Mystery of Love and Eros

Jn 21:15-19 (1-19)

The same sign of the superabundant peach in Lk 5:1-11 does not concern the story of the Church after Easter, but is even placed in the day when Jesus invites the first disciples to follow him to become "fishers" of men.

The prodigy of the Vocation expands the believer's journey in Christ and affects every experience we can have of the Risen One in our ordinary work - and which Mission is entrusted to us in order to experience Him Alive.

The Church is not composed of phenomena, but of a stubborn and eager leader [Peter]. Some are in and out [Thomas], others remain tied to the past [Nathanael], and there is no shortage of fanatics [the sons of Zebedee]; hence the anonymous, that is, all of us.

Peter realises that before giving orders, he must do and expose himself: if so, the others, although insubordinate, will decide spontaneously (v.3), expanding their lives.

But without the torch of the Word, no results. Following Peter is not enough and does not save anyone.

Here is Jesus: on the shore of the ultimate condition he calls us and leads the way, he leads the way of activity, and he is finally Light - the Dawn.

The net must be cast from the "right side" (v.6), i.e. the good side!

In order to pull people up from the depths of polluted waters and billows of death to a possibility of respite or self-esteem and full life, one must begin and aim for the best in each one, bring out the good that is always there.

Reminder for us. Every culture possesses many qualities: let us build on them, instead of approaching women and men, ethnic groups or situations, by pointing out limitations and problems.

So the Peter - each community leader - must have no preconceived notions, but take off the cassock of group leader and gird himself in the apron of a servant [v.7: the Greek verb is that of the washing of feet].

For work that gives results according to God (love) one must wear the same garment as Christ - the only badge: the garment of one who does not give orders, but receives them.

This is the trait of the authentic Church - nothing great: it does not arrive on an ocean liner, but on a "little boat" [v.8 Greek text].

And it remains low-key: like a little leaven, to embrace all.

Despite the difficulties in believing, the disciples are constituted as heralds of the news of God favourable to humanity that intends to journey towards itself - without the baggage of overwhelming accumulations of manner.

For communion with God and one's brothers and sisters, in the journey of life and the sense of rebirth that lurks therein [e.g. after pain, travails, experiences of rejection, thoughts of failure and death...]. Jesus had brought out the transmutative capacities already in dowry to each one.

His proposal had supplanted the oppressive yoke of the external perfections preached by religion, replaced precisely with our simple family virtues, grasped from within. Not: to fight, but to welcome. Not: to obey, but to resemble. And so on.

The church was not to become an ethical communion of saints, but of sinners and unbelievers. The story of the unbelieving apostles comforts us: we are already empowered, and with aptitude for fullness. But in its reversal.

It is the resurrection that sends us among men, precisely to be regenerated; just like us. So the apostle status is not subject to the usual doctrinal, moralistic, customary, and religious rigmarole; it no longer lags behind.

Although self-belief remains fragile, we continually experience resurrection from our rubble - raising or at best regenerating the entire organism of the spirit, and the inner universe.

All this shapes a different consciousness of inadequacy: that in Faith - only positive, because it understands the brothers. He recognises them in the depths of himself, and in this way he knows how to justify the resistance to the Announcement.

For it is in the recovery of opposing sides and the synergy of contradictions that we have become - in our own - experts in difficulty. More able to grasp the discomforts; even the feeling of feeling emptied, which sooner or later will give way to the upheaval; unprecedented happy.

Then we have learnt about listening to emotions: the sense of being overwhelmed - even in ideas. And the need to grasp and lose ourselves in sorrows, absurd or unbearable. Dignified sides; faces of ourselves.

In short, for the purpose of vocational fulfilment, everyone is already 'perfect'.

In its bearer of dissimilar energies, it just has to learn to meet the reliefs of itself that it has not yet made way for.

As if within us we have a multiplicity of aspects, often all to be discovered, behind some shell that resists - which complete us and infallibly guide us to personal and social blossoming.

Thus in the exodus we move from death-resurrection experience to true witness - in the spontaneous frankness of being enabled as evangelisers.

Which surprises us. But now the Message becomes our own.It becomes a call for peace, but an explosive one - unbelievable, and one can see this more from its limits (now nothing to fear) than from its ability, or its external style, its ability to set up sententious cathedrals and showcases.

After Christ, there is no longer any need to 'improve' according to a common meaning - nor any expectation, or purpose, that looks to and drinks from the fountain of what has already been said by others [in the past, or for fashion], which then places us back in the same predictable situation as always.

For the shaky apostles, consensus, ancient or glamorous religion, identification, were self-denial at heart.

Conversely, the Calling by Name became the development of what each person was deep inside and had not given himself, manipulating himself.

Road of self-realisation, also in our contribution to our brothers. Also not intimately dissociated.

The only convincing weapon, genuineness - burning within to make us shrines, unconscious and incomplete but living.

Contemplative and in action. Only way to meet souls.

We are collaborators of the apron, to dialogue with those in need of recovery, in whatever condition of whirlwind or periphery they find themselves.

Therefore, 'to shepherd' (vv.15-17) means to precede and nourish, not to command.

Those who lead must be a sign of a God who does not get fed up or repent.

Loving and inviting face of the One who is able to amaze and set Simon on his feet. The chief apostle, who had been called to freedom and had chosen the condition of lackey [cf. Jn 21:9; with the "fire of embers" in Jn 18:18].

At the end of a game of re-proposals, in the dialogue with Simon himself - "of John" because he is still spiritually a pupil of the Baptist (!) - it is Jesus who "settles" for a love of friendship [cf. Greek text] by modifying the double question "do you love me?" with the third: "do you love me?".

Human love waits for a minimum of satisfaction, it fails to shape itself into pure loss - it waits for something, at least a nod of approval and gratitude.

No recognition? Then it is the Strongest who yields.

'To wait' is the infinitive of the verb 'to love', because it allows one to be born again.

Human feeling is in a hurry: it regulates its conduct on the basis of the success or perfections of the beloved.

Divine Love makes up for it; it helps to become another 'person', in the round - it does not break the understanding.

His Calling is not tied to merit or performance: even through works, saying 'I love you' is (unfortunately not infrequently) a fatuous declaration.

Or a sincere expression, but often animated by enthusiasm without a deep root, which on a subsequent test of facts transforms the oath of fidelity into a fragile and uncertain sentiment.

It is the awareness of one's own unpresentability gratuitously redeemed and transformed into the ground of absurd confidence, which transforms self-conceit into apostolate!

This is why Jesus asks Peter to begin by starting with the little ones of the flock (v.15).

And 'to pasture' (vv.15.17) or 'to shepherd' (v.16) means 'to feed': to nurture, to care for, to protect, to favour; to initiate, to risk personally, to defend and to put one's face on - not 'to command'.

To graze is to make oneself present, in a continuous of references. It is this climate that convinces, educates, feeds and sustains, allowing it to grow and flourish.

"To 'shepherd' is [precisely] not to rule, but to feed the ideal. And to begin with the little flock (v.15).

In short, in order to secure the 'happy' outcome, the true believer, the friend of the Lord, the child of God, does not ally himself with people who matter, then we shall see.

Nor must it 'fish' for proselytes, but rather dilate and cheer life.

The fullness of the 'result' is the Happiness of each and every real person - as it is - not as it 'should be' according to established opinion.

In fact, Jesus does not ask Peter: are you a good steward? Are you a good organiser? Are you a skilful animator? Are you equipped, intelligent, cunning and introduced enough to stand up to your adversaries?

So God's 'enemy' is not uncertainty or sin - obsession that breeds the unbalanced - but the pursuit of the 'average life'. They quagmire where one does not throw oneself.

[A reflection for the Scoutmaster reads: "Remember, Scoutmaster: if you slow down, they stop; if you yield, they back off; if you sit down, they lie down. If you walk ahead, they will overtake you; if you give your hand, they will give their skin'].

To internalise and live the message:

Are you an envoy or a mere admirer?

What is your personal Source?

What is the Source of your relationships?

And the root of all faithfulness and generosity that draws you, and shows you?

Total love and not

The school of faith is not a triumphal march, but a path strewn with suffering and love, trials and faithfulness to be renewed every day. Peter, who had promised absolute faithfulness, knows the bitterness and humiliation of denial: the swaggerer learns humility to his cost. Peter too must learn to be weak and in need of forgiveness. When his mask finally falls off and he realises the truth of his weak heart as a believing sinner, he bursts into a liberating cry of repentance. After this weeping he is now ready for his mission.

On a spring morning, this mission will be entrusted to him by the risen Jesus. The encounter takes place on the shores of Lake Tiberias. It is the evangelist John who relates to us the dialogue that takes place between Jesus and Peter on that occasion. There is a very significant play on verbs. In Greek, the verb "filéo" expresses the love of friendship, tender but not all-embracing, while the verb "agapáo" means love without reserve, total and unconditional. Jesus asks Peter the first time: "Simon... do you love me (agapâs-me)" with this total and unconditional love (cf. Jn 21:15)? Before the experience of betrayal, the Apostle would certainly have said: 'I love you (agapô-se) unconditionally'. Now that he has known the bitter sadness of infidelity, the drama of his own weakness, he says with humility: 'Lord, I love you (filô-se)', that is, 'I love you with my poor human love'. Christ insists: "Simon, do you love me with this total love that I want?". And Peter repeats the response of his humble human love: "Kyrie, filô-se", "Lord, I love you as I know how to love". At the third time Jesus only says to Simon: "Fileîs-me?", "do you love me?". Simon understands that Jesus needs only his poor love, the only love he is capable of, and yet he is saddened that the Lord had to say this to him. He therefore replies: 'Lord, you know everything, you know that I love you (filô-se)'. One might say that Jesus adapted himself to Peter, rather than Peter to Jesus! It is precisely this divine adaptation that gives hope to the disciple, who has known the suffering of infidelity. Hence the confidence that makes him capable of following until the end: "This he said to indicate by which death he would glorify God. And having said this he added: 'Follow me'" (Jn 21:19).

