egypt; God wants us to be free and happy. Since the famous exodus from Egypt, led by Moses, and the crossing of the desert, during which God's presence and support were experienced at every new difficulty, there can be no doubt about this. The story we have just read is therefore based on this certainty of God's benevolence and seeks to answer all our questions about evil in the world. With a good and benevolent God, how is it possible that evil exists? Our author has invented a parable to enlighten us: a garden of delights (this is the meaning of the word 'Eden') and humanity represented by a couple charged with cultivating and caring for the garden. The garden is full of trees, each more attractive than the next. The one in the middle is called the 'tree of life'; its fruit can be eaten like all the others. But somewhere in the garden – the text does not specify where – there is another tree, whose fruit is forbidden. It is called the 'tree of the knowledge of what makes one happy or unhappy'. Faced with this prohibition, the couple can have two attitudes: either to trust, knowing that God is only benevolence, and rejoice in having access to the tree of life; if God forbids us the other tree, it is because it is not good for us. Or they can suspect God of having evil intentions, imagining that he wants to prevent us from accessing knowledge. This is the serpent's argument: he addresses the woman and feigns understanding: 'So, did God really say, "You must not eat from any tree in the garden"?' (3:1). The woman replies: "We may eat the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God has said, 'You must not eat the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden, nor touch it, or you will die'" (3:2-4) . Have you noticed the shift: simply because she has listened to the voice of suspicion, she now speaks only of that tree and says 'the tree in the middle of the garden'; now, in good faith, she no longer sees  the tree of life in the centre of the garden, but the tree 'of the knowledge of what makes one happy or unhappy'. Her gaze is already altered, simply because she has allowed the serpent to speak to her; then the serpent can continue its slow work of demolition: "No, you will not die at all! Indeed, God knows that on the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil" (3:5). Once again, the woman listens too well to these beautiful words, and the text suggests that her gaze is increasingly distorted: 'The woman saw that the tree was good for food, pleasing to the eye, and desirable for gaining wisdom' (3:6). The serpent has won: the woman takes the fruit, eats it, gives it to her husband, and he eats it too. And so the story ends: "Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked" (v. 7).  The serpent had spoken well: "your eyes will be opened" (3:5); the woman's mistake was to believe that he was speaking in her interest and revealing God's evil intentions. It was nothing but a lie: her gaze changed, it is true, but it became distorted. It is no coincidence that the suspicion cast on God is represented by the features of a serpent: Israel, in the desert, had experienced poisonous snakes. Our theologian at Solomon's court recalls this painful experience and says: there is a poison more serious than that of the most poisonous snakes; the suspicion cast on God is a deadly poison, it poisons our lives. The idea of our anonymous theologian is that all our misfortunes come from this suspicion that corrodes humanity. To say that the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is reserved for God is to say that only God knows what makes us happy or unhappy; which, after all, is logical if he is the one who created us. Wanting to eat the fruit of this forbidden tree at all costs means claiming to determine for ourselves what is good for us: the warning 'You must not eat it and you must not touch it, otherwise you will die' clearly indicated that this was the wrong path to take. 

But wait! The story goes even further: during the journey through the desert, God gave the Law (the Torah) which from then on had to be observed, what we call the commandments. We know that the daily practice of this Law is the condition for the survival and harmonious growth of this people; if we truly knew that God only wants our life, our happiness, our freedom, we would trust and obey the Law with a good heart. It is truly the "tree of life" made available to us by God.

I said at the beginning that this is a parable, but it is a parable whose lesson applies to each of us; since the world began, it has always been the same story. St Paul (whom we read this Sunday in the second reading) continues his meditation and says: only Christ trusted the Father in everything; he shows us the way of Life.

Note: In the Hebrew text, the serpent's question is deliberately ambiguous: 'Did God really say, "You shall not eat of any tree in the garden"? 'הֲכִי־אָמַר אֱלֹהִים לֹא תֹאכְלוּ מִכֹּל עֵץ הַגָּן? " Ha-ki amar Elohim lo tochlu mikol etz ha-gan? Put this way, the question can be understood in a restrictive sense: "Did God really say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden'?" interpreting "all trees" as a total negation. Or in a general and colloquial sense: "Did God really say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden'?" interpreting "all" in an absolute sense, or as all trees except one, the tree of life or the other of the knowledge of good and evil. The serpent uses this ambiguity to sow doubt and suspicion, insinuating that God might be lying or withholding something good. In the oldest Hebrew manuscripts, there are no punctuation marks as we know them today, so the play on words and the double meaning were intentionally stronger. Exegetes note that the serpent does not make a clear statement but forms a subtle question that shifts the focus to doubt: "Perhaps God is deceiving you?" This account in Genesis has many resonances in the meditation of the people of Israel. One of the reflections suggested by the text concerns the tree of life: planted in the middle of the garden of Eden, it was accessible to man and its fruit was permitted. One might think that its fruit allowed man to remain alive, to that spiritual life that God had breathed into him: "The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being" (Gen 2:7). The rabbis then made the connection with the Law given by God on Sinai. In fact, it is accepted by believers as a gift from God, a support for daily life: 'My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life and bring you peace' (Pr 3:1-2). . 

NB For further clarification, I would add this: There is the first prohibition: the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in Genesis 2:16-17, God sets only one limit on man: "Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat." The tree of life is not forbidden at this point. The prohibition concerns only the tree of the knowledge of good and evil because God is the one who decides what is good and what is evil, and man is called to trust, not to replace God. Eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge means saying, 'I do not trust God; I decide what is good and what is evil'. After sin, there is a second prohibition (the tree of life) because the situation changes radically. In Genesis 3:22-24, we read: 'Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever'. Only after sin does God prevent access to the tree of life. Why? Because man, separated from God by sin, cannot live forever like this. Living eternally with the consequences of sin would be a condemnation, not a gift. God therefore protects man from a distorted immortality. In other words, God does not take life away as punishment, but to prevent evil from becoming eternal.

*Responsorial Psalm (50/51)

"Have mercy on me, O God, in your love; according to your great mercy, blot out my sin. Wash me completely from my guilt, purify me from my offence." The people of Israel are gathered for a great penitential celebration in the Temple of Jerusalem. They recognise themselves as sinners, but they also know God's inexhaustible mercy. After all, if they are gathered to ask for forgiveness, it is because they already know in advance that forgiveness has been granted. This, let us remember, was King David's great discovery: David took Bathsheba, with whom he had fallen in love, and had her husband Uriah killed, because a few days later, Bathsheba was expecting a child by him. When the prophet Nathan went to David, he did not first seek a word of repentance from him; instead, he began by reminding him of all God's gifts and announcing his forgiveness, even before David had had time to make the slightest confession (2 Sam 12). In essence, he said to him, 'Look at all that God has given you... well, know that he is ready to give you anything else you want!'. And a thousand times throughout its history, Israel has been able to verify that God is truly 'the merciful and compassionate Lord, slow to anger and rich in love and faithfulness', according to the revelation he granted to Moses in the desert (Ex 34:6). The prophets also transmitted this message, and the few verses of the psalm we have just heard are full of these discoveries of Isaiah and Ezekiel. Isaiah, for example: "It is I, I who blot out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins" (Is 43:25); or again: "I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you" (Is 44:22).

