"Prayer and witness" are the "two tasks of the bishops" who are "pillars of the Church". But if they weaken, the whole people of God suffers. That is why, Pope Francis asked during the mass celebrated on Friday morning 22 January in the chapel of the Casa Santa Marta, we must pray insistently for the successors of the twelve apostles.

The Pontiff's reflection on the figure and mission of the bishop started from the passage from the evangelist Mark (3:13-19) proclaimed during today's liturgy. "There is a word in this Gospel passage that attracts attention: Jesus 'constituted'". And this word "appears twice". In fact, Mark writes: "'He constituted twelve, whom he called apostles'". And then he resumes: 'He therefore constituted the twelve', and names them, one after the other'. Therefore, the Pontiff explained, 'Jesus, among so many people who followed him - the Gospel tells us - "called to himself those he wanted"'. In short, 'there is a choice: Jesus chose those whom He wanted'. And, indeed, "he constituted twelve. Whom he called apostles'. In fact, Francis continued, "there were others: there were the disciples" and "the Gospel speaks of seventy-two, on one occasion". But 'these were something else'.

The "twelve are constituted so that they might be with Him and to send them out to preach with the power to cast out demons," the Pope explained. "This is the most important group that Jesus chose, 'so that they might be with Him', closer, 'and to send them out to preach' the Gospel." And "with the power to cast out demons," Mark further added. Precisely those 'twelve are the first bishops, the first group of bishops'.

These twelve 'chosen ones,' Francis noted, 'were aware of the importance of this election, so much so that after Jesus had been taken up into heaven, Peter spoke to the others and explained to them that, given Judas' betrayal, it was necessary to do something'. And so from among those who had been with Jesus, from John's baptism until his ascension, they chose "a witness 'with us' - says Peter - of the resurrection". Here, continued the Pope, that "the place of Judas is filled, it is taken by Matthias: Matthias is chosen".

Then "the liturgy of the Church, referring to "some expressions of Paul", calls the twelve "the pillars of the Church". Yes, said the Pontiff, 'the apostles are the pillars of the Church. And the bishops are the columns of the Church. That election of Matthias was the first episcopal ordination of the Church'.

"I would like to say a few words today about bishops," Francis confided. "We bishops have this responsibility to be witnesses: witnesses that the Lord Jesus is alive, that the Lord Jesus is risen, that the Lord Jesus walks with us, that the Lord Jesus saves us, that the Lord Jesus gave his life for us, that the Lord Jesus is our hope, that the Lord Jesus always welcomes us and forgives us." Here is 'the testimony'. Consequently, he continued, 'our life must be this: a testimony, a true testimony to the resurrection of Christ'.

And when Jesus, as Mark recounts, makes "this choice" of the twelve, he has two reasons. Firstly, "so that they might be with Him". Therefore "the bishop has the obligation to be with Jesus". Yes, "it is the bishop's first obligation: to be with Jesus". And it is true "to such an extent that when the problem arose, in the early days, that orphans and widows were not well cared for, the bishops - these twelve - got together and thought about what to do". And "they introduced the figure of the deacons, saying: 'Let the deacons take care of the orphans, of the widows'". While the twelve, "says Peter", are assigned "two tasks: prayer and the proclamation of the Gospel".

Therefore, Francis reiterated, "the first task of the bishop is to be with Jesus in prayer". In fact, "the bishop's first task is not to make pastoral plans... no, no!". It is "to pray: this is the first task". While 'the second task is to be a witness, that is to preach: to preach the salvation that the Lord Jesus brought us'.

They are 'two tasks that are not easy,' the Pontiff acknowledged, 'but it is precisely these two tasks that make the columns of the Church strong'. In fact, "if these columns weaken, because the bishop does not pray or prays little, he forgets to pray; or because the bishop does not proclaim the Gospel, he occupies himself with other things, the Church also weakens; it suffers. The people of God suffer". Precisely 'because the pillars are weak'.

For this reason, Francis said, 'I would like to invite you today to pray for us bishops: because we too are sinners, we too have weaknesses, we too have the danger of Judas: he too was elected as a pillar'. Yes, he continued, 'we too run the danger of not praying, of doing something other than proclaiming the Gospel and casting out demons'. Hence, the Pope reiterated, the invitation to "pray that the bishops be what Jesus wanted and that we all bear witness to the resurrection of Jesus".

Moreover, he added, "the people of God pray for the bishops, in every mass we pray for the bishops: we pray for Peter, the head of the episcopal college, and we pray for the local bishop". But 'this may not be enough: one says the name out of habit and moves on'. It is important "to pray for the bishop with the heart, to ask the Lord: 'Lord, take care of my bishop; take care of all the bishops, and send us bishops who are true witnesses, bishops who pray and bishops who help us, with their preaching, to understand the Gospel, to be sure that You, Lord, are alive, are among us'".

Before resuming the celebration, the Pope suggested, again, to pray "therefore for our bishops: it is a task of the faithful". In fact, 'the Church without a bishop cannot go on'. Here, then, that "the prayer of all of us for our bishops is an obligation, but an obligation of love, an obligation of children towards the Father, an obligation of brothers, so that the family may remain united in the confession of Jesus Christ, living and risen".