From that day on, Peter "followed" the Master with the precise awareness of his own frailty; but this awareness did not discourage him. For he knew that he could count on the presence of the Risen One beside him. From the naive enthusiasm of initial adherence, passing through the painful experience of denial and the weeping of conversion, Peter came to trust in the Jesus who adapted himself to his poor capacity for love. And so he also shows us the way, despite all our weakness. We know that Jesus adapts himself to this weakness of ours. We follow him, with our poor capacity for love, and we know that Jesus is good and accepts us.

(Pope Benedict, General Audience 24 May 2006)

The school of faith is not a triumphal march but a journey marked daily by suffering and love, trials and faithfulness. Peter, who promised absolute fidelity, knew the bitterness and humiliation of denial:  the arrogant man learns the costly lesson of humility. Peter, too, must learn that he is weak and in need of forgiveness.

Once his attitude changes and he understands the truth of his weak heart of a believing sinner, he weeps in a fit of liberating repentance. After this weeping he is finally ready for his mission.

On a spring morning, this mission will be entrusted to him by the Risen Christ. The encounter takes place on the shore of the Lake of Tiberias. John the Evangelist recounts the conversation between Jesus and Peter in that circumstance. There is a very significant play on words.

In Greek, the word "fileo" means the love of friendship, tender but not all-encompassing; instead, the word "agapao" means love without reserve, total and unconditional. Jesus asks Peter the first time:  "Simon... do you love me (agapas-me)" with this total and unconditional love (Jn 21: 15)?

Prior to the experience of betrayal, the Apostle certainly would have said:  "I love you (agapo-se) unconditionally". Now that he has known the bitter sadness of infidelity, the drama of his own weakness, he says with humility:  "Lord; you know that I love you (filo-se)", that is, "I love you with my poor human love". Christ insists:  "Simon, do you love me with this total love that I want?". And Peter repeats the response of his humble human love:  "Kyrie, filo-se", "Lord, I love you as I am able to love you". The third time Jesus only says to Simon:  "Fileis-me?", "Do you love me?".

Simon understands that his poor love is enough for Jesus, it is the only one of which he is capable, nonetheless he is grieved that the Lord spoke to him in this way. He thus replies:  "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you (filo-se)".

This is to say that Jesus has put himself on the level of Peter, rather than Peter on Jesus' level! It is exactly this divine conformity that gives hope to the Disciple, who experienced the pain of infidelity.

From here is born the trust that makes him able to follow [Christ] to the end:  "This he said to show by what death he was to glorify God. And after this he said to him, "Follow me'" (Jn 21: 19).

From that day, Peter "followed" the Master with the precise awareness of his own fragility; but this understanding did not discourage him. Indeed, he knew that he could count on the presence of the Risen One beside him.

From the naïve enthusiasm of initial acceptance, passing though the sorrowful experience of denial and the weeping of conversion, Peter succeeded in entrusting himself to that Jesus who adapted himself to his poor capacity of love. And in this way he shows us the way, notwithstanding all of our weakness. We know that Jesus adapts himself to this weakness of ours.

We follow him with our poor capacity to love and we know that Jesus is good and he accepts us.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 24 May 2006]

1. The promise made by Jesus to Simon Peter, to make him the cornerstone of his Church, is reflected in the mandate that Christ entrusts to him after the resurrection: "Feed my lambs", "Shepherd my sheep" (John 21: 15-17). There is an objective relationship between the conferring of the mission attested by John's account, and the promise reported by Matthew (cf. Matthew 16: 18-19). In Matthew's text there was an announcement. In John's there is the fulfilment of the proclamation. The words: "Shepherd my sheep" manifest Jesus' intention to ensure the future of the Church he founded, under the leadership of a universal shepherd, namely Peter, to whom he said that, by his grace, he would be "stone" and who would have the "keys of the kingdom of heaven", with the power "to bind and loose". Jesus, after the resurrection, gives concrete form to the proclamation and promise of Caesarea Philippi, establishing Peter's authority as the pastoral ministry of the Church, on a universal scale.

2. Let us say at once that this pastoral mission includes the task of "confirming the brethren" in the faith, which we discussed in the previous catechesis. "Confirming the brethren" and "shepherding the sheep" jointly constitute Peter's mission: one might say the proprium of his universal ministry. As the First Vatican Council states, the constant tradition of the Church has rightly held that the apostolic primacy of Peter 'includes also the supreme power of magisterium' (cf.) Both the primacy and the power of magisterium are conferred directly by Jesus on Peter as a singular person, although both prerogatives are ordered to the Church, without however deriving from the Church, but only from Christ. The primacy is given to Peter (cf. Mt 16, 18) as - the expression is Augustine's - "totius Ecclesiae figuram gerenti" (Epist., 53, 1.2), i.e. insofar as he personally represents the whole Church; and the task and power of magisterium is conferred on him as confirmed faith so that it may be confirming for all the "brethren" (cf. Lk 22, 31 f). But everything is in the Church and for the Church, of which Peter is the foundation, claviger and pastor in its visible structure, in the name and by mandate of Christ.

3. Jesus had foretold this mission to Peter not only in Caesarea Philippi, but also in the first miraculous catch of fish, when, to Simon who recognised himself as a sinner, he had said: "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be fishers of men" (Lk 5:10). On this occasion, Jesus had reserved this proclamation for Peter personally, distinguishing him from his companions and associates, including the "sons of Zebedee", James and John (cf. Lk 5:10). Also in the second miraculous fishing, after the resurrection, the person of Peter emerges in the midst of the other Apostles, according to John's description of the event (John 21, 2 ff), almost as if to hand down the memory of it in the framework of a prophetic symbolism of the fruitfulness of the mission entrusted by Christ to those fishermen.

4. When Jesus is about to confer the mission on Peter, he addresses him with an official appellation: "Simon, son of John" (Jn 21:15), but then takes on a familiar and friendly tone: "Do you love me more than these men?". This question expresses an interest in the person of Simon Peter and is related to his election for a personal mission. Jesus formulates it three times, not without an implicit reference to the threefold denial. And Peter gives an answer that is not based on trust in his own personal strengths and abilities, on his own merits. He now knows that he must place all his trust in Christ alone: "Lord, you know everything, you know that I love you" (Jn 21:17). Evidently the task of a shepherd requires a special love for Christ. But it is he, it is God who gives everything, even the ability to respond to the vocation, to fulfil one's mission. Yes, it must be said that "everything is grace", especially at that level!

5. And having received the desired response, Jesus confers on Simon Peter the pastoral mission: "Shepherd my lambs"; "Shepherd my sheep". It is like an extension of the mission of Jesus, who said of himself: 'I am the good shepherd' (Jn 10:11). Jesus, who shared with Simon his quality of 'stone', also communicates to him his mission as 'shepherd'. It is a communication that implies an intimate communion, which also transpires from Jesus' formulation: 'Shepherd my lambs . . . my sheep'; as he had already said: 'On this rock I will build my Church' (Mt 16:18). The Church is Christ's property, not Peter's. Lambs and sheep belong to Christ, and to no-one else. They belong to him as the "good Shepherd", who "lays down his life for his sheep" (Jn 10:11). Peter must take on the pastoral ministry to men redeemed "with the precious blood of Christ" (1 Pet 1:19). On the relationship between Christ and men, who have become His property through redemption, is founded the character of service that marks the power attached to the mission conferred on Peter: service to Him who alone is "shepherd and guardian of our souls" (1 Pet 2:25), and at the same time to all those whom Christ the Good Shepherd has redeemed at the price of the sacrifice of the cross. Moreover, the content of this service is clear: just as the shepherd leads the sheep to the places where they can find food and safety, so the shepherd of souls must offer them the food of God's word and his holy will (cf. Jn 4:34), ensuring the unity of the flock and defending it from any hostile incursion.

6. Of course, mission entails power, but for Peter - and for his successors - it is a power ordered to service, a specific service, a ministerium. Peter receives it in the community of the Twelve. He is one of the community of the Apostles. But there is no doubt that Jesus, both through the proclamation (cf. Mt 16:18-19), and through the conferring of the mission after his resurrection, relates in a special way to Peter what he conveys to all the Apostles, as mission and as power. Only to him does Jesus say: 'Shepherd', repeating it three times. It follows that, in the context of the common task of the Twelve, a mission and a power are delineated for Peter, which belong to him alone.

