This Sunday’s Gospel passage (cf. Mk 5:21-43) presents two miracles performed by Jesus, almost describing them as a type of triumphal march toward life. Initially the Evangelist speaks about a certain Jairus, one of the rulers of the Synagogue, who approaches Jesus and beseeches Him to go to his home because his 12-year-old daughter is dying. Jesus agrees and goes with him; but, along the way, word arrives that the girl is dead. We can imagine that father’s reaction. But Jesus says to him: “Do not fear, only believe” (36). When they arrive at Jairus’ house, Jesus sends out the people who were weeping — there were also women mourners who were wailing loudly — and He enters the room with just the parents and the three disciples, and speaking to the dead girl He says: “Little girl, I say to you, arise” (v. 41). And immediately the girl gets up, as if waking from a deep sleep (cf. v. 42).

Within the narrative of this miracle, Mark adds another: the healing of a woman who suffers from a haemorrhage and is healed as soon as she touches Jesus’ garment (cf. v. 27). Here what is striking is the fact that this woman’s faith attracts — to me the word “robs” comes to mind — the divine saving power that is in Christ, who, feeling that “power had gone forth from him”, tried to understand who it was. And when the woman, with much shame, comes forward and confesses the whole truth, He tells her: “Daughter, your faith has made you well” (v. 34).

It is a matter of two interlocking narratives, with a single core: faith; and they show Jesus as the wellspring of life, as the One who restores life to those who trust fully in him. The two protagonists, that is, the little girl’s father and the sick woman, are not disciples of Jesus yet they are satisfied through their faith. They have faith in that man. From this we understand that all are permitted on the Lord’s path: no one should feel as an intruder, an interloper or one who has no right. To have access to His heart, to Jesus’ heart, there is only one requirement: to feel in need of healing and to entrust yourself to Him. I ask you: do each of you feel that you need to be healed? Of something, of some sin, of some problem? And, if you feel this, do you have faith in Jesus? These are the two requirements in order to be healed, in order to have access to his heart: to feel in need of healing and to entrust yourself to Him. Jesus goes to discover these people among the crowd and removes them from anonymity, frees them from the fear of living and of taking risks. He does so with a look and a word which sets them back on the path after much suffering and humiliation. We too are called to learn and to imitate these freeing words and this gaze which restores the will to live to those who lack it.

In this Gospel passage the themes of faith and of new life, which Jesus came to offer to all, are intertwined. When he enters the house where the dead girl lies, he sends outside those who are weeping and making tumult (cf. v. 40), and he says: “The child is not dead but sleeping” (v. 39). Jesus is Lord, and before him physical death is like a dream: there is no reason to despair. Another death is the one to fear: that of the heart hardened by evil! Yes, we should be afraid of that one! When we feel we have a hardened heart, a heart that is hardened, allow me to say, a mummified heart, we should be afraid of this. This is the death of the heart. But sin too, the mummified heart too, is never the last word with Jesus, because he has brought us the infinite mercy of the Father. And even if we have hit rock bottom, his tender and strong voice reaches us: “I say to you, arise!”. It is beautiful to hear that word of Jesus addressed to each one of us: “I say to you, arise! Go. Stand up. Take courage, arise!”. Jesus restores life to the little girl and restores life to the healed woman: life and faith to both.

Let us ask the Virgin Mary to accompany our journey of faith and of concrete love, especially toward those who are in need. Let us invoke her maternal intercession for our brothers and sisters who are suffering in body and in spirit.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 1 July 2018]

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [5 July 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Zechariah (9:9–10)

This text could be summarised as follows: for the prophet Zechariah, the Messiah is a King of peace, not of war, and humble like the Servant. ‘Rejoice, O Daughter of Zion’ is a message of consolation in times of war. For thus says the Lord: Rejoice, shout for joy, O Daughter of Jerusalem! ‘Daughter of Zion/Jerusalem’ is not a young woman, but the city itself: it is as if to say ‘Jerusalem, rejoice’. The paradox is that whilst the tone is triumphant, in reality it is a time of war because the prophet Zechariah carried out his mission at the beginning of Greek rule (c. 330 BC), following Alexander’s conquests, and it is an ‘oracle of consolation’. This helps us to understand certain expressions such as ‘He will remove the war chariots from Ephraim and the war horses from Jerusalem; he will break the bow of war and proclaim peace to the nations’. At a time when all seems lost, Zechariah leads Israel to hope in God’s intervention. And when Zechariah speaks of the Messiah, he uses the classic terms of the expected Messiah: a king who brings justice and peace: ‘O God, entrust your judgement to the king… May he rule from sea to sea, from the River to the ends of the earth’ (Ps 71/72).  The boldness lies in proclaiming this hope precisely when all human hope has collapsed. Here are three statements by Zechariah, the last of which is decisive. First: “He will proclaim peace to the nations”: it was only after the exile to Babylon that Israel realised that God’s plan encompasses all humanity.  Second: “He will remove… from Ephraim… from Jerusalem”: mentioning Ephraim (the North) and Jerusalem (the South) together is a subtle way of announcing the restoration and reunification of the ancient kingdom of David. By the time Zechariah was writing, the North and South had long since lost their unity and sovereignty. Third: The real novelty: “poor and riding on a donkey, a colt, the foal of a donkey”. The donkey is a humble mount. Alexander’s conquerors rode on quite different steeds. In Jerusalem, Solomon had introduced the warhorse and the parade horse, and was reproached for his taste for grandeur. A king on a donkey had never been seen before.  Jesus presents himself as the Messiah ‘in the manner of Zechariah’. Isaiah had already glimpsed a humble Messiah (Isaiah 50:6; 53:7). The Servant does not bear the title of ‘king’, but carries out the work of the Messiah and is filled with the Spirit of God.  Zechariah, on the other hand, immediately presents the Messiah as King: he takes up the traditional expectation of the Messiah-King. The novelty lies in combining this royal expectation with the humility of Isaiah’s Servant. For his king is humble: the dreams of grandeur, war and power come to an end. Only one thing matters: establishing peace for his people. The four Gospels describe Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem precisely as the coming of this King riding on a donkey. Matthew (Mt 21:5) and John (12:15) quote Zechariah. Perhaps Jesus himself quoted it to the disciples on the road to Emmaus, whilst ‘explaining to them what was written about himself in the Scriptures’ (Lk 24:27). 

