4th Lent Sunday   [15 March 2026]  Laetare

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! This Sunday is a pause of light in the penitential journey. In the Gospel, Jesus gives sight to the blind man. Laetare means this: light is already overcoming the shadows. Even though we are still in Lent, Easter is near. The blind man's joy is achieved through questioning, rejection and loneliness. Laetare is not an escape from pain, but joy that arises from trial. Laetare is the smile of the Church in the middle of the desert: if I allow myself to be enlightened by Christ, my night is not definitive. The man born blind thus becomes an icon of the catechumen, but also of every believer who, in the heart of Lent, discovers that the light is already present and that Christian joy is born from the encounter with Him.

*First Reading from the First Book of Samuel (16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a)

 Reading this biblical text, we understand that the great prophet Samuel had to learn to change his perspective. Sent by God to designate the future king from among the sons of Jesse in Bethlehem, he apparently had only the embarrassment of choice. Jesse first brought his eldest son, named Eliab: tall, handsome, with the appearance worthy of succeeding the current king, Saul. But no: God let Samuel know that his choice did not fall on him: Do not look at his appearance or his tall stature... God does not look as man looks: man looks at the appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (cf. 1 Sam 16:7).

So Jesse had his sons pass before the prophet one by one, in order of age. But God's choice did not fall on any of them. In the end, he had to call the last one, the one no one had thought of: David, whose only occupation was to tend the sheep. Well, it was he whom God had chosen to guard his people! The biblical account emphasises once again that God's choice falls on the smallest: "God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong," St Paul will say (1 Cor 1:27), because "my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9). Here is a good reason to change our way of looking at people! From this text we draw at least three lessons about kingship in Israel:

First: the king is God's chosen one, but the election is for a mission. Just as Israel is chosen for the service of humanity, so the king is chosen for the service of the people. This also entails the possibility of being deposed, as happened to Saul: if the chosen one no longer fulfils his mission, he is replaced. Second: the king receives anointing with oil; he is literally the 'messiah', that is, 'the anointed one'. God says to Samuel: 'Fill your horn with oil and set out! I am sending you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have chosen a king among his sons' (1 Sam 16:1). Third: anointing confers the Spirit of God. ' Samuel took the horn full of oil and anointed him in the midst of his brothers, and the Spirit of the Lord came upon David from that day forward' (1 Sam 16:13). The king thus becomes God's representative on earth, called to rule according to God's will and not according to that of the world. There is also another great lesson: men judge by appearances, God looks at the heart.  Many biblical stories insist on this mystery: God often chooses the least. David was the youngest of Jesse's sons; no one thought he had a great future. Moses declared himself slow of speech (Ex 4:10). Jeremiah considered himself too young (Jer 1:6). Samuel himself was inexperienced when he was called. Timothy was in poor health. And the people of Israel were small among the nations. These choices cannot be explained by human criteria. As Isaiah says: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways" (Is 55:8-9). The text summarises it thus: "What man sees does not count: for man sees the appearance, but the Lord sees the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). This truth protects us from two dangers: presumption and discouragement. It is not a question of merit, but of availability. No one possesses the necessary strength within themselves: God will give it at the right moment.

*Responsorial Psalm (22/23) 

We have just heard this psalm in its entirety: it is one of the shortest in the psalter, but it is so dense that the early Christians chose it as the privileged psalm for Easter night. On that night, the newly baptised, rising from the baptismal font, sang Psalm 22/23 as they made their way to the place of their Confirmation and First Eucharist. For this reason, it was called the 'psalm of Christian initiation'. If Christians were able to read the mystery of baptismal life in it, it is because this psalm already expressed in a privileged way the mystery of life in the Covenant, of life in intimacy with God for Israel. It is the mystery of God's choice, who elected this particular people for no apparent reason other than his sovereign freedom. Every generation marvels at this election and this Covenant offered: 'Ask the former generations that preceded you, from the day God created man on earth... has anything so great ever happened?' (Deut 4:32-35). This people, freely chosen by God, was given the privilege of being the first to enter into his intimacy, not to enjoy it selfishly, but to open the door to others. To express the happiness of the believer, Psalm 22/23 refers to two experiences: that of a Levite (a priest) and that of a pilgrim. We are familiar with the institution of the Levites: according to Genesis, Levi was one of the twelve sons of Jacob, from whom the twelve tribes of Israel took their name. But the tribe of Levi had a special place from the beginning: at the time of the division of the Promised Land, it did not receive any territory because it was consecrated to the service of worship. It is said that God himself is their inheritance; an image also taken up in another psalm: "Lord, my portion of inheritance and my cup... for me, the lot has fallen on delightful places" (Ps 15/16:5). The Levites lived scattered among the cities of the other tribes and lived on tithes; in Jerusalem, they were dedicated to the service of the Temple. The Levite in our psalm sings with all his heart: "Goodness and faithfulness shall follow me all the days of my life; I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for long days." His experience is an image of Israel's election: just as the Levite is happy to be consecrated to the service of God, so Israel is aware of its special vocation among humanity. Furthermore, Israel presents itself as a pilgrim going up to the Temple to offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving. On the way, it is like a sheep: its shepherd is God. In the culture of the ancient Near East, kings were called "shepherds of the people," and Israel also uses this language. The ideal king is a good shepherd, attentive and strong to protect the flock. But in Israel it was strongly affirmed that the only true king is God; the kings of the earth are only his representatives. Thus, the true shepherd of Israel is God himself: 'The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul'. The prophet Ezekiel developed this image at length. Similarly, the Old Testament often presents Israel as God's flock: "He is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock he leads" (Ps 94/95:7). This recalls the experience of the Exodus: it was there that Israel experienced God's care, who guided them and enabled them to survive amid a thousand obstacles. For this reason, when Jesus said, "I am the Good Shepherd" (Jn 10), his words had a shocking effect: they meant "I am the King-Messiah, the true king of Israel." Returning to the psalm: pilgrimage can be dangerous. The pilgrim may encounter enemies ("You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies"), he may pass through "the dark valley" of death; but he does not fear, because God is with him: "I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff give me security". Once he reaches the Temple, he offers a sacrifice of thanksgiving and participates in the ritual banquet that follows: a joyful feast, with an overflowing cup and the anointing of oil on his head. We can understand why the early Christians saw in this psalm the expression of their experience: Christ is the true Shepherd (Jn 10); in baptism he leads us out of the valley of death to the waters of life; the table and the cup evoke the Eucharist; the perfumed oil recalls Confirmation. Once again, Christians discover with amazement that Jesus does not abolish the faith experience of his people, but brings it to fulfilment, giving it fullness.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians (5:8-14) 