7. Jesus addresses Peter as a single person in the midst of the Twelve, not merely as a representative of these Twelve: "Do you love me more than these?" (Jn 21:15). This subject - the you of Peter - is asked for the declaration of love and is conferred this singular mission and authority. Peter is thus distinct among the other Apostles. Even the threefold repetition of the question about Peter's love, probably in connection with his threefold denial of Christ, accentuates the fact of the conferral on him of a particular ministerium, as a decision of Christ Himself, independently of any quality or merit of the Apostle, and indeed despite his momentary infidelity.

8. The communion in the messianic mission, established by Jesus with Peter through that mandate: "Shepherd my lambs . . .", cannot but entail a participation of the Apostle-Shepherd in the sacrificial state of Christ the Good Shepherd "who lays down his life for his sheep". This is the key to the interpretation of many events in the history of the pontificate of Peter's successors. Over the whole arc of this story hovers that prediction of Jesus: "When you are old you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird your garment and take you where you will not" (Jn 21:18). It was the prediction of the confirmation that Peter would give to his pastoral ministry with his death by martyrdom. As John says, by such a death Peter would "glorify God" (Jn 21:19). The pastoral service, entrusted to Peter in the Church, would have its consummation in the participation in the sacrifice of the cross, offered by Christ for the redemption of the world. The cross, which had redeemed Peter, would thus become for him the privileged means to fully exercise his task as "Servant of the servants of God".

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 9 December 1992]

"How does Jesus look at me today?" The question suggested by Francis directly reaches and challenges every Christian with the same force as the "three looks that the Lord had for Peter". Looks that tell of "the enthusiasm of vocation, repentance and mission", the Pope explained in the Mass celebrated on Friday 22 May, in the chapel of the Casa Santa Marta.

The passage that recounts the dialogue between Jesus and Peter, the Pontiff noted, "is almost at the end" of John's Gospel" (21:15-19) "We always remember," he continued, "the story of that night of fishing," when "the disciples caught no fish, nothing. And for this "they were a little angry". So "when they approached the shore" and were asked by a man if they had "something to eat", "they angrily" replied, "No!". For truly 'they had caught nothing'. But this man told him to cast the net on the other side: the disciples did so "and the net was filled with fish".

It is "John, the closest friend, who recognises the Lord". For his part, "Peter, the enthusiastic one, threw himself into the sea to get to the Lord first". This is indeed 'a miraculous catch', Francis noted, but 'when they arrived - this is where today's Gospel passage begins - they found that Jesus had prepared breakfast: there was fish on the grill'. So they ate together. Then 'after eating, the dialogue between Jesus and Peter began'.

"Today in prayer," the Pope confided, "the gaze of Jesus on Peter came to my heart". And in the Gospel, he added, 'I found three different looks of Jesus on Peter'.

"The first glimpse," Francis noted, is encountered "at the beginning of John's Gospel, when Andrew goes to his brother Peter and says to him, 'We have found the Messiah'". And "he takes him to Jesus", who "fixes his gaze on him and says: "You are Simon, son of Jonah. You will be called Peter'". It is "the first gaze, the gaze of the mission that, later on in Caesarea Philippi, explains the mission: 'You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church': this will be your mission".

"In the meantime," the Pontiff said, "Peter had become an enthusiast of Jesus: he was following Jesus. We remember that passage in the sixth chapter of John's gospel, when Jesus speaks of eating his body, and many disciples at that moment said: 'But this is hard, this word is hard'". So much so that "they began to draw back". Then "Jesus looks at the disciples and says: 'Do you also want to leave'?". And "it is Peter's enthusiasm that replies: 'No! But where shall we go? You alone have words of eternal life!"". So, Francis explained, "there is the first glimpse: the vocation and a first announcement of the mission". And "what is Peter's soul like in that first look? Enthusiastic'. It is "the first time to go with the Lord".

Then, the Pope added, "I thought about the second look". We find it "late on the night of Holy Thursday, when Peter wants to follow Jesus and approaches where he is, in the priest's house, in prison, but is recognised: 'No, I don't know this one!'". He denies him "three times". Then "he hears the cockcrow and remembers: he has denied the Lord. He has lost everything. He has lost his love". Just "at that moment Jesus is taken into another room, across the courtyard, and fixes his gaze on Peter". Luke's gospel says that "Peter wept bitterly". So "that enthusiasm to follow Jesus has become weeping, because he has sinned, he has denied Jesus". But "that gaze changes Peter's heart, more than before". So "the first change is the change of name and also of vocation". Instead "this second gaze is a gaze that changes the heart and is a change of conversion to love".

"We do not know what the look was like in that encounter, alone, after the resurrection," Francis said. "We know that Jesus met Peter, the Gospel says, but we do not know what they said". And so the one recounted in today's liturgy "is a third look: the confirmation of the mission; but also the look in which Jesus asks for confirmation of Peter's love". In fact "three times - three times! - Peter had denied"; and now the Lord "three times asks for the manifestation of his love". And "when Peter, each time, says yes, that he loves him, he gives the mission: 'Shepherd my lambs, pasture my sheep'". Moreover, to the third question - "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" - Peter "was grieved, almost weeping". He is sorry because "for the third time" the Lord "asked him 'Do you love me?'". And he answers him: "Lord, you know everything, you know that I love you". And in return Jesus says: "Shepherd my sheep". Here is "the third gaze: the gaze of the mission".Francis then reproposed the essence of the Lord's "three gazes" on Peter: "The first, the gaze of choice, with the enthusiasm of following Jesus; the second, the gaze of repentance at the moment of that very grave sin of having denied Jesus; the third gaze is the gaze of mission: 'Shepherd my lambs, pasture my sheep'". But "it does not end there. Jesus goes further: you do all this out of love and then what? Will you be crowned king? No'. Indeed, the Lord states clearly: "I tell you, when you were younger, you dressed yourself and went where you wanted. But when you are old, you will stretch out your hands and another will clothe you and take you where you do not want". As if to say: 'You too, like me, will be in that courtyard in which I have fixed my gaze on you: near the cross'.

Precisely on this the Pope proposed an examination of conscience. "We too can think: what is Jesus' gaze on me today? How does Jesus look at me? With a call? With a forgiveness? With a mission?". We can be sure that 'on the road he has taken, we are all under the gaze of Jesus: he always looks at us with love, asks us for something, forgives us something and gives us a mission'.

Before continuing the celebration - "now Jesus comes to the altar," he recalled - Francis invited us to pray: "Lord, you are here, among us. Fix your gaze on me and tell me what I must do; how I must mourn my mistakes, my sins; what courage with which I must go forward on the path that you first made". And 'during this Eucharistic sacrifice', it is appropriate 'that we have this dialogue with Jesus'. Then, he concluded, "it will do us good to think throughout the day of Jesus' gaze on me".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 23/05/2015]

Priestly, different resilience

(Jn 17:20-26)

To protect his intimates from fears of reprisals, Jesus took care to make it clear to what level of realization and consideration he was leading the disciples.

The priority Unity he cares about is that which is introduced by transmitting the divine reciprocity between Father and Son.

It emerges precisely as we allow the ferment that constitutes us sisters and brothers, his Body, to act in us.

If the Church contemplates and displays the Glory of Christ, it is because it has been able to place itself where it ‘belongs’, even to the point of giving life and substance: 'judging' reality too, but from the criterion of the Cross (cf. v.24).

Thus, the experience of Unity in God - the most irrefutable sign of His Presence - was truly profound in the Johannine communities.

Without preclusion, in the assemblies of Asia Minor, the fascination of those aspects of Oneness that were valued by the customary world as imbalances and flaws was revealed.

The first communities were an environment that helped to enhance hidden sides: opportunities for personal enrichment and vocations.

Thus, at the end of the Priestly Prayer, a salient concern emerges in Jesus: the 'Eucharistic' one par excellence.

The Jewish expectation of the Messiah becomes an expectation of Unity [not psychological and trivial, but a Gift from above].

On the subject of Glory, the apostles must not be confused.

Vehicle of Glory is love and the inescapable feasting together - just like in the Eucharist: the same divine Gold coming forth and being offered again.

In prayerful form, the Lord makes a memorial of all those who throughout history will believe in Him, by the word and testimony of the disciples.

Unlike ancient religions, He wants the life of Faith to be characterised not by the “truth” one has, but by the “truth” one makes. And He does not impose a tabula rasa of dreamy eccentricities.

We do not bear witness to the Immense on earth in the coherent capacities of understanding and will according to procedure.

To formulate definitions, it is enough to bring intellectual energies to bear.

To defend, promote and rejoice in life, one must be animated by the Spirit of God himself, in His work of primary Unity.

The earthly love that reflects it is no longer capacity, but possibility.

In its specific weight, the divine Core has nothing immediately satisfying and triumphant about it; on the contrary, much that is helpful and liberating.

In short, the friendship that reveals that which is celestial and primal [not transient and causal] is not in knowing, concatenating, reproducing; in affirming, or renouncing; not even in the succeeding... in parrying blows and advancing.

Nor is a form of Justice that gives each his own sufficient. It recovers opposites.

Father «just» (v.25) refers to the distinction between the world and the small assemblies of mutual adherence in the early days, the only places where life could be perceived.

Only in the reciprocity reflection in the sourcing One was the divine Glory intensely experienced; primordial.

And also for future pilgrims in Him, Christ asks God for Communion - conviviality of differences: not in a one-sided form, but from which to make sense.

Here is the Priestly Prayer of Jesus - which genuinely passes through the centuries; contemporary without wrinkle any.