Responsorial Psalm (144/145)

In this psalm, it is clear that God’s kingship is mercy towards all. Moreover, Psalm 144/145 is the only one entitled ‘Praise’. Whilst it is true that the entire Hebrew Psalter is called ‘praises’, this is the only psalm actually titled ‘praise’. The tone is one of wonder; the theme is the kingship of the God of the Covenant. In a celebration of the renewal of the Covenant, Israel contemplates the King who protects them freely, without merit. Hence the royal language: “I will exalt you, my God, my King… your faithful ones will proclaim the glory of your kingdom; they will speak of your mighty deeds”. We can discern in this psalm an “alphabet” of tenderness because it is an “alphabetical” psalm, and from Aleph to Tav—that is, “all of life, from A to Z, is immersed in the Covenant, in God’s tenderness”. The verse-by-verse parallelism is very marked: it should be read by two alternating choirs. And it is precisely this parallelism that is instructive, because in the liturgy two pairs of verses are joined which, at first glance, are surprising: “The Lord is faithful in all his words and good in all his deeds; the Lord upholds those who falter and lifts up all who have fallen”.  “The Lord is faithful in all his words and good in all his deeds / He is close to those who call upon him, to those who call upon him in sincerity.” This means that God’s justice, truth and faithfulness are nothing other than his mercy. The greatest justice in the world is not that of the scales, but that of love. If we live “according to the Spirit of God”, as Paul urges the Romans – Sunday’s second reading – we set out precisely on this path: a justice that is synonymous with mercy. The King spoken of in the psalm is not like the kings of the earth; he is almighty and good: he desires only our happiness. When Israel speaks of the power of this King ‘not like the others’, it knows that his power is nothing but love: ‘The Lord is good; he is full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger and abounding in love.’ This is the finest summary of the entire biblical revelation. Israel speaks from experience: how many times, especially during the exile in Babylon, did it call upon God and plead for forgiveness and a return… Now the people gathered in the rebuilt Temple sing: ‘The Lord is merciful and compassionate.’ ‘May all your works praise you, O Lord, and may your faithful bless you’—may they bless you!... O God, my King, I will exalt you and bless your name for ever and ever.’ The task is to sing it loud enough for everyone to know: the abundance of the Lord’s forgiveness, tenderness and compassion is for everyone, for God loves humanity and his ‘merciful plan’ encompasses all humanity and the whole of creation. It is easy to see why Psalm 144/145 has become the morning prayer of the people who were the first to learn to speak to God as to a father. For the Jewish believer, the morning – the dawn of a new day – irresistibly evokes the dawn of the final Day, of the world to come, of the renewed creation. The rabbinic tradition of the Talmud states that whoever recites this psalm three times a day ‘can be sure of being a child of the world to come’.  

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:9, 11–13)

For Saint Paul, living according to the Spirit means allowing God’s Love to dwell within us. 

The difficulty with this text lies in the word ‘flesh’. For Paul, it does not have the same meaning as it does in our 21st-century English. We contrast ‘body’ and ‘soul’ and risk a huge misunderstanding. When Paul says ‘flesh’, he does not mean the body; when he says ‘Spirit’, he does not mean the soul. Nor does he set two words—‘flesh’ against ‘Spirit’—but rather two expressions: ‘living according to the flesh’ and ‘living according to the Spirit’. For him, it is a matter of choosing between two ways of life, two masters, two courses of action. For Paul, to live ‘according to the flesh’ is to live without God, relying solely on our own strength, confined within the limits of human intelligence and strength. Obviously, that doesn’t get us very far! Or rather, it can take us very far, but in the wrong direction. This is the theme of the ‘two paths’ that recurs constantly in Paul’s writing. Living without God always ends up meaning living far from God, in a state of estrangement that can only get worse. He described this in the opening chapters of the Letter to the Romans, using images from Genesis: to live according to the flesh is to live like Adam – he wants to become like God, but without God’s help. He is mistaken. We, too, sometimes seek happiness on our own, without Him or in opposition to Him, without realising that this is the best way to harm ourselves. ‘Living according to the Spirit’ is the great news  