Often in Scripture, it is the end of the text that provides the key. Let us start with the last sentence: 'For this reason it is said: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."' The phrase "This is why it is said..." clearly shows that the author did not invent this song, but quoted it. It must have been a well-known baptismal hymn in the early Christian communities. Awake... rise... and Christ will give you light was therefore a song of our first brothers and sisters in faith: and this cannot leave us indifferent. Thus, we better understand the beginning of the text: it simply serves to explain the words of that hymn. It is as if, after a baptismal celebration, someone had asked the theologian on duty — Paul, or one of his disciples (since it is not entirely certain that the Letter to the Ephesians was written by him personally) —: "What do the words we sang during baptism mean?" And the answer is this: thanks to baptism, a new life has begun, a radically new life. So much so that the newly baptised were called neophytes, meaning 'new plants'. The author explains the song in this way: the new plant that you have become is profoundly different. When a graft is made, the fruit of the grafted tree is different from the original one; and that is precisely why the graft is made. The colour makes it easy to distinguish what belongs to the new plant and what is a remnant of the past. It is the same with baptism: the fruits of the new man are works of light; before the grafting, you were darkness, and your fruits were works of darkness. But old habits may resurface: this is why it is important to recognise them. For the author, the distinction is simple: the fruits of the new man are goodness, justice and charity. Anything that is not goodness, justice and charity is a sprout from the old tree. Who can make you bear fruits of light? Jesus Christ. He is all goodness, all justice, all charity. Just as a plant needs the sun to bloom, so we must expose ourselves to his light. The song expresses both the work of Christ and the freedom of man: 'Awake, arise' — it is freedom that is called into question. 'Christ will enlighten you' — only he can do this. For St Paul, as for the prophets of the Old Testament, light is an attribute of God. To say 'Christ will enlighten you' means two things: first of all, Christ is God. The only way to live in harmony with God is to remain united to Christ, that is, to live concretely in justice, goodness and charity. The text of Isaiah (Is 58) comes to mind: share your bread with the hungry, welcome the poor, clothe the naked... Then your light will rise like the dawn. This is the glory of the Lord, his light that we are called to reflect. As Paul says in his second letter to the Corinthians (2 Cor 3:18): we reflect the glory of the Lord and are transformed into his image. To reflect means that Christ is the light; we are its reflection. This is the vocation of the baptised: to reflect the light of Christ. For this reason, at baptism, a candle lit from the Paschal candle is given. Secondly, a light does not shine for itself: it illuminates what surrounds it. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul writes: 'You shine like stars in the world' (Phil 2:14-16). This is his way of translating the words of Jesus Christ: 'You are the light of the world'. The Letter to the Ephesians, written directly by Paul or by one of his disciples (according to the then common practice of "pseudepigraphy"), remains for the Church a fundamental testimony of the baptismal vocation, called to pass from darkness to light.

*From the Gospel according to John (9:1-41)

The worst blindness is not what one thinks. Here we hear an illustration of what St John writes at the beginning of his Gospel, in the so-called Prologue:

"The Word was the true light, the light that enlightens every man... He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not recognise him" (Jn 1:9-10). This is what we might call the drama of the Gospels. But John continues: 'Yet to all who did receive him, he gave them the right to become children of God'. This is exactly what happens here: the drama of those who oppose Jesus and stubbornly refuse to recognise him as the One sent by God; but also, fortunately, the salvation of those who have the grace to open their eyes, like the man born blind.

John insists on making us understand that there are two kinds of blindness: physical blindness, which this man had from birth, and, much more serious, blindness of the heart.

Jesus meets the blind man for the first time and heals him of his natural blindness. He then meets him a second time and opens his heart to another light, the true light. It is no coincidence that John takes care to explain the meaning of the name 'Siloam', which means 'Sent'. In other cases, he does not translate the terms: here he does so because it is important. Jesus is truly the One sent by the Father to enlighten the world. Yet we return to the same question: why was the one who was sent to bring God's light rejected by those who awaited him most fervently? The episode of the man born blind takes place immediately after the Feast of Tabernacles, a great solemnity in Jerusalem, during which the coming of the Messiah was ardently invoked. And the danger of certainties can be great. At the time of Jesus Christ, the expectation of the Messiah was very intense. There was only one question: is he truly the Father's Envoy or is he an impostor? Is he the Messiah, yes or no? His actions were paradoxical: he performed the works expected of the Messiah — he restored sight to the blind and speech to the mute — but he did not seem to respect the Sabbath. And it was precisely on the Sabbath that he healed the blind man. Now, if he were truly sent by God, many thought, he should observe the Sabbath. It was 'obvious'. But it is precisely this 'obviousness' that is the problem. Many had too rigid ideas about what the Messiah should be like and were not ready for God's surprise. The blind man, on the other hand, is not a prisoner of preconceptions. To the Pharisees who ask him for explanations, he simply replies: "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes... I washed and gained my sight." The Pharisees are divided: He is not from God, because he does not observe the Sabbath. How can a sinner perform such signs? The blind man reasons with simplicity and freedom: If this man were not from God, he could do nothing (cf. Jn 9:31-33). It is always the same story: those who close themselves off in their own certainties end up seeing nothing; those who take a step in faith are ready to receive grace. And then they can receive true light from Jesus. This episode takes place in a context of controversy between Jesus and the Pharisees. Twice Jesus had rebuked them for  "judging by appearances" (Jn 7:24; 8:15). It is natural to recall the episode of David's choice: "Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). The worst blindness, therefore, is not that of the eyes, but that of a heart that does not want to be enlightened. The man born blind does not only receive sight: he receives a new way of seeing. At first he sees Jesus as "a man"; then as a "prophet"; finally he recognises him as "Lord" and prostrates himself before him. The real miracle is not only the opening of the eyes, but the opening of the heart. Here we also find the wisdom of The Little Prince (novel by A.M. de Saint-Exupéry): "What is essential is invisible to the eye." The Pharisees see with their eyes, but remain blind inside; the beggar, on the other hand, passing through rejection and trial, comes to see the Invisible. The conclusion is this: faith is a journey from external light to inner light. One can have healthy eyes and remain in darkness; or one can have been blind and become a witness to the light. The man born blind teaches us that true sight is recognising Christ as the Light of the world and allowing our hearts to be illuminated.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

(Lk 18:9-14)

Mechanism of retribution denies the essential experience of the life of Faith: ‘allowing oneself to be a saved person, living from Mystery’ - instead of the closed circle of narrow “justices” that have nowhere to go.

To introduce oneself into the newness of Christ it’s enough to have met oneself and to be sincere: a strange holiness, accessible to all.

It comes to reality, even the most intimate: we are not omnipotent in goodness; we cannot do much good, from sophistication, from ideas, from muscles.

By leaving room for the Father's intervention, we learn to trust in what we receive, more than relying on the expectations even of others, or on what is proposed and imposed.