[Thursday 7th wk. in Easter, May 21, 2026]

Priestly, diverse resilience

(Jn 17:20-26)

Jn seeks to clarify our universal aspiration, and to penetrate the way the Lord makes himself present in the disciples after Easter, so that the world above may approach and inundate, burst into ours.

Heaven influences, exhorts and radically transforms practical existence. 

On earth we can have a direct and all-too-real experience of God, in the summit of discipleship and following, even if it is not immediate.

At the end of the Priestly Prayer, a salient concern emerges in Jesus: the 'Eucharistic' one par excellence.

The Jewish expectation of the Messiah becomes an expectation of Unity [not psychological and trivial, but a Gift from above].

On the subject of Glory, the apostles must not be confused.

The vehicle of Glory is love and the inescapable feasting together - just like in the Eucharist: the same divine Gold that comes to the surface and is offered again.

In prayerful form, the Lord makes memorial of all those who throughout history will believe in Him, through the word and testimony of the disciples, who become the centre of attraction and union.

Unlike ancient religions, He wants the life of Faith to be characterised not by the 'truth' one has, but by the 'truth' one makes.

The weight of the divine manifestation must no longer be traced in formulae and correct dogmas: disputes fester.

God's demonstration before humanity cannot be in an external code that makes everyone dependent, wiping the slate clean of dreamy eccentricities.

We do not bear witness to the Immense on earth in the coherent capacities of understanding and willing according to procedure.

To formulate definitions it is enough to bring intellectual energies to bear. 

To defend, promote and rejoice in life, one must be animated by the same Spirit of God, in His work of primary Unity.

The earthly love that reflects it is no longer capacity, but possibility.

In this way, the divine Nucleus in its specific weight has nothing immediately satisfying and triumphant about it; on the contrary, much that is serviceable and liberating.

If the Church contemplates and displays the Glory of Christ, it is because it has been able to place itself in its proper place, to the point of giving life and substance: 'judging' reality too, but from the criterion of the Cross (cf. v.24).

In short, the friendship that unveils what is heavenly and primal [not transient and causal] does not lie in knowing, concatenating, reproducing; in affirming, or renouncing; not even in parrying blows and advancing.

Nor is a form of 'justice' that gives each his own sufficient - for from division to division it would shatter concord: summum jus summa iniuria; jus summum saepe summa est malitia.

This would crumble any firm polyhedral understanding - and if carried through to the end, would lead to the worst injustices.

Even for future pilgrims in Him, Christ asks God for Communion - conviviality of differences: not in the unilateral form, but from which to take meaning.

The priority Unity he cares about is that which is introduced by transmitting the divine reciprocity between Father and Son.

It emerges precisely as we allow the ferment that constitutes us brothers, His Body, to act in us.

For the world to believe that Jesus is the Envoy, friends must be in the Son and in the Father - as the Son is in the Father and the Father in the Son. 

From such a relationship, cemented with intimate immanence, all our unions take their true meaning; weight, transparency, passage, and development.

Fraternities that realise Redemption in history, thanks to a tolerant synergy.

Each person can be in the other, only in the sharing of 'crafted' love.

This is the manifestation [glory] of the divine: a mutual indwelling, which makes us One Body - otherwise one is not credible. Just as the incarnation of God in Christ would not be credible.

Faith is the transmission of authentic glory: Faith and Glory commensurate such concatenation of participation.

And Father "just" (v.25) refers to the distinction between the world and the small assemblies of mutual adherence in the early days, the only places where life could be perceived.

Only in the reciprocity reflected in the One arisen can one live intensely.

The experience of Oneness in God - the most irrefutable sign of His Presence - was indeed profound in the Johannine communities.

Those authentic assemblies were an environment that helped to bring out the hidden sides.

In such churches without preclusion, the fascination of those sides of the Oneness that the customary world valued as imbalances and defects, instead of opportunities for special enrichment: human, cultural, spiritual - and personal callings - was revealed.

The note that makes the assembly of the sons recognisable is precisely the becoming One in the Source of being - not the remaining uniform.

Glory of the beginnings.A different Glory, one that recovers opposites and does not pursue duplicity (perhaps using God's name as a screen and turncoat).

To protect his own from fears of organised and even sacred reprisals [a litmus test of the goodness of values and choices] Jesus took care to make it clear to what level of realisation and consideration he was leading the disciples.

The Trinity is a unique gushing Source; motive, energy, and motor - a true strength, which gives stimulus, form, colour, to the most diverse situations and even to rejection.

It is to be expected that dislikes, attempts at derision and worse will arise towards those who extend the horizon.

Superficial and vain installed do not deserve any credibility. But they are not willing to be unmasked. And they certainly do not renounce counterfeit positions, on which instead they willingly insist.

It also applies to artfully constructed fences over centuries of strife, even between Christian denominations.

Comparing their history of absurd conflicts, this Gospel seems to say: none of them has really experienced the Father.

None of them has seen and understood the face of the other, except for the setting up of a contrived do-nothing identity, built on the most trivial opposition.

As Pope Francis has suggested, this is all to cover up venal interests and fatuous superstitions; nothing else.

On the other hand, men today as they did then - seeing a non-confrontational, servant and poor Church - would contemplate the Crucified One.

They would experience divine glory.

Here is the priestly prayer of Jesus - genuinely transcending the centuries; contemporary without a wrinkle.

To internalise and live the message:

What do you think of ecumenical and interreligious dialogue? Does it enrich or demoralise you?

Do you think it is the opaque and triumphant Church that makes us contemplate the Crucified One, or the transparent and poor one?

Unity in the Church was the focus of Pope Francis' reflection during the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on Thursday 21 May. Rereading the passage from the Gospel of John (17:20-26) proposed by the liturgy of the day, the Pontiff first of all underlined how "it consoles everyone to hear this word: 'Father, I pray not only for these but also for those who will believe in me through their word'". This is what Jesus said in taking leave of the apostles. At that moment Jesus prayed to the Father for the disciples and "he also prays for us".

Francis pointed out that 'Jesus prayed for us at that time and continues to do so'. We read in the Gospel: 'Father, I pray for these but for many others who will come'. A not insignificant detail to which, perhaps, not enough attention is paid. Yet, the Pope reiterated, "Jesus prayed for me" and this "is indeed a source of trust". We could imagine 'Jesus before the Father, in heaven', praying for us. And "what does the Father see? The wounds', that is, the price that Jesus 'paid for us'.

With this image, the Pontiff entered into the heart of his reflection. Indeed, he wondered, 'what does Jesus ask of the Father in this prayer?' Does he say, "I pray for them that life may be good, that they may have money, that they may all be happy, that they may lack nothing?...". No, Jesus "prays that all may be one: 'As you are in me and I in you'". At that moment he prays "for our unity. For the unity of his people, for the unity of his Church'.

Jesus, Francis explained, knows well that "the spirit of the world, which is precisely the spirit of the father of division, is a spirit of division, of war, of envy, of jealousies", and that this is present "even in families, even in religious families, even in dioceses, even in the whole Church: it is the great temptation". Therefore "the great prayer of Jesus" is to "resemble" the Father: that is, "as you Father are in me and I in you", in the "unity that he has with the Father".

Someone might then ask: "But, Father, with this prayer of Jesus, if we want to be faithful, can we not chatter against one another?" Or: "Can't we label this one ..., this one is like this, this one is ...?". And "that other one, who has been branded a revolutionary...?". The Pope's answer was clear: 'No'. Because, he added, "we must be one, one thing, as Jesus and the Father are one". And this is precisely 'the challenge for all of us Christians: not to leave room for division among us, not to let the spirit of division, the father of lies, enter into us'. We must, the Pope insisted, 'always seek unity'. Everyone of course 'is as he is', but he must try to live in unity: 'Has Jesus forgiven you? Forgive us all'.

The Lord prays that we will succeed in this. The Pontiff explained: 'The Church is in great need, so much, of this prayer of unity, not only that of Jesus; we too must join in this prayer'. After all, from the very beginning the Church has manifested this need: 'If we start reading the book of the Acts of the Apostles from the beginning,' Francis said, 'we will see that there the quarrels begin, even the swindles. One wants to cheat the other, think Ananias and Sapphira...". Already in those early years, divisions, self-interest, selfishness were encountered. Making unity was and is a real "struggle".

However, we must realise that 'alone we cannot' achieve unity: this in fact 'is a grace'. Therefore, the Pontiff reiterated, 'Jesus prays, he prayed at that time, he prayed for the Church, he prayed for me, for the Church, for me to go on this path'.

Unity is so important that, the Pope noted, "in the passage we read" this word is repeated "four times in six verses". A unity that "is not made with glue". There is in fact no such thing as "the Church made with glue": the Church is made one by the Spirit. This is why "we must make room for the Spirit, so that he may transform us as the Father is in the Son, into one".

To achieve this, Francis added, there is a piece of advice given by Jesus himself: "Remain in me. This too is a grace. In his prayer Jesus asks: "Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am" so that "they may contemplate my glory".

