The particular circumstances of John's birth have been handed down to us by the evangelist Luke. According to an ancient tradition, it took place in Ain-Karim, before the gates of Jerusalem. The circumstances surrounding this birth were so unusual that even at that time people were asking: "What is this child to be?" (Lk 1:66). It was evident to his believing parents, neighbours and relatives that his birth was a sign from God. They clearly saw that the "hand of the Lord" was upon him. This was already demonstrated by the announcement of his birth to his father Zechariah, while he was providing priestly service in the temple in Jerusalem. His mother, Elisabeth, was already advanced in years and was thought to be barren. Even the name 'John' he was given was unusual for his environment. His father himself had to give orders that he be called "John" and not, as everyone else wanted, "Zechariah" (cf. Lk 1:59-63).

The name John means in the Hebrew language "God is merciful". Thus already in the name is expressed the fact that the newborn child would one day announce God's plan of salvation.

The future would fully confirm the predictions and events surrounding his birth: John, son of Zechariah and Elisabeth, became the "voice of one crying out in the wilderness" (Matt 3:3), who on the banks of the Jordan called people to penance and prepared the way for Christ.

Christ himself said of John the Baptist that "among those born of women no greater one has arisen" (cf. Mt 11:11). That is why the Church has also reserved a special veneration for this great messenger of God from the very beginning. An expression of this veneration is today's feast.

4. Dear brothers and sisters! This celebration, with its liturgical texts, invites us to reflect on the question of man's becoming, his origins and his destination. True, we already seem to know a great deal about this subject, both from mankind's long experience and from ever more in-depth biomedical research. But it is the word of God that always re-establishes the essential dimension of the truth about man: man is created by God and willed by God in his image and likeness. No purely human science can demonstrate this truth. At most it can come close to this truth or intuitively surmise the truth about this 'unknown being' that is man from the moment of his conception in the womb.

At the same time, however, we find ourselves witnessing how, in the name of a supposed science, man is 'reduced' in a dramatic trial and represented in a sad simplification; and so it happens that even those rights that are based on the dignity of his person, which distinguishes him from all the other creatures of the visible world, are overshadowed. Those words from the book of Genesis, which speak of man as the creature created in the image and likeness of God, highlight, in a concise yet profound way, the full truth about him.

5. We can also learn this truth about man from today's liturgy, in which the Church prays to God, the creator, in the words of the psalmist:

"Lord, you scrutinise me and know me . . . 

It is you who created my bowels 

and wove me in my mother's womb . . . 

you know me to the depths. 

When I was formed in secret . . . 

my bones were not hidden from you . . . 

I praise thee, for thou hast made me as a prodigy' (Ps 139 [138], 1. 13-15).

Man therefore is aware of what he is - of what he is from the beginning, from the womb. He knows that he is a creature that God wants to meet and with whom he wants to dialogue. What is more: in man, he wants to meet the whole of creation.

For God, man is a 'someone': unique and unrepeatable. He, as the Second Vatican Council says, "on earth is the only creature that God willed for itself" (cf. Gaudium et Spes, 24).

"The Lord from my mother's womb has called me; from my mother's womb he has pronounced my name" (Is 49:1); like the name of the child who was born in Ain-Karim: "John". Man is that being whom God calls by name. For God he is the created 'you', of all creatures he is that personal 'I', who can address God and call him by name. God wants that partner in man who addresses him as his own creator and Father: 'You, my Lord and my God'. To the divine "you".

6. Dear brothers and sisters! How do we men respond to this call of God? How does the man of today understand his life? In no other age have so many efforts been made through technology and medicine to safeguard human life against disease, to prolong it ever longer and to save it from death. At the same time, however, no other age has produced so many places and so many methods of contempt and destruction of man as ours. The bitter experiences of our century with the death machines of two world wars, the persecution and destruction of entire groups of men because of their ethnic or religious affiliation, the atomic arms race to the extreme, the helplessness of men in the face of great misery in many parts of the earth may lead us to doubt, if not even to deny, God's affection and love for man and for the whole of creation.

