19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [10 August 2025]

*First reading from the Book of Wisdom (18:6-9)

The first verse immediately introduces us to the atmosphere: the author indulges in a meditation on the "night of the Paschal liberation," the night of Israel's exodus from Egypt, led by Moses. Year after year, Israel celebrates the Passover meal to relive the mystery of God's liberation on that memorable night (Ex 12:42). Celebrating in order to relive: the verb "to celebrate" does not simply mean to commemorate, but "to remember," that is, to allow God to act again, which implies allowing oneself to be profoundly transformed. Even today, when the father of the family, during the Passover meal, introduces his son to the meaning of the feast, he does not say to him: "The Lord acted on behalf of our fathers," but "The Lord acted on my behalf when I came out of Egypt" (Ex 13:8). And the rabbis' comments confirm: "In every generation, each person must consider himself as if he had come out of Egypt." The celebration of the Easter night encompasses all the dimensions of the Covenant, both the thanksgiving for the liberation accomplished by God and the commitment to fidelity to the commandments. Liberation, the gift of the Law and the Covenant are a single event, as God communicated to Moses, and through him to the people, at the foot of Mount Sinai (Ex 19:4-6). In the few lines of the Book of Wisdom, we are presented with two dimensions: first of all, thanksgiving: "The night (of liberation) was foretold to our fathers so that they might be courageous, knowing well to what oaths they had given their allegiance" (v. 6). Here we speak of oaths, which are God's promises to his people: a lineage, a land, a happy life in that land (Gen 15:13-14; 46:3-4). "For your people were waiting for the salvation of the righteous, for the ruin of their enemies. For as you punished our adversaries, so you glorified us by calling us to yourself” (v. 7). This is the lesson: by choosing oppression and violence, the Egyptians brought about their own ruin. The oppressed people, on the other hand, received God’s protection. The second dimension of the celebration of the Easter night is personal and communal commitment: “ The holy children of the righteous offered sacrifices in secret and agreed to share both success and danger, singing the sacred praises of their fathers” (v. 9). The author draws a parallel between the practice of worship “offering sacrifices in secret” and the commitment to fraternal solidarity “agreeing to share success and danger” . The Law of Israel has always united the celebration of God's gifts and solidarity among the members of the people of the Covenant. Jesus will also establish the same link: "remembering him" means, in a single gesture, celebrating the Eucharist and placing oneself at the service of one's brothers and sisters, as he himself did on Holy Thursday evening by washing the feet of his disciples.

*Responsorial Psalm (32/33, 1.12, 18-19, 20.22)

 "Rejoice, O righteous, in the Lord; praise is fitting for the upright." From the very first verse, we know that we are in the Temple of Jerusalem, in the context of a liturgy of thanksgiving. Please note: 'righteous' and 'upright' do not indicate attitudes of pride or self-satisfaction, but the humble attitude of those who enter into God's plan because in the Bible, righteousness (for us it would be holiness) is not a moral quality but a gift. "Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people he has chosen as his inheritance" (v. 12). The Covenant is God's plan, that is, the free choice by which he wanted to entrust his mystery to a people. It is therefore natural to give thanks for this gift. This is not arrogant pride, but legitimate pride, the awareness of the honour God has bestowed on them by choosing them for a mission, and it is our pride in being incorporated through baptism into his people on mission in the world. Trust comes from faith, and the following verse expresses this experience of faith in another way: The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love' (v. 18). This is a splendid definition of 'fear of God' in the biblical sense: not fear, but total trust. The juxtaposition of the two parts of the verse is interesting: 'those who fear him' and 'those who hope in his love'.  The fear of God is, in reality, trust in God's love, not servile fear, but a response of love, as Psalm 102/103 says: "As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him." The only true way to respect God is to love him, as is clearly stated in Israel's profession of faith: "Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength" (Deut 6:4). I return to the central verse: "The eye of the Lord is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love." God watched over Israel like a father during its journey through the desert. Without divine intervention, the Jews, freed from Egypt, would not have survived either the crossing of the Sea or the trials of the desert. At the burning bush, the Lord promised Moses that he would accompany his people to freedom, and he kept his promise. When we read "the Lord," we are always referring to the famous tetragrammaton YHWH, which Jews do not pronounce out of respect and which means, "I am, I will be with you, every moment of your life." Ultimately, it refers to the breath of human beings.  The psalmist continues: "To deliver him from death and feed him in time of famine" (v. 19), which recalls the Book of Deuteronomy, where it is said that the Lord watched over his people "as the apple of his eye". The psalm continues: "The Lord is our help and our shield. May your love be upon us, Lord, as we put our hope in you" (vv. 20, 22). This trust is not always easy, and Israel has wavered between trust and rebellion, constantly attracted by idols. This psalm is ultimately a call to firm faith. The author is well aware of his people's uncertainties. That is why he invites them to rediscover the certainty of faith, the only thing capable of generating lasting happiness. He composed this psalm of twenty-two verses, like the letters of the Hebrew alphabet, to indicate that the Law is a treasure that guides life from A to Z.