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 23/01/2016]

(Mk 10:46-52)

The passage in Mk is the agile fruit of the interweaving of a catechesis explaining the immediately preceding passage [the Apostles' aims] and the teaching on the very first forms of baptismal liturgy reserved for the new believers, called 'photismòi-enlightened' [those who from the darkness of pagan life finally opened their eyes to the Light].

The passage illustrates what happens to a person when he meets Christ and receives his existential orientation: he abandons established but not personally reworked positions, and becomes a critical witness.

The narrative is set on the comparison between downward material gazes (such as those of pagans or arrogant followers) and open gazes, capable of lifting the human eye from the fetters of semblance, habit, and destructive outer or inner powers.

What, then, is needed to see with the perception of God, beyond appearances, and to lift oneself up from a grey life of handouts, literally on the ground? How to heal the vision of those who are disoriented?

Bartimaeus [verbatim, the 'son of the valued one'] represents us: he is not a free man, capable of activating himself - but influenced by a frantic search for prestige and recognition.

The «son of the honoured man» is not biologically blind, but one who adjusts himself haphazardly. He is unable to «look up» [the Greek key-verb in vv.51-52 is aná-blépein] because he does not cultivate ideals; he is content with what the environment around him grants, which anaesthetizes him.

If one finds oneself at this level of myopia, it is better to 'lift one's gaze' bent over one's navel for ridiculous and short-sighted things.

Bartimaeus is a man of habit, he is accompanied to the same places every day by the same people.

He is standing still, «sitting» (v.46) at the edge of a road where people are moving forward and not just surviving resignedly, as he does.

Bartimaeus types expect everything from the recognition of others; they live only by begging. They repeat words and gestures that are always identical.

Their horizon at hand does not allow them to enter the flow of the Way where people are busy building, evolving, expressing themselves, providing for their less fortunate sisters and brothers.

An existence dragged along the fringes of any interest, other than one's own lazy pouch.

They live off the movement of others; they feel gratified by the petty benevolences and opinions bartered by those who pass by, by ideas that are never sifted and made their own.

But the Word of the Nazarene triggers the indolent. And his new attitude becomes that of the 'newborn'. In this way, he engages in an industrious, creative, practical - futuristic model of life.

He rises again dynamically, getting rid of the rags on which he expected others to lay something in his favour.

The old garment ends up in the dust - cast far away as in the ancient baptismal liturgies: at any age it undertakes, outclassing small cabotage securities.

He changes his life, looks it in the face; even though he knows he is complicating it, making it challenging and countercurrent.

Personal contact with Jesus corrected his gaze, made him regain his ideal perspective.

Now he understands the primordial and regenerating - indeed, recreating - sense of the Newness of God.

The face-to-face Meeting gave him a diametrically opposite model of a successful man; not subservient to tactics.

In short, Jesus corrects the inert myopia of those who are fond of their mediocre place.

Religiousness or personal Faith: the choice is decisive.

It means lazily adapting to fashions of circumstance or the old dress of already “said” behaviours and usual friendships, just waiting for some solution-lightning that does not involve too much…

Or leave there, reinvent their lives, abandon the 'mantle' [cf. Mk 10:50] on which comments and common mites were collected.

By opening his eyes and «lifting them up», as an already divine man would do. Pocketing nothing but pearls of light, instead of handouts.

On muddy roads we may get dirty and be uncertain, but we can proceed there in the movement of Christ's priesthood, with sound perception.

In fact - as in this episode - the Gospels not infrequently insist on the (devoutly absurd) criterion that the enemy of God is not sin, but the 'average, passive life' of the «honoured man», identified and placed.

[30th Sunday in O.T. (year B), October 27, 2024]

The priesthood movement of Christ

(Mark 10:46-52)

The encyclical Brothers All invites a perspective gaze, one that does not adapt.

Pope Francis proposes visuals that provoke decision and action: new, energetic, visionary, reckless eyes, filled with "passage" and Hope.

It "speaks to us of a reality that is rooted in the depths of human beings, regardless of the concrete circumstances and historical conditioning in which they live. It speaks to us of a thirst, an aspiration, a yearning for fullness, for a fulfilled life, a measuring oneself against that which is great, against that which fills the heart and elevates the spirit toward great things, such as truth, goodness and beauty, justice and love. [...] Hope is bold, it knows how to look beyond personal comfort, the small certainties and compensations that narrow the horizon, to open itself to great ideals that make life more beautiful and dignified" (no. 55) [quoted from a Greeting to Young People in Havana, September 2015].

Distressed, Paul VI admitted:

"Yes, there are many mediocre Christians; and not only because they are weak or lacking in formation, but because they want to be mediocre and because they have their so-called good reasons of the right middle, of ne quid nimis, as if the Gospel were a school of moral indolence, or as if it authorized serving to conformism. Is this not hypocrisy? Inconsistency? Relativism according to the wind that blows?" [passim].

This sounds like a portrait of Bartimaeus' shoddy, blind life: "nothing too much," "never the excessive."

A sort of Don Abbondio-like existence, in contrast to which Manzoni delineates the icon of the man of Faith - who precisely stands out over the mediocre devotee - in the solemn and decisive figure of Cardinal Federigo.

Prelate who instead "had to fight with the gallant men of ne quid nimis, who, in everything, would have wanted him to stay within the limits, that is, within their limits."