This proclamation of God's gratuitous forgiveness sometimes surprises us: it seems too good, perhaps; for some it even seems unfair: if everything is forgivable, what is the point of making an effort? Perhaps we are too quick to forget that we all, without exception, need God's mercy; so let us not complain about it! And let us not be surprised if God surprises us, for, as Isaiah says, "God's thoughts are not our thoughts". And Isaiah himself points out that it is above all in the matter of forgiveness that God surprises us most. The only condition required is to recognise ourselves as sinners. When the prodigal son (Lk 15) returns to his father, for reasons that are not very noble, Jesus puts a phrase from Psalm 50 on his lips: "Against you, against you alone, have I sinned," and this simple phrase restores the bond that the ungrateful young man had broken. Faced with this ever-renewed proclamation of God's mercy, the people of Israel — for it is they who speak here, as in all the psalms — recognise themselves as sinners: the confession is not detailed, as it never is in the penitential psalms, but the essential is said in this plea: "Have mercy on me, O God, in your love, according to your great mercy, blot out my sin... And God, who is all mercy, that is, as if drawn by misery, expects nothing more than this simple recognition of our poverty. The word "mercy" has the same root as the word "alms": literally, we are beggars before God. Two things remain to be done. First of all, simply give thanks for the forgiveness granted without ceasing; the praise that the people of Israel address to God is the recognition of the goodness with which he has filled them since the beginning of their history. This clearly shows that the most important prayer in a penitential celebration is thanksgiving for God's gifts and forgiveness: we must begin by contemplating Him, and only then, when this contemplation has revealed to us the gap between Him and us, can we recognise ourselves as sinners. The ritual of reconciliation says this clearly in its introduction: 'We confess God's love together with our sin'. And the song of gratitude will flow spontaneously from our lips: we need only allow God to open our hearts. "Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise"; some recognise here the first sentence of the Liturgy of the Hours each morning; in fact, it is taken from Psalm 50/51. This alone is a true lesson: praise and gratitude can only arise in us if God opens our hearts and our lips. St Paul puts it another way: 'God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba!", that is, "Father!"' (Gal 4:6). This irresistibly brings to mind a gesture of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark: the healing of a deaf-mute; touching his ears and tongue, Jesus said, 'Ephphatha', which means 'Be opened'. And then, spontaneously, those present applied to Jesus a phrase that the Bible reserved for God: "He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak" (cf. Is 35:5-6). Even today, in some baptismal celebrations, the celebrant repeats this gesture of Jesus on the baptised, saying: "The Lord Jesus has made the deaf hear and the mute speak; may he grant you to hear his word and proclaim your faith, to the praise and glory of God the Father". The second thing to do, and what God expects of us, is to forgive in turn, without delay or conditions... and this is a serious undertaking in our lives.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (5:12-19)

Adam was a figure of the one who was to come, Paul tells us; he speaks of Adam in the past tense because he refers to the book of Genesis and the story of the forbidden fruit, but for him Adam's drama is not a story of the past: this story is ours, every day; we are all Adam at times; the rabbis say, 'everyone is Adam to himself'.

And if we were to summarise the story of the Garden of Eden (which we reread in this Sunday's first reading), we could say this: by listening to the voice of the serpent rather than God's command, by allowing suspicion about God's intentions to invade their hearts, by believing that they could allow themselves everything, that they could 'know' everything - as the Bible says — man and woman placed themselves under the dominion of death. And when we say, 'everyone is Adam to himself', it means that every time we turn away from God, we allow the powers of death to invade our lives. St Paul, in his letter to the Romans, continues the same meditation and announces that humanity has taken a decisive step in Jesus Christ; we are all brothers and sisters of Adam and we are all brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ; we are brothers and sisters of Adam when we allow the poison of suspicion to infest our hearts, when we presume to make ourselves the law. We are brothers and sisters of Christ when we trust God enough to let him guide our lives. We are under the dominion of death when we behave like Adam; when we behave like Jesus, that is, like him, 'obedient' (i.e. trusting), we are already resurrected in the kingdom of life, the one John speaks of: 'He who believes in me, even if he dies, will live', a life that biological death does not interrupt. Let us return to the account in the Book of Genesis: The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground; he breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being. This breath of God that makes man a living being – as the text says – was not given to animals: yet they are very much alive in a biological sense; we can therefore deduce that man enjoys a life different from biological life. St Paul affirms that because of Adam, death has reigned: he uses the terms 'reign' and 'reign over' several times, showing that there are two kingdoms that confront each other: the kingdom of sin when humanity acts like Adam, which brings death, judgement and condemnation. Then there is the kingdom of Christ, that is, with him, the new humanity, which is the kingdom of grace, of life, of free gift, of justification. However, no man is entirely in the kingdom of Christ, and Paul himself recognises this: 'I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want' (Rom 7:19). . Adam, that is, humanity, was created to be king, to cultivate and keep the garden, as we read in the book of Genesis, but, ill-advised by the serpent, he wants to do everything by himself, with his own strength, cutting himself off from God. Jesus Christ, on the contrary, does not 'claim' this kingship: it is given to him. As Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians: "though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself" (2:6, NRSV). The story of the Garden of Eden says the same thing in images: before the Fall, man and woman could eat the fruit of the tree of life; after the Fall, they no longer have access to it. Each in its own way, these two texts – that of Genesis on the one hand and that of the letter to the Romans on the other – tell us the deepest truth of our lives: with God, everything is grace, everything is a free gift; and Paul here insists on the abundance, on the profusion of grace, even speaking of the 'disproportion' of grace: It is not like the fall, the free gift... much more, God's grace has been poured out in abundance on the multitude, this grace given in one man, Jesus Christ. Everything is a gift, and this is not surprising since, as St John says, God is Love. It is not because Christ behaved well that he received a reward, and Adam received punishment because of his misconduct. Paul's discourse is deeper: Christ lives in total trust that everything will be given to him in God... and everything is given to him in the Resurrection. Adam, that is, each one of us, often wants to take possession of what can only be received as a gift, and for this reason finds himself 'naked', that is, deprived of everything. We could say that by birth we are citizens of the kingdom of Adam; through baptism we have asked to be naturalised in the kingdom of Christ. Obedience and disobedience in Paul's sense could thus be replaced: 'obedience' with trust and 'disobedience' with mistrust; as Kierkegaard says: "The opposite of sin is not virtue; the opposite of sin is faith." If we reread the story of Genesis, we can see that the author intentionally did not give proper names to the man and woman; he spoke of Adam (derived from adamah, meaning earth, dust), which means 'human being taken from the earth', while Eve (derived from Chavah, meaning life) is the one who gives life. By not giving them names, he wanted us to understand that the drama of Adam and Eve is not the story of particular individuals, but the story of every human being, and has always been so.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (4:1-11)

Every year, Lent begins with the story of Jesus' temptations in the desert: we must believe that this is a truly fundamental text! This year we read it according to St Matthew. After recounting the baptism of Jesus, Matthew immediately continues: "Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil" . The evangelist thus invites us to make a connection between Jesus' baptism and the temptations that immediately follow. Matthew had said a few verses earlier: Jesus "will save his people from their sins", which is precisely the meaning of the name Jesus. John the Baptist baptises Jesus in the Jordan even though he did not agree and had said: " I need to be baptised by you, and yet you come to me!" (Mt 3:14)... And it came to pass that when Jesus came up out of the water after his baptism, the heavens opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from heaven, saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."

This phrase alone publicly announces that Jesus is truly the Messiah: because the expression 'Son of God' was synonymous with King-Messiah, and the phrase 'the beloved, in whom I am well pleased' (3:17) refers to one of the songs of the Servant in Isaiah. In a few words, Matthew reminds us of the whole mystery of the person of Jesus; and it is he, precisely, who is the Messiah, the Saviour, the Servant who will confront the Tempter. Like his people a few centuries earlier, he is led into the desert; like his people, he knows hunger; like his people, he must discover what God's will is for his children; like his people, he must choose before whom to bow down. "If you are the Son of God," repeats the Tempter, thus revealing the real problem; and Jesus is confronted with it, not only three times, but throughout his earthly life. What does it mean, in concrete terms, to be the Messiah? The question takes various forms: solving people's problems with miracles, such as turning stones into bread? Provoking God to test his promises? ... By throwing himself from the temple, for example, because Psalm 91 promised that God would rescue his Messiah... Possessing the world, dominating, reigning at any cost, even worshipping any idol? Even ceasing to be the Son? It should be noted that in the third temptation, the Tempter no longer repeats "If you are the Son of God".