From this meditation came a piece of advice: to reread verses 20-26 of chapter 17 of John's Gospel and think: "Jesus prays, prays for me, has prayed and prays for me still. He prays with his wounds, before the Father". And he does so 'so that we may all be one, as he is with the Father, for the sake of unity'. This "should urge us not to make judgements", not to do "things that go against unity", and to follow Jesus' advice "to remain in him in this life so that we may remain with him in eternity".These teachings, the Pope concluded, are found in Jesus' discourse during the Last Supper. In the Mass "we relive" that supper and Jesus repeats those words to us. During the Eucharist, therefore, "let us make room for Jesus' words to enter our hearts and all of us to be witnesses of unity in the Church and of joy in the hope of the contemplation of Jesus' glory".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 22/05/2015]

Ascension of the Lord (year A) and VII Easter Sunday [Thursday 14 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (1:1–11)

The opening verses serve as a bridge between the Acts of the Apostles and the Gospel of Luke, which is also dedicated to a certain Theophilus. One begins where the other ends, namely with the account of Jesus’ Ascension, even though the two accounts do not agree on everything. The Gospel recounts Jesus’ mission and preaching; the second is dedicated to the mission and preaching of the Apostles, hence the name “Acts of the Apostles”. The parallel can be taken further: the Gospel begins and ends in Jerusalem, the centre of the Jewish world and of the First Covenant; the Acts begin in Jerusalem, because the New Covenant is a continuation of the First, but they end in Rome, the crossroads of all the roads of the then-known world: the New Covenant now extends beyond the borders of Israel. For Luke, it is clear that this expansion is the work of the Holy Spirit. It is the very Spirit of Jesus and will be the inspiration of the Apostles from Pentecost onwards, so much so that the Acts are often called “the Gospel of the Spirit”. Just as Jesus had prepared for his mission with forty days in the desert after his Baptism, so too does he prepare the Church for forty days: “For forty days he appeared to them and spoke about the kingdom of God”. During a final meal, he gives his instructions: a command, a promise, a sending forth on mission. The command is almost surprising: to wait and not to move. “He instructed them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait for the fulfilment of the Father’s promise.” That the Father’s promises would be fulfilled in Jerusalem certainly did not surprise the Eleven, all of whom were Jews, for the entire preaching of the prophets assigned Jerusalem a decisive role in the fulfilment of God’s plan. Luke specifies the content of the promise: “John baptised with water, but you will be baptised in the Holy Spirit in a few days’ time.” The apostles had in mind the prophecies of Joel: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all people” (Joel 3:1–2), and of Zechariah: “On that day there shall be a fountain opened for the house of David and for the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to cleanse them from sin and impurity” (Zech 13:1)  and Ezekiel: “I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be cleansed… I will give you a new heart, and  I will put a new spirit within you… I will put my Spirit within you” (Ezek 36:25–27).

The apostles’ question “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” shows that they had clearly understood that the famous Day of the Lord had dawned. Jesus’ reply should not surprise us: God calls upon human cooperation to bring about his plan, and the salvation of God, which has come through Jesus Christ, calls upon people to enter into it. For this to happen, people must know of it, and from this arises the mission and responsibility of the Apostles. The Spirit is given to them for this purpose: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses.” This means that between the gift of the Spirit and the definitive coming of the Kingdom there is an interval which is the time of witness: an interval that is all the longer the more the message is to be brought to all humanity. “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” The Book of Acts follows this plan exactly. Just as on Easter morning “two men in dazzling robes” had torn the women away from their contemplation, saying, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen”, so on the day of the Ascension two men in white robes do the same with the Apostles: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand gazing into the sky? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven”. He will return, we are certain of it, and that is why we say at every Eucharist: “As we await the fulfilment of our blessed hope and the coming of our Saviour Jesus Christ”. In the Bible, the cloud is the visible sign of God’s presence, as at the crossing of the Red Sea or at the Transfiguration. The cloud that hides Jesus from human sight is the sign that he has now entered God’s realm: his physical and visible presence thus ceases to inaugurate his spiritual presence. It is impossible to reconstruct exactly what happened between Jesus’ Resurrection, on Easter night, and the day he definitively left his apostles to return to the Father. In Luke’s accounts, in both the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, the two narratives are very similar: Jesus’ departure takes place near Jerusalem, for the Gospel speaks of Bethany and the Acts of the Mount of Olives; in both, Luke specifies that Jesus instructs the disciples not to leave Jerusalem before they have received the Holy Spirit. The only difference concerns the timing: in the Gospel, it seems that the departure takes place on Easter evening itself; after appearing to the disciples on the road to Emmaus, they return to Jerusalem to tell the Eleven everything; and it is whilst they are talking together that Jesus appears, stays with them, and explains the Scriptures; then he leads them to Bethany and there disappears from their sight for good. In Acts, however, Luke specifies that forty days elapsed between Easter and the Ascension; and this is why we celebrate the the Ascension forty days after Easter. In the other Gospels there is almost nothing on this: in Matthew there is no account of the Ascension, but only an appearance of Jesus to two women who had gone to the tomb and then to the disciples in Galilee, during which he utters the phrase with which his Gospel concludes: “ Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit’ John gives a more detailed account of several appearances of the Risen One, one to Mary Magdalene and three to the disciples, the last by the Sea of Tiberias; but he does not recount the Ascension. As for Mark, he recounts the appearance to Mary Magdalene, then to two disciples who were going out into the countryside, and finally to the Eleven. Jesus sends them to preach the Gospel to the whole world, and Mark concludes by saying: “The Lord Jesus, after speaking to them, was taken up into heaven and sat at the right hand of God” . These differences between the Gospels prove that their details do not aim at historical or geographical reality: Matthew has his reasons for speaking of Galilee. Luke, on the other hand, has his own reasons for emphasising Jerusalem, because it was there that Jesus told them to wait for the gift of the Spirit, and Luke’s Gospel ends with Jesus’ final instruction: “And behold, I am sending upon you the one whom my Father has promised; but you must remain in the city until you are clothed with power from on high” (Lk 24:49).

Responsorial Psalm (46/47)

Here Israel sings and acclaims God as its king, and this is not surprising; but what is even more astonishing is that it says God is the king of the whole earth. Now, this was not always the view in Israel. Before the Babylonian Exile, none of the kings of Israel imagined that God was the Lord of the entire universe. This means that the psalm was composed late in the history of the chosen people. I shall focus on the first statement: God is the king of Israel. For a long period of biblical history, Israel had kings, like its neighbouring peoples, but its conception of kingship was unique, and this distinctiveness persisted throughout its history. In Israel, the king could never claim to be the highest authority in the land and did not hold absolute power, for God remained the sovereign. In other words, the true king in Israel was none other than God Himself. The king, for example, could not interpret the laws as he pleased and  had, like everyone else, to submit to the Law of God given to Moses on Mount Sinai. According to the Book of Deuteronomy, he was required to read the entire Law every day of his life. Even whilst sitting on the throne, he was, in principle, merely an executor of God’s commands conveyed by the prophets. In the Books of Kings, in fact, we often see one king or another seeking the consent of the prophet of the day before going into battle or even, in David’s case, before undertaking the construction of the Temple. And on several occasions we see the prophets intervening freely in the lives of the kings and sometimes violently criticising their behaviour. The affirmation of God’s sovereignty was even a hindrance to the establishment of the monarchy. One recalls the very violent reaction of the prophet Samuel, in the time of the Judges, when the leaders of the tribes of Israel came to tell him that they wanted a king ‘to be like the other nations’. To desire to be ‘like the other nations’ when one had the honour of being the people chosen by God for the covenant was, in his eyes, a true blasphemy. He eventually yielded to the insistence of the tribal leaders, but not without warning them that they were bringing ruin upon themselves. And when he anointed the first king, Saul, he took care to specify that he was becoming the head of God’s inheritance. The people remained God’s people and not the king’s, and the king was but a servant of God. And throughout the monarchy in Israel, the prophets took it upon themselves to remind the kings of this fundamental truth. To the extent that the Books of Kings, when recounting the successive reigns, have but one criterion of judgement: the faithfulness of each king to God’s will. One phrase recurs constantly: ‘Such-and-such a king did what was right in the eyes of the Lord’, or conversely, ‘Such-and-such a king did what was evil in the eyes of the Lord’. It is therefore in honour of God himself that our psalm deploys here the entire vocabulary otherwise reserved for the kings of the earth. The very word ‘awesome’ is a compliment; it is a common term in courtly language and is reassuring: the enemies are warned, our king will be invincible. In every line of this psalm, it is clear that we are speaking of the God of Sinai, the Lord, who is acclaimed as God and King of the entire universe. This universal dimension is very much present in the psalm, to the point of stating that “God reigns over the pagan nations”. Now, the discovery of monotheism dates only to the Babylonian Exile: until then, the people of Israel were not yet monotheists. To be monotheists means to affirm that there is only one God, the same for the entire cosmos and humanity. Before the Exile, this was not the case: it is said that Israel was ‘monolatristic’; that is, it recognised for itself a single God, the God of the Sinai Covenant. But it believed that other peoples had their own gods. This psalm was therefore probably composed after the return from the Exile, and it was not in the throne room that these acclamations resounded, but in the rebuilt Temple of Jerusalem. Even now, the Jews already imagine the Day when God will finally be recognised for what He is, the Father of all goodness. We Christians, in turn, take up this psalm. And the phrase “God ascends amidst the acclamations” is most fitting for the celebration of the Ascension of Jesus Christ. Even though Christ’s kingship has not yet been fully realised and the evangelists do not recount any coronation ceremony for Christ. All the more reason to pay Jesus this magnificent tribute now, which merely anticipates the last day when all the children of God, finally gathered together, will sing: “All you peoples, clap your hands! Acclaim God with shouts of joy” 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians (1:17–23)