Not the reassured qualunquism of a pious coward and situationalist, who pretends not to see, is content with his half-assed niche; he sits in the shoddy threshing floor of the minimum wage, he staggers along and does not expose himself.

The passage in Mark is the nimble fruit of the interweaving of a catechesis of explanation of the immediately preceding passage [the sights of the Apostles] and teaching on very early forms of baptismal liturgy reserved for the new believers, called 'photismòi-illuminati' [those who from the darkness of pagan life finally opened their eyes to the Light].

The passage illustrates what happens to a person when he or she encounters Christ and receives his existential orientation: he or she abandons established but not personally reworked positions and becomes a critical witness.

The narrative is set on comparing material downward gazes (such as those of pagans or arrogant followers) with open gazes capable of lifting man's eye from fetters of semblance, habit, and destructive outer or inner powers.

Comparison brings to the surface what matters in life, what has weight and is not swept away by the impediments of an empty spirituality, enraptured or attracted by epidermal cravings; harnessed to social role-frames or cultural and spiritual conformities-from customs inherited but not sifted.

In short: the Lord wants us to understand that conformity to environment and empty devotion inculcate a swampy, lifeless, unimportant understanding.

What, then, is needed to "see" with God's perception, beyond appearances, and to lift oneself up from a gray life of almsgiving, literally on the ground? And how to heal the vision of those who do not catch on?

Even the "neighbors" have more or less clear expectations of how to enter the Priesthood Movement of Christ.

The disciples themselves are suggestive of an often qualunquistic crowd around them who expect little but quiet, leisure and favor; and who press for entry "into their bounds."

The crouching at the edges Bartimaeus [textually, the 'son of the appreciated one'] represents us: he is not a free man, capable of activism.

Rather, beset by a hunger for prestige and recognition -- hunger and thirst that have been passed on by his own family and a whole ancient mentality that has remained haughty.

The "son of the honored" is not biologically blind (the Italian translation is uncertain) but one who adjusts himself haphazardly.

He fails to "look up" [the Greek key-verb in vv.51-52 is aná-blépein] because he does not cultivate ideals; he is content with what passes the outline, which anesthetizes him.

Conditioned by false teachers and approximate spiritual guides, seduced by a whole civilization of the outside world, he too is blocked by spirit of lethargy - grandiose only in velleity - which nevertheless points his existence downward.

Spiritual consequence: victims of indolent ideology may confuse the Son of God who gives all of himself and transmits vitality, with the son of David (vv.47-48) who does not give but takes away life.Jesus resembles and refers to the Father, not to a ruler albeit as prestigious as David; an able and quick-witted man, a figure of a violent style of domination in constant retaliation.

The misunderstanding has heavy consequences.

Initially, every seeker of God is in danger of mistaking the Lord for a phenomenal superman and captain who blesses and favors his friends in their expectations of tranquility, unconcern and mediocre stasis, or worldly glory and prestige.

Quite a sight flaw, for one reverses the criteria of wise and solid existence at all -- risking sticking it in a puddle of illusions; at best, dragging it skimming along the ground.

Bartimaeus is a man of habit, being escorted to the same places every day by the same people.

He stands still, "sitting" (v.46) at the edge of a road where people proceed and do not, like him, merely survive resignedly, unshaken.

[As I was writing this a high school prof of mine - a person of great faith and dynamism - sent me an Indian proverb: "if in front of you you see everything gray, move the elephant"].

Bartimaeus types expect everything from the recognition of others; they live only by begging. They just repeat the same words and gestures over and over again.

Their horizon at hand does not allow them to enter the flow of the Way where people get busy edifying, evolving, expressing themselves, providing for their less fortunate brothers and sisters.

An existence dragged to the margins of any interest other than their own neghittous pouch.

Yet they are endowed with a pronounced ancient religious sense; but for that very reason - lacking the leap of Faith - centered on themselves and the ideas that have been transmitted.

They live on the movement of others; they live on petty benevolences and opinions bartered by those who pass by, out of listlessness never reviewed and made their own.

The Word of the Nazarene [in the language of the Gospels the epithet "being of Nazareth" meant "revolutionary, hot-headed, subversive"] triggers the indolent.

Rather, his new attitude becomes that of the "newborn." In doing so, he engages in an industrious, creative, practical-futuristic pattern of life.

He resurrects dynamically, getting rid of the rags on which he expected others to lay something in his favor.

The old garment ends up in the dust - cast far away as in ancient baptismal liturgies: at whatever age it undertakes, outclassing small-minded securities.

He changes his life, looks it in the face; though he knows he complicates it, making it challenging and countercultural.

Personal contact with Jesus has corrected his gaze, made him recover his ideal outlook.

Now he understands the primal and regenerating - indeed, recreating - sense of God's Newness.

The Face-to-Face Encounter conveyed to him a diametrically opposite model of a successful man; not subservient to tacticism.

In short, Jesus corrects the inert myopia of those who are fond of their mediocre place.

"The wind that blows" infuses us with a lethal poison: the renunciatory poison of identifying-as-we-are, which rhymes with giving up and growing old.

Recovery from such blindness cannot be a... Miracle! Religiosity or Personal Faith: it is diriment choice.

It means lazily adapting to circumstantial fads or the old dress of already "said" behaviors and usual friendships, just waiting for some solution-lightning that does not involve too much...