The culmination of these temptations is that they target God's promises: they promise nothing more than what God himself promised to his Messiah. And the two interlocutors, the Tempter and Jesus, know this well. But here's the thing... God's promises are in the order of love; they can only be received as gifts; love cannot be demanded, it cannot be seized, it is received on bended knee, with gratitude. Ultimately, the same thing happens as in the Garden of Genesis: Adam knows, and rightly so, that he was created to be king, to be free, to be master of creation; but instead of accepting gifts as gifts, with gratitude and appreciation, he demands, he claims, he places himself on a par with God... He leaves the order of love and can no longer receive the love offered... he finds himself poor and naked. Jesus makes the opposite choice: 'Get behind me, Satan!' as he once said to Peter, adding, 'Your thoughts are not those of God, but those of men' (Mt 16:23). Furthermore, several times in this text, Matthew calls the Tempter "devil," which in Greek means "the one who divides." Satan is for each of us, as he is for Jesus himself, the one who tends to separate us from God, to see things in Adam's way and not in God's way. On closer inspection, it all lies in the gaze: Adam's is distorted; to keep his gaze clear, Jesus scrutinises the Word of God: the three responses to the Tempter are quotations from the book of Deuteronomy (chapter 8), in a passage that is precisely a meditation on the temptations of the people of Israel in the desert. Then, Matthew points out, the devil (the divider) leaves him; he has not succeeded in dividing, in turning away the Son's heart. This recalls St John's phrase in the Prologue (Jn 1:1): 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God (pros ton Theon, which means turned towards God), and the Word was God'. . The devil has not succeeded in turning the Son's heart away, and so he is then completely available to receive God's gifts: "Behold, angels came and ministered to him."

NB At the request of some, I would also like to present the homily I am preparing for this first Sunday of Lent.

Homily – First Sunday of Lent

Every year, Lent begins with the story of Jesus' temptations in the desert: we must believe that this is a truly fundamental text! This year we read it according to St Matthew. After recounting the baptism of Jesus, Matthew immediately continues: "Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil." The evangelist thus invites us to make a connection between the baptism of Jesus and the temptations that immediately follow. When Jesus came up out of the water, the heavens opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from heaven, saying, 'This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased'. Jesus is the 'Son of God', the Messiah, the Saviour, the servant of God who will face the Tempter. Satan will say just that: "If you are the Son of God," thus revealing the real problem, which is the attempt to separate Jesus' divine identity from his way of living it, or better yet, to push Jesus to use his divine power without the trust of a son and his humanity without obedience. To understand this better, we must return to the first reading from the book of Genesis, where the tempting serpent promises Eve: "You will be like God" (Gen 3:5). The temptation is not only about a fruit that should not be eaten, but about autonomy from God, the desire to decide for oneself what is good and evil, without trusting the Father. Adam and Eve allowed themselves to be persuaded and found themselves naked. They lost everything!

In the desert, the devil now tempts Jesus, the new Adam, a true man like us except for sin, and launches three provocations: 1. "Say that these stones become bread." The temptation to live without depending on God, to seek immediate satisfaction. There is a hunger that goes beyond bread and that only God can satisfy. But this means trusting God, and Jesus responds: 'It is written: Man shall not live by bread alone' (Mt 4:4). 2nd temptation. The devil raises the stakes: "Throw yourself down" from the temple and the angels will catch you. Here is the temptation to manipulate God, to ask for spectacular signs to confirm one's faith. This is a very subtle temptation today, but one that is very common when we believe in making the liturgy, evangelisation and ecclesial events spectacular. Jesus teaches us to spread the Gospel like yeast in dough and a small seed in the ground: everything happens in silence because we must not believe that we are protagonists but lives always hidden in God, even when we act publicly. It is not our work to convert the world. Let us listen to Jesus who replies: "It is written: You shall not tempt the Lord your God" (Mt 4:7). . 3. In the third temptation, it should be noted that the Tempter no longer repeats 'If you are the Son of God', because Satan believes himself to be the master of the world and so he can say to him, 'I will give you everything if you bow down to me'. It is the temptation of power and compromise, of bending one's life to immediate advantages. It is very dangerous because it often involves the idea that we can accept anything in order to evangelise, but we are not the masters! Jesus replies: "It is written: You shall worship the Lord your God and him alone shall you serve" (Mt 4:10). 

Let us note something decisive: Jesus does not respond with his own intelligence or strength, but always by referring to the Word of God, which is the only true light that can guide man's journey through the desert of life, a journey that is often dark and full of pitfalls. This is because the Word of God is the light of truth that never goes out. St John Chrysostom reminds us: "In Scripture we find not only words, but the strength we need to overcome evil; it is the nourishment of the soul and the light that guides those who walk in darkness" (Homilies on Matthew, 4th century).   Even when the world rejects God, even when the right choices seem uncomfortable or losing, Scripture remains the sure guide. How can we apply this to our lives? Today, being a Christian is often difficult: faith can be mocked or ignored, the Gospel seems useless, Christ is fought against and sometimes tolerated, but not welcomed. Lent invites us to make a daily choice: who guides our lives? Do we want to do everything on our own, like Eve and Adam in Eden, choosing what seems most convenient? Or do we entrust ourselves to God, allowing his Word to enlighten our decisions and give meaning even to our difficulties? Following Christ means choosing fidelity, even when the world goes against it. It means living our lives as Christians without compromise, basing ourselves not on personal strength, but on the living Word of God. We are always sustained by a certain and concrete hope: the Gospel ends with a silent promise: 'Then the devil left him' (Mt 4:11). Those who entrust themselves to God are not left alone in their trials. Temptation may seem powerful, but those who walk in the light of the Word are never defeated.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Ash Wednesday [18 February 2026]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! I am now sending the texts for Ash Wednesday and Wednesday those for Sunday.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Joel (2:12-18)

'Return to the Lord with all your heart'. The book of the prophet Joel is one of the shortest in the Old Testament: it has only seventy-three verses, divided into four chapters, and is generally dated around 600 BC, shortly before the Exile to Babylon. Three major themes are constantly interwoven in this writing: the announcement of terrible scourges, real or symbolic; the urgent call to fasting and conversion; and finally, the proclamation of the salvation that God grants to his people. It is above all the second theme, that of conversion, which the liturgy proposes at the beginning of the Lenten journey. The invitation to conversion opens solemnly with the typical formula of the prophets: "The word of the Lord." It draws attention and asks us to take seriously what follows. And what follows is a decisive word: "Return". It is the fundamental verb of biblical penitential language. God invites his people to return to him, while the people, in turn, implore God to "return", that is, to grant forgiveness and mercy. This return to God must be expressed through fasting, tears and mourning: traditional signs of penance. However, the prophets, and Joel in particular, warn against the risk of stopping at outward appearances. For this reason, the prophet strongly affirms: "Rend your hearts and not your garments". Authentic conversion is not a matter of visible rituals, but a profound change of heart. Joel thus follows in the great prophetic tradition inaugurated by Isaiah, who denounced empty and formal worship, incapable of transforming life: God rejects solemn feasts and multiplied prayers when hands remain stained with injustice. What He asks for is a true purification of the heart and actions, the abandonment of evil and a concrete commitment to good and justice. The same message is expressed in a particularly intense way in Psalm 50/51, which defines true conversion as a "broken and humbled heart". In the light of Ezekiel, this image takes on an even deeper meaning: it is necessary for the heart of stone to be broken so that a heart of flesh may finally be born, capable of listening to God and living according to his will. When Joel calls for hearts to be torn, he means precisely this radical transformation of the human being. Conversion, in Joel's view, aims to obtain God's forgiveness and avert deserved punishment. The prophet reminds us that the Lord is 'tender and merciful, slow to anger and rich in love' and leaves open a hope: perhaps God will retrace his steps, renounce punishment and save his people from humiliation before the nations. But the final announcement exceeds all expectations: forgiveness is not only possible, it has already been granted. The liturgical translation speaks of a God who is 'moved' by his people, but the Hebrew text is even stronger: 'The Lord burns with zeal for his land and has compassion on his people'. This is not a cold or distant pity, but a passionate and faithful love. It remains to be discovered in biblical revelation that this mercy is not reserved for Israel alone. The book of Jonah shows this in a surprising way, recounting the conversion of Nineveh, the pagan city: faced with the fasting and change of life of its inhabitants, God renounces the punishment he had announced. The message is clear: the Lord "burns with zeal" for all people, even those who seem distant or unworthy.