Our concrete history can be reflected in the form of Prayer. But if dialogue with God doesn’t emerge from a penetrating perception and is satisfied with external goals, Listening becomes empty.

The spirit of “greatness” (also moral and spiritual) sinks inexorably - and into true misery: the epidermal one.

It doesn’t see the Father's exceptionality: He who transmits life.

Those who live by comparisons and have a contemptuous evaluation of the considered inferior ones, do not enjoy openings.

They remain without space or time for the action of the multifaceted being, in the variety of situations.

They misplace themselves in front of God and neighbor - denying themselves the joy of Gratis and Novelty.

In this way, they never trust in what’s more reliable than a worldview, or in their own leadership initiatives.

They do not grasp anything they do not already know, because they do not read inside.

They are in constant monologue: with themselves [but never reaching the self’s bottom] and those of their own circle.

So they don't pour out happiness - which comes from amazement.

In all circumstances, they find only a theater, an echo’s rumble of others’ voices, and around them.

Not the intimacy of exceptional and beloved person as it is.

The subject of archaic religious life is in fact “the our" - the ego.

If Jesus had asked which of the two could return home justified, everyone would have pointed to the pharisee, the reserved one apart.

In the life of Faith, the Subject is instead the Mystery, the Eternal, the Living One.

It’s He who works, by creating: and only He acts here too.

He justifies, that is, He places justice where there is none. The self-sufficient person has no need.

This is the real and royal Principle, engine of our realization and of authentic prayer-hearing, stripped of merits and pride, but capable of recovering the ‘opposite sides’.

God fears flawless liturgies and individual prayers in which nothing happens and from which one comes out without having experienced his «Creative Action» and his forgiveness.

Work not ours. Energy and sting that even in our innermost being brings us an Alliance of ‘faces’, a conviviality of differences.

In the spiritual and social life of the "polyhedron" and of the daily brief, we are enabled to translate the need for a ‘jointing-sentiment’, which the Father communicates in a broad manner, and giving us time.

Much more than a struggle between opposing worldviews: divine Justice is unprecedented, and growing - it cannot be bought by manner deeds.

To internalize and live the message:

When do I see myself as a pharisee and when publican?

How can I meet myself, by contemplating God? And while I meet others?

[Saturday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 14, 2026]

Pharisee-publican: the two souls, and the essential Mystery

(Lk 18:9-14)

Says the Tao Tê Ching (x): "Preserve the One by dwelling in the two souls: are you able to keep them from separating?".

The many conventional depictions and interpretations of the episode lead us astray.

The one parable set in the Temple is a volcano of paradoxical, extraordinary scope that you would not expect.

The Jews pray standing, a sign of their readiness to immediately put into action what the Lord asks.

For us, standing means that we celebrate as risen children.

But here the phenomenon of religiosity and morality "standing, he prayed thus to himself" (v.11): he does not converse with God, nor does he realise anything!

Perhaps he is convinced he is praying, but he is doing something else entirely: he does not listen, he does not pay attention, he does not perceive the message and the meaning of the presence, he just distances himself from it.

I remember in the great hall of the Apostolic Penitentiary the epigraph 'Pax omnium rerum tranquillitas ordinis'.

A mentality that, if mediated by approximate moralisms, does not stay with us; it does not bring us or infuse us with depth and relationships.

On this basis, if the two protagonists of the passage had presented themselves in confession, I would have sentenced: the Pharisee lacks humility, the other repays the damage.

Even the head of L'Osservatore Romano reiterates the motto-epigraph 'Unicuique Suum' - a fundamental principle of property law in the Latin world.

Isn't Justice enough? [Would Jesus be needed?]

The point is: to know Love, a rich reality: not to exchange favours with God. And take the position that does not pollute or corrupt life. That is the whole game.

"I renounce, I leave everything, I leave, I think, I say, I plan, I will be impeccable and faithful by always making others see me "in my way" [i.e. as I am not]": this is the ideal nursery rhyme that overturns the adventure of Faith.

The subject of the religious man is himself and what he does for God - as well as how he acts (in an artificial way); so on.

Ridiculous - not just deeply reductive. But from this idea springs the consideration of the other and the different as irredeemable.

Instead, one's life is full of inner antinomies and counterfactuals.

Let us try to turn the parable around from a moralistic level to a theological one, because Lk - mind you - stages the best of spirituality and the worst of the morality of the time.

Here is his boomerang: he wants to start a reflection on ourselves.

"Thieves": Jesus defines as such precisely the religious leaders and the "Pharisees" [back], inside full of robbery, although on the outside they look like who knows what.

"Unjust": [just to make a long story short] St Theresa said that God is just because he takes our difficulties into account.

"Adulterers": but theological adultery is precisely queuing up to an idol (here the father-ego contemplating the external self).

In the biblical concept, 'adultery' properly means an improper devotional relationship, as with an inauthentic deity.

In this way, even an impeccable formal relationship - and vice versa - takes the side of the fetish.

In short, the 'saint' does not address the Father, but the God-form he has in mind - although he even wants to impress him with exaggerations (v.12).

But he does not agree with the thought of the Eternal.

He does not perceive the plan of the Most High: to build up the human family. To help and enrich one another.

So he will never allow himself to be changed - even convinced that he is exactly reproducing his tutelary genius.

For the professionals of the sacred mania for false perfection, Salvation is the final prize of an individual climb.

Not the re-creative and gratuitous Work of a Parent who ferries our complex vicissitudes, leaving space and way for them to evolve into a saved life.

Thus, both personal and communal experience is inculcated, because standard 'religion' inculcates and retains a deformed image of one's character, and of the Ideal.

The Almighty in Love takes on in the unconscious the guise of the Master of Heaven, earth, and the underworld - distributor of rewards and punishments.

Here, devotion will sooner or later rhyme with 'separation'.

Instead, Justification alludes to a sharper, more respectful, wise arrangement.

Position towards God [who is not a notary] and towards humanity, which is all ours; it would be puerile to have contempt for it.

Genuineness and Spirit go in synergy.

No one is recommended by Christ to "make himself holy" or "separate", as recommended by the ancient Law (Lev 19:2) and by a whole archaic spirituality.

The new criterion is inclusive: the conviviality of differences and the fruitful recovery of opposites. Precisely, the Love that flourishes in naturalness.

If we really want, the meaning of the journey in the Spirit could be identified in the critical passage from the First to the New Testament.

But it would still be too banal to imagine that in the Old God is forensic Judge and in the New "judge of the heart". 

The Justification that the Father works concerns the intimate form of what 'moves', and the sense of what motivates and prods us.

The misguided scientists of the pious life have always portrayed Salvation as the ultimate prize of a gruelling climb.