That is, to start away from there, to reinvent one's life, to abandon the 'cloak' [cf. Mk. 10:50] on which communal comments and obols were gathered.

Opening his eyes and 'lifting them up,' as an already godly man would do. Pocketing nothing but pearls of light instead of alms.

On muddy roads we may get dirty and be uncertain, but we can proceed there in contentment: on the path that belongs to us; in the movement of Christ's priesthood. With sound perception.

For-as in this episode-the Gospels not infrequently insist on the (devoutly absurd) criterion that the enemy of God is not sin, but the 'average life' and passive of the 'honored,' now identified and placed.

To internalize and live the message:

Did the encounter with Christ remove like a veil from your eyes?

Have you seized the opportunity to be born as a new man, and lift your eyes? Or do you remain myopic and inert?

The Passover Passage

One day Jesus, approaching the city of Jericho, performed the miracle of restoring sight to a blind man begging along the road (cf. Lk 18:35-43). Today we want to grasp the significance of this sign because it touches us directly as well. The evangelist Luke says that that blind man was sitting by the roadside begging (cf. v. 35). A blind man in those days - but also until not so long ago - could only live on alms. The figure of this blind man represents so many people who, even today, find themselves marginalized because of physical or other disadvantage. He is separated from the crowd, he sits there while people pass by busy, absorbed in their own thoughts and many things...And the street, which can be a place of meeting, for him instead is a place of loneliness. So many crowds passing by...And he is alone.

It is a sad image of an outcast, especially against the backdrop of the city of Jericho, the beautiful and lush oasis in the desert. We know that it was in Jericho that the people of Israel arrived at the end of the long exodus from Egypt: that city represents the gateway to the promised land. We recall the words Moses speaks on that occasion, "If there be among you any of your brethren who are in need in one of your cities in the land which the Lord your God gives you, you shall not harden your heart nor close your hand before your brother in need. Since the needy will never be lacking in the land, then I give you this command and say to you, Generously open your hand to your poor and needy brother in your land" (Deut. 15:7, 11). The contrast between this recommendation of God's Law and the situation described in the Gospel is jarring: while the blind man cries out calling out for Jesus, the people rebuke him to be silent, as if he had no right to speak. They have no compassion for him; on the contrary, they feel annoyance at his cries. How many times do we, when we see so many people in the street -- people in need, sick, who have no food -- feel annoyance. How often, when we are faced with so many refugees and displaced people, we feel annoyance. It is a temptation we all have. All of us, even me! This is why the Word of God admonishes us by reminding us that indifference and hostility make us blind and deaf, prevent us from seeing our brothers and sisters and do not allow us to recognize the Lord in them. Indifference and hostility. And sometimes this indifference and hostility also becomes aggression and insult: "but kick them all out!", "put them somewhere else!". This aggression is what people did when the blind man shouted, "but you go away, come on, don't talk, don't shout."

We note an interesting detail. The Evangelist says that someone from the crowd explained to the blind man the reason for all those people, saying, "Jesus, the Nazarene, passes by!" (v. 37). Jesus' passing is referred to with the same verb used in the book of Exodus to refer to the passing of the exterminating angel who saves the Israelites in the land of Egypt (cf. Ex 12:23). It is the "passing by" of the Passover, the beginning of liberation: when Jesus passes by, always there is liberation, always there is salvation! To the blind man, therefore, it is as if his passover is being announced. Undaunted, the blind man cries out to Jesus several times, recognizing him as the Son of David, the expected Messiah who, according to the prophet Isaiah, would open the eyes of the blind (cf. Isaiah 35:5). Unlike the crowd, this blind man sees with the eyes of faith. Because of it, his plea has powerful efficacy. Indeed, upon hearing it, "Jesus stopped and commanded that they should bring him to him" (v. 40). In doing so, Jesus takes the blind man off the side of the road and places him in the center of attention of his disciples and the crowd. Let us also think, when we have been in bad situations, even sinful situations, how it was Jesus himself who took us by the hand and took us off the side of the road and gave us salvation. Thus a twofold passage is realized. First: the people had proclaimed good news to the blind man but wanted nothing to do with him; now Jesus forces everyone to become aware that good proclamation implies putting the one who was excluded from it at the center of one's path. Second, in turn, the blind man could not see, but his faith opens the way of salvation for him, and he finds himself among those who have gone down the street to see Jesus. Brothers and sisters, The passing of the Lord is an encounter of mercy that unites all around Him so that we can recognize those in need of help and consolation. In our lives, too, Jesus passes by; and when Jesus passes by, and I notice it, it is an invitation to draw closer to Him, to be better, to be a better Christian, to follow Jesus.