Or is it not rather the case that we should ask ourselves the question in reverse, when we consider the terrible events that have befallen the world because of mankind, and in the face of the manifold threats of our time: has man not turned away from God, who is his origin, and raised himself up as the centre and standard of his own life? Do you not think that in the experiments being conducted on man, experiments that contradict his dignity, in the mental attitude of many towards abortion and euthanasia, a worrying loss of respect for life is expressed? Is it not evident, even in your society, when one looks at the lives of many - characterised by inner emptiness, fear and flight - that man himself has severed his roots? Are not sex, alcohol and drugs to be understood as warning signals? Do they not indicate, perhaps, a great loneliness in today's man, a longing for care, a hunger for love that a world turned in on itself cannot quench?

In fact, when man is no longer connected to his root, which is God, he becomes impoverished of inner values and gradually becomes subservient to various threats. History teaches us that men and peoples who believe they can exist without God are invariably doomed to the catastrophe of self-destruction. The poet Ernst Wiechert expressed it in this sentence: 'Be assured that no one will fall out of this world who has not first fallen out of God'.

On the contrary, from a living relationship with God, man acquires an awareness of the uniqueness and value of his own life and personal consciousness. In his concretely lived life, he knows that he is called, supported and spurred on by God. Despite injustice and personal suffering, he understands that his life is a gift; he is grateful for it and knows that he is responsible for it before God. In this way, God becomes for man a source of strength and confidence, and at this source man can make his life worthy and also know how to generously put it at the service of his brothers and sisters.

7. God called John the Baptist already "in the womb" so that he might become "the voice of one crying out in the wilderness" and thus prepare the way for his Son. In a very similar way, God has also "laid his hand" on each one of us. For each of us he has a particular call, each of us is entrusted with a task designed by him for us.

In each call, which may come to us in the most diverse way, we hear that divine voice, which then spoke through John: "Prepare the way of the Lord!" (Matt 3:3).

Every man should ask himself in what way he can contribute within the scope of his work and position, to open the way for God in this world. Every time we open ourselves to God's call, we prepare, like John, the way of the Lord among men.

[Pope John Paul II, 24 June 1988]

Today’s liturgy invites us to celebrate the feast of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist. His birth is the event which illuminates the life of his parents, Elizabeth and Zechariah, and engages his kindred and neighbours in joy and wonder. These elderly parents had dreamed and even prepared for that day, but they were no longer expecting it: they felt excluded, humiliated, disappointed: they were childless. Faced with the announcement of the birth of a son (cf. Lk 1:13), Zechariah was incredulous because the laws of nature did not allow it. They were old, they were elderly. Consequently, the Lord rendered him mute for the entire gestation period (cf. v. 20). It was a sign. But God does not rely on our reasoning and our limited human abilities. We must learn to trust and be silent before the mystery of God and to contemplate, with humility and silence, his work which is revealed in history and often exceeds our imagination.

And now that the event comes to pass, now that Elizabeth and Zechariah experience that “with God nothing will be impossible” (Lk 1:37), their joy is great. Today’s Gospel reading (Lk 1:57-66, 80) announces the birth and then pauses on the moment of the bestowal of the child’s name. Elizabeth chooses a name that is foreign to her family’s tradition and says: “he shall be called John” (v. 60): a freely given and, by then, an unexpected gift, because John means “God has given grace”. And this child will be a herald, a witness to God’s grace for the poor who, with humble faith, await his salvation. Zechariah unexpectedly confirms the choice of that name by writing it on a tablet — because he was mute —, and “immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, blessing God” (v. 64).