A poor, well-motivated, yet plagued, harassed and misguided soul used to tell me: 'the more you climb the more you acquire'.

Instead, when God works, He creates, placing us in the right attitude and leading us in a fruitful direction - not said uphill.

All for the purpose of fulfilling and completing us, not to exhaust and annihilate the bearing lines of our personality, unrepeatable, incomparable.

A configuration of balances that we well know is not ordinary, not mechanical, not predictable.

The Father is not a coach who only delights in the strongest of his forwards.

He is not attracted by the virtues of a few, but by the many needs of all.

While waiting for unresolved solutions, he does not look at the merits of people, but at their need to be completed.

Therefore he who does good deserves absolutely nothing: he only has to thank Providence, which has led him early on the road to an experience of fullness of being, on the Path of Joy.

Sticking to his trunk, the arrogant veteran of the sacred and of discipline (and of respectable or veteran ways) remains there.

Mired in the self-satisfied 'his' - bent over the navel of the works of law with which he wanted to buy God's approval - artificially showing himself to be his friend.

And he returns home, that is, to the community (v.14), the same as before: one-sided, like a sphinx.

They are the whitewashed sepulchres before whom we must bow down to kiss the sacred slippers, otherwise we do not pass.

They are the separated from the rest of the crowd, because for them people can only be: helpful, or annoying.

There is nothing to do. Certain complacent, self-sufficient people, who have never experienced humus and gratis, God cannot make them right.

They are not accustomed to look at reality, not even their own - but to emphasise every separation he disdains. And only what is prescribed; from which there is no escape.

They seem to be men all of a piece and possess a high sense of divine exclusivity.

Yet there are no deep spiritual energies in them - those who know how to see beyond to the most varied fragrances.

The first not to know how to entrust themselves to the Mystery, they continue to plague the air, certain of their spiritual rank and accolades - claiming (of course) duties wherever they concede.

Not even the Father can justify them, that is, place them in the right place before Him and their brothers.

The sense of holiness by which they feel cloaked leads them to the disdain of others, and there is no way around it.

How can we also discern the traces of religious conceit in ourselves? This is the relevant theme of the parable (v.9).

From the Prayer itself, it is clear that our own face possesses a hammering, devilish image of the Eternal.

Like one who is an accountant, that is, who pays according to merit and punishes according to fault.

Whereas the biblical God gives in pure loss. Why?

In the Spirit we grasp an energy that must do its work in the moment [so frequently without equal], or in the even disjointed rhythm of multiple happenings and relationships.

Here we sense the partial and paradoxical deity of the 'fellow travellers' - such as the blameless and the sinner, who remind us of the Mission.

Co-present characters in the soul: unique deviations that complement and perfect, becoming our unrepeatable Originality.

Life of Faith and Prayer do bring healing, but sometimes they seem to disappear, as if we were approaching the transgressor of the Gospel.

They give answers, but sometimes they also seem fortuitous.

They have the same disorganised and interrupted pace (the real change comes unexpectedly) but the same symbiotic composition, structure, complex figure, of a shrub and love.

A beautiful lush plant has its seasons; not even it dreams of possessing a connotation without nuances and opposing sides.

It may be disconcerting, but the realities of nature do not dispense with the roots because they mingle with muck, slime, darkness and worms - creeping parasites; like the publican, immersed in sin up to his neck.

If a rose were to cut off the hidden, festering base from which it rises, the whole plant would collapse, losing even its spectacular individuality.

It is the confusion - even fetid and nauseating - that creates a fertile soil welcoming all roles, and the non-monochromatic ripening space open to every strand of life.

There are seemingly obscuring phases and presences to take note of, on which we are as if sitting.

Almost in a reversal of plans, it is the encounter with our shadows that makes us soar and affirm.

The Pharisee's merit, and the publican's need, are symbiotic aspects. 

By ancient upbringing of believing in codes, we are almost dazed by new things.

But we can only plant the seed of growth by embracing life without presumptuous expectations.

From discriminating certainties, induced maniacal intentions, obvious platitudes, we do not derive development, realisation, blossoming with exponential results - in all our sides.

Even in love, for example, we do not want to fixate on a false idea, made up of prejudices, ideological schemes, and divisions.

Then - but precisely in order to save ourselves - frailties surface.

They can lead us to dependence, but also to seeking new communication, for a better completeness.

If the past remains a primordial totem, as artificial as sophisticated, disembodied ideologies - everything becomes fantasy, regret, confusion, disaster.

On the spiritual path, woe betide the great artificial loves, with their enveloping and overflowing, yet aseptic charm.

Frenzy that invades and occupies life, blocks and repudiates every project; it does not free the soul from distinctions.

It does not allow new destinies to be noticed. It makes us abdicate. It settles us on the surface and does not overturn destinies (cf. v.14).

Thus our natural, emotional and supernatural organism: convinced only of something and unable to break those compartments.

It would die - if it lost the completeness of polarities, the most obvious spontaneity, and was sterilised. Transmitting its own death, all around.

As in created realities, in the spiritual vicissitude it is the contradictory sides that compose the wealth of faculties, inclinations, destinies, faces, and capacities.

Sometimes it is precisely the particular crises to be faced with special qualities and resources not in line with the usual or imperative inclinations - that bring us back on our true path.

It is in the ceaseless Encounter with the crowd of characters intimate to us, and in turning around to notice and perceive, that the limiting caducity is decanted, and man is unified.

All this so that he becomes solid and open, reliable and creative, capable of being both inside and outside the home.

And the Father gives us time for a varied formation, to wait until we encounter every facet in the ambivalence of the process.

Too many filters, too many censures, too many brakes, would not prepare the evolutionary metamorphosis that belongs to us: the one capable of overcoming difficult moments not with a laboured or sweaty opening, but with a dream, and with the caress of a real twist.

In the oration-monologue, the narcissist that we sometimes are, merely informs the motionless Principle of his achievements, because he sees nothing but himself.

But he neither rules nor regulates what is human or divine.

Nor does he wonder to which God he is addressing himself, and in what posture he stands.

He has not prayed, he has not tuned his thoughts to those of the Father. He has only wearied souls, extinguished and ruined relationships.

He is in a position of cynicism and inability to grasp the distance between the true man and the Creator.

This prevents him from surrendering to Him, and not surrendering makes the ability to receive a new Vocation within the Vocation [which is never 'right' and satisfactory] pale.

It believes perfection as a safe harbour; it imagines reflecting God on earth, having the same mentality and His same relationships...

After all, the unkind, resolute, closed-circle friends he associates with would be the same as his well-shaped but worthless Totem.

Like him, they too remain in the static sphere, devoid of desire - but with a mountain of scruples. Or without a reality principle.

A milieu of the petty and ridiculous: measured men, as infantile as their object (subject) of worship, namely the self - who can see no further than the pond of dead water at hand.