This truth will find its definitive expression in the New Testament, when St Paul affirms that God has manifested his love in a radical way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners (Rom 5:8).

*Responsorial Psalm (50/51)

"Have mercy on me, O God, in your love; in your great mercy blot out my guilt. Wash me clean of my guilt, purify me from my sin." The people of Israel are gathered in the Temple in Jerusalem for a great penitential celebration. They recognise themselves as sinners, but they also know God's inexhaustible mercy. And, after all, if they gather to ask for forgiveness, it is precisely because they know in advance that forgiveness has already been granted. This was the great discovery of King David, who had brought his beautiful neighbour Bathsheba (the wife of an officer, Uriah, who was at war at the time) to his palace and slept with her, and she became pregnant. Some time later, Bathsheba let David know that she was expecting his child. At that point, David arranged for the death of her betrayed husband on the battlefield, so that he could definitively take possession of the woman and the child she was carrying. Now, and this is where God's unexpectedness comes in, when the prophet Nathan went to David, he did not first try to extract a confession of repentance from him; instead, he began by reminding him of all the gifts he had received from God and announcing his forgiveness, even before David had had time to make the slightest admission of guilt (cf. 2 Sam 12). In essence, he said to him, 'Look at all that God has given you... and know that he is ready to give you anything else you want!'. Israel has always been able to verify that God is truly a merciful and compassionate Lord, slow to anger, rich in faithful love, according to the revelation made to Moses in the desert (Ex 34:6). The prophets also reiterated this message, and the verses of the psalm we have heard are imbued with the discoveries of Isaiah and Ezekiel. Isaiah, for example, has God say: "I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins" (Isaiah 43:25). The proclamation of God's gratuitous forgiveness sometimes surprises us: it seems too good to be true; to some it even seems unfair. If everything is forgivable, what is the point of making an effort? It is to forget too quickly that all of us, without exception, need God's mercy: so let us not complain about it! And let us not be surprised if God surprises us, because, as Isaiah says, "God's thoughts are not our thoughts". And in forgiving, Isaiah points out, God surprises us more than anything else. Faced with the ever-renewed proclamation of God's mercy, the people of Israel recognise themselves as sinners. The confession is not detailed, as it never is in the penitential psalms, but the essential is said in this supplication: Have mercy on me, O God, in your love, in your great mercy, blot out my sin... And God, who is all mercy, expects nothing more than this simple recognition of our poverty. After all, the word 'mercy' has the same root as the word 'alms': literally, we are beggars before God. At this point, we have two things left to do.

Simply give thanks for this forgiveness that is continually given. When Israel turns to God, it always acknowledges the goodness with which He has filled it since the beginning of its history, and this shows that the most important prayer in a penitential celebration is the acknowledgement of God's gifts and forgiveness: we must begin by contemplating Him; only then, this contemplation, revealing the gap between Him and us, allows us to recognise ourselves as sinners: we confess God's love together with our sin. Then the song of gratitude will flow spontaneously from our lips when God opens our hearts. "Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise" (Psalm 50/51). Praise and thanksgiving can only arise in us if God opens our hearts and our lips. The second thing God expects of us is to forgive in turn, without delay or conditions... and that is quite a programme.

*Second reading from the second letter of St Paul to the Corinthians (5:20-6:2)

"Be reconciled to God," says Paul; but reconciliation implies that there is a quarrel: what quarrel is it? The men of the Old Testament discovered that God is not at odds with man. Psalm 102/103, for example, states: The Lord does not always contend, nor does he keep his anger forever; he does not treat us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities... Isaiah also invites the wicked to abandon their ways, the unrighteous to abandon their thoughts; return to the Lord, who will have compassion on you, to our God, who forgives abundantly (Is 55:7). And the book of Wisdom adds: 'You have mercy on all because you can do all things, and you turn away your gaze from the sins of men to lead them to repentance... You spare them all, because they are yours, Lord, who loves life... Your dominion over all makes you use clemency towards all' (Wisdom 11:23; 12:16). The men of the Bible experienced this, beginning with David. God knew that he had blood on his hands (after the killing of Uriah, Bathsheba's husband, 2 Sam 12), yet he sent the prophet Nathan to tell him in essence: "Everything you have, I have given you, and if that is not enough, I am ready to give you everything else you desire." God also knew that Solomon owed his throne to the elimination of his rivals, yet he listened to his prayer at Gibeon and granted it far beyond what the young king had dared to ask (1 Kings 3). Furthermore, God's very name — the Merciful One — means that he loves us even more when we are miserable. God, therefore, is not at odds with man; yet Paul speaks of reconciliation, because man has always been at odds with God. The text of Genesis (Genesis 2-3) attributes the accusatory phrase to the serpent: "God knows that on the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods, knowing good and evil" (Gen 3:4). In other words, man suspects that God is jealous and does not want his good. But since that voice is not natural to man (it is the serpent's), he can be healed of this suspicion. This is what Paul says: "It is God himself who calls you; we urge you in the name of Christ: be reconciled to God." And what did God do to remove this quarrel, this suspicion, from our hearts? He who knew no sin, God made him sin for us: Jesus knew no sin even for a moment, he was never at odds with the Father. Paul adds: 'He became obedient' (Phil 2:8), that is, trusting even through suffering and death. He sought to communicate to men this trust and the revelation of a God who is only love, forgiveness, and help for the little ones. Paradoxically, it was precisely for this reason that he was considered blasphemous, placed among sinners and executed as a cursed man (Deut 21:23). The darkness of men fell upon him, and God allowed it because it was the only way to make us realise how far his "zeal for his people" can go, as the prophet Joel says. Jesus suffered in the flesh the sin of men, their violence, their hatred, their rejection of a God of love. On the face of the crucified Christ, we contemplate the horror of human sin, but also God's gentleness and forgiveness. From this contemplation can come our conversion, our 'justification', as Paul says. They will look upon him whom they have pierced (cf. Zechariah 12:10; John 19:37). To discover in Jesus, who forgives his executioners, the very image of God means to enter into the reconciliation offered by God. We are left with the task of proclaiming this to the world: 'We are ambassadors for Christ', says Paul, considering himself sent on mission to his brothers and sisters. It is up to us to continue this mission, and this is probably the meaning of Paul's final quotation: "For it is written in Scripture: 'At the favourable time I answered you, on the day of salvation I helped you.'" Paul here takes up a phrase from Isaiah, who exhorted the Babylonian exiles to proclaim that the hour of God's salvation had come. In turn, Christ entrusted to the Church the task of proclaiming the forgiveness of sins to the world.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (6:1-6, 16-18)

  Here we have two short excerpts from the Sermon on the Mount, which occupies chapters 5-7 of St Matthew; the entire sermon is built around its central core, the Lord's Prayer (6:9-13), which gives meaning to everything else. The recommendations we read today are not just moral advice: they concern the very meaning of faith. All our actions are rooted in the discovery that God is Father. Thus, prayer, almsgiving and fasting become paths to bring us closer to God the Father: fasting means learning to go out of ourselves, praying means centring ourselves on God, giving alms means centring ourselves on our brothers and sisters. Three times Jesus repeats similar, almost polemical formulations: Do not be like those who flaunt their piety.... It is important to remember how significant religious manifestations were in Jewish society at the time, with the inevitable risk of attributing too much value to outward gestures; and probably even prominent figures did not escape this! Matthew sometimes reports Jesus' rebukes to those who focused more on the length of their fringes than on mercy and faithfulness (Mt 23:5f). Here, however, Jesus invites his disciples to a truth operation: If you want to live as righteous people, avoid acting in front of others to be admired. Righteousness was the great concern of believers: and if Jesus mentions the pursuit of righteousness twice in the Beatitudes, it is because that term, that thirst, was familiar to his listeners: "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied" (5:6); "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (5:10). True biblical justice consists in harmony with God's plan, not in the accumulation of practices, however noble they may seem. The famous phrase from Genesis — Abraham believed in the Lord, and it was credited to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6) — teaches us that justice is first and foremost righteousness, as in a musical instrument, a deep harmony with God's will.