*Second reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (11:1-2, 8-19)

 'By faith': this expression recurs like a refrain in chapter 11 of the Letter to the Hebrews, and the author even goes so far as to say that he does not have enough time to list all the believers of the Old Testament whose faith enabled God's plan to be fulfilled. The text proposed to us this Sunday focuses only on Abraham and Sarah, models of true faith. It all began for them with God's first call (Genesis 12): 'Leave your country, your homeland and your father's house, and go to the land I will show you'. And Abraham obeyed, the text tells us, in the most beautiful sense of the word: to obey in the Bible means free submission of those who accept to trust because they know that when God commands, it is for their good and for their liberation, knowing that God wants only our good, our happiness. Abraham set out for a country he was to inherit: to believe means to live everything we possess as a gift from God. He set out without knowing where he was going: if we knew where we were going, there would be no need to believe. Believing is trusting without understanding and without knowing everything; accepting that the path is not the one we planned or desired because it is God who decides it. Thy will be done, not mine, said Jesus much later, who in turn became obedient, as St. Paul says, even to death on the cross (Phil 2). "By faith Sarah, though past the age of childbearing (90 years old), was able to become a mother." It is true that at first she laughed at such an incredible announcement, but then she accepted it as a promise and trusted, listening to the Lord's response to her laughter: "Is anything too hard for the Lord?" said God. "At the appointed time I will return to you, and Sarah will have a son" (Gen 18:14). And what was humanly impossible came to pass. Another woman, Mary, centuries later, heard the announcement of the birth of the promised son, and accepted it, believing that nothing is impossible for God (Lk 1). By faith, Abraham faced the incredible trial of offering Isaac as a sacrifice, but even there, although he did not understand, he knew that God's command was given out of love: it was the path of the promise, a dark but sure path. From a human point of view, the promise of a descendant and the request for the sacrifice of Isaac are in stark contradiction, but Abraham, the believer, precisely because he had received the promise of a descendant through Isaac, can go so far as to offer him in sacrifice because he believes that God cannot deny his promise. When Isaac asked, 'Father, I see the fire and the wood... but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?', Abraham replied with complete confidence, 'God will provide, my son'. The path of faith is dark, but it is sure. And he was not lying when he said to his servants along the way, 'Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there to worship, and then we will come back to you.' He did not know what lesson God wanted to teach him about the prohibition of human sacrifice, he did not know the outcome of the test, but he trusted. Centuries later, Jesus, the new Isaac, believed that he could rise from the dead, and he was heard, as the Letter to the Hebrews says. Here we have an extraordinary lesson in hope! It is faith that saves us, and the author of the Letter to the Hebrews comments that the plan of salvation is fulfilled thanks to those who believe and allow the promise to be fulfilled through them.

NOTE In Hebrew, the verb 'to believe' is aman (from which our 'amen' derives), a term that implies solidity, firmness; to believe means 'to hold fast', to have complete trust, even in doubt, discouragement or anguish.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (12:32-48)

 This text begins with a word of hope that should give us all the courage we need:

"Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom." In other words: this Kingdom has certainly been given to you; believe it even if appearances seem to say otherwise.  But Jesus does not stop there: he immediately describes the demands that arise from this promise. For "to whom much is given, much will be required; to whom much is entrusted, much more will be asked." The only dominant thought in the heart of the believer is the fulfilment of God's promise, which frees us from all other concerns:

"Sell what you have and give it to the poor; make yourselves purses that do not grow old, a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." Jesus explains what he expects of us with three short parables: the first is that of the servants waiting for their master's return; the second, shorter one, compares his return to the unexpected arrival of a thief; the third describes the arrival of the master and the judgment he pronounces on his servants. The key word is "service": God honours us by taking us into his service, by making us his collaborators. Later, Saint Peter, who understood Jesus' message well, would say to the Christians of Asia Minor: "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some believe, but he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to be lost, but everyone to come to repentance" (2 Peter 3:9). He even goes so far as to say: "You who are waiting, hasten the coming of the day of God" (2 Pet 3:12). It is our responsibility to "hasten" the coming of the Kingdom of God, as we say in the Our Father: "Thy Kingdom come!" It will come all the more quickly the more we believe and commit ourselves to it. Thus, all our efforts, even the most modest, in a mysterious way, are a collaboration in the coming of the Day of God: "Blessed is that servant whom the master, on his arrival, finds doing so. Truly, I say to you, he will set him over all his possessions."  "Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he returns. Truly, I say to you, he will gird himself and have them sit at table, and he will come and serve them." On closer inspection, this happens every Sunday at Mass: the Lord invites us to his table and he himself nourishes us, renewing us with the energy we need to continue our service.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [3 August 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us. In the midst of the holiday season, the Word of God challenges us to give true meaning to life.

*First Reading from the Book of Ecclesiastes (1:2; 2:21-23)

 When reading the book of Qohelet (Qohelet means 'one who calls' or 'the teacher who speaks before the assembly'), also known as Ecclesiastes, one might think that the author is a philosopher; instead, he is a preacher and one of the most fascinating and uncomfortable personalities of biblical wisdom. It is true that his book is classified among the 'wisdom books', but the biblical books known as wisdom books are not philosophical essays in the manner of the pagans or agnostics. They are first and foremost books written by believers for believers; in a sense, they are catechisms. 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity': these are the first words of the book of Qohelet, and perhaps also what best sums it up. 'Vanity' literally translated would be 'breath of breath', something evanescent, and who can boast of holding a breath between their fingers? Another similar expression, very dear to the author, is 'running after the wind' (1:14). In other words, everything to which we devote our thoughts, dreams, energies, activities and time is ephemeral, temporary, fleeting. Everything, except one thing. What is it? The author keeps the mystery alive and only at the end of the book does he reveal that the only important thing in the world is the search for God. In the end, we understand that this is not a disillusioned philosophical meditation, but a vigorous preaching in a veiled form. In the meantime, he describes in a thousand ways the many human activities as futile efforts, a chasing after the wind to grasp a breath between one's fingers. To better argue his point, he has King Solomon himself speak as a man of desires and power, crowned with glory, but a glory that had no future. In fact, several phases mark his life: before becoming king, we know nothing about him except his thirst for power; as king, he was initially admirable for his wisdom and humility, but in the end he fell into idolatry and became a slave to his love of wealth. Qohelet has Solomon speak as if he were taking stock of his reign: a reign of power and wealth (Jesus will say of him: 'Solomon in all his glory'). He had wisdom and sought the great works that fascinate the powerful and wise of the time; all the pleasures of life, and in the end, the failure of his kingdom. With Rehoboam, his son, incapable of wise politics, the kingdom was divided, and worse still, idolatry regained the upper hand and in a few years Solomon's glory vanished. What we read today refers to him: "He who has worked with wisdom and knowledge will leave it to another who has not worked for it" (2:21). Rehoboam, his son and successor to the throne of Jerusalem, seriously lacked wisdom, and from there arose the schism that divided David's kingdom forever. In light of this experience, Qohelet affirms: "All is vanity." We read the same thing in Psalm 103: 'Man: his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field: a breath of wind, and he is no more' (15-16).  In Qohelet there is a true language of faith: God alone knows all mysteries, and every search for happiness outside of Him is vain because only He possesses the keys to true wisdom. Ultimately, even if we do not understand all the mysteries of existence, we know that everything is a gift from God. Those who trust in God will never be disappointed, and wisdom consists in abandoning oneself to God and observing His commandments is the only way to happiness: "Whoever keeps the commandment will know no evil." (Qo 8:5).  In the end, true wisdom is the humility of living life as a gift from God: "Every man who eats, drinks and enjoys well-being in all his labour: it is a gift from God. (Qo 3:13). 