The drawing-room 'Pharisee' or devotee is not even touched by doubt.

A dangerous position, which will never allow one to reflect on the innermost paradoxes that start and restart the Exodus, activating new passions.

Fearing what ends, it will never experience the ineffable Joy of the Gift now, which ignites history and changes lives.

Nothing in terms of wonderment is inaugurated, based on an identity of characteristics or views.

This is especially so if the distinctive lines remain imprisoned in the past (or future). If they remain, in the way of living and understanding 'of before' (or 'of after') that returns to direct us.

And they do not trust the Love that prepares the fruit of the Spirit: it is coming; as it is.

He who has no lapidary certainties, does not let himself be led in an artificial manner.

Rather, he lets himself be taken as if by a current of insecurity, which will nevertheless lead him to know profound Happiness, the great flourishing.

The breaking of the waters of a further birth: life in the round.

In short, once habits, abstract ideas, identifications, common opinions, even glamorous fashions have been put in the background, the founding Eros of our personal Calling will still be able to take the field. 

Achieving migrations, manifesting all his Fire.

In life we have been victims, sometimes even executioners.

God knows this and allows our freedom to emerge: conversely, in any enclosure, in any cadenced choice, the possibilities of the inner world remain closed.

So - to question ourselves - we give the no-moments, the opposing presences and preferences, as well as the most unexpected voices from within.

Other profiles, which also belong to us; anything other than the ways of being we already know [they have not yet expressed themselves, but sooner or later they will want to find space].

Simply, it is good to take on their traits - and to house them in us in an absolutely honest way.

So that they do not become lacerating disorders, or to be supplemented with perversions, profiteering, the exercise of power, sectarian attitudes: bad habits, barely covered by affable stylistic features.

The buried and perhaps as yet undiscovered sides are not meant to disturb the fundamental option to goodness, but the useless, all-predictable existence.

They are as many Calls, surprising, but which by innate force know where to lead us.

There are paths that belong to us that have not yet emerged, or of which we have lost memory.

Thus, precisely by virtue of such inner congeries - phase after phase - the character that is pertinent to the person... spontaneously and providentially traces its course.

Only if we are imbued with that which is infinite and at the same time with that which lies at the base of the soul, will our Pharisee self not become detached from the publican self.

Mouldable energies, faces that correspond to us deeply and in fact; masters of practice and concept; not of manners.

They are in varying mixtures and according to the ages of life, the real facets of our variegated spiritual essence.

Binary tracks that run below or parallel, but sometimes intersect and outclass each other, creating a magma that waits moment by moment to be performed.

To realise the Destination that is all ours, there have already been many doors to open.

And we have frequently verified that the Flower we sought was hiding right among our ailments.

So much for already considering ourselves close to Paradise!

Well: God introduces us into another kind of coexistence, within and without: balance, serenity, Communion.

For in that which truly impels to the eternal, everything is recovered. In the Fullness, nothing is separated from nothing.

It is the authentic turning point, which gives dignity to what happens. And opens the door to Completion.

Reiterates the Tao (xxvii):

"That is why the saint always well helps men and therefore there are no rejected men, always well helps creatures and therefore there are no rejected creatures; this is called transfusing illumination. Thus the man who is good is master of the man who is not good, the man who is not good is profit to the good man. Whoever does not appreciate such a master, whoever does not cherish such a profit, even if he is wise falls into grave deception: this is called the essential mystery".

To internalise and live the message:

When do I meet myself as a Pharisee and when as a publican?

How can I meet myself contemplating God? And by encountering others?

When God comes close to you, do you abandon yourself or do you fear what will end?

What were the experiences of undeserved love that changed your life?

Have you found greater understanding within or outside the Church? From friends and acquaintances or from supertitles of the sacred? How so?

Almsgiving, prayer and fasting characterize the Jew who observes the law. In the course of time these prescriptions were corroded by the rust of external formalism or even transformed into a sign of superiority.

In these three practices Jesus highlights a common temptation. Doing a good deed almost instinctively gives rise to the desire to be esteemed and admired for the good action, in other words to gain a reward. And on the one hand this closes us in on ourselves and on the other, it brings us out of ourselves because we live oriented to what others think of us or admire in us.

In proposing these prescriptions anew the Lord Jesus does not ask for formal respect of a law that is alien to the human being, imposed by a severe legislator as a heavy burden, but invites us to rediscover these three pious practices by living them more deeply, not out of self-love but out of love of God, as a means on the journey of conversion to him. Alms-giving, prayer and fasting: these are the path of the divine pedagogy that accompanies us not only in Lent, towards the encounter with the Risen Lord; a course to take without ostentation, in the certainty that the heavenly Father can read and also see into our heart in secret.

[Pope Benedict, S. Sabina homily 9 March 2011]

6. "Two men went up to the temple to pray: one was a Pharisee and the other a publican" (Lk 18:10). However, only one returned home justified. And it was precisely the publican (cf. Lk 18:14). This means that only he reached the inner mystery of the temple, the mystery united to his consecration. Only he, although both had gone there to pray.

Thus it turns out that the same sacred space, the temple, the cathedral, must be further filled with another totally interior and spiritual space: "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's spirit dwells in you?" - writes St Paul (1 Cor 3:16).

In fact, your cathedral, like so many others in the world, is filled with an almost infinite number of those inner temples, which are the human 'hearts'. To whom do these human 'hearts' most resemble? The Pharisee or the publican? The temple is a sign of man's reconciliation with God in Jesus Christ. However, the reality of this reconciliation - which is indicated by the external sign of the temple - ultimately passes through the human heart, through this sanctuary of justification and holiness.

7. The Pharisee returned "unjustified" because he was "full of himself". In the "space" of his heart there was no room for God. The Pharisee was present in the material temple; but God was not present in the temple of his heart. Why, on the other hand, is the publican "justified" again? Because - unlike the Pharisee - he humbly acknowledges that he needs to be justified. He does not judge others. He judges himself.

The publican 'stands at a distance', yet - and perhaps he does not exactly realise it - he is closer than ever to the Lord, because 'the Lord, as the Psalm says (33:19), is close to the one whose heart is wounded'. God is by no means distant from the sinner, if this sinner has a 'wounded heart', i.e. is repentant, and trusts, like the publican, in divine mercy: 'O God, have mercy on me a sinner'. The publican, therefore, does not glory in himself, but in the Lord. He does not exalt himself. He does not put himself first, but recognises in God his majesty, his transcendence. He knows that God is great and merciful, and that he bends to the cry of the poor and humble.

The publican "stands at a distance", but at the same time he trusts. Here is the right attitude towards God. To feel unworthy of him, because of one's sins; but to trust in his mercy, precisely because he loves the repentant sinner.