Jesus turns to the blind man and asks him, "What do you want me to do for you?" (v. 41). These words of Jesus are striking: the Son of God now stands before the blind man as a humble servant. He, Jesus, God, says, "But what do you want me to do for you? How do you want me to serve you?" God makes himself the servant of sinful man. And the blind man responds to Jesus no longer by calling him "Son of David," but "Lord," the title the Church from the beginning applies to the Risen Jesus. The blind man asks to see again, and his wish is granted: "Have sight again! Your faith has saved you" (v. 42). He has shown his faith by calling on Jesus and absolutely wanting to meet him, and this has brought him salvation as a gift. Because of faith he can now see and, more importantly, feel loved by Jesus. That is why the account ends by reporting that the blind man "began to follow him glorifying God" (v. 43): he becomes a disciple. From beggar to disciple, this is also our way: we are all beggars, all of us. We are always in need of salvation. And all of us, every day, need to take this step: from beggar to disciple. And so, the blind man sets out after the Lord by becoming part of his community. The one they wanted to silence now testifies aloud to his encounter with Jesus of Nazareth, and "all the people, seeing, gave praise to God" (v. 43). A second miracle occurs: what happened to the blind man causes the people to finally see as well. The same light enlightens everyone by uniting them in the prayer of praise. Thus Jesus pours out his mercy on everyone he meets: he calls them, brings them to himself, gathers them, heals them and enlightens them, creating a new people who celebrate the wonders of his merciful love. Let us also be called by Jesus, and let us be healed by Jesus, forgiven by Jesus, and go after Jesus praising God. So be it!

[Pope Francis, General Audience June 15, 2016].

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

In this Sunday's Gospel (Mk 10: 46-52), we read that while the Lord passed through the streets of Jericho a blind man called Bartimaeus cried out loudly to him, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!". This prayer moved the heart of Jesus, who stopped, had him called over and healed him. 

The decisive moment was the direct, personal encounter between the Lord and that suffering man. They found each other face to face:  God with his desire to heal and the man with his desire to be healed; two freedoms, two converging desires. "What do you want me to do for you?" the Lord asks him. "Master, let me receive my sight", the blind man answers. "Go your way, your faith has saved you". 

With these words, the miracle was worked: God's joy and the man's joy. And Bartimaeus, who had come into the light, as the Gospel narrates, "followed him on the way"; that is, he became a disciple of the Lord and went up to Jerusalem with the Master to take part with him in the great mystery of salvation. This account, in the essentiality of its passages, recalls the catechumen's journey towards the Sacrament of Baptism, which in the ancient Church was also known as "Illumination". 

Faith is a journey of illumination: it starts with the humility of recognizing oneself as needy of salvation and arrives at the personal encounter with Christ, who calls one to follow him on the way of love. On this model the Church has formulated the itinerary of Christian initiation to prepare for Baptism, Confirmation (or Chrism) and the Eucharist. 

In places evangelized of old, where the Baptism of children is widespread, young people and adults are offered catechetical and spiritual experiences that enable them to follow the path of a mature and conscious rediscovery of faith in order to then take on a consistent commitment to witness to it. 

How important is the work that Pastors and catechists do in this field! The rediscovery of the value of one's own Baptism is at the root of every Christian's missionary commitment, because as we see in the Gospel, those who allow themselves to be fascinated by Christ cannot fail to witness to the joy of following in his footsteps. 

In this month of October, especially dedicated to missions, we understand ever more that it is precisely in virtue of Baptism that we possess a co-natural missionary vocation. 

Let us invoke the intercession of the Virgin Mary so that missionaries of the Gospel may multiply.

May every baptized person, closely united to the Lord, feel that he is called to proclaim God's love to everyone with the witness of his own life.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus October 29, 2006]

3. What is perhaps most striking in today's modern society in which we live is the loss in many of the true meaning of life. In a large sector of today's society, the transcendent meaning of existence has been obscured or sometimes lost. And, no longer knowing why and for whom one lives, it is easy to be swept away by the rush of passions, selfishness, cruelty, anarchy of the senses, the destruction of drugs, and despair.

We must turn our eyes to Christ: He alone "is the light that shines in the darkness; He is the true light that enlightens every man" (Jn. 1:5, 9).

Jesus is the Incarnate Word, the Revealer and Redeemer, who proclaims with absolute and definitive word, because it is divine, the authentic meaning of life, a precious gift given by God, who is the mysterious and merciful Love, which we must accept and make bear fruit, in function and in the perspective of eternal happiness. "I am the light of the world," Jesus said, "whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (Jn. 8:12). It is this fundamental and essential light that people are in living need of, always, but particularly today. Like the blind man of Jericho, recalled by the Gospel, modern man must turn to Jesus, with total confidence. "What do you want me to do for you?" - the Divine Master asked him; the blind man replied, "Lord, may I see again!" And Jesus healed him, saying, "Have sight again! Your faith has saved you!" (cf. Lk 18:35-43).

Only Christ can fully enlighten us about the problem of life and history: always be convinced of this and witness consistently and courageously to this faith of yours!

[Pope John Paul II, Todi November 22, 1981]