The entire event of the birth of John the Baptist is surrounded by a joyous sense of wonder, surprise and gratitude. Wonder, surprise, gratitude. The people are filled with a holy fear of God “and all these things were talked about through all the hill country of Judea” (v. 65). Brothers and sisters, the faithful people sense that something great has occurred, even though it is humble and hidden, and they ask themselves: “What then will this child be?” (v. 66). The faithful People of God are able to live the faith with joy, with a sense of wonder, of surprise and of gratitude. We see those people who spoke well about this marvelous thing, this miracle of John’s birth, and they did so with joy, they were happy, with a sense of wonder, surprise and gratitude. And looking at this, let us ask ourselves: how is my faith? Is it a joyous faith or is it a faith that is always the same, a ‘dull’ faith? Do I feel a sense of wonder when I see the Lord’s works, when I hear about evangelization or the life of a saint, or when I see many good people do I feel the grace within, or does nothing move in my heart? Am I able to feel the Spirit’s consolation or am I closed off? Let us ask ourselves, each of us, in an examination of conscience: How is my faith? Is it joyful? Is it open to God’s surprises? Because God is the God of surprises. Have I ‘tasted’ in my soul that sense of wonder which the presence of God brings, that sense of gratitude? Let us think about these words which are the moods of faith: joy, a sense of wonder, a sense of surprise and gratitude.

May the Blessed Virgin help us to understand that in each human person there is the imprint of God, the source of life. May she, Mother of God and our Mother, make us more aware that in having children parents are acting as God’s assistants. It is a mission that is truly sublime, which makes each family a shrine of life, and it — each child’s birth — awakens joy, wonder and gratitude.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 24 June 2018]

For a transparent coexistence

(Mt 7:1-5)

The Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5-7) lists catechesis on salient questions of living in the communities of Galilee and Syria - composed of Jews converted to Christ.

There was no lack of contempt on the part of the veterans for the new ones who appeared at the threshold of the churches - for their way of life far from the recognized norm, or even for trifles.

«Theatrant» (v.5) is one who thinks big about himself and always has the ability to look around to convince himself that he can excel - without putting himself in an attitude of respect for the enigma of life, where instead the burdens can turn into progress.

The objective view of ourselves and our personal growth - often resulting from deviations from stereotypes or nomenclatures - can make us benevolent. It can convince of due respect and even deference for the ‘more’ that surrounds us and calls.

The legalism of plastered details leads in fact to the neglect of the essential, in mutual love (cf. vv.3-5).

In the 70s of the first century the awareness of the different familiar and serene relationship with God - and the new way of living his Law - was questioning believers and involved relations with community’ sisters and brothers.

After having introduced both the new criteria of ‘Greater Justice’ and the recovery of the principles of Creation, the evangelist suggests some essential ideas for the internal quality of life of the fraternities.

The cultural background of older church members was fiercely legalistic. This baggage didn’t favour the freedom of mutual evaluations: coexistence had to be more transparent.

To encourage communion, Mt wants to present a free and tranquil Jesus - not superhuman, nor idol or model: vice versa, genuine Person; not unilateral Master.

In fact, he knew how to recover and wanted to enhance all the individual sensitivities, to allow the expression of friendship and enrichment in every human reality.

Only its strong ‘root’ in the relationship with the Father had to be of sacred example for each one, and inviolable comparison for everyone, always.

In Palestine the Lord had not shown himself to be fundamentalist. 

«Trust» in the Father and in his «life to come» gave the Son himself the certainty that he could open completely to situations and to everyone - whatever circumstances he found himself in.

A convivial openness to differences, in order not to block the gates and the outcome of the Novelty, in the Spirit of the Beatitudes.

This is because we have been called to make our existence exponential and that of all, not to dampen it with preconceptions and relative convictions.

We accept Providence, ourselves and the others as they are: aware that there is a precious secret, an unprecedented destiny, a Mystery that surpasses us... behind every event, in each of our own ‘intimate faces’ [supported by the Father], or in the brother even if eccentric.

The ways of following that resonate deep in the heart are as varied as people, events, rhythms commensurate with the soul, ages.

They embrace the same Proposal - without losing the enduring Mystery or any link in this versatility.

Only here... real World, Person, Nature and Eternity are allied.

[Monday 12th wk. in O.T.  June 23, 2025]

For transparent coexistence

(Mt 7:1-5)

The Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5-7) lists catechesis on salient issues in the life of the communities of Galilee and Syria, composed of Jews converted to Christ.

There were episodes of mutual contempt, fuelled especially by veterans accustomed to scrutinising newcomers who presented themselves at the door of the churches, either because their lifestyle was far from the accepted norm or even for trivial reasons.