The Letter to the Ephesians is divided into two parts: in chapters 1–3 there is a lengthy contemplation of God’s plan, and in chapters 4–6 an exhortation to the baptised to conform their lives to this mystery. For the feast of the the Ascension, the liturgy offers a passage from the first part in Year A and from the second part in Year B. The first part begins with a lengthy blessing formula in the Jewish style, which in our Christian liturgy we might call a ‘preface’, and it concerns God’s ‘merciful plan’ (Eph 1:3–6). The baptised already share in this mysterious plan of God which, one day, will be extended to all humanity. And Paul speaks of the privilege of us Christians who, having heard the word of truth, that is, the Gospel, have received the seal of the Holy Spirit, a pledge of our inheritance, whilst we await full redemption.  We find all these terms in today’s reading, but in the form of a prayer, generally known as the ‘prayer for enlightenment’, since it takes the light of God to penetrate even a little into this mystery: “May he enlighten the eyes of your heart so that you may understand to what hope he has called you, what treasure of glory his inheritance among the saints holds…” And we know full well that the understanding of which he speaks is not a matter of reason but of the heart, a profound openness to being taught and enlightened. And Paul, as a Jew, knows full well that God’s wisdom is inaccessible to man unless God himself reveals himself to him: “May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation for a deeper knowledge of him.” And what lies at the end of this knowledge towards which we are journeying? An inheritance of inestimable value, says Paul. The word “inheritance” in verse 18, and indeed in verse 14, recurs frequently in the Bible: in the Old Testament it refers to the land promised by God to the faithful. The same term is taken up in the New Testament, particularly in Paul’s letters, to denote the Kingdom and eternal life. For example: “The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God. And if we are children, we are also heirs: heirs of God, joint-heirs with Christ’ (Rom 8:16–17). ‘Giving thanks with joy to the Father who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light’ (Col 1:12). ‘ All nations are called, in Christ Jesus, to share in the same inheritance, to form the same body and to be partakers of the same promise through the Gospel” (Eph 3:8). James also develops this theme: “Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world, who are rich in faith and heirs of the Kingdom, promised to those who love him?” (Jas 2:5) .  And the Letter to the Hebrews, for its part, often takes up the theme: “God, who in times past spoke to our ancestors many times and in various ways through the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us through his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things and through whom he also made the world” (Heb 1:1–2); and a little further on: “That those who have been called may receive the eternal inheritance that was promised” (Heb 9:15) For, and this is the profound reason for Paul’s wonder, the Lord’s disciples are already associated with the triumph of their risen Master. Nothing in this world need frighten them any longer, for death has been conquered and the gates to eternal life are open. The work that God accomplishes in the hearts of believers is a true inner resurrection. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew 28:16–20

Here is Jesus’ farewell discourse, after the Resurrection, in Galilee, commonly called the ‘crossroads of the Gentiles’, the ‘Galilee of the nations’, for the Apostles’ mission now concerns ‘all nations’ . The Gospel of Matthew seems to end abruptly: but in reality, the adventure is just beginning. It is like a film in which the word “THE END” appears on a road stretching out towards infinity. For it is precisely towards infinity that Jesus sends them: the immensity of the world and the infinity of the ages. “Go… Make disciples of all nations… Until the end of the world.” But were the disciples ready for such a mission? If Jesus were a business leader, he could not risk entrusting the future of his enterprise to collaborators like these, who seem not to have fully absorbed all the training he had provided over months. They are mistaken about the objective, the timing, and the nature of the enterprise. They even go so far as to doubt the reality they are experiencing, for Matthew clearly states, “some, however, doubted” (Mt 28:17). The mission entrusted to them, fraught with risks, is to promote a message that still surprises them. Folly, the wise would say; the wisdom of God, Saint Paul would reply. This is certainly no trivial undertaking: it surpasses everything the human spirit can imagine or conceive. It is a matter of communication between God and humankind. He who kindled the spark entrusts to his disciples the task of spreading the fire: “Go! Make disciples of all nations: baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”. “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”: we do not often have the opportunity to dwell on this extraordinary formula of our faith. It is, in fact, the first formulation of the mystery of the Trinity: the expression “in the name of”, common in the Bible, signifies that there is indeed one God; at the same time, the three Persons are named and clearly distinguished: “ In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”. If we recall that, in the Bible, the Name is the person, and that to baptise etymologically means “to immerse”, this means that Baptism literally immerses us in the Trinity. We understand Jesus’s peremptory command to his disciples: “Go”; there is urgency. How can we not be eager to see all humanity take advantage of this offer? At the same time, it must be said that this formula, so familiar to us, was a true revolution for the generation of Christ! Proof of this is that when the apostles Peter and John healed the lame man at the Beautiful Gate, the authorities immediately asked: “By what power or in whose name have you done this?” (Acts 4:7), because it was not permitted to invoke any name other than that of God. Jesus speaks precisely of God, but his statement mentions three persons, whereas God was one; the prophets had made this clear enough. The Jews’ misunderstanding of Christ’s followers is recorded here; persecution was inevitable. Jesus knows this, and he had warned them on the last evening: “ They will expel you from the synagogues; indeed, the hour is coming when whoever kills you will think they are offering worship to God, that is, they will think they are defending God’s honour (Jn 16:2)… And Jesus added: ‘They will do this because they have not known either the Father or me’ (Jn 16:3). The mission entrusted to the apostles truly seems like madness; but they are not alone, and this must never be forgotten. Insofar as our commitment is not our own but His, we have no reason to worry about the results: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go!” (Mt 28:18–19). In other words, it is we who go, but it is he who has all power. It is said that a few days after his election, John XXIII received a visit from a friend: “Most Holy Father,” he said, “how heavy the task must be!” John XXIII replied: “It’s true, in the evening, when I lie down, I think: ‘Angelo, you are the Pope,’ and I struggle to fall asleep; but after a few minutes I say to myself: ‘Angelo, how stupid you are, you are not the one in charge of the Church, it is the Holy Spirit.’ Then I turn over and fall asleep!” For us too, evangelisation must be our passion, not our anguish. Jesus made it quite clear: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” This sentence alone sums up the life of Christ: this takes place on a mountain, we do not know which one, but it evokes both the Mount of Temptation and the Mount of Transfiguration. On the Mount of Temptation, Jesus refused to receive power over creation from anyone other than the Father: “The devil took him up to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour, and said to him: “All these things I will give you if you will fall down and worship me.” Then Jesus answered him, ‘Be gone, Satan! For it is written: “You shall worship the Lord your God, and him alone shall you serve”’ (cf. Mt 4:8–10). This power, which Jesus did not claim nor purchase, is given to him by the Father. And now this power is in our hands! “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go! And Jesus adds, ‘I am with you always, even to the end of the age.’ The God of Presence revealed to Moses in the burning bush, the Emmanuel – which means ‘God with us’ – promised by Isaiah, are one in the Spirit of love that unites them. Ours is the mission to reveal to the world this loving presence of the Triune God.

Seventh Sunday in Easter  (year A)  [17 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (1:12–14)

The first sentence of the text sums up in a few words a crucial stage in the lives of the early Christians. For us it is the Ascension and we have made it a feast day, but, originally, was it not rather a day of mourning, a day of great departure? After the horror of Jesus’ Passion and death, after the splendour of the Resurrection, here they were, orphaned forever. But precisely for this reason they are closer to us, and their attitude can guide our own. Let us therefore look closely at their actions. Jesus had given them instructions: not to leave Jerusalem and to wait there for the gift of the Holy Spirit. Here is the account from the Acts: ‘While he was at table with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait for the fulfilment of the Father’s promise. “‘What,’ he said, ‘you have heard from me: John baptised with water, but you will be baptised in the Holy Spirit in a few days’” . And on the very day of his departure, on the Mount of Olives, he repeated: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” I dwell on this expression “the power of the Spirit”, which should reassure us in every circumstance. And Luke recounts: “Having said this, whilst they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him from their sight.” Obviously, they obeyed the Master’s command. It is therefore no surprise to find them in Jerusalem shortly afterwards; Luke notes that the Mount of Olives is very close to the city: the distance does not exceed what is known as the ‘Sabbath journey’, that is, the maximum distance one may travel without violating the Sabbath rest; it was just under a kilometre, two thousand cubits, and a cubit, as the name suggests, is the length of the forearm, about fifty centimetres. But why does Luke give this precise measurement? Are we to infer that it was the Sabbath? Or, by emphasising the proximity of the Mount of Olives, does Luke wish to suggest that everything is fulfilled in Jerusalem? It is there that God’s plan is fulfilled: there the Son was glorified, there the Covenant between God and humanity was renewed, there the Spirit will be given. It is in the holy city, therefore, that the life of the nascent Church begins; and Luke lists those who make up the group: the Eleven, some women, including Mary, the mother of Jesus, and some brothers, that is, probably disciples. Here too, the details are not merely anecdotal; we already knew the names of the apostles from Luke’s Gospel; if he gives us the list again, it is not to instruct us! Luke wishes to highlight the continuity within the community of the apostles: they are the very same who accompanied Jesus throughout his earthly life, and now they are committed to the mission. And they will be able to bear witness to the Resurrection only because they have been witnesses to the life, Passion and death of Jesus. We thus find again the group of people so different from one another whom Jesus had chosen: Peter, James, John and Andrew, fishermen on the Sea of Tiberias; Simon the Zealot—at the time of Jesus’ earthly life, this was not yet a political commitment, but it was already a sign of religious fanaticism. One wonders how he could stand alongside Matthew the tax collector, a tax collector in the pay of the occupying power and, for this reason, barred from worship! Not only did Jesus manage to bring them together around him, but they will now share the responsibility of continuing their Master’s mission. Christian tradition has identified Bartholomew with Nathanael, mentioned by Saint John, who was a specialist in the Law; if this were the case, it would have been a further point of diversity within the group of the Twelve. It is upon this community of men, so different from one another, that the proclamation of the Gospel now rests. A few brief observations: first of all, their group is not closed in on itself, but is already open to others, men and women; secondly, they begin this life of the Church in prayer, ‘devoted and of one accord’, as Luke emphasises. Perhaps the first miracle of the apostles is this praying together as one heart at the moment when the Master leaves them, and they find themselves seemingly left to their own devices and to their differences, which could have turned into divisions. In truth, they are only apparently left to their own devices: Jesus, though now invisible, is not absent. Matthew, in his Gospel, has preserved one of Jesus’ final words: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’ The apostles, therefore, do not pray for Jesus to draw near: his presence is assured; they pray to immerse themselves once more in his presence. This account from the Acts of the Apostles becomes for us a powerful lesson in hope: Jesus is with us always, his presence is assured, and the power of the Holy Spirit accompanies us! 