Today we begin a new series of catecheses on the theme of prayer. Prayer is the breath of faith; it is its most proper expression. Like a cry that issues from the heart of those who believe and entrust themselves to God. Let us think about the story of Bartimaeus, a character in the Gospel (cf. Mk 10:46-52), and I confess that for me he is the most likeable of all. He was blind and sat begging for alms by the roadside on the periphery of his city, Jericho. He is not an anonymous character. He has a face and a name: Bartimaeus, that is, “son of Timaeus”. One day he heard that Jesus would be passing through there. In fact, Jericho was a crossroads of people, continually criss-crossed by pilgrims and tradesmen. Thus, Bartimaeus positioned himself: he would have done anything possible to meet Jesus. So many people did the same. Let us recall Zacchaeus who climbed up the tree. Many wanted to see Jesus; he did too. In this way the man enters the Gospels as a voice that loudly cries out. He cannot see. He does not know whether Jesus is near or far away but he hears him. He understands this from the crowd which, at a certain point, grows and comes closer…. But he is completely alone and no one is concerned about him. And what does Bartimaeus do? He cries out. And he cries out and continues to cry out. He uses the only weapon he possesses: his voice. He begins to shout: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” (v. 47). And he continues to cry out in this manner. His repeated cries are a nuisance. They do not seem polite and many people scold him, telling him to be quiet: “But be polite; do not do this”. However, Bartimaeus does not keep silent but rather cries out even more loudly: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” (v. 47): That beautiful stubbornness of those who seek a grace and knock and knock on the door of God’s heart. He cries out; he knocks. That expression: “Son of David”, is very important. It means “the Messiah” — he professes the Messiah. It is a profession of faith that emerges from the mouth of that man who was despised by all. And Jesus listens to his cry. Bartimaeus’ prayer touches his heart, God’s heart, and the doors of salvation open up for him. Jesus calls for him. He jumps to his feet and those who had first told him to be quiet, now lead him to the Master. Jesus speaks to him. He asks him to express his desire — this is important — and then the cry becomes a request: “that I may see again, Lord!” (cf. v. 51).

Jesus says to him: “Go your way; your faith has made you well” (v. 52). He recognises in that poor, defenceless and despised man, all the power of his faith, which attracts the mercy and the power of God. Faith is having two hands raised up, a voice that cries out to implore the gift of salvation. The Catechism states that “humility is the foundation of prayer” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2559). Prayer is born of the earth, of the humus from which “humble”, “humility” derive. It comes from our precarious state, from our continuous thirst for God (cf. ibid., 2560-2561). Faith, as we have seen with Bartimaeus, is a cry. Lack of faith is the suppression of that cry. That attitude that the people had, in making him keep quiet: they were not people of faith, whereas he was. To suppress that cry is a type of omertà (code of silence). Faith is a protest against a pitiful condition the cause of which we do not understand. Lack of faith is to limit ourselves to endure a situation to which we have become accustomed. Faith is the hope of being saved. Lack of faith is becoming accustomed to the evil that oppresses us and continuing in that way.

Dear brothers and sisters, we begin this series of catecheses with Bartimaeus’ cry because perhaps everything is already written in someone like him. Bartimaeus is a persevering man. He was surrounded by people who explained that imploring was useless, that it was clamouring without receiving a reply, that it was noise that was only bothersome, and thus please stop crying out. But he did not remain in silence. And in the end he obtained what he wanted.

Greater than any discussion to the contrary, there is a voice in mankind’s heart that invokes. We all have this voice within. A voice that comes forth spontaneously without anyone commanding it, a voice that asks itself about the meaning of our journey on earth, especially when we find ourselves in darkness: “Jesus, have mercy on me! Jesus have mercy on me!”. This is a beautiful prayer.

But are these words perhaps not chiselled in all of creation? Everything invokes and implores so that the mystery of mercy may be definitively fulfilled. Not only Christians pray; they share their cry of prayer with all men and women. But the horizon can be further widened: Paul states that all of creation “has been groaning in travail together until now” (Rom 8:22). Artists are often the interpreters of this silent cry of creation that is found in every creature and emerges above all in the heart of men and women, because they are “beggars before God” (ccc, 2559). It is a beautiful definition of mankind: “beggars before God”. Thank you.

[Pope Francis, General Audience May 6, 2020]

Conversion and Times

(Lk 13:1-9)

Conversion refers to a process that shakes the soul, due to an Encounter. A ‘meeting’ that opens to the knowledge of ourselves.

A dialogue that projects minds and actions onto reality and the Mystery, which ceaselessly refer to a new Exodus.

Even today, the swampy counterpart of the life of Faith wedges itself like a constant woodworm, and is symbolized by an arid confrontation, expressed in the absence of fruit on an unnecessarily leafy tree.

The ‘vineyard’ is an icon of the chosen people and the ‘fig tree’ of its central prosperity. Here evokes the Temple, in particular its liturgical nucleus: the Sanctuary.

The cult that took place in the sacred of ​​the vast area of ​​Mount Zion had to express the praise of a people who were constantly listening, called to a life of sharing and fraternity.

The delicious fruits that the Lord was waiting for should have been sweet and tender (like figs), but they were hard and inedible. The Call had been dropped on deaf ears.

The many and showy "leaves" of the most devout rite didn’t celebrate a life of welcome and understanding, rather tended to hide the bitter berries of a style in no way conforming to the divine plan.

We ask ourselves: how much time do we have available to amend and not regress, living fully the present?

Is the Father's governmental action punitive or only responsible and life-giving?

In the parable of the sterile fig tree we learn: the only condition that can change a history of infertility and squalor - as well as the danger of formalism - is the time still needed to assimilate the Word.

Forward process, linked to the unpredictable way in which the vital call of the Seed and the particular reaching out of its roots intertwine with the earth of the soul, then overflowing in relation to the events.

Appeal that never ceases, in the reverb of which is elaborated and strengthened the change of mentality that introduces into conviviality and into the plan of liberation for an alternative world: the Kingdom of God.

After the three years of the Son's public life, there is a "fourth year" that extends to the history of the Church (vv. 7-9).