The three practices — prayer, fasting, almsgiving — are paths to righteousness.

Prayer: let God guide us according to his plan: "Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." We wait for Him to teach us the true needs of the Kingdom. Jesus precedes the teaching of the Our Father with this recommendation: "When you pray, do not do as the pagans do... your Father knows what you need before you ask him (6:7-8).

Fasting: by ceasing to pursue what we believe is necessary for our happiness, which risks absorbing us more and more, we learn freedom and recognise true priorities; Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God (Mt 4:4).

Almsgiving: The word almsgiving comes from the same family as eleison: to give alms means to open one's heart to mercy. God wants the good of all his children; justice, understood as harmony with Him, inevitably includes a dimension of social justice. The parable of the Last Judgement (Mt 25:31-46) confirms this: "Come, blessed of my Father... for I was hungry and you gave me food... and the righteous will enter into eternal life." The behaviours that Jesus condemns — do not be like those who show off — are the opposite: they keep man centred on himself, closing his heart to the transforming action of the Spirit.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

(Mt 9:14-15)

Fasting is a regenerative principle that has a unique healing power, both detoxifying and essential. It activates the energies of humanity and at the same time of diversity.

This silent practice addresses the deep layers, the internal dimension, which becomes the guide and we risk ignoring.

Fasting was a sign of profound religiosity, therefore the disciples of Jesus - who did not fast, on the contrary their life had a festive character - were more or less assimilated to sinners.

Although there were no formal prescriptions, in observant circles it was pious practices that had become customary [linked to precisely marked days].

In Semitic beliefs, fasting was in particular expressive of the embarrassment and affliction of the devout man in the expectation of the Messianic times, which were delaying.

This is why Jesus associates fasting with mourning. It no longer has meaning in life as the unhindered wedding feast that He inaugurates.

Fasting remains as a sign of waiting for fulfillment, but now sadness no longer has any decisive relevance.

In the time of the Church that makes the Risen present, the renunciation of gorging is not a form of penance but of Hope (v.15).

And it serves to keep the hearts of Bridegroom’s friends clear of vanities, with a form of identification with the poor.

In the communities of Galilee and Syria to which Mt addresses, the Judaizers tried to reduce the pure Faith - foundation and enthusiastic participation - to whatever beliefs and practices.

Provisions that did not make everyone feel free.

In fact, a large part of the Jews converted to Christ were inclined to nostalgia that resulted in impediment.

Mt encourages the converts of his fraternities, coming from mixed and non-regular beliefs - coping the opinion of the stricter religious traditions.

Even today the Lord's proposal stands out - because it doesn’t claim to prepare the Kingdom, but rather welcomes and listens to it.

It will be Christ-in-us alone to nourish us towards an uninterrupted and growing way, in the commitment to start afresh in the task of ‘finding ourselves’ and emancipating the world - in a climate of austerity, balanced.

The Call of the Gospels remains respectful, concrete and strongly prophetic at the same time, because it arouses attention to people, to reality, and our joy - much more than to unsolicited standards of improvement, or other patches (v.16).

By not overwhelming or imposing artificial loads on believers, the life of Faith brings freedom into play [and thus makes it known to us] so that we become aware and assume it in order to be able to invest as Grace, charge and resource of novelty.

The renouncing and mortifying mechanisms, of individualistic perfection, are alien from the start - unless they are designed for the sharing of goods.

Jesus doesn’t come to make a small group of followers seated on the chair of austerity, but to communicate that the relationship with God is a celebration.

Fasting pleasing to the Father lies in the lucid experience of one's own unrepeatable eccentricity and Call, in freeing oneself from the selfishness that holds back, and in bringing relief to one's neighbor.

For this reason the Church has almost completely abolished the precept of external fasting, while it intends to commit more to forms of limitation in favor of the uncertain, humble and needy.

To internalize and live the message:

Do you practice fasting? From what? And for what purpose?

[Friday after the Ashes,  February 20, 2026]

(Mt 9:14-15)

Fasting has travelled through all religious and mystical traditions, because it is intended to bring women and men closer to their own profound essence - to listening to themselves, to the codes of the sacred, to their inner cosmos, to their vocation, to the sacred pages - in the expectation of transformation.

One entrusts oneself to a different wisdom - less noisy - that can activate processes of metamorphosis, precisely by making a void from the intrusions of homologated thought, from external habits or conformisms that tend to overwhelm the personality.

By detaching, the torments will vanish, replaced by other interests and lucid dreams; aroused by the new breakthrough to our eternal side, and by that reliance on the core of being that is still creating us.

Psycho-physical and supernatural unity is a prodigious organism, which can clear away the fog and enhance its capacities with various forms of suspension and cleansing, even mental cleansing - which will take us where we need to go.

But in the specifics of the children of God, all this is aimed at sharpening the gaze in the sense of knowledge, discovery, surprise of unsuspected singular and missionary capacities and qualities. Those that flow from the discovery of the eminent Self, from one's own founding Relationship - to become uniqueness of exceptional relationship with others, in the Exodus that corresponds to us.

Fasting is a principle of regeneration that has a unique healing power, both detoxifying and essential. It activates the energies of one's humanity and at the same time one's diversity.

This silent practice addresses the deep layers, the inner dimension, which become the guide (and we risk ignoring).

But here, understanding dissimilarities remains indispensable. For us, it is a gesture of openness!

Other kinds of diets or athleticism are not infrequently deviant: their very nonmeaning brings sadness and even depression.

Fasting remains a sign of waiting for the fulfilment, but now the sadness is meaningless.

In the time of the Church that makes the Risen One present, the renunciation of gorging is not a form of penitence but of hope (v.20).

And it serves to keep the heart of the Bridegroom's friends clear of vanities, with a form of identification with the poor.

But Jesus does not come to make himself a group of followers sitting on the chair of austerity, but to communicate that the relationship with God is a feast!

In short, fasting pleasing to the Father lies in the lucid experience of one's own unique eccentricity and calling, in freeing oneself from the selfishness of grabbing for oneself, and bringing relief to one's neighbour.

It creates life, not diminishes it.

Fasting was a sign of deep religiosity, so Jesus' disciples - who did not fast, indeed their existence had a festive character - were likened more or less to sinners.

Although there were no formal prescriptions, these were pious practices that became customary in observant circles [here seriousness was everything] linked to precisely marked days.

In Semitic beliefs, fasting was in particular expressive of the devout man's embarrassment and affliction in the quivering expectation of the messianic times, which were delayed.

This is why Jesus associates fasting with mourning - which no longer has any meaning in life as the wedding feast without qualms that He inaugurates.

Where precisely there is no need for additions, no need for checks or imprints, marks or distinguishing characteristics.