Responsorial Psalm (26/27)

This psalm is for those going through difficult times. Believers are not exempt from life’s trials, and faith is no magic wand. Sometimes they suffer precisely because of their faith, as in religious wars or persecutions, or due to the hostility of atheists and the struggle to defend Christian values in a world that does not share them. We shall find an example of this in the Letter of Saint Peter, this Sunday’s second reading. But in their trials, believers know they are not alone, abandoned to their sad fate, for they have someone to turn to: “It is to God that my eyes weep,” said Job (Job 16:20). And they go to seek strength where it is found, that is, in God. “The Lord is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear?” We do not know to which specific trials this psalm alludes; incidentally, it is much longer than the few verses read here, but the missing verses provide no historical details. Here and there one senses an allusion to external attacks: “The Lord is the bulwark of my life: before whom should I tremble?”. Ever since the great adventure of the Exodus, Israel has been threatened in its very existence on numerous occasions. The first verse, “The Lord is my light and my salvation”, is probably also an allusion to the Exodus under Moses’s leadership: in the Sinai desert, the pillar of cloud lit the way and signified God’s presence. Salvation, then, meant escaping from Pharaoh; in every age, salvation takes different forms, and Israel has experienced all manner of them, evoked through allusions in the psalm. To say “The Lord is the bulwark of my life” brings to mind the long period of wars, and the best bulwark is the strength that God gives us. “If you do not believe, you will not stand firm,” Isaiah said to King Ahaz (Is 7:9). Faith is the only strength that enables us to face everything: “Whom shall I fear?”. This means that God protects us from all fear and that we do not even fear Him. In all trials and sufferings, the believer knows that they can cry out to God: indeed, it is even recommended in the Bible, for groaning, weeping and praying is not cowardly, but simply human, and it is to God that we must groan, weep and pray. “Hear, O Lord, I call upon you,” says the psalm, and of one thing the chosen people are certain: that God hears our cry. Let us think of the great revelation of the Burning Bush: “The cry of the children of Israel has come to me,” God said to Moses (Ex. 3:7–9). And from that day Israel has known that God hears the cry of those who suffer. We read in the psalm: “One thing I have asked of the Lord, this alone I seek: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life”: like the Levite, admitted into the inner sanctum of the temple in Jerusalem, Israel asks for the grace to dwell in the presence of God. “Have mercy, answer me,” is a beggar’s cry and also a plea for forgiveness, for the expression that follows, “Seek my face,” is a call to conversion; for ever since settling in the Promised Land, the people have faced a new danger: that of unfaithfulness, that is, idolatry. However, when we read “Seek my face”, it is not God who thirsts for our homage and asks something of us for his own sake. God loves us, and all the commandments are for our happiness. St Augustine states: “Everything that man does for God benefits man and not God”. For God, the centre of the world is humanity, and He has no other purpose than our happiness—a happiness we find only when God is at the centre of our lives, for as St Augustine said: “You have made us for Yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” It is interesting to compare Psalm 26/27 with the Canticle of Zechariah, which we sing every morning in the Liturgy of the Hours.

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (4:13–16)

In the early days of the Church, as we know from the Acts of the Apostles, the first disciples of Christ did not yet bear this name; they were called ‘Nazarenes’, because of Nazareth, and this name, used by the Jews who refused to recognise Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah awaited by Israel, was a derogatory term. Later, when Barnabas and Paul were carrying out their mission in Antioch of Syria, it was probably pagans who had not yet converted to the Christian Church who gave Jesus’ disciples the name ‘Christians’, which means ‘of Christ, belonging to Christ’. This new title of ‘Christian’ was not an honour either. The unconverted pagans viewed with suspicion the radical change of life taking place within the community of the baptised. Shortly before, in his letter, Peter writes: ‘They find it strange that you no longer rush with them towards the same torrent of perdition, and they revile you’; ‘They slander you, treating you as evildoers’. Here, Saint Peter speaks of the sufferings—that is, the misunderstanding, the isolation, the slander—of which Jesus was a victim because he continued to proclaim his message without letting anyone stop him, with that fidelity that cost him his life. In turn, the early Christians face the same hostility, and Peter seeks to give them the courage to hold firm whilst awaiting the day when the glory of Christ will be revealed—that is, the day when Jesus will come to inaugurate his kingdom among men. Peter goes even further: not only must one not be ashamed, but on the contrary, the title of ‘Christian’ is, in his eyes, the highest dignity: “Rejoice,” he tells them, because of the name ‘Christian’, which means ‘belonging to Christ’. Furthermore, when he says: “To the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, rejoice…” he is speaking of the Beatitudes proclaimed by Jesus: “Blessed are you when they revile you, persecute you and, lying, say all sorts of evil against you on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great!” . And Jesus, in saying this, was describing himself. Now Peter applies this description to those who, in turn, bear the name of Christ. He even says that “you share in the sufferings of Christ”, which means: “rejoice because you are intimately united with Christ in these sufferings you endure to remain faithful to his name and his mission. And since you are united to his sufferings, you will likewise be united to his glory on the day when the truth will burst forth.” It is clear, however, that suffering is not an end in itself, but the goal is to be united to Christ and to God in the Spirit of love, whatever the circumstances—happy or unhappy—may be in our lives. And Peter points to a way of facing persecution for the sake of Christ’s name: “To the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, rejoice…”. Here is a proclamation and an encouragement, for the day will come when Christ will be recognised by all, and you along with him; and on that day it will be recognised that you were not mistaken because Christ had deceived you. We therefore need the courage to persevere, for you have chosen the right path. The Book of Acts recounts that after being flogged, Peter and John “left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing that they had been counted worthy to suffer dishonour for the name of Jesus”. Peter was only able to do this after Pentecost: one must be filled with the Spirit of Jesus to have the courage to face persecution in his name and to know that mysterious joy of being in communion with him, even in suffering, that joy which no one can take from us! The Church offers us this text from Peter as we await Pentecost, a special time for rediscovering the role of the Holy Spirit in the life of our communities. 

From the Gospel according to John (17:1b-11a)