[Pope John Paul II, homily Perugia 26 October 1986]

Jesus wants to show us the right attitude for prayer and for invoking the mercy of the Father; how one must pray; the right attitude for prayer. It is the parable of the pharisee and the tax collector (cf. Lk 18:9-14). Both men went up into the Temple to pray, but they do so in very different ways, obtaining opposite results.

The pharisee stood and prayed using many words. His is yes, a prayer of thanksgiving to God, but it is really just a display of his own merits, with a sense of superiority over “other men”, whom he describes as “extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even,” for example, referring to the other one there, “like this tax collector” (v. 11). But this is the real problem: that pharisee prays to God, but in truth he is just self-lauditory. He is praying to himself! Instead of having the Lord before his eyes, he has a mirror. Although he is standing in the Temple, he doesn’t feel the need to prostrate himself before the majesty of God; he remains standing, he feels secure, as if he were the master of the Temple! He lists all the good works he has done: he is beyond reproach, observing the Law beyond measure, he fasts “twice a week” and pays “tithes” on all he possesses. In short, rather than prayer, he is satisfied with his observance of the precepts. Yet, his attitude and his words are far from the way of God’s words and actions, the God who loves all men and does not despise sinners. On the contrary, this pharisee despises sinners, even by indicating the other one there. In short, the pharisee, who holds himself to be just, neglects the most important commandment: love of God and of neighbour.

It is not enough, therefore, to ask how much we pray, we have to ask ourselves how we pray, or better, in what state our heart is: it is important to examine it so as to evaluate our thoughts, our feelings, and root out arrogance and hypocrisy. But, I ask myself: can one pray with arrogance? No. Can one pray with hypocrisy? No. We must only pray by placing ourselves before God just as we are. Not like the pharisee who prays with arrogance and hypocrisy. We are all taken up by the phrenetic pace of daily life, often at the mercy of feelings, dazed and confused. It is necessary to learn how to rediscover the path to our heart, to recover the value of intimacy and silence, because the God who encounters us and speaks to us is there. Only by beginning there can we in our turn encounter others and speak with them. The pharisee walked toward the Temple, sure of himself, but he was unaware of the fact that his heart had lost the way.

Instead the tax collector — the other man — presents himself in the Temple with a humble and repentant spirit: “standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast” (v. 13). His prayer was very brief, not long like that of the pharisee: “God, be merciful to me a sinner”. Nothing more. A beautiful prayer! Indeed, tax collectors — then called “publicans” — were considered impure, subject to foreign rulers; they were disliked by the people and socially associated with “sinners”. The parable teaches us that a man is just or sinful not because of his social class, but because of his way of relating to God and how he relates to his brothers and sisters. Gestures of repentance and the few and brief words of the tax collector bear witness to his awareness of his own miserable condition. His prayer is essential. He acts out of humility, certain only that he is a sinner in need of mercy. If the pharisee asked for nothing because he already had everything, the tax collector can only beg for the mercy of God. And this is beautiful: to beg for the mercy of God! Presenting himself with “empty hands”, with a bare heart and acknowledging himself to be a sinner, the tax collector shows us all the condition that is necessary in order to receive the Lord’s forgiveness. In the end, he is the one, so despised, who becomes an icon of the true believer.

Jesus concludes the parable with the judgment: “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted” (v. 14). Of these two, who is the corrupt one? The pharisee. The pharisee is the very icon of a corrupt person who pretends to pray, but only manages to strut in front of a mirror. He is corrupt and he is pretending to pray. Thus, in life whoever believes himself to be just and criticises others and despises them, is corrupt and a hypocrite. Pride compromises every good deed, empties prayer, creates distance from God and from others.

If God prefers humility it is not to dishearten us: rather, humility is the necessary condition to be raised by Him, so as to experience the mercy that comes to fill our emptiness. If the prayer of the proud does not reach God’s heart, the humility of the poor opens it wide. God has a weakness for the humble ones. Before a humble heart, God opens his heart entirely. It is this humility that the Virgin Mary expresses in the Canticle of the Magnificat: “he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden […] his mercy is on those who fear him from generation to generation” (Lk 1:48, 50). Let her help us, our Mother, to pray with a humble heart. And we, let us repeat that beautiful prayer three times: “Oh God, be merciful to me a sinner”.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 1 June 2016]

No forced surrender

(Mk 12:28b-34)

That of the ‘Great commandment’ was the most familiar catechism rule, even to infants.

Jesus is questioned only to retort: and why do you not keep the one commandment that even God fulfils - the Sabbath rest?

The only disposition in which the Father recognizes himself is Love, not some particular precept - because only profound Quality obliges.

The spiritual proposal of the Master makes the narrative of God's people and the practice of the Prophets its own: all heart, feet, hands - and intelligence.

Complete Love for God envelops the creature in every decision [heart], every moment and aspect of its concrete 'life', all its resources [strength].

Mt 22:37 does not explicitly mention this last aspect, perhaps to emphasize that the Father does not absorb energies in any way, but transmits them.

And Jesus adds to the nuances of authentic understanding with God enumerated in the First Testament an unexpected side to those who think of love as a feeling only emotional.

The Lord suggests study, discernment and understanding of our perceptions (v.30) - the mental and deep intelligence aspect that complements Dt 6.

At first glance, it appears to be a secondary facet or even a frill for the qualitative leap from a common religious sense to the wisely and personally configured existence of Faith.

The exact opposite is true: we are children of a Father who does not supplant us, nor absorb our forces or potential, depersonalising us; not even from the mental point of view.

Practicality alone makes us fragile, not very aware; and when we are not convinced, we will not be reliable either, always at the mercy of changing situations and the conformist, fashionable, other people’s opinion.

Jesus does not speak of love for God in terms of intimacy and feeling, but of a totally involving affinity, made less oscillating precisely by the development of our sapiential measure on issues.

Here is a decisive appointment, of the Love in the round.

It would be unnatural to recognise a Lord of Heaven who does not come to meet us and instead towers over us with an objective of his own, which is extrinsic to us and makes us marginal.

Loving «How [and Because] yourself»: it is a new Genesis in the spirit of Giving.

The paradox suggested by Jesus is that we love for the care to meet - and because we love ourselves - by expanding the I into the You.

God’s «great command» affects real life and concerns not only the quality of relationship with the world and neighbour, but the reflexive global with oneself. 

We should not be afraid of other doctrines and disciplines, neglecting the challenges even intellectual ones that call into question beliefs, works, one’s worldview, language, style, and thought itself.

All added values.

Needless to complain, if the ecclesial realities that do not update or deepen, and remain in the inherited commonplaces [or vogues] slowly decay, then disappear.

Therefore to the ancient notes of true love, the Son of God adds the ‘quality of mind’: we are not gullible, clueless, one-sided.