It does not want to conceal the luxuriance of life but to make it blossom, and without ceasing recalls a flourishing growth; for a feeling of Family with sweetest fruit, which is not satisfied with external practices.

As the encyclical Brothers All points out, the Lord still dreams of a «plan that would set great goals for the development of our entire human family» (n.16).

For this purpose «we need to think of ourselves more and more as a single family dwelling in a common home. Such care does not interest those economic powers that demand quick profits» (n.17).

The hasty logic - as well as the epidermal rush of the society of events - creates inequalities, not only in the commercial field.

In short, everything becomes an opportunity for the Eternal’s flowering and action ground, history that is truly ours: teaching of authentic theology and humanization - if the people’s story unfolds ‘on the way’.

The God of religion has his own claims and doesn’t appear long-suffering. The Father of Jesus knows how to wait. He does not get angry, he does not give in to the frenzy of blow for blow. He is not disinterested, but not complain; nor take revenge.

He proposes solutions.

In doing so He will not cause irreparable trouble - indeed will astound us. For a new Spring, in which the fig tree gives its unrepeatable sugary, juicy and highly energetic Fruit - before the many leaves.

So that ‘fraternity’ does not «remain just another vague ideal» (n.109).

[Saturday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 26, 2024]

Conversion and Times

(Luke 13:1-9)

Conversion refers to a process that shakes the soul, because of an Encounter. A rediscovery that opens to self-knowledge.

A dialogue that projects mind and actions onto reality and Mystery, which incessantly refer back to a new Exodus.

Even today, the swampy counterpart to the life of Faith wedges in like a constant woodworm, and is symbolized by a barren confrontation, expressed in the absence of fruit above an unnecessarily leafy tree.

The vineyard is iconic of the Chosen People and the fig tree of its central prosperity. Here it evokes the Temple, particularly its liturgical core: the Sanctuary.

According to religious prejudices - of class, purity conditions, ministry, progressive skimming - within strictly demarcated perimeters homage was paid to the God of Israel.

The worship that took place in the sacred zone of the vast Mount Zion area was to express the praise of a people in constant listening, called to a life of sharing and fraternity.

The delicious fruits that the Lord awaited should have been sweet and tender (like figs); conversely, they turned out to be hard and inedible. His Appeal had been let fall on deaf ears.

The many and conspicuous "leaves" of the devout rite did not celebrate a life of acceptance and understanding, but tended precisely to hide the bitter berries of a style in nothing in accordance with the divine plan.

We ask ourselves: how much time do we have to amend and not regress, living fully in the present? Is the Father's governing action punitive or only responsible and life-giving?

In the parable of the barren fig tree we learn: the only condition that can change a history of infertility and squalor - as well as the danger of formalism - is the time still needed to assimilate the Word.

Forward process, linked to the unpredictable manner in which the vital Call of the Seed and the particular outreach of its roots intertwines with the soil of the soul, then overflows in relation to happenings.

Call that does not cease; in whose reverberation is elaborated and strengthened the change of mentality that ushers in the mutual hospitable of convivialities and the design of liberation for an alternative world: the Kingdom of God.

Now in the hands of a useless and corrupt caste that had allowed the vital relationship to be extinguished, the threads of the ignored design of Salvation and Justice (in the sense first and foremost of authentic God-man positions and just relationships) are reknotted by the intensity of Father-Son relationship.

After the three years of public life, there is a "fourth year" that extends to the history of the Church (vv.7-9).

It is not meant to conceal the luxuriance of life but to make it blossom, and without ceasing it calls forth a flourishing growth; for a feeling of Family with the sweetest fruit, which is not satisfied with outward practices.

In order to overcome conditionings, suspicions, blockages, failures, there is a need for breath: it involves treading a long path of exploration.

There are no shortcuts, no useful U-conversions according to the code of official authorities, perpetually committed to mitigating and homologating charismatic peaks.

Indeed, Jesus had invited the crowds to have independent thinking and judgment (Luke 12:57: "Now why do you not judge for yourselves also what is right?").

Woe betide to be subjugated, accepting omertà out of calculation or fear. Our dignity and the missionary wealth to which God calls are at stake.

This is why the authorities considered Jesus to be like a Galilean: subversive and rebellious.

He suffers another intimidation by proxies of religious leaders (Lk 13:1). We seem to be witnessing a scene of prevarication with which we may be familiar.

As the encyclical Brothers All points out, the Lord still dreams of a project "with great goals, for the development of all humanity (No. 16)."

For this purpose "we need to constitute ourselves into a 'we' that inhabits the Common House. Such care does not interest the economic powers that need quick revenues" (n.17).

The rushed logic - as well as the epidermic haste of the society of events - creates inequalities, not only in the mercantile field.

In short, everything becomes opportunity for flourishing and ground for action of the Eternal, history truly ours: magisterium of authentic theology and humanization-if the story of the people unfolds on the way.

In the processes that trigger a history of redemption according to Gospel logic, the memory of the past does not alienate but interpellates: it does not trivially provide inert indefectible criteria for judging the present and obtaining repercussions or predictive capacities for the future.

The creed of philosophical-religious idealism may be a cocoon in which to lull oneself, but from the attentive and propulsive Faith flows a life of love that is also unpredictable, capable of inexplicable recoveries: it demands personal judgment and new grit in situation.