These final words of Jesus: “I am coming to you” mysteriously draw us into Jesus’ prayer at the very moment he is about to reach the Father: “I am coming to you”. It is the Hour of the great passage: “Father, the hour has come”, that Hour of which he spoke many times during his earthly life, that Hour which he seemed both to desire and to fear. It is the decisive Hour, central to all human history, the Hour which all creation awaits as a birth: for it is the Hour of the fulfilment of God’s plan. From now on, nothing will ever be the same again. In this decisive Hour, the mystery of the Father will finally be revealed to the world: this is why Jesus repeatedly uses the words “glory” and “glorify”. A person’s glory, in the biblical sense, is not their fame or the recognition of others; it is their true worth. The glory of God is therefore God Himself, who reveals Himself to mankind in all the splendour of His holiness. The verb ‘to glorify’ can be replaced with ‘to reveal’. In this decisive Hour, God will be glorified, revealed in the Son, and believers will finally ‘know’ the Father; they will enter into that intimacy which unites the Son to the Father, and which the Son communicates to mankind. Those who accept this revelation and believe in Jesus will enter into this intimacy with the Father: they will enter into true life: “Eternal life is that they may know you, the one true God, and the one whom you have sent, Jesus Christ”. Here, from the very mouth of Jesus, is a definition of eternal life: Jesus speaks in the present tense and describes eternal life as the state of those who know God and Christ. We already live this life from the moment of our Baptism. Speaking of his disciples, Jesus says: “They have truly known that I came from you, and they have believed that you sent me.”  At that moment, only a portion of humanity received this revelation and entered into the communion of love offered by the Father, accepting to take the path opened by the Son; and it is for these few alone that Jesus prays: “I pray for them; I do not pray for the world, but for those whom you have given me…” It is the mystery of God’s choices that is repeated: just as the Father had chosen Abraham to reveal his great plan to him, he chose certain members of Abraham’s lineage to bring the revelation of his mystery to fulfilment: “I have made your name known to the people you have given me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me comes from you…” . For this small chosen people, the hour has come to continue the work of revelation: “I am no longer in the world; they, however, are in the world, and I am coming to you.” Jesus passes the baton to us in a way: he has given us everything; now it is up to us to give it to others. We must let Jesus’ insistence on the word “give” resound within us: the Father has given authority to the Son… the Son will give eternal life to mankind… the Father has given mankind to the Son… the Father has given his words to the Son… and the Son has given these words to his brothers. Jesus’ emphasis on the verb ‘to give’ permeates the entire biblical meditation: our relationship with God is not a matter of calculation. It is enough for us to allow ourselves to be loved and continually filled with his grace. The word ‘grace’ means a free gift. The logic of the gift, of gratuitousness, is that of the Son who lives eternally in a dialogue of love with the Father. In the prologue to his Gospel, John says that the Son is eternally ‘turned towards the Father’ (Jn 1:18) (“No one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is in the Father’s bosom, he has made him known.” The expression “in the Father’s bosom” (from the Greek eis ton kolpon tou Patros) is interpreted as: “turned towards the Father”, “in intimate communion with the Father”, “in the Father’s intimacy”. Thus the idea that the Son is eternally “turned towards the Father” arises from this verse, even though the expression “turned towards the Father” is a theological paraphrase, not a literal quotation. And since there is no shadow between them, he reflects the Father’s glory: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father”. Between them, everything is love, dialogue, sharing: “All that is mine is yours, and all that is yours is mine”. The Prologue of John’s Gospel is illuminated by the reading of this prayer of Jesus; it is, as it were, its transposition (Jn 1:1–18).

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Real life in Jesus - condemned for living against the tide

(Jn 17:11b-19)

In Asia Minor, fraternities of the sons of God were easily targeted - harmless, yet considered a bombshell for that system.

World that did not want any alternative truth to enter its social and cultural imaginary.

Introduced in the death-resurrection of Christ, the communities of Faith were living as one big family, united in charity and mutual understanding - not according to already configured social obligations.

In the churches, the warmth of fraternal relationships could be perceived: a nucleus of alternative society to that of the empire, which on the horizon of its well-run universe excluded the access of the humble and needy.

Faith was playing on the edge.

In this context, Jesus asks the Father for an intimate custody of believers, consecrated in Him (vv.11-13.17.19)... not to remove them from tribulation, but for evangelization.

By proceeding the path of Exodus in His own intimates, and immersing Himself in the situations, his Person, Word, and affair prolonged the Gesuan act of the consecration of the world [according to Semitic categories].

Not a kind of protection of sisters and brothers, in the manner of a pagan deity, but to live the fullness of the Beatitudes.

All of this, within the framework of deep discernment, and capacity for incisive action - induced by the fraternal atmosphere and the sense of divine approval, with no more external diktats.

It was the "power" of the «Name» (vv.11-12): the reality of the new Face of the Most High, as revealed in the problematic story of the Son.

Primordial, intimate and empathic Energy, which in the same glorious and paradoxical terms invested the disciples, the called to manifest the divine condition; the becomed ones ‘as Christ’.

Even in the face of hardship, mockery and repulsion of others, in the mutual love lived in community, in the conviviality of the differences of faithful and assemblies, God's therapy and revival was manifested.

The Father revealed Himself unforeseeable love, precisely in the manifestation of this ‘Unity’.

But even Jesus' presence failed to protect Judas from self-destruction.

His case is a special result, precisely because he did not trust in love and the Word of the Life.

Victim of conditioning and calculation by false external guides.

This explains the exclusion of the «world» from Jesus' prayer (v.9).

Jesus promises a counter joy: genuine happiness, the gladness of radical 'differences'.

Not the cheerfulness guaranteed by the opulent and dispersive environment of the cosmopolitan emporium of reference in Jn: Ephesus [especially the harbour and the Artemision].

Christ did not wish to ensure the hilar frenzy of a religiosity contaminated by ambivalence and profit.

«Keeping in the Name» (v.11) should have been: having access to the Father, in the Son; precisely in the Gratis and raw experience of the carpenter's son, so harassed by the authorities.

In Him - by radiating his eccentricity, transparency, and selflessness - to build Unity.

Only in the awareness of this intimate seed pearls and concatenation could disciples devote their lives to witnessing Other beliefs - even in a climate of social intimidation.

Jesus turned his concern into prayer.

[Wednesday 7th wk. in Easter, May 20, 2026]

Real life in Jesus - the condemned for living against the tide

(Jn 17:11-19)

«Holy Father keep them in your Name which you have given me, that they may be One as we are» (Jn 17:11b).

At a time when intermediate social classes were coming to the fore, in a disenchanted environment such as capital Rome, Domitian also attributed himself divine titles in an attempt to stem the conspiracies of the envious senatorial aristocracy that had always been conservative, vain and scheming.

In the East - due to cultural issues - the deification of the emperor was taken more seriously, both by officials and the army ranks, as well as by the religious and social imagery of the crowds, who by mystery custom tended to identify power with sacred connubi.

For these reasons, fraternities of God's children were easily targeted in Asia Minor - harmless, yet considered a bombshell for that system, which did not want any alternative truth to enter its world.

Immersed in the death-resurrection of Christ, the communities of Faith lived as one big family, united in charity and mutual understanding - not according to already configured social obligations.

In the churches, the warmth of fraternal relationships was perceived: a nucleus of an alternative society to that of the empire, which on the horizon of its well-managed universe excluded the access of the humble and needy.

Faith played to the limit.

Thus Jesus asks the Father for an intimate custody of believers, consecrated in Him (vv.11-13.17.19)... not to remove them from tribulation, but for evangelisation.

Proceeding the path of exodus in his own and immersing himself in the situations, his Person, Word and affair prolonged the Jesuit act of consecrating the world according to Semitic categories.

Not a kind of protection of sisters and brothers, in the manner of a pagan deity, but to live the fullness of the Beatitudes.

All this, within the arc of profound discernment, and capacity for incisive action - induced by the fraternal climate and the sense of divine approval, with no more external diktats.

It was the 'power' of the 'Name' (vv.11-12): the reality of the new Face of the Most High, as revealed in the problematic story of the Son.

Primordial, intimate and empathic energy, which in the same terms - glorious and paradoxical - invested the disciples, those called to manifest the divine condition, becoming like Christ.

Even in the face of the hardships, mockeries and repulses of others, in the mutual love lived in community, in the conviviality of the differences of believers and churches, God's therapy and revival was manifested.

The Father was revealing unforeseeable love, precisely in the manifestation of this unity.

But even Jesus' presence failed to protect Judas from self-destruction.

His case is a special result, precisely because he did not trust in love and the Word of Life. Victim of influence and calculation of false external guides.

This explains the exclusion of the 'world' from Jesus' prayer (v.9).

In a closed environment, marked by the combination of 'power religion interest', one cannot be a humanising sign.

Without a life-wave, one cannot experience the sense of the Mystery in the vertigo of sharing, nor any teaching.

Sisters and brother friends must always have the grace to be freed from the world of conformist duties, which sometimes take over.

In this: "sanctified in truth" - for the mission rediscovers the density, internal rhythm and cascading effect of lived reciprocity.

In Jn, such a clear icon of the Lord is pressing in.

In his farewell, he does not demand that anyone kneel before him; rather, he dreams of a spirit of unity between disciples, and - indeed - churches.

It was the only attitude that could make it possible to resist the attacks, marginalisation and flattery of the Roman-Hellenistic world, in particular of Ephesus, the fourth city of the empire.

Jesus promises a counter joy: genuine happiness, of radical 'differences'.

Not the joy guaranteed by the opulent and dispersive environment (especially the port) of the cosmopolitan emporium of reference.

Christ did not wish to ensure the hilarious frenzy of a religiosity contaminated by ambivalences and turncoats.

In this regard, think of the great commerce guaranteed by the Artemision, and many other eminent, spectacular sacred sites, rooted in the urban layout and fabric of city life.

The ideal of the Risen One had to ferment in everyone's heart, even at that ambiguous and worldly point; not... escape into an unreachable tomorrow.

A bond that had its mirror in the intensity of the Father-Son relationship and in the dignity of the shaky and outcast who opened themselves to the Action of the Spirit.

As if to say: what was passed off as venerable had no human-divine foundation.The only sacred sphere had to be the Person and the respect for the profound, dissimilar Truth, proper to the intimate seed of the children; the one without any make-up.

"To 'keep in the Name' was thus to have access to the Father, in the Son. In Him - radiating his eccentricity, transparency and selflessness - build Unity.

Only in the awareness of this connection could the disciples dedicate their lives to witnessing other convictions - even in a climate of social intimidation.

Jesus turned his concern into prayer.

To internalise and live the message:

What do you think of a Jesus condemned for living against the tide? What is the soul and the foundation that you see reflected in the Son? How do you open yourself to the holiness of God? How do you launch yourself into the world? What do you pray for?