Nor is the New Covenant a modernisation of moral practices or pious prescriptions that provide an external religious pass.

Everything is in relation to the real presence of the Bridegroom, who does not punish life.

Of course, he who proceeds on the path of emancipation and is not satisfied with a partial Jesus the Bridegroom, already knows in himself what awaits him...

Then (v.15) in the strident confrontation with the religious leaders - clinging to prestige - there is sadness and humiliation to no end. So much for fasting from food.

However, whoever has decided to continue his journey of vocational freedom knows that he must relive the same events of blatant conflict that pitted the Master against the mentality and authorities of his time; finally, in this real encounter with Him, experience the total gift of life (v.15).

It will only be the Christ-in-us, even if it is centred and not definitive, that will nourish soul and body in an uninterrupted and growing way.

This with the commitment to start again in the mission of finding ourselves and giving breath to the world.

In an atmosphere of quiet austerity; without artificial brakes.

In the communities of Judaizing extraction addressed by Mt, there was a strong need to free the Risen One from fetters [disciplinary fixations, timetables, calendar].

Believers perceived Him to be alive - accomplice to the new humanising character they experienced day by day.

The evangelist wanted to direct his assemblies in Galilee and Syria [perhaps in the mid-1970s] not to cling to false securities. 

One had to take an entirely alternative position and not end up like the 'fathers' or the groups around them, of ancient and sectarian religious extraction.

But even the Judaizers tried to reduce pure Faith - foundation and enthusiastic participation - to rigid beliefs and any number of practices.

Vicious circles that ended up transmitting old feelings of guilt instead of unusual relational insights.

Indeed, most Jewish converts tended towards nostalgias that were a hindrance and hindrance.

It was precisely such veterans who struggled to embrace the new habitus of freedom, and the full froth of the Gospel, in an enthusiastic manner.

Even today, the Lord's Proposal stands out from all exclusivist doctrines, full of prescriptions and fulfilments.

His Presence shines through in spirit. And his intimates do not pretend to prepare the Kingdom, but welcome it and listen to it - with trust in life.

This is what happens in the time of crisis, which is disposing to a less outward, more global fasting - considerable but wise.

A fast that can lead humanity to sensitive perception, to a sense of communion, to silence and embrace; to less egocentric and dirigiste impetus. To a deepening - and wholeness.

The Tao Tê Ching (v) writes: "The space between Heaven and Earth, how it resembles a bellows!".

Master Wang Pi comments: 'If the bellows had a will of its own in blowing, it could not implement the intent of the one who makes it blow'.

And Master Ho-shang Kung adds: 'Many endeavours harm the spirit'.

In short, Christ treasures natural wisdom and does not reduce us to the measure of any religion: he does not confine believers to 'negotiations' through petty procedures of athleticism and individual perfection.

He does not insist on heroic mortifications, extraordinary renunciations, punctilious observance of sterile - one-sided - laws, unless they are conceived in order to find each other, to humanise, to share goods.

The Call of the Gospels remains at once balanced, concrete and strongly prophetic.

A call that arouses attention to people, to reality, to our joy - much more than to unsolicited aseptic polishing rules, or other patches (v.16).

By neither overpowering nor imposing artificial burdens on believers, the life of Faith brings self-determination into play.

Thus it makes it known to us - so that we become aware of it and take it on in order to be able to invest it as Grace, charge (not diminish): a resource of newness.

The ascetic mechanisms of individualist refinement are alien from the outset: the goal is to create family, not to carve out a circle of hard and pure men all external and proud of themselves, who distance themselves from weaker brothers and sisters.

Then, self-satisfied, they become disloyal, usurpers, schemers: a history of flaws, equivocal plots and pastoral delays, behind an impeccable façade of cerebral doctrines, disciplines (in their own way) and resounding commemorations over the body of the 'poor departed'.

This is why the Church has almost completely abolished the precept of outward fasting, while it intends to make a greater commitment to forms of restraint in favour of the sick, marginalised, humble and needy.

The choice wants to remain clear: freedom is priceless.

And there is no love if someone - even God - cuts off or overpowers the other, imposing artificial yokes, too much the same as always; unbearable, extravagant, unhealthy.

So the old containers are no longer to be matched with the new ferment. The practice of patching damages both custom and the Newness of God.

Certainly, old wine and cassocks have a fascination for the senses and the vintage epidermal imagination....

That is why they continue to appeal [Lk 5:39: "The old man is excellent!"]. Not a few want to combine it with the Lord (Mt 9:17; Mk 2:22; Lk 5:37-38).

The Master was not for himself an opponent of the spirit of old, but he fought against its unshakable shells. Even then, they were empty shells, which in fact prevented the manifestation of an unseen Face of the Eternal Living One, and of a more genuine idea of a successful man - the germ of an alternative, fraternal society.

Realities well separated from the intimist or self-referential ones typical of official or do-it-yourself cults. All innovations that had to manifest themselves.

The taste and aftertaste of old wine cloaked devotional rites and seasoned customs with artfulness, levity and evocative charm, but they stayed there and did not scratch life.

They remembered, but they did not memorialise - that is, they did not re-actualise for the little people.

In the practice of the many cults, in its feats of catechesis without pastoral nerve, even today in the provinces we notice [for decades] a mechanical pre-conciliar regurgitation, which stops at the great icons.

Wonders and memories of Salvation History... that's it.

It has seemed easier to local leaders to return to customs and abbreviated catechisms than to face the educational risk that the Magisterium itself would impose. 

The immediate result was valued as desirable and profitable, for the [underneath] fundamentalist or glamorous sector, and astute - willingly supplanting the unknown effervescence of new wine.

In fact, on the part of those who know 'how to be in the world', one still has to endure a whole superficiality of retreats and habitual accommodations, which redeem no one and bring no joy, because they do not enter into personal human affairs.

Then settling for the fish menu on Fridays. Genuine superfluity.

But those who stop at the past of mortifications and papier-mâché can never understand the Reformation that the Spirit proposes to edify every soul in authentic fulfilment, which makes us better hold one another.

Thus, in the coexistence and conviviality of differences, the old containers must no longer be coupled with the new ferment.

The practice of patching can, on the one hand, damage customs, because they have their own refined and pronounced taste (relevant in itself) - on the other hand, it distracts and attenuates the life of change, in the Exodus that does not extinguish us.

In short, the Lord does not envisage for us a practice of mending and enclosing boundaries: rather, he wants to break cages.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you fast? From what? And for what purpose? Does it break cages? Is it or is it not in order to know each other, find each other, and listen, heal, share, embrace, hold each other better?

What inner conflicts do you experience around religious practices that you feel still bring suffering to people and are not a spousal expression or a reason for emancipation for women and men?

What image of God and believing humanity is subject to preconceptions and prohibitions? How do you demonstrate the primacy of Jesus in every area of life?

Christ reveals his identity of Messiah, Israel's bridegroom, who came for the betrothal with his people. Those who recognize and welcome him are celebrating. However, he will have to be rejected and killed precisely by his own; at that moment, during his Passion and death, the hour of mourning and fasting will come.

As I mentioned, the Gospel episode anticipates the meaning of Lent. As a whole, it constitutes a great memorial of the Lord's Passion in preparation for his Paschal Resurrection. During this season, we abstain from singing the "Alleluia" and we are asked to make appropriate penitential sacrifices.
The season of Lent should not be faced with an "old" spirit, as if it were a heavy and tedious obligation, but with the new spirit of those who have found the meaning of life in Jesus and in his Paschal Mystery and realize that henceforth everything must refer to him.

This was the attitude of the Apostle Paul who affirmed that he had left everything behind in order to know Christ and "the power of his resurrection, and [to] share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that if possible [he might] attain the resurrection from the dead" (Phil 3: 10-11).