Harmful to dust off and readjust old things or one-sided dreams.It is necessary to have open eyes and at the same time to give time, so that we overcome the fatalisms of archaic monotheism, the sentiments that confuse intimist emotionalism with passion for the things of God, the reductionist and schematic fundamentalisms, the illusions that we are already well on the path of conversion.

The God of ancient religion has its demands and does not appear longsuffering. The Father of Jesus knows how to wait. He tolerates both stubbornness and careless acceleration.

He does not get irritated, does not give in to the frenzy of blow after blow. He is not disinterested, however, he does not complain; nor does he retaliate.

It proposes solutions.

She reiterates occasions that would melt the hard temper of our idols -- for an evolution toward a renewed masterpiece of heavenly Patience.

It has the style of the mother or at any rate of the parent - close relative - who by dint of caresses and kisses persuades the wayward child to be fed the food that will make him grow (calmly) and thus surpass himself.

In this way he does not cause irreparable trouble - in fact he will astound us.

For a new Spring, in which the fig gives its unrepeatable sugary fruit [never already dry or dried] juicy and highly energetic-before the many leaves.

So that fraternity does not remain "at best a romantic expression" (FT, 109).

To internalize and live the message:

How do you safeguard community living and your transpositions of Faith in Christ? What is the point of homologation in satisfactions, and where do you place your Preciousness?

""Repent', says the Lord, "for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand'", we proclaimed before the Gospel […] that presents us with the fundamental theme of this "strong season" of the liturgical year: the invitation to change our lives and to do works worthy of penance.
Jesus, as we heard, recalls two items of news: a brutal repression in the Temple by the Roman police (cf. Lk 13: 1) and the tragic death of 18 people, killed when the tower in Siloam collapsed (v. 4). People interpret these events as divine punishment for those victims' sins, and thinking they are upright, believe they are safe from such accidents and that they have nothing in their own lives that they should change. Jesus, however, denounces this attitude as an illusion: "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered thus? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish" (vv. 2-3). And he invites us to reflect on these events for a greater commitment on the journey of conversion, for it is precisely the closure of ourselves to the Lord and the failure to take the path of our own conversion that lead to death, to the death of the soul. In Lent, each one of us is asked by God to mark a turning point in our life, thinking and living in accordance with the Gospel, correcting some aspect of our way of praying, acting or working and of our relations with others. Jesus makes this appeal to us, not with a severity that is an end in itself but precisely because he is concerned for our good, our happiness and our salvation. On our part, we must respond to him with a sincere inner effort, asking him to make us understand which particular ways we should change. 

The conclusion of the Gospel passage reverts to the prospect of mercy, showing the urgent need to return to God, to renew life in accordance with God. Referring to a custom of the time, Jesus presents the parable of a fig tree planted in the vineyard. However, this fig tree was barren, it produced no fruit (cf. Lk 13: 6-9). The dialogue that develops between the master and the vinedresser shows on the one hand the mercy of God who is patient and allows human beings, all of us, time in which to convert; and on the other, the need to start to change both our interior and exterior way of life straight away in order not to miss the opportunities that God's mercy affords us to overcome our spiritual laziness and respond to God's love with our own filial love. 

[Pope Benedict, homily parish St. John of the Cross, March 7, 2010]

3. I spoke of fructification, and I am also helped in this by the Gospel, when it proposes - a reading we recently encountered in the sacred liturgy - the simile of the barren fig tree, which is threatened with uprooting (Lk 13:6-9). Man must bear fruit in time, that is, during his earthly life, and not only for himself, but also for others, for the society of which he is an integral part. However, this operation of his in time, precisely because he is "contained" in time, must neither make him forget nor neglect his other essential dimension, of being that is oriented toward eternity: man, therefore, must bear fruit simultaneously for eternity as well.

And if we take this perspective away from man, he will remain a barren fig tree.

On the one hand, he must "fill with himself" time creatively, because the otherworldly dimension certainly does not dispense him from the duty to work responsibly and originally, participating effectively and in collaboration with all other men in the building up of society according to the concrete needs of the historical moment, in which he finds himself living. It is, this, the Christian sense of the "historicity" of man. On the other hand, this commitment of faith immerses the young person in a contemporaneity, which carries within itself, in a certain sense, a vision contrary to Christianity.

This anti-view has these characteristics, which I recall in a manner, albeit briefly.

Man today often lacks a sense of the transcendent, of supernatural realities, of something that surpasses him. Man cannot live without some thing that goes further, that surpasses him. Man lives himself if he is aware of this, if he must always go beyond himself, transcend himself. This transcendence is deeply inscribed in the human constitution of the person.

Behold, in the anti-view, as I have said, contemporary, the meaning of man's existence therefore comes to be "determined" within the framework of a materialistic conception in order to the various problems, such as those of justice, work, etc.: hence arise those multiform contrasts between social categories or between national entities, in which the various collective egoisms manifest themselves. It is necessary, on the other hand, to overcome such a closed and, in the end, alienating conception, contrasting it with that broader horizon that right reason and even more so the Christian faith already let us glimpse. There, in fact, problems find a fuller solution; there justice takes on completeness and implementation in all its aspects; there human relationships, excluding all forms of selfishness, come to correspond to the dignity of man, as a person on whom the face of God shines.

[Pope John Paul II, to the young people of Turin, April 13, 1980]