because living ‘according to the Spirit’ means allowing oneself to be guided by Him, and thus living by the power of God: it changes everything!  The great news of the text is: ‘The Spirit of God dwells in you’, so ‘you are not under the dominion of the flesh, but under the dominion of the Spirit’.  The verb ‘to dwell’ appears three times today: whoever dwells in a house is the master; it is he who is in charge. We have literally become the Spirit’s dwelling places: it is He who is now in command. Our freedom lies in opening the door to Him. We must, however, consider what place we leave for Him in our home, for we are free to open the door to a greater or lesser extent. In many passages, Paul emphasises our freedom: ‘you are not under the dominion of the flesh’ means that we are no longer slaves to the forces of evil; we now have the strength to ensure that true values triumph: love, peace, truth and justice. We have the strength, but we are not obliged: the choice must be made anew at every moment. The more space we make for the Holy Spirit in our home – that is, the more we do what he suggests on the path of love, kindness and forgiveness – the more truly alive we will be. Before his conversion, Paul faithfully observed many moral and religious rules, but the Spirit of Christ did not dwell within him; he still lived ‘under the dominion of the flesh’. And this could have led him to violence and murder, in perfect good faith. Now his whole life is inspired by the Spirit of Christ, to the point of saying: ‘It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me’ (Gal 2:20). Two consequences can be drawn for us who are baptised: 1) We shall rise with Christ: a promise for the future. ‘The Spirit will exercise his power in us and bring to fulfilment in us what he brought to fulfilment in Jesus’ (Rom 8:11).  2) Even now, our lives are transformed just as Paul’s was, because we are now ‘under the rule of the Spirit’. ‘I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live,’ proclaimed Ezekiel (37:14). Paul often speaks of the new spiritual life that springs from Baptism: whilst remaining in our mortal bodies, we can already live by the Spirit of Christ. This is what John calls ‘eternal life’. In practical terms: the Spirit is Love. Simply replace ‘Spirit’ with ‘Love’, and to live according to the Spirit is to allow Him to inspire our words and deeds of love.  A few chapters earlier, Paul wrote to the Romans: ‘God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us’ (Rom 5:5). And to the Galatians he explains the fruits of the Spirit: ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control’ (Gal 5:22): in a word, it is love expressed in all the concrete circumstances of life.  Paul is the heir to the prophets: they all affirm that our relationship with God is reflected in the quality of our relationship with others. In the Servant Songs, Isaiah affirms that to live according to the Spirit of God is to love and serve one’s brothers and sisters. As John says: ‘Whoever does not love remains in death… We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love our brothers and sisters’ (1 John 3:14). 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (11:25–30)

In this text, we find the central theme in Jesus’ ‘gentle yoke and light burden’, which is, in fact, the Law of love that brings rest: ‘ ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.’ What is the ‘yoke’?  The yoke is a heavy, solid piece of wood that joins two oxen for ploughing. They join forces, and the stronger one sets the pace. Figuratively speaking, ‘taking up the yoke’ means binding oneself to someone to walk at the same pace, yoked to the same task. In the Old Testament and in Judaism, the expression was commonly used to refer to the Covenant: ‘to take up the yoke of the Torah’, that is, to commit oneself to following God’s Law, knowing that all the strength of the ‘team’ comes from God himself. For a Jew, the service of the Torah is not an unbearable burden; it is the path to true happiness. Ben Sirach said: “You will find your rest in it, and it will become your joy” (Sir 6:28). Jesus takes up this image, linking it to the yoke of the Torah and to rest: “Take my yoke upon you, become my disciples, practise my commandments, and you will find rest for your souls”.  And he adds: “Yes, my yoke is easy to bear and my burden is light.” One senses a criticism of certain Pharisees who had turned the Law into a litany of meticulous obligations. Of them, Jesus says: “They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders; but they themselves are not willing to move them even with a finger” (Mt 23:4). Meanwhile, the majority of the people struggled to observe all the commandments imposed by the religious authorities and felt the contempt directed at them. Jesus invites his disciples to lay aside these burdens that are too heavy: ‘Take my yoke upon you… my yoke is easy and my burden is light’. His yoke is simply the law of love, and it is He who gives us the strength to bear it. ‘Rest’ was also a familiar word. The Old Testament presented the Promised Land as the place of rest given by God to his people. Conversely, when the people were unfaithful, Psalm 94/95 expressed God’s sorrow: ‘This people’s heart is led astray… they shall not enter my rest’. Taking up that psalm, the Letter to the Hebrews announces a new day when, with Christ, we shall enter God’s rest with confidence: ‘Let us therefore strive to enter that rest’ (Heb 4:11). The absolute novelty is that Jesus identifies himself with God, and he alone can say, ‘I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you… my yoke is easy…’. The religious leaders were annoyed by this, whilst those who were weary under the weight of their burdens were drawn to the respect and care he showed to each one.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Scientists and Lowlies: abstract world and incarnation

(Mt 11:25-30)

The leaders looked at religiosity with a view to interest. Professors of theology were accustomed to evaluate every comma on the basis of their own knowledge, ridiculous but supponent - unrelated to real events.

That which remains tied to customs and the usual protagonists does not make one dream, it is not an apparition and astonishing testimony of Elsewhere; it detracts expressive richness of the announcement and life.

The Lord rejoices in his own experience, which brings a non-epidermal joy and a teaching from the Spirit - about those who are well disposed, and able to understand the depths of the Kingdom, in ordinary things.

In short, after an initial moment of enthusiastic crowds, the Christ delves deeper into the themes and finds himself all against, except God and the least ones: the weightlesses, but eager to start from scratch.

Glimpse of the Mystery that leavens history - without making it a possession.

At first even Jesus is stunned by the rejection of those who considered themselves already satisfied and no longer expected anything that could overcome habits.

Then He understands, praises and blesses the Father's plan: the authentic Person is born from the gutter, and possesses «the sense of neighborhood» (FT n.152).

The Creator is simple Relationship: He demystifies the idol of greatness.