But we are not judges, we are family members. And of course, in the final analysis, it is precisely malice that sharpens the eye to the slightest faults in others: generally, specks and external shortcomings.

This while the same shrewdness overlooks our own enormities - the heavy beam that separates us not only from God and everyone else, but even from ourselves, bringing us closer to the selfish and arrogant ego.

A 'theatral' person (v. 5) is someone who thinks highly of themselves and is always looking around to convince themselves that they can excel - without showing any respect for the enigma of life, where burdens can be transformed into progress.

An objective view of ourselves and our personal growth - often arising precisely from deviations from stereotypes or nomenclatures - can make us benevolent. It can convince us of the respect and even deference due to the greater reality that surrounds us and calls us.

Legalism in rigid details leads to neglect of what is essential in mutual love (cf. vv. 3-5).

We know very well how hard it is to question ourselves, or to educate perfectionist religious people to detach themselves from their accidental convictions [or fads], which have become sclerotic habits like totems.

In short, in the 70s of the first century, awareness of a different, peaceful relationship with God – and a new way of living his Law – was challenging believers and affecting their relationships with their brothers and sisters in the community.

After introducing both the new criteria of 'greater justice' and the recovery of the principles of Creation, the evangelist suggests some essential points for the quality of life within the fraternities.

The cultural background of the older members of the church was fiercely legalistic. 

This background did not favour freedom in mutual evaluation: coexistence had to be more transparent.

Devout preconceptions seemed an insurmountable obstacle to personalised life and mutual sharing according to the new logic of the Beatitudes [Mt 5:1-12: Self-portrait of Christ as an 'open book' (pierced by a spear)].

The cultural baggage linked to obligations, a sense of duty and hierarchy, an ingrained lifestyle, and beliefs that were difficult to abandon multiplied harsh judgements between generations and between different cultural backgrounds.

To encourage communion, Matthew wants to present a free and peaceful Jesus - not a superman, nor an idol or model: on the contrary, a genuine Person; a non-unilateral Teacher.

He knew how to restore; he wanted to value all the multifaceted, individual sensibilities, to allow the expression of friendship and enrichment in every human reality.

Only his strong 'roots' in his relationship with the Father were to be a sacred example for everyone and an inviolable model for all, always.

This was for the sake of a rich and global transparency, to be proposed also to his disciples.

In this way, adherence to particular beliefs or the repetition of the usual disciplines of perfection did not take shape.

Nor should pious mass observances be favoured, as these are sometimes the first obstacle to dialogue and to the Exodus in its various forms.

Then life itself would providentially guide each person towards a specific witness, which could itself create another opening - relevant to their own character and vocation of the soul.

In Palestine, the Lord did not show himself to be obsessive or one-sided, nor was he reduced to normal and plausible patterns based on cultural codes, evaluative prudence, or moral and religious paradigms.

Trust in the Father and in the life that is given gave the Master Jesus the certainty that he could open himself totally to situations and to everyone, whatever reality he found himself in.

A convivial openness to the most exceptional differences, so as not to block the gateways and the outcome of the Newness, in the Spirit of the Beatitudes.

Unconditional love always applies first and foremost to the disciple, the members of the same community, and one's neighbour.

This is because we have been called to make our existence and that of everyone else exponential, not to dampen it with glamorous versions, preconceived ideas, and relative convictions.

We were created to love the exceptional truth of women and men, not to extinguish uniqueness by passing judgement on trifles.Let us accept Providence, ourselves and others as they are: aware that there is a precious secret, a destiny of newness, a Mystery that surpasses us... behind every event, in each of our own intimate faces [supported by the Father], or in our eccentric brother.

The ways of following that resonate in the depths of our hearts are as varied as the people, events, rhythms commensurate with the soul, and ages.

They embrace the same Proposal - without losing the enduring Mystery or any bond in this multifacetedness.

Only here... the real world, the Person, Nature and Eternity are united.

"When the weaver raises one foot, the other lowers. When the movement ceases and one of the feet stops, the fabric is no longer woven. His hands throw the shuttle from one to the other, but no hand can hope to hold it. Like the weaver's gestures, it is the union of opposites that weaves our life" [African Peul oral tradition].