May our guide and teacher in our Lenten journey be Mary Most Holy, who followed Jesus with total faith when he set out with determination for Jerusalem, to suffer the Passion. She received like a "fresh skin" the "new wine" brought by the Son for the messianic betrothal (cf. Mk 2: 22). And so it was that the grace she requested with a motherly instinct for the spouses at Cana, she herself had first received beneath the Cross, poured out from the pierced Heart of the Son, an incarnation of God's love for humanity (cf. Deus Caritas Est, nn. 13-15).

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 26 February 2006]

1. "Sanctify a fast!" (Joel 1:14). They are the words that we listened to in the first reading on Ash Wednesday. They were written by the Prophet Joel, and the Church establishes the practice of Lent in conformity with them, ordering fasting. Today the practice of Lent, defined by Paul VI in the Constitution "Poenitemini ", is considerably reduced as compared with practices of the past. In this matter the Pope left a great deal to the decision of the Episcopal Conferences of the individual countries. They, therefore, have the task of adapting the requirements of fasting according to the circumstances that prevail in their respective societies. He also recalled that the essence of Lenten repentance consists not only of fasting, but also of prayer and almsdeeds (works of mercy). So it is necessary to decide according to circumstances, since fasting itself can be "replaced" by works of mercy and prayer. The aim of this particular period in the life of the Church is always and everywhere repentance, that is, conversion to God. Repentance, in fact, understood as conversion, that is "metanoia", forms a whole, which the tradition of the People of God already in the old Covenant and then Christ himself linked, in a certain way, with prayer, almsdeeds and fasting.

Why to fasting?

At this moment there perhaps come into our minds the words with which Jesus answered the disciples of John the Baptist when they asked him: "Why do your disciples not fast?" Jesus answered: "Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come, when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast" (Mt 9:15). In fact the time of Lent reminds us that the bridegroom has been taken away from us. Taken away, arrested, imprisoned, slapped, scourged, crowned with thorns, crucified... Fasting in the time of Lent is the expression of our solidarity with Christ. Such was the meaning of Lent throughout the centuries and such it remains today.

"My love has been crucified and there is no longer in me the flame that desires material things", as the Bishop of Antioch, Ignatius, writes in the letter to the Romans (Ign. Antioch,. Ad Romanos VII, 2).

2. Why fasting?

It is necessary to give this question a wider and deeper answer, in order to clarify the relationship between fasting and "metanoia", that is, that spiritual change which brings man closer to God. We will try therefore to concentrate not only on the practice of abstention from food or from drink — that, in fact, is the meaning of "fasting" in the common sense — but on the deeper meaning of this practice which, moreover, can and must sometimes be "replaced" by another one. Food and drink are indispensable for man to live, he uses them and must use them, but he may not abuse them in any way. The traditional abstention from food and drink has as its purpose to introduce into man's existence not only the necessary balance, but also detachment from what might be defined a "consumer attitude". In our times this attitude has become one of the characteristics of civilization and in particular of Western civilization. The consumer attitude!

Man geared to material goods, multiple material goods, very often abuses them. It is not a question here lust of food and drink. When man is geared exclusively to possession and use of material goods — that is, of things — then also the whole civilization is measured according to the quantity and the quality of the things with which it is in a position to supply man, and is not measured with the yardstick suitable for man. This civilization, in fact, supplies material goods not just in order that they may serve man to carry out creative and useful activities, but more and more... to satisfy the senses, the excitement he derives from them, momentary pleasure, an ever greater multiplicity of sensations.

We sometimes hear it said that the excessive increase of audiovisual media in the rich countries is not always useful for the development of intelligence, particularly in children; on the contrary, it sometimes contributes to checking its development. The child lives only on sensations, he looks for ever-new sensations... And thus he becomes, without realizing it, a slave of this modern passion. Satiating himself with sensations, he often remains passive intellectually; the intellect does not open to search of truth; the will remains bound by habit which it is unable to oppose.

It is seen from this that modern man must fast, that is, abstain not only from food or drink, but from many other means of consumption, stimulation, satisfaction of the senses. To fast means to abstain, to renounce something.

3. Why renounce something? Why deprive oneself of it? We have already partly answered this question. However the answer will not be complete, if we do not realize that man is himself also because he succeeds in depriving himself of something, because he is capable of saying "no" to himself. Man is a being composed of body and soul. Some modern writers present this composite structure of man in the form of layers, and they speak, for example, of exterior layers on the surface of our personality, contrasting them with the layers in depth. Our life seems to be divided into such layers and takes place through them. While the superficial layers are bound up with our sensuality, the deep layers are an expression, on the contrary, of man's spirituality, that is, of conscious will, reflection, conscience, the capacity of living superior values.

This image of the structure of the human personality can serve to understand the meaning of fasting for man. It is not a question here only of the religious meaning, but of a meaning that is expressed through the so-called "organization" of man as a subject-person. Man develops regularly when the deeper layers of his personality find sufficient expression, when the sphere of his interests and aspirations is not limited just to the exterior and superficial layers, connected with human sensuality. To facilitate such a development, we must sometimes deliberately detach ourselves from what serves to satisfy sensuality, that is, from those exterior, superficial layers. Therefore we must renounce every thing that "nourishes" them.

This, in short, is the interpretation of fasting nowadays.

Renunciation of sensations, stimuli, pleasures and even food or drink, is not an end in itself. It must only, so to speak, prepare the way for deeper contents by which the interior man "is nourished". This renunciation, this mortification must serve to create in man the conditions to be able to live the superior values, for which he, in his own way, hungers.

This is the "full" meaning of fasting in the language of today. However, when we read the Christian authors of antiquity or the Fathers of the Church, we find in them the same truth, often expressed in a surprisingly "modern" language. St Peter Chrysologus, for example, says.. "Fasting is peace of the body, strength of minds, vigour of souls" (Sermo VII: de jejunio 3); and again: "Fasting is the helm of human life and governs the whole ship of our body." (Sermo VII: de jejunio 1.)

And St Ambrose replies as follows to possible objections to fasting: "The flesh, because of its mortal condition, has some specific lusts: With regard to them you are granted the right to curb them. Your flesh is under you...: do not follow the promptings of the flesh to unlawful things, but curb them somewhat even as regards lawful ones. In fact he who does not abstain from any of the lawful things, is also very close to unlawful things." (Sermo de utilitate jejunii III.V.VII). Also writers not belonging to Christianity declare the same truth. This truth is of universal significance. It is part of the universal wisdom of life.

4. It is now certainly easier for us to understand why Christ the Lord and the Church unite the call to fasting with repentance, that is, with conversion. To be converted to God, it is necessary to discover in ourselves that which makes us sensitive to what belongs to God; therefore, the spiritual contents, the superior values which speak to our intellect, to our conscience, to our "heart" (according to biblical language). To open up to these spiritual contents, to these values, it is necessary to detach oneself from what serves only the consumer spirit, satisfaction of the senses. In the opening of our human personality to God, fasting — understood both in the "traditional" way and in the "modern" way — must go hand in hand with prayer because it is addressed directly to him.

Furthermore, fasting, that is, the mortification of the senses, mastery of the  body, confer on prayer a greater efficacy, which man discovers in himself. He discovers, in fact, that he is "different", that he is more "master of himself", that he has become interiorly free. And he realizes this in as much as conversion and the meeting with God, through prayer, bear fruit in him.

It is clear from these our reflections today that fasting is not only a "vestige" of a religious practice of past centuries, but that it is also indispensable for the man of today, for Christians of our time.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 21 March 1979]

But what kind of penance and fasting does the Lord want from man? The risk, in fact, is of 'rigging' a virtuous practice, of being 'inconsistent'. And it is not just a question of "food choices", but of lifestyles for which one must have the "humility" and "consistency" to recognise and correct one's sins.