The Eternal One is not the master of creation: He is Refreshment that reassures, because makes us feel complete and lovable. He seeks us out, He pays attention to the language of the heart.

He is Custodian of the world, even of the unlearned ones - of the «infants»  (v.25) spontaneously empty of boastful spirit, that is, of those who do not remain closed in their sufficient belonging.

Thus the Father-Son bond is communicated to God’s poor: those who are endowed with the attitude of family members (v.27).

Insignificant and invisible without great external capacities, but who abandon themselves to the proposals of the provident life that comes, like babies in the arms of parents.

In this way, with a pietas’ Spirit that favours those who allow themselves to be filled with innate wisdom.

The only reality that corresponds to us and does not present the "bill": it does not proceed along the paths of functional thinking, of calculating initiative.

Sapience that transmits freshness in the readiness to personally receive, welcome, re-temper the Truth as a Gift, and the spontaneous enthusiasm itself, capable of realizing it.

A simple blessing prayer, for the simple ones - this of Jesus (v.25) - which makes us grow in esteem, fits perfectly with our experience, and gets along well with ourselves.

The new ones, the nullities, the voiceless and invisible do not think in terms of doctrine and laws [vv.29-30: unbearable «yoke» that crushes people, and concrete, particular vocations] but in terms of verve and humanity.

Thus they enrich the fundamental and spontaneous experience of Faith-Love, satisfying, fulfilling it without mannerisms or intimate forcing.

While the exteriority of the pyramidal world, the distrust of those who want “to count", the anxiety of a competitive society, impoverish the gaze and contaminate the vital wave.

We, too, do not appreciate too much the energy of the 'models', nor the aggressive power of the “big guys”.

Rather than only with the “big” and external, we wish to live by Communion - even with the 'small' self, or there will be no loveliness, no authentic life.

To internalize and live the message:

What do you feel when you are told: «You do not count»? 

Does it remain a humiliating contempt or do you consider it a great Light received, as Jesus did

[14th Sunday in O.T. (year A)  July 5, 2026]

(Mt 11:25–30)

The one Prayer of Jesus that is seldom taught

Scientists and Little Ones: the abstract world and Incarnation

(Mt 11:25–27)

‘The world gives credence to the “wise” and the “learned”, whilst God favours the “little ones”. The general teaching that follows is that there are two dimensions of reality: one deeper, true and eternal, the other marked by finitude, transience and appearance’ [Pope Benedict].

God’s broad Reason is not governed by ‘fortune’ or ‘measure’

    Commenting on the Tao Te Ching (iv), Master Ho-shang Kung writes:

‘Human desires are sharp and subtle; they strive to appropriate merit and glory. When they are blunted, man masters them, and in imitation of the Way, he does not fill himself.’

The leaders viewed religiosity through the lens of self-interest. The professors of theology were accustomed to scrutinising every detail based on their own knowledge—ridiculous yet presumptuous—and alien to real-world events.

Jesus found himself at odds even with his own family. Under the cloak and the blackmail of habitual social conventions, they too were subject to the preconceptions of the ‘elders’ and the evasive oral tradition, which offered no nourishment to the concrete fabric of human existence.

The Lord observes: even the Apostles are not free people; for this reason, they emancipate no one and indeed prevent any turning point (cf. Lk 9).

Their way of being is so firmly rooted in standard attitudes and obligatory behaviours that it translates into impenetrable mental armour.

Their predictability is too limiting: it offers no breathing space to the journey of those who, on the contrary, wish to re-energise themselves, to discover and appreciate the surprises hidden behind the secret facets of reality and personality.

That which remains bound to ancient customs [or abstractions] and the usual protagonists [or sophisticated pseudo-masters] does not inspire dreams; it is not an apparition or an astonishing testimony of the Otherworld; it robs the Proclamation and life of expressive richness.

The Master rejoices in his own experience, which brings a joy that is not superficial and a teaching from the Spirit – to those who are well-disposed and capable of understanding the depths of the Kingdom in ordinary things.

[At a certain point on the spiritual journey, in Christ one realises one must detach oneself from the idolatry of deference: it suffocates and mocks life.

Faith proceeds along the path of the happiness of real men and women, who are instead turned into puppets by a false piety that is entirely exhibitionist or disembodied].

In short, after an initial moment of wild enthusiasm, the Master delves deeper into the themes and finds himself with everyone against him, except God and the least of these: those without weight, yet with such a desire to start from scratch.

A glimmer of the Mystery that lifts history – without making it its own.

At the conclusion of the encyclical Fratelli Tutti, Pope Francis cites the figure and experience of Charles de Foucauld, who – by turning everything on its head – ‘only by identifying with the least did he come to be a brother to all’ (no. 287).

At first, even Jesus is taken aback by the rejection of those who considered themselves already satisfied with the official religious structure and expected nothing more that might upend the well-trodden path, stirring up habits (or fantasies) and self-interest.

Then he overcomes his initial surprise: he fully grasps, praises and blesses the Father’s plan, making it his own, drawing it close to himself.

He brings his Secret to full and complete realisation: that the Root of the transformation of being into the Unpredictable of God is concealment, ‘humility’ [(tapeínōsis, ‘lowliness’), from ταπεινός (tapeinós, ‘low’) [v.29; Lk 1:48].

Here the Son knows and understands the core of the Expectations and Promises of the Covenant, and its protagonists – in contrast: the trustworthy Person is born precisely from the lowest depths, not from the ranks of the elites.