"We are utterly lost if we lack this particular Individuality, the only thing we can truly call our own and whose loss is also a loss for the whole world. It is precious precisely because it is not universal" [Tagore].

"We must learn to abandon our defences and our need to control, and trust totally in the guidance of the spirit" [Sobonfu Somé].

"True morality does not consist in following the beaten path, but in finding the path that is true for us and following it without fear" [Gandhi].

Beams and specks: a paradoxical situation, where there is sometimes an excess of 'belief' - yet Faith is lacking.

“Let us be concerned for each other”: responsibility towards our brothers and sisters.

This first aspect is an invitation to be “concerned”: the Greek verb used here is katanoein, which means to scrutinize, to be attentive, to observe carefully and take stock of something. We come across this word in the Gospel when Jesus invites the disciples to “think of” the ravens that, without striving, are at the centre of the solicitous and caring Divine Providence (cf. Lk 12:24), and to “observe” the plank in our own eye before looking at the splinter in that of our brother (cf. Lk 6:41). In another verse of the Letter to the Hebrews, we find the encouragement to “turn your minds to Jesus” (3:1), the Apostle and High Priest of our faith. So the verb which introduces our exhortation tells us to look at others, first of all at Jesus, to be concerned for one another, and not to remain isolated and indifferent to the fate of our brothers and sisters. All too often, however, our attitude is just the opposite: an indifference and disinterest born of selfishness and masked as a respect for “privacy”. Today too, the Lord’s voice summons all of us to be concerned for one another. Even today God asks us to be “guardians” of our brothers and sisters (Gen 4:9), to establish relationships based on mutual consideration and attentiveness to the well-being, the integral well-being of others. The great commandment of love for one another demands that we acknowledge our responsibility towards those who, like ourselves, are creatures and children of God. Being brothers and sisters in humanity and, in many cases, also in the faith, should help us to recognize in others a true alter ego, infinitely loved by the Lord. If we cultivate this way of seeing others as our brothers and sisters, solidarity, justice, mercy and compassion will naturally well up in our hearts. The Servant of God Pope Paul VI stated that the world today is suffering above all from a lack of brotherhood: “Human society is sorely ill. The cause is not so much the depletion of natural resources, nor their monopolistic control by a privileged few; it is rather the weakening of brotherly ties between individuals and nations” (Populorum Progressio, 66).

[Pope Benedict, Message for Lent 2012]

In the liturgy of the word, Luke's Gospel presents us once again with Jesus' question: "Can a blind man guide a blind man?" (Lk 6:39). The Lord means that a guide cannot be blind; he must see well if he does not want to risk harming those entrusted to him. Jesus thus draws the attention of all those who have educational or leadership responsibilities: pastors of souls, rulers of peoples, legislators, teachers, parents, urging them to be aware, to feel responsibility, to ask themselves about the right path and to be the first to follow it themselves.

3. And the right path is the one traced by the divine Master. He said so himself with a Semitic expression that sounds like this: "The disciple is not above his master, but everyone who is well trained will be like his master" (Lk 6:40). With this, Jesus presents himself as a model and invites us to follow his conduct and his teachings. Only in this way can we be sure and wise guides. The Lord's teachings on moral life are contained mainly in the Sermon on the Mount, which we have been reading for the past three Sundays during the celebration of Holy Mass. In today's passage, we find another very significant phrase, which urges us not to be presumptuous and hypocritical. "Why do you look at the speck in your brother's eye and not notice the log in your own?" (Lk 6:41). How easy it is to see the faults and sins of others and not see our own! And how can we tell if our eye is clear or if it is impeded by a beam? The proof comes from our actions. It is Jesus himself who tells us: "Every tree is recognised by its fruit" (Lk 6:44). The fruit is our actions, but also our words. These too reveal the quality of the tree. In fact, those who are good bring out good from their hearts and mouths, and those who are evil bring out evil. This teaching of Jesus echoes the ancient words of wisdom from Sirach, which we heard in the first reading: 'The fruit shows how the tree is cultivated, so words reveal the feelings of a person' (Sir 27:6).