Our outstretched hands are the result of free and conscious choice. No forced surrender.

«Faith that does not become culture is a faith that is not fully accepted, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived» [John Paul II].

To internalize and live the message:

What is Great for you? Do you document and update yourself in order to better correspond to God’s Call?

[Friday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 13, 2026]

The commandment great: Love

(Mk 12:28b-34)

"What is the first commandment of all? Jesus answered [...] The first is: Listen Israel. The Lord our God is one Lord, and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your life and with all your mind and with all your much" (vv.28-30; Deut 6:4-5).

Jesus turns what was the most banal of catechism questions into a crucial question: what is the 'great' commandment?

Despite the different theological schools, the answer was well known to all: the Sabbath rest, the only prescription observed (even) by God.

The question posed to the Master by the expert in the Law was not so innocent, but "to test him" (Mt 22:35; Lk 10:25) - that is, to answer him: how then do you not fulfil the Sabbath precept?

Christ simplifies the tangle of disputes, about widening or narrowing theoretical cases, and gets to the point.

Always allergic to bickering over doctrines, He makes a proposition of life as the unifying moment of the demands of the Covenant.

All norms have an essence, otherwise they remain a dispersive jumble. They find their spontaneous foundation and natural meaning in the gift of self - but motivated.

But what is the solid point and context of such an invitation? A vague feeling, one emotion among many, a passing motion? Philanthropy? Or an experience?

We are thirsty for affection and grant friendship in an alternating current, so much so that love becomes a source of misunderstandings, rooted in the need to complete each other.

This is why the second commandment appears as an explanation of the first, not a reduction of it [Mt 22:39; Mk 12:31; Lk 10:27].

In the ancient world it made no sense to speak of love towards God, the ineffable Mystery.

It was the Most High who favoured someone by giving him material fortune, and he acknowledged to him a duty of worship, and sacrifices.

Ditto for the unfortunate, at least to avoid retaliation (and keep him good).

With Jesus, one speaks openly of gratuitousness - not simple gratitude - as the unifying core, both of the person and of salvation history.

Gone is the idea of the exchange of favours.

The Father does not need anything; he does not enjoy seeing us submissive and feeling recognised [the pattern of pagan religiosity] as a sovereign would towards his subjects.

The relationship with the Eternal One remains concrete, but honour towards the Most High is manifested by making His plan of good and growth towards man our own, and recognising ourselves in it.

God's plan unfolds ... with a living demand. But there is a Departure, a Centre and an Arrival. In reality, a new Genesis.

In any case, only God's initiative brings out the best in us: more talent, more desire, more interests, more unexpressed capacities, more unseen - instead of soul-denying torments.

It is the difference between religiosity that weakens the personality, and Faith.

Through Faith a special creative relationship is triggered: that of the one who accepts the Calling by Name, as well as the proposals of the Source of being itself - wave upon wave.

They anticipate our initiatives and infallibly guide us to the perfect blossoming of our own and others' Seeds.

Especially in Mt (22:38-39) and Mk (12:29-31) it is clear that love for one's neighbour derives from the experience and awareness of being loved first and unconditionally by God - looked upon, accepted, valued, promoted, gladdened, completed.

One loves not by effort [force is a dirigiste lever: it produces episodes that make life worse] but on the basis of how much we feel loved - and with immediacy, repeatedly, unconditionally.

One loves on the argument of the 'forfeit' already experienced in one's favour by Providence, which gives meaning and value to human acts.

Not out of infatuation with external, induced, however other people's expectations.

Even in the spiritual field, not a few behaviours believed to be able to solve problems, often chronicle them.

In this way, they rely on an idea of permanence - not on the dynamic of vocational gratuitousness, on the unimaginable Gift, to be received.

So the point is to adjust according to resources that come, or the distortion of models, typical of the moralist mentality.

In fact the scheme of omnipotence in the good, paradoxically, folds the ego and its forces, and distorts its gaze.

But beyond all nuances, we are glad that the first and second commandments are about Love: what we most desire to do and receive. It is an urgency of life.

Yet we must be wise, so that the pattern of paradigms or the urges of natural affection and precipitation do not overwhelm and drag away - overturning - every good intention.

Love does not tolerate the excess of expectations, because it springs from an experience of Perfection that arrives; offered, unexpected, unpredictable. Not already set up according to concatenated and normal intentions. 

If authentic, we will experience blossoming in time; not in expectation of a return, but first and foremost in a Gift beyond time. Because it has already satiated and convinced us - with contemplative amazement - and made us rejoice.

Thus the vocational and foundational Eros will continue to mould us, with its perennially explorative virtue capable of activating new Births.

Personal energy - without the usual baggage of torment, reservations, outwardness... and (again) wrath.

Great Commandment: only profound Quality obliges

The only disposition in which the Father recognises Himself is Love, all-round and all-round; not some particular precept.

For Jesus there are no rankings in the things of God and man - in fact He showed a marked tendency to summarise the many dispositions - because only the profound Quality obliges.

The spiritual proposition of the Master appropriated the narrative of God's people and the practice of the Prophets: all heart, feet, hands - and intelligence.

Complete Love for God must envelop the creature in every decision [heart].

Likewise, in every moment and aspect of its concrete 'life', and involve all its resources [strength: cf. Mk 12:30; Lk 10:27].

Deut 6:5 (Hebrew text) reads in fact: "with all your 'much'", meaning a concrete participation in both cultic life and material fraternity - providing and helping with one's possessions.

Matthew does not explicitly mention the latter, perhaps to emphasise that the Father does not absorb energies in any way, but transmits them.

But Jesus adds to the nuances of authentic understanding with God enumerated in the First Testament an unexpected side to those who think of love as a delicate feeling only.

The Lord suggests the study, discernment and understanding of our perceptions [Mt 22:37; Mk 12:30; Lk 10:27] accompanied by the mental aspect and deep intelligence (excluded in Deut 6).

At first glance, this seems a secondary facet or even a frill for the qualitative leap from a common religious sense to the wise and personally configured existence of Faith.

The exact opposite is true: we are children of a Father who does not supplant us, nor does he absorb our potential or energy, depersonalising us.

It is a capital implication of our dignity and promotion - even human - and a specific discriminator in the discernment of Faith in Christ, as opposed to all devotional solutions in search of the Absolute (whatever).

Practicality alone makes us fragile, not very aware; and when we are not convinced, we will not be reliable either, always at the mercy of changing situations and the conformist, fashionable opinion of others.

We not infrequently flee the all-round confrontation that would enrich everyone - precisely because of incompetence.

But we are not one-sided gullible. Being attentive and up-to-date, having the ability to think even critically is a required expansion in the development of one's human, moral, cultural and spiritual vocation.