In short, Christ intuits the all-encompassing authenticity proper to the weak – a profound impulse, motive, driving force, quintessence and sole energy of the history of salvation.

Transparency of the Eternal One, which stems from a different understanding.

Genesis itself, which overturns the established religious relationship, which has at times become inert and ‘reassuring’ – never profound nor decisive for the fate of humanity.

God is simple Relation: he demystifies the idol of greatness.

The Eternal One is no longer the master of creation [He who manifested Himself as strong and peremptory; in His action, even in the ancient Covenant illustrated through the unbridled powers of nature].

Quite the opposite. In this way, by extension, and also on the spiritual path, the Father does not lead us to alienation, to the hysteria of coercion we do not want, to inner dissociations.

He is Friend and Refreshment who comforts, for He makes us feel whole and lovable; He seeks us by Name, He attends to the language of the heart.

He is Guardian of the world, even of the uneducated – of the ‘infants’ (v.25) spontaneously free from a haughty spirit, that is, of those who do not remain closed off within their self-sufficient sense of belonging.

Already as they are, ‘perfect’ in terms of their mission in the world. Not empty vessels, merely to be re-educated for institutional purposes.

No longer souls to be chiselled according to models.

If anything, hearts to be guided towards total awareness; souls to be completed in the sense of the full discovery of themselves, in the opposites of their character and vocational essence.

In this way, the Father-Son relationship is communicated to God’s poor: those endowed with a family-oriented disposition (v.27).

Capable of living together, yet more autonomous than those who are identified and well-integrated… totally committed to imitating, in order to be recognised.

The poor remain genuine: what they are; not outward appearances.

Insignificant and invisible, lacking great gifts, yet strangely always filled with another ‘power’.

It is the ‘virtue’ of the weak, who surrender to the proposals of the provident life that is coming, like children in their parents’ arms.

With a spirit of ‘pietas’ – which favours those who allow themselves to be filled with innate wisdom.

The only reality that corresponds to us and does not present a ‘bill’: it does not proceed along the paths of functional thought or calculating initiative.

Wisdom that conveys freshness in the willingness to receive, welcome and personally renew the Truth as a Gift – and the spontaneous enthusiasm itself, capable of realising it.

A simple prayer of blessing, for the simple – this one from Jesus (v.25) – which makes us grow in esteem, fits perfectly with our experience, and is in harmony with ourselves; starting from within.

But strangely, the learned ones in the area who do not live ‘the spirit of neighbourliness’ (FT no. 152) yet in the community claim positions and always play cunning games, have never wanted to pass this on to us.

The newcomers, the nobodies, the voiceless and invisible do not reason in terms of doctrine and laws – vv. 29–30: an unbearable ‘yoke’ that crushes people and concrete, particular vocations – but in terms of life and humanity.

Thus they enrich the fundamental and spontaneous experience of Faith-Love, fulfilling without affectation or inner strain that ultimately pulls us out of ourselves.

For the outward appearance of the hierarchical world, the mistrust of those who wish to ‘count’, the anxiety of a competitive and superficial society, impoverish our outlook; they contaminate the vital current.

By God, it is better to ‘count’ for little.

He does not force us into the energy of models, nor does He hold up the aggressive power of the ‘big shots’ as an ideal.

In this way, His intimate followers, rather than merely with the ‘great’ and external, will live in Communion even with the ‘small’ part of themselves; otherwise, they will enjoy neither kindness nor authentic life.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you feel when you are told: ‘You don’t count’?

Does a humiliating contempt remain, or do you regard it as a great Light received, as Jesus did?

The Yoke upon the Little Ones

Religion transformed into obsession (for the ‘restrained’)

(Mt 11:28–30)

The rabbis chose their disciples from among those with the greatest intellectual and ascetic abilities. Jesus, on the other hand, goes in search of those outside the circle, the ‘little ones’ (v.25) who did not even have self-esteem.

Even for the rebirth that lies ahead today, Christ has no need of false phenomena; indeed, it is He who frees us from external constraints; He unleashes the inner strength (and heals the mind as well). 

Those who enter the intimacy of the Mystery of divine life are those who know how to receive everything and let go – yet remain true to themselves.

God is not far away, but very near; he is not great, but small: the effective path to becoming intimate with the Father is not to force oneself into a subordinate role, but to know how to be familiar and at ease.

Only here can we grasp Him at the heart of His revelation: a wise, helpful, united power; for us, just as we are.

The experts of official religion – overflowing with self-love and a sense of being chosen – preached a God to be convinced through confident demeanours and artificial, sharp, imperious behaviour.

They allowed neither being nor becoming. Their intransigence was a sign that they did not know the Father.

The Eternal One, transformed into a Controller, had become a source of discrimination and obsession for the inner lives of ordinary people, tormented by the insecurity of distinguishing, avoiding and observing, and by pangs of conscience.

Unwilling to live out first-hand (and as a class) the conversion they preached to others, the professors failed to realise that they needed to rid themselves of absurd presumptions and become – themselves – pupils of ordinary people.

In short, as children we are ceaselessly invited to build a multifaceted Family, where one is not always on the alert.

We are not the subjects of a frowning, aloof – yet manipulative – Lord.

Rather, we are called to a paradoxical choice, both personal and as a class: without coercion, to recognise ourselves and stand alongside the humiliated and oppressed.

All this whilst the false piety of the provinces continues to make people carry burdens – precisely those of the oppressed and weary, whose existence has been made more hesitant rather than free; obsessed and heavy, rather than light.