[Pope John Paul II, homily at Corviale, 1 March 1992]

Jesus gave us clear rules to follow in order to avoid hypocrisy: do not judge others, lest we be judged in the same way; and when we are tempted to do so, it is better to look in the mirror first, not to hide behind make-up, but to see ourselves as we really are. Recalling that the only true judgement is that of God with his mercy, Pope Francis — in the Mass celebrated on Monday morning, 20 June, in the chapel of Casa Santa Marta — recommended not giving in to the temptation to put ourselves in the Lord's place, doubting his word.
"Jesus speaks to people and teaches them many things about prayer, about riches, about vain concerns, many things, about how his disciples should behave," Francis said. And so "he comes to this passage of the Gospel on judgement," proposed by the liturgy (Matthew 7:1-5). It is a passage in which "the Lord is very concrete." In fact, if "sometimes the Lord tells us a parable to make us understand, here it is: 'ta, ta, ta': direct, because judgement is something only he can do."
"It begins" with a clear word from Jesus: "Do not judge, so that you will not be judged." Therefore, "if you do not want to be judged, do not judge others: 'tac, tac', clear". And the Lord "goes one step further", indicating precisely the criterion of measure: "For with the judgement you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you".
"All of us want, on the day of judgement, for the Lord to look upon us with kindness, for the Lord to forget the many bad things we have done in our lives," said Francis. And "this is right, because we are children, and a child always expects this from his father." But "if you continually judge others, you will be judged by the same measure: this is clear."
"First, the commandment, the fact: 'Do not judge, so that you will not be judged,'" the Pope reiterated, adding: "Second, the measure will be the same as you use for your brothers and sisters." And then "the third step: look in the mirror, but not to put on make-up so that your wrinkles cannot be seen; no, no, no, that is not the advice!" Rather, Francis suggested, "look in the mirror to see yourself as you are." Jesus' words are clear: "Why do you look at the speck in your brother's eye and not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is a log in your own eye?"
"How does the Lord describe us," asked the Pontiff, "when we do this? With one word: 'Hypocrite, first take the beam out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.'" In reality, the Lord's reaction should not surprise us, for he "becomes angry; he is very strong, and he even seems to insult us: he calls those who judge others 'hypocrites'.
The reason is that "those who judge," explained the Pope, "put themselves in God's place, make themselves God and doubt God's word." It is precisely "what the serpent convinced our fathers to do: 'No, no, God is a liar, if you eat this, you will be like him'. And they wanted to put themselves in God's place."
For this reason, the Pope insisted, "it is so ugly to judge: judgement belongs to God alone, to him alone!" Rather, it is up to us to "love, understand, pray for others when we see things that are not good," and if necessary, "even speak to them" to warn them if something does not seem to be going right. In any case, "never judge, never," because "if we judge, it is hypocrisy."
After all, Francis said, "when we judge, we put ourselves in God's place, that is true, but our judgement is a poor judgement: it can never, ever be a true judgement." Because, in fact, "true judgement is that which God gives." And "why can't ours be like God's? Because God is almighty and we are not? No, because our judgement lacks mercy." And "when God judges, he judges with mercy."
In conclusion, the Pope suggested that we think "today about what the Lord tells us: do not judge, so as not to be judged; the measure with which we judge will be the same that will be used with us; and thirdly, let us look in the mirror before judging." And so when we feel like saying, "she does this, he does that," it is better to look in the mirror before speaking. Otherwise, "I will be a hypocrite," Francis repeated, "because I am putting myself in God's place." And in any case, "my judgment is a poor judgment: it lacks something very important that God's judgment has, it lacks mercy." The Pope expressed his hope that the Lord "will help us to understand these things well."
[Pope Francis, homily at St. Martha's, in L'Osservatore Romano, 20 June 2016]

Corpus Domini

(Lk 9:11b-17)

The Second Vatican Council didn’t spend a single word about the many Eucharistic devotions.

To make us fully understand the Person of Christ, the Council Fathers were well aware that Jesus did not leave a statue or a relic.

He preferred to express Himself in a gesture, which challenges us.

In the Jewish world, in the evening each family met around for meal, and that of breaking bread was the most significant moment in their experience of conviviality (and memory of the delivery of self to others).