Trivialities, identifications, impersonal scopiazzature, and half-hearted assembly repetitions get in the way of the tide of life, this divine cascade of perennial energy that pulses and does not go out.

On the contrary, it comes with stirring appeals: it calls to open us up to new relationship attractions and other interests, even intellectual; even denominational.

Jesus does not speak of love for God in terms of intimism and sentiment, but of a totally involving affinity, made less uncertain precisely by the development of our sapiential measure, regarding matters.

Devotion swallows up everything. Faith, on the other hand, does not allow itself to be plagiarised by local or external civilisation: it presupposes an ability to competently enter into personal evaluations or those inherent in the community and overall debate - historical and up-to-date.

The testimony of our Hope does not disdain to allow itself to be enriched by dialogue with those who have greater psychological or biblical expertise, specialised pastoral and social, as well as archaeological, bioethical, economic, scientific and so on.

A commitment that shows true interest in the Sacred [of course, all aspects to be evaluated not as school options].

But it must be admitted that one of the most organic expressions of great Catholic theology is what was once called the 'doctrine' of the seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit.

In the existence of Love, the primacy (also relational) of the Gift of the Spirit was recognised, which completed the possibilities of 'natural' expression of the cardinal and theological virtues, bringing them to fullness.

As many as four of the seven Gifts were related to a character of profound knowledge: Wisdom, Intellect, Counsel and Science.

In short: there is still a decisive appointment here for all-round Love. 

To indulge in a few jokes along the lines of belief is everyone's domain [individualist or circle], but the ability to enter into the matter is only of those who have been willing to sift through and experience the issues - because they are more interested in understanding the Face of God and His Plan for humanity than in reiterating false narrative certainties.

It would be unnatural to recognise a Master of Heaven who does not come to meet us; as if he towers over us with 'his' objective (extrinsic to us) and thus makes everyone marginal.

[In sects - even those with a good-natured appearance - it is forbidden to delve deeper, to understand: the position is already there, the candidate must "only" adapt].

"As (and because) thou art thyself" [sense of the Greek text: Mt 22:39; Mk 12:31; Lk 10:27]: it is a new Birth of life, new Genesis in the spirit of Gift.

The paradox suggested by Jesus surpasses the ancient norm of Lev 19:18.

We love not only the children of our people, "by the fact that" we care to meet and want to enrich ourselves together, expanding the I into the Thou.

God's "Great Command" invests real life and concerns not only the quality of our relationship with the world and our neighbour, but the reflexive global with self.

One should not be afraid of other doctrines and disciplines, neglecting analytical challenges beyond the 'organic' ones - the long-term ones.

They all challenge beliefs, works, one's worldview; language, style, and thought itself.

We still have a great need to broaden our minds and become as vast as a panorama. And reharmonise the opposites we drag in.

Hidden Sides and Pearls to which we have not yet given breath, or visibility - and perhaps never considered Allies.

The troubled fate of the prophets remains unique, but it is not the certainties (ancient, or sophisticated, fashionable, à la page) that are the added value of the adventure of Faith in Love - but rather the risk of putting oneself in the balance and the all-round reworking.

It is then useless to complain, if the ecclesial realities that do not update, and remain in the inherited commonplaces, slowly decay, then disappear.

In spite of their resounding heritage and fabulous events.

In this way, the "doctor of the law" may already be close [Mk 12:34; Lk 10:28] but he still has to keep an eye on Jesus, to understand in Him the more dilated sense of the total gift, in the specifically personalising, which is not naive.

The Lord restores the sense of norms to their profound and original function: to become the viaticum of every encounter that raises events, people of all backgrounds, and creation.

In conclusion, experience and ritual have their fulcrum in the reciprocity of love.

Life in all its facets becomes Liturgy more meaningful than the accredited gesture of worship; its truly broken Bread becomes a convincing call to Communion and Mission.

Even if it does not make the headlines, the authentic thermometer of our journey will not be the volume or the pile of important things we do, but a pulsing of regenerated heart and mind.

That is why to the ancient notes of true Love the Son of God adds the quality of thought: we are not gullible, uninformed, one-sided.

Our outstretched hands are the fruit of free and conscious choice. No forced surrender.

"A faith that does not become culture is a faith that is not fully accepted, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived" [John Paul II].

To internalise and live the message:

What is Great for you? Titles? Having, power, appearing?

What in your experience of Love is the Starting Point, the Centre and the Arrival?

Do you document and update yourself in order to better correspond to God's Call?

Deep Relationship

Dear brothers and sisters!

The Gospel [...] re-proposes to us Jesus' teaching on the greatest commandment: the commandment of love, which is twofold: to love God and to love one's neighbour. The Saints, whom we have recently celebrated all together in one solemn feast, are precisely those who, trusting in God's grace, seek to live according to this fundamental law. Indeed, the commandment of love can be fully put into practice by those who live in a deep relationship with God, just as a child becomes capable of love from a good relationship with its mother and father. St John of Avila, whom I have recently proclaimed a Doctor of the Church, writes at the beginning of his Treatise on the Love of God: 'The cause,' he says, 'that most impels our heart to love God is to consider deeply the love He has had for us... This, more than benefits, impels the heart to love; for he who gives another a benefit, gives him something he possesses; but he who loves, gives himself with all he has, without anything else left to give' (No. 1). Before being a command - love is not a command - it is a gift, a reality that God makes us know and experience, so that, like a seed, it can also germinate within us and develop in our lives. 

If God's love has taken deep root in a person, that person is able to love even those who do not deserve it, just as God does towards us. A father and mother do not love their children only when they deserve it: they love them always, even if they naturally let them know when they are wrong. From God we learn to always and only want good and never evil. We learn to look at the other not only with our eyes, but with God's gaze, which is the gaze of Jesus Christ. A gaze that starts from the heart and does not stop at the surface, goes beyond appearances and manages to grasp the other person's deepest expectations: expectations of being listened to, of gratuitous attention; in a word: of love. But the reverse also occurs: that by opening myself to the other as he is, by going out to meet him, by making myself available to him, I also open myself up to knowing God, to feeling that he is there and that he is good. Love of God and love of neighbour are inseparable and stand in a reciprocal relationship. Jesus invented neither one nor the other, but revealed that they are, after all, one and the same commandment, and he did so not only with his words, but above all with his testimony: the very Person of Jesus and his entire mystery embody the unity of love of God and neighbour, like the two arms of the Cross, vertical and horizontal. In the Eucharist He gives us this twofold love, giving us Himself, so that, nourished by this Bread, we may love one another as He has loved us.

Dear friends, through the intercession of the Virgin Mary, we pray that every Christian may know how to show his faith in the one true God with a limpid witness of love for his neighbour.

(Pope Benedict, Angelus 4 November 2012)