Why? To put it bluntly, the Encyclical Fratelli Tutti would reply:

‘The best way to dominate and advance without limits is to sow a lack of hope and stir up constant mistrust, albeit masked by the defence of certain values’ (no. 15).

In other words: when the authorities and the top of the class lack credibility, only the sowing of fear produces significant conditioning in the people, and keeps them on a leash.

In the wider Church, it is only in the last few decades that we have moved beyond the cliché of moralistic and terrorising sermons (e.g. even during Advent) divorced from a profound sense of humanisation.

The excluded, crushed and worn down by meaningless obligations, have nevertheless continued to encounter the Saviour openly, finding rest for the soul, conviction, peace, balance and hope.

Instinctively, they have managed to carve out for themselves what no hierarchical religion had ever been able to offer or unfold.

Indeed, the newcomers, the nobodies, the voiceless, the inadequate and the invisible cannot calculate in terms of doctrine and laws, norms and codes – that ancient, unbearable ‘yoke’ (vv. 29–30) which crushes people and concrete vocations; or particular forms of autonomy or community.

In short, no ‘patriarch’ is authorised by God to package our souls, force our directions, and keep a maniacal, perfectionist and meticulous watch over us.

Exacerbating failures across the board.

Everyone has their own innate way of being in the world – even if it is habitual. This is an opportunity for inspiration and enrichment for all.

We ourselves do not wish to exacerbate events by regulating every detail, even ‘spiritual’ ones, based on irritating patterns of surveillance that do not belong to us.

We prefer to let personal ways of facing reality flow freely; thus rediscovering their essential and spontaneous energies.

We reason according to codes of life and humanisation: temperament, unique history, cultural influences, friendships of broad character. We do not live to prevent.

Only in this way can we enrich the fundamental experience: Love – which does not come from judgements, divisions and separations, but from the Father-Son relationship. The only one that does not irritate.

The root of the transformation of being in God’s Unpredictability is precisely concealment, ‘humility’ [(tapeínōsis, ‘lowliness’), from ταπεινός (tapeinós, ‘low’) [v.29 Greek text; Lk 1:48].

Only those who love strength begin with what is far removed from themselves.

To internalise and live out the message:

In community, do you find yourself more or less free and at peace?

Does your Calling find room to breathe, or do you feel the weight of others’ doubts, judgements, prohibitions and prescriptions?

Do you suffer from a sort of ‘controller’s complex’ imposed by some guide or by yourself?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In the Gospel today the Lord Jesus repeats to us the words that we know so well but that never fail to move us: “Come to me, all who labour and are heavily laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Mt 11:28-30).

As Jesus went along the roads of Galilee proclaiming the Kingdom of God and healing many sick people, “he had compassion on the crowds, for they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (cf. Mt 9:35-36).

Jesus’ gaze seems to extend to this day, to our world. Today, too, it rests on so many people oppressed by difficult living conditions and lacking valid reference points to find a meaning and a purpose for their existence. Exhausted multitudes are found in the poorest countries, harshly tried by poverty; and even in the richer countries there are numerous dissatisfied men and women who are even ill with depression. Let us think of the many evacuees and refugees, of all those who emigrate, putting their own lives at risk. Christ's gaze then rests his gaze upon all these people, indeed upon each one of these children of the Father who is in Heaven and repeats: “Come to me, all...” of you.

Jesus promised he would give everyone “rest”, but on one condition: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart”. What is this “yoke” which lightens instead of burdening, which instead of oppressing, uplifts? The “yoke” of Christ is the law of love, it is his commandment which he bequeathed to his disciples (cf. Jn 13:34; 15:12). The true remedy for humanity's wounds, both material — such as hunger and injustice in all its forms — and psychological and moral, caused by a false well-being, is a rule of life based on fraternal love, whose source is in the love of God. For this reason it is necessary to abandon the way of arrogance, of violence used to obtain ever more powerful positions, to assure oneself of success at any price. 

It is also necessary to give up the aggressive attitude with regard to the environment which has prevailed in recent centuries and to adopt a reasonable “gentleness”. However, in human, interpersonal and social relations above all, the rule of respect and of non-violence, namely, the power of the truth against every kind of abuse is what can assure a future worthy of the human being.

Dear friends, yesterday we celebrated a particular liturgical Memorial of Mary Most Holy, praising God for her Immaculate Heart. May the Virgin help us to “learn” true humility from Jesus, to take up his light yoke with determination, to experience inner peace and to become in our turn capable of comforting other brothers and sisters who are walking with difficulty on life's path.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 3 July 2011]