The only bread was divided and shared among all the family members - but even a poor hungry man could look out at the door, which should not be tightened.

Bread and wine, products that had assimilated the energies of heaven and earth, were perceived with spiritual sensitivity - gifts of the Creator for the life and joy of humanity.

In that culture, bread is basic food. But our life is complete only if there is also the element of celebration: here is wine.

Even today bread is not cut with a knife, to respect its sacredness: only broken. It contains concrete existence.

This is why Jesus chooses the Banquet as a sign of his Person, life, word, risky event, given in food.

During the family dinner, bread and wine were not perceived as manna, that is, like natural and raw products. Family members wasn’t even feeding to regain strength, and that’s it.

In wheat and grapes, all the varied contributions of the domestic hearth were also met.

Around the banquet, each man saw in bread and wine the fruit of his work: cleaning of the soil, plowing, sowing, pruning, harvesting and work of press.

The woman caught in the bread her work of grinding, kneading, cooking. Even minors could remember something of their own, because the kids lent themselves to drawing water.

Dinner was a celebration of harmony. The canteen was precisely a place where young people were educated to the perception of existing in unity, instead of disinterest.

Gratitude towards God’s gifts and perception of one’s own support, which reaches (really) the goal in the spirit of synergy and communion.

Contributions, resources and skills appropriate to serve, for everyone's life.

In the Eucharistic gesture Jesus says: new heavens and earth do not correspond to the world in which each one hastens to reap for himself or his circle, in order to grab the maximum of resources.

What about his kingdom? All invited and brothers agree, no master or ruler - destined to stand in front or above (albeit faster than the others) even in Heaven.

Even the Apostles - called by Jesus with Him but still at a safe distance from Him (cf. Lk 9:10.12) - are not the owners of the Bread, but those who must give it to everyone (vv.13.16), to create abundance where it’s not.

In the passage from Lk Jesus arouses bewilderment. He disagrees with the idea that everyone arranges; nor does He like almsgiving (vv.12-13).

He dictates to disciples that the crowd lay down (v.14 Greek text) as did the gentlemen and the free people in solemn moments.

He wants and insists that the Apostles first serve (vv.13.16), not other slaves.

And perhaps the most astounding thing is that none of those present are required to make preventive gestures of purification, as was customary in traditional religiosity.

Before the meal it postulated ablution: a sort of ceremony that emphasized a sacral detachment between pure and impure.

The only task of the apostles is to distribute Food - then to be shredded, sifted and assimilated, to build a new Kingdom - not to make preventive x-rays; let alone interested.

In religion we have a long line of fulfillments to observe in order to present ourselves before God.

On the journey of Faith it’s the gratuitous encounter with the Lord that makes us grow, making us pure without conditions.

Appeal to real Conviviality, and evergreen Reminder not to settle.

(Luke 9:11b-17)

Food multiplied because it is distributed: A call not to be satisfied

Vatican II did not say a single word about the many forms of Eucharistic devotion.

In order to help us fully understand the Person of Christ, the Council Fathers were well aware that Jesus did not leave behind a statue or a relic. He preferred to express himself in a gesture that challenges us.

In the Jewish world, every family gathered around the table in the evening, and the breaking of bread was the most significant moment of their experience of conviviality (and of the memory of giving oneself to others).

The only bread was broken and shared among all the family members - but even a hungry poor person could come to the door, which was not to be locked.

Bread and wine, products that had absorbed the energies of heaven and earth, were perceived with spiritual sensitivity - gifts from the Creator for the life and joy of humanity.

In that culture, bread is a staple food. But our life is only complete if there is also an element of celebration: wine.

Even today, bread is not cut with a knife, out of respect for its sacredness: it is only broken. It contains concrete existence.

This is why Jesus chose the Banquet as a sign of his Person, his life, his word, his risky undertaking, given as food.

During family meals, bread and wine were not perceived as manna, that is, as natural and raw products. Nor was it simply a matter of eating to regain strength.

All the varied contributions of the household were also present in the wheat and grapes.

Around the table, each person saw in the bread and wine the fruit of their labour: clearing the land, ploughing, sowing, reaping, pruning, harvesting and pressing.