This is in short the reflection that, at the beginning of the Lenten journey, the Pontiff proposed to the faithful during the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on the morning of Friday 16 February.

Key word of the meditation, suggested by the liturgy of the day, was "fasting": "Fasting before God, fasting that is adoration, fasting in earnest", because "fasting is one of the tasks to be done in Lent". But not in the sense of those who say: 'I only eat the Lenten dishes'. In fact, Francis commented, 'those dishes make a banquet! It is not changing dishes or making fish one way, the other, tastier'. Otherwise, one does nothing but 'continue the carnival'.

It is the word of God, he emphasised, that admonishes that 'our fasting be true. True in earnest'. And, he added, 'if you cannot do total fasting, the kind that makes one feel hungry to the bone', at least 'do a humble fast, but a true fast'.

In the first reading (Isaiah 58:1-9), in this regard, "the prophet points out many inconsistencies in the practice of virtue". And precisely "this is one of the inconsistencies". Isaiah's list is detailed: 'You say that you seek me, you speak to me. But it is not true', and 'on the day of your fasting you mind your own business': that is, while 'fasting is a little stripping', you are concerned with 'making money'. And again: 'Angariate all your workers': in other words, the Pope explained, while one says: 'I thank you Lord that I can fast', one despises the workers who 'must fast because they have no food'. The prophet's accusation is direct: "Behold, you fast amid quarrels and altercations and striking with unjust fists.

This is an inadmissible double face. The Pontiff explained: "If you want to do penance, do it in peace. But you cannot on the one hand speak to God and on the other speak to the devil, invite both to fast; this is an inconsistency". And, always following the indications of Scripture - "Do not fast any longer as you do today, so that your noise may be heard on high" - Francis warned against incoherent exhibitionism. It is the attitude of those who, for example, always remind us: 'we are Catholics, we practise; I belong to that association, we always fast, we do penance'. He ideally asked them: "But, do you fast consistently or do you do penance inconsistently as the Lord says, with noise, so that everyone sees it, and says, 'What a righteous person, what a righteous man, what a righteous woman'?" This, indeed, "is a trick; it is rigging virtue. It is rigging the commandment'. And it is, he added, a "temptation" that we have all felt at times, "to make up instead of being serious about virtue, about what the Lord asks of us".

On the contrary, the Lord "advises penitents, those who fast, to put on make-up, but seriously: 'Fast, but put on make-up so that people do not see that you are doing penance. Smile, be happy". Faced with so many who "are hungry and cannot smile", this is the suggestion to the believer: "You seek hunger to help others, but always with a smile, because you are a child of God and the Lord loves you so much and has revealed these things to you. But without inconsistency'.

At this point, the Pontiff's reflection went even deeper, prompted by the question: "what fast does the Lord want?". The answer comes again from Scripture, where first of all we read: 'Fold your head like a reed'. That is: to humble oneself. And to those who ask: "How do I humble myself?", the Pope replied: "But think of your sins. Each one of us has many. And 'be ashamed', because even if the world does not know them, God knows them well. This, then, 'is the fast the Lord wants: truth, consistency'.

There is then an addition: "Loose the unrighteous chains" and "remove the bond of the yoke". The examination of conscience, in this case, focuses on the relationship with others. To make himself better understood, the Pope gave a very practical example: "I think of so many maids who earn their bread with their work" and who are often "humiliated, despised". Here his reflection gave way to personal recollection: "Never have I been able to forget a time when I went to a friend's house as a child. I saw my mother slap the maid. Eighty-one years old... I have not forgotten that'. Hence a series of questions ideally addressed to those who have servants: 'How do you treat them? As people or as slaves? Do you pay them fairly, do you give them holidays? Is it a person or is it an animal that helps you in your home?". A request for consistency that also applies to religious, "in our homes, in our institutions: how do I behave with the maid I have at home, with the maids I have at home?". Here the Pontiff added another personal experience, recalling a "very cultured" gentleman who, however, "exploited the maids". and who, when confronted with the consideration that this was "a grave sin" against people who are "the image of God", objected: "No, Father, we must distinguish: these are inferior people".

We must therefore 'remove the bond of the yoke, loosen the iniquitous chains, set the oppressed free, break every yoke'. And, commenting on the prophet who admonishes: "share your bread with the hungry, bring in the wretched, the homeless", the Pope contextualised: "Today we discuss whether or not we give shelter to those who come to ask for it..."

And the indications continue: "Clothe one you see naked", but "without neglecting your relatives". This is real fasting, the kind that involves everyday life. "We need to do penance, we need to feel a little hungry, we need to pray more," Francis said; but if "we do a lot of penance" and do not live fasting in this way, "the sprout that will be born from there" will be "pride", that of someone who says: "I thank you, Lord, because I can fast like a saint". And this, he added, "is the ugly trick", not what Jesus himself suggests "so that others do not see that I fast" (cf. Matthew, 6:16-18).

The question to ask, the Pontiff concluded, is: "How do I behave with others? Does my fasting come to help others?". Because if this does not happen, that fast "is fake, it is incoherent and leads you down the path of a double life". One must, therefore, "humbly ask for the grace of consistency."

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 17.02.2018]

(Lk 9:22-25)

Yesterday we underlined how the worm of vanity in the search for the esteem leads to hypocrisy and ostentation.

We ask ourselves: what makes the Father intimate? Carrying the Cross - in the sense of being a devoted and obedient child? Is it necessary to give up living, accepting the various evils?

No, communion with God follows from a freely assumed commitment. That scaffold is not a requirement of the Father who would like to be ‘compensated’ at least by someone.

There are not many ways to choose from, but only two: victory or gift, and every moment is a time of decision.

Templates are no longer needed.

A comparison between the parallel texts in Greek (for example) of Mk 8:34;  Mt 10:38;  Lk 9:23 and 14:27 [Jn 12:26] makes us understand the meaning of «taking up» or «lifting up the cross» for a disciple who relives Christ and expands him in human history.

God doesn’t give any cross, nor are his sons called to "bear" it or even "offer it"! The Cross must be actively ‘taken’, because the friend of Jesus puts honor at stake.

Its vital wave reaches complete gift also under the profile of public consideration.

After the court sentence, the condemned man had to lift the horizontal arm of the gallows on his shoulders.

It was the most heartbreaking moment, because of maximum loneliness and perception of failure.

Thus the unfortunate and already shamed person had to proceed to the place of the crucifixion by passing between the crowd who, for religious duty, mocked and beat up the wretch, considered cursed by God.

Jesus doesn’t propose the Cross to us in the running sense of a necessary endurance of the inevitable setbacks of life which through asceticism chisels souls more capable of sketching [today we say: ‘resilient’].

Compared to the usual proposals of healthy discipline - external and internal - equal for all and useful only to keep the situation good, the young Rabbi is on the other hand suggesting a much more radical behavior.

The Lord proposes an asceticism totally different from that of religions - even overturned.

The believer must give up ‘reputation’. It’s the essential and decisive starting point of the person of Faith.

Those who are tied to their good names, roles, to the character to be played, to the job description, to the level acquired, will never resemble the Son.

Neither will those who do not expand the tribal dimension of the "family” interest.

From the earliest times, the announcement of the authentic Messiah created divisions: the ‘sword of his Person’ separated the story of each one from the world of values ​​of the clan to which they belong or from the idea of ​​respectability, even national.

The same thing happens today where someone proclaims the Gospel as it is, and attempts to renew the jammed mechanisms of the institutional, customary configuration.

In doing so, taking on the Cross of consequent mockery.

The separation and very clear cut with the criteria of greatness and success is for the new Unity, persecuted: the one that acts as a crossroads of Truth without duplicity.

Trying for believing.

It seems a meaningless dream, but this is what unites the Church to her Lord.

A crucifying path, where one gains what is lost - first of all in consideration.

[Thursday after the Ashes, February 19, 2026]