1. We read in the Second Vatican Council’s constitution *Lumen Gentium* concerning the earthly mission of Jesus Christ: “Thus came the Son, sent by the Father, who in him, before the foundation of the world, chose us and predestined us to be adopted as his children, because in him he wished to bring all things together (cf. Eph 1:4–5, 10). Therefore, Christ, in order to fulfil the Father’s will, inaugurated the Kingdom of Heaven on earth and revealed the mystery of himself to us, and through his obedience brought about our redemption” (Lumen Gentium, 3).
This text enables us to summarise everything we have discussed in our recent catechesis. In those sessions, we have sought to highlight the essential aspects of Christ’s messianic mission. Now the conciliar text reaffirms the truth of the close and profound connection that exists between this mission and the One sent, Christ himself, who, in fulfilling it, reveals his personal dispositions and gifts. Indeed, certain fundamental characteristics can be discerned throughout Jesus’ conduct; these are also expressed in his preaching and serve to lend full credibility to his messianic mission.
2. In his preaching and conduct, Jesus demonstrates, first and foremost, his profound union with the Father in thought and word. What he wishes to convey to his listeners (and to all humanity) comes from the Father who ‘sent him into the world’ (Jn 10:36). ‘For I have not spoken on my own authority, but the Father who sent me—he himself has commanded me what I must say and proclaim. And I know that his commandment is eternal life. The things, therefore, that I say, I say just as the Father has told me’ (Jn 12:49–50). ‘As the Father has taught me, so I speak’ (Jn 8:28). So we read in the Gospel of John. But a similar statement by Jesus is also recorded in the Synoptic Gospels: “All things have been handed over to me by my Father” (Mt 11:27), and by that “all things” Jesus is expressly referring to the content of the revelation he brought to mankind (cf. Mt 11:25–27; cf. Lk 10:21–22). In these words of Jesus we find the manifestation of the spirit with which he carries out his preaching. He is and remains the ‘faithful witness’ (Rev 1:5). Included in and highlighted by this witness is that particular ‘obedience’ of the Son to the Father, which at its climax will prove to be ‘obedience unto death’ (cf. Phil 2:8).
3. In his preaching, Jesus also demonstrates that his absolute fidelity to the Father—as the first and last source of ‘all’ that is to be revealed—is the essential foundation of his truthfulness and credibility. ‘My teaching is not my own, but comes from the one who sent me,’ says Jesus, and he adds: ‘Whoever speaks on his own seeks his own glory; but whoever seeks the glory of the one who sent him is true, and there is no unrighteousness in him’ (Jn 7:16, 18). Coming from the mouth of the Son of God, such words may seem surprising. For they are spoken by the One who is ‘of the same substance as the Father’. Yet we must not forget that he also speaks as a man. He is keen to ensure that his listeners harbour no doubt whatsoever on a fundamental point: namely, that the truth he conveys is divine and comes from God. He is keen to ensure that people, as they listen to him, find in his word access to the very divine source of revealed truth. That they do not focus solely on the one who teaches, nor allow themselves to be captivated by the ‘originality’ and ‘extraordinariness’ of what, in this doctrine, comes from the Master himself. The Master “does not seek his own glory”. He seeks solely and exclusively “the glory of the one who sent him”. He does not speak “in his own name”, but in the name of the Father.
This, too, is an aspect of “self-emptying” (“kenosis”), which, according to Saint Paul (cf. Phil 2:7), will reach its culmination in the mystery of the Cross.
4. Christ is the “faithful witness”. This faithfulness – in the exclusive pursuit of the Father’s glory, not his own – springs from the love he intends to show: “The world must know that I love the Father” (Jn 14:31). But his revelation of love for the Father also includes his love for humankind. Indeed, he “went about doing good” (cf. Acts 10:38). His entire earthly mission is filled with acts of love towards humanity, especially the least and the needy. “Come to me,” he invites, “all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28). ‘Come’: this is an exhortation that extends beyond the circle of contemporaries whom Jesus was able to meet during his life and suffering on earth; it is a call to the poor of all times, ever relevant even today, ever renewed on the lips and in the heart of the Church.
5. Alongside this exhortation, there is another: “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Mt 11:29). Jesus’ gentleness and humanity become a draw for those called to enter his school: “Learn from me”. Jesus is the ‘faithful witness’ to the love that God has for humankind. In his witness, divine truth and divine love are united. For this reason, there is a profound cohesion—one might almost say homogeneity—between his words and his actions, between what he does and what he teaches. Jesus not only teaches love as the supreme commandment, but fulfils it himself in the most perfect way. He not only proclaims the Beatitudes in the Sermon on the Mount, but embodies them in himself throughout his life. He not only demands that we love our enemies, but fulfils this himself, above all at the hour of his crucifixion: ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’ (Lk 23:34).
6. Yet that ‘meekness and humility of heart’ in no way implies weakness. On the contrary, Jesus is demanding. His Gospel is demanding. Is it not he himself who admonishes: ‘Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me’? And shortly afterwards: “Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it” (Mt 10:38–39). It is a kind of radicalism not only in the language of the Gospel, but also in the real demands of following Christ, the full extent of which he does not hesitate to reiterate frequently: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace,” he says one day, “but a sword” (Mt 10:34). It is a powerful way of saying that the Gospel is also a source of “unease” for humankind, Jesus wants us to understand that the Gospel is demanding, and that to be demanding means to stir consciences, not to allow them to settle into a false ‘peace’, in which they become increasingly insensitive and dull-witted, so that spiritual realities are stripped of their value and lose all resonance within them. Jesus will say before Pilate: ‘I have come into the world to bear witness to the truth’ (John 18:37). These words also concern the light he sheds upon the whole realm of human actions, dispelling the darkness of thoughts and especially of consciences, so that truth may triumph in every person. It is, however, a matter of taking the side of truth. “Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice,” Jesus will say (John 18:37). This is why Jesus is demanding. Not harsh or relentlessly severe, but firm and unequivocal in calling everyone to a life in the truth.
7. Thus the demands of Christ’s Gospel penetrate the realm of law and morality. He who is the ‘faithful witness’ (Rev 1:5) to divine truth, to the truth of the Father, says right at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount: ‘Whoever therefore breaks one of these commandments, even the least of them, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the Kingdom of Heaven’ (Mt 5:19). And in exhorting people to conversion, he does not hesitate to rebuke the very towns where people refuse to believe: ‘Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida!’ (Lk 10:13), whilst warning each and every one: ‘… unless you repent, you will all perish’ (Lk 13:3).
8. Thus, the Gospel of meekness and humility goes hand in hand with the Gospel of moral demands, and even of severe warnings to those who refuse to repent. There is no contradiction between the two. Jesus lives by the truth he proclaims and the love he reveals, and this is a love as demanding as the truth from which it springs. Moreover, love placed the greatest demands on Jesus himself in the hour of Gethsemane, in the hour of Calvary, in the hour of the cross. Jesus accepted and fulfilled these demands to the very end, for, as the evangelist tells us, he ‘loved them to the very end’ (Jn 13:1). It was a faithful love, by virtue of which, on the day before his death, he could say to the Father: ‘The words you gave me I have given to them’ (Jn 17:8).
9. As a ‘faithful witness’, Jesus fulfilled the mission he had received from the Father in the depths of the Trinitarian mystery. It was an eternal mission, contained within the mind of the Father who begot him and predestined him to fulfil it ‘in the fullness of time’ for the salvation of humankind—of every human being—and for the perfect good of all creation. Jesus was fully aware that his mission lay at the heart of the Father’s plan of creation and redemption; and therefore, with all the realism of the truth and love he brought into the world, he could say: “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself” (Jn 12:32).
[John Paul II, General Audience, 8 June 1988]