Women saw in bread the fruit of their labour in grinding, kneading and baking. Even children could remember something of their own, because the little ones helped to fetch water (if not from wells, then from a spring).

Dinner was a celebration of harmony. The table was a place where young people were taught to perceive existence in unity, rather than in indifference.

Gratitude for God's gifts and awareness of one's own contribution, which had (truly) achieved its goal in a spirit of synergy and communion.

Contributions, resources and abilities were offered in service to the life of all.

In the Eucharistic gesture, Jesus says: the new heavens and earth do not correspond to the world in which everyone rushes to reap for themselves or their circle, in order to grab the maximum amount of resources.

His Kingdom? Everyone is invited and brothers in harmony, no one is master or ruler - destined to stand before or above (even if quicker than others) even in Heaven.

Even the Apostles - called by Jesus to be with him but still remaining at a safe distance from him (cf. Lk 9:10, 12) - are not the owners of the Bread, but those who must offer it to all (vv. 13, 16), to create abundance where there is none.

To enliven meetings on the theme of the Eucharist and to internalise how there has been an evolution in the Catholic Church's understanding of the effectiveness of the Sign, I like to compare two great works of art.

Raphael, in his so-called Disputation of the Sacrament, depicts a sacred and static world. Today we would say (at first glance) that it is almost plasticised.

It is an environment that seems entirely predictable and characterised by a specific social, cultural and spiritual model, where everyone is placed according to their origins, position, status and spiritual rank.

Arcabas, a French artist who recently passed away, paints a picture that seems devoid of a protagonist: as if cut out, or (better) focused on the simple gesture. In other words, the decorative trappings are irrelevant to this proposal of life.

In the work of the contemporary painter, we see the sobriety of a person and a well-centred missionary spirit (which scratches, but makes us lose our heads much more than beautiful scripts); because in the world of Love, the best is yet to come.

We are challenged.

Arcabas illustrates a simply laid table: a plate that is certainly not from the best collection, a glass of wine without frills, a tablecloth simply laid on the table and characterised by its folds (not even ironed) that recall everyday life.

And above all, the normal gesture of breaking bread, step by step, with its crumbs that are neither fluffy nor white. The Eucharistic Banquet is not for the afterlife - who knows when that will be.

(For almost a thousand years, the Catholic Church celebrated with daily bread, as the Orthodox Church still does. As evidence, we still have very large trays, now reduced to small plates).

In the passage from Luke, Jesus causes consternation. He does not agree with the idea that everyone should fend for themselves; he does not even like the idea of almsgiving (vv. 12-13).

He tells his followers to make the crowd lie down (v.14 Greek text) as lords and free people did on solemn occasions.

He wants and insists that the apostles serve first (vv. 13, 16), not other slaves.

Perhaps most astonishing is that he does not require any of those present to perform preventive acts of purification, as was customary in traditional religiosity.

Before the meal, it was customary to perform ablutions: a sort of ceremony that emphasised a sacred separation between the pure and the impure.

(Christ does not even like the paths of each person to be subject to external observers, experts who impose abstract principles and a dehumanising rhythm that is not commensurate with the person).

The apostles' only task is to distribute the Food - to be broken up, sifted and assimilated in order to build a new Kingdom - not to make preventive X-rays, let alone interested ones.

The absolute and non-negotiable criterion is the fullness of life of the last to arrive; the opposite would be (truly) a valley of tears, tinged with dissatisfaction and discontent.

In religion, we have a long list of requirements to observe in order to present ourselves before God.

On the path of Faith, it is the gratuitous encounter with the Lord that makes us grow, making us pure without conditions.

Even in the Disputation of the Sacrament, the person closest to the altar (almost identifying with it) is St. Francis, crouching below the level of the table. He too is a veteran.

The gaze of the alter Christus towards the outside meets and draws the attention of two young men on our left, halfway into the perspective, also crouched down and overwhelmed by figures of high spiritual rank.

The moral: the Eucharist is not a reward for the righteous, but (where and how we are) a call to real conviviality. An evergreen reminder not to be satisfied.