This Sunday’s Gospel reading (cf. Mt 11:25-30) is divided into three parts: first of all, Jesus raises a prayer of blessing and thanksgiving to the Father because he revealed the mystery of the Kingdom of Heaven to the poor and to the simple; then he reveals the intimate and unique relationship between himself and the Father; and finally he invites us to go to him and to follow him to find solace.

In the first place, Jesus praises the Father because he has kept the secrets of his Kingdom, of his truth, hidden “from the wise and understanding” (v. 25). He calls them so with a veil of irony because they presume to be wise, understanding, and therefore, very often, have a closed heart. True wisdom also comes from the heart. It is not only a matter of understanding ideas: true wisdom also enters the heart. And if you know many things but have a closed heart, you are not wise. Jesus tells them that his Father’s mysteries are revealed to the “little ones”, to those who confidently open themselves to his Word of salvation, who open their heart to the Word of salvation, who feel the need for him and await everything from him. The heart that is open and trustful towards the Lord.

Then, Jesus explains that he has received everything from the Father, and calls him “my Father”, to affirm the unique nature of his relationship with him. Indeed, only between the Son and the Father is there total reciprocity: each one knows the other, each one lives in the other. But this unique communion is like a flower that blossoms to freely reveal its beauty and its goodness. And here then is Jesus’ invitation: “Come to me…” (v. 28). He wishes to give what he receives from the Father. He wants to give us Truth, and Jesus’ Truth is always free: it is a gift, it is the Holy Spirit, the Truth. 

Just as the Father has a preference for the “little ones”, Jesus also addresses those “who labour and are heavy laden”. Indeed, he places himself among them, because he is “gentle and lowly in heart” (v. 29): this is how he describes himself. It is the same in the first and third Beatitudes, that of the humble and poor in spirit, and that of the meek (cf. Mt 5:35): the meekness of Jesus. In this way Jesus, “meek and humble”, is not a model for the resigned, nor is he simply a victim, but rather he is the Man who lives this condition “from the heart” in full transparency to the love of the Father, that is, to the Holy Spirit. He is the model of the “poor in spirit” and of all the other “blesseds” of the Gospel, who carry out God’s will and bear witness to his Kingdom.

And then, Jesus says that if we go to him, we will find rest. The “rest” that Christ offers to the weary and oppressed is not merely psychological solace or donated charity, but the joy of the poor who are evangelized and are builders of the new humanity: this is solace. Joy. The joy that Jesus gives us. It is unique. It is the joy that he himself has. It is a message for all of us, for all people of good will, which Jesus still conveys today in the world that exalts those who become rich and powerful... But how often do we say, “Ah, I would like to be like him, or like her, who is rich, has a lot of power, lacks nothing…”. The world exalts those who are rich and powerful, no matter by what means, and at times tramples upon the human being and his or her dignity. And we see this every day, the poor trampled underfoot… And it is a message for the Church, called to live works of mercy and to evangelize the poor, to be meek and humble. This is how the Lord wants his Church, that is, us, to be.

May, the humblest and highest of creatures, implore from God wisdom of heart for us, so that we may discern his signs in our lives and be participants in those mysteries which, hidden from the proud, are revealed to the humble.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 5 July 2020]

New Wineskins and vocational Freedom

(Mt 9:14-17)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Provisions that did not make everyone feel free.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To internalize and live the message:

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

[Saturday 13th wk. in O.T.  July 4, 2026]

Fasting: Opening

(Mt 9:14-17)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It creates life, not diminishes it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In an atmosphere of quiet austerity; without artificial brakes.

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

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

The evangelist wanted to direct his assemblies in Galilee and Syria [perhaps in the mid-1970s] not to cling to false securities.They had to take a completely alternative position and not end up like the 'fathers' or the groups around them, of ancient and sectarian religious extraction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The choice wants to remain clear: freedom is priceless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It seemed easier to local leaders to go back to customs and abbreviated catechisms than to face the educational risk that the Magisterium itself would impose.The immediate result was deemed palatable and profitable, for the fundamentalist or glamorous [underneath] sector, and astute - willingly supplanting the unknown effervescence of new wine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

To internalise and live the message:

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

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

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