*Responsorial Psalm 89/90 (3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14-17)

The psalm takes us to the context of a ceremony of supplication for forgiveness at the Temple in Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile: the prayer "Return, Lord, how long? Have mercy on your servants" (v. 13) is typical of a penitential liturgy.  This psalm is therefore a prayer asking for conversion: 'Teach us to count our days, that we may gain a wise heart' (v. 12). Conversion consists in living according to God's wisdom in order to know the true measure of our days. It is no coincidence that this psalm is offered to us as an echo of the first reading, from the book of Qohelet, a meditation on true wisdom, while the psalm offers a splendid definition of wisdom as the true measure of our days, a healthy lucidity about our condition as human beings. Born without knowing why and destined to die without even being able to foresee when: this is our destiny, and this is the meaning of the first verses we have read: You turn man back to dust when you say, 'Return, O children of men!' (v.3), that is, return to the earth from which I have drawn you. This does not create sadness but serenity because our misery rests on the greatness and stability of God: 'A thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, like a watch in the night' (v. 4). God gives us security because He wants only our good. However, trouble arises when we lose clarity about our misery, as chapters 2 and 3 of Genesis clearly illustrate, recounting the error of Adam, a symbolic character whose behaviour is considered a model of what not to do. "Adam did this or that" does not describe a hypothetical first man, but a type of behaviour, and in this light, this psalm is in harmony with the first reading, where Qohelet has Solomon, the wise king, speak at the beginning, but then seduced by luxury, power, and women who made him an idolater. In the second part of his reign, he behaved like Adam, who turned away from God's wisdom. This psalm invites us to rediscover the wisdom and humility of the young Solomon, because true wisdom is the awareness of man's smallness, which is never humiliating: a trusting, filial smallness. The conclusion is splendid: 'establish the work of our hands' (v. 17), which shows the cooperation between God and man: man works, God gives solidity and meaning to human work.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Colossians (3:1-5, 9-11)

Paul first makes a distinction between "things above" and "things on earth", two different ways of living: behaviours inspired by the Holy Spirit and those that are not. "Things above" are kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, mutual forgiveness, living according to the Spirit, and this is the behaviour of the baptised. "Things on earth" are debauchery, impurity, unbridled passion, greed, covetousness, behaviour not inspired by the Spirit. Paul establishes the link between baptism and the way of life: "if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above" (v. 1). He says "you have been raised," but then he says "you have died" (v. 2), and the words do not have the same meaning for him as they do for us. For Paul, from the resurrection of Christ onwards, nothing is as it was before. To be risen means precisely to be dead to the world and born to a life according to the Spirit, what he calls the realities above. The Christian is a "transformed person who lives in the manner of Christ," and Paul calls him "the new man." He does not despise "the things of the earth"; on the contrary, he will say shortly afterwards: "Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God through him" (3:17). It is not, therefore, a question of living a different life from the ordinary one, but of living it differently: not rejecting this world, but living it already as a seed of the Kingdom, where all men are brothers, as he explains in his letter to the Galatians (3:26-28) and repeats at the end of this Sunday's passage from the letter to the Colossians: "There is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free, but Christ is all and in all." The community of Colossae probably had the same problems as the Galatians and, in particular, the great question that agitated the early Christian communities, namely whether non-Jews who became Christians should take on Jewish practices: dietary rules, ritual ablutions, and above all circumcision. There were circumcised Christians and uncircumcised Christians, and some Jews insisted on circumcision. The answer to the Galatians and Colossians was the same: baptism makes everyone brothers and sisters, and all forms of exclusion are outdated; what matters is being a disciple of Christ. 

NOTE. Some exegetes believe that this letter attributed to Paul was not actually written by him; Paul, in fact, never visited Colossae: it was Epaphras, one of his disciples, who founded that community. According to a very common practice in the first century (called pseudepigraphy), it is hypothesised (but this is only a hypothesis) that a disciple very close to Paul's thinking addressed the Colossians under the authority of the apostle's name because the moment was serious. If this hypothesis is correct, it is not surprising to find in this writing phrases taken literally from Paul and others that show how theological reflection continued to develop in Christian communities. Jesus had said, 'The Spirit will guide you to the whole truth.' And in previous Sundays, we have already seen theological developments that are not yet found in Paul's own writings.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (12:13-21)

Jesus' response seems abrupt: "Who made me your judge or mediator?" However, as a good teacher, Jesus takes the opportunity to draw a lesson that he explains well with this parable. A man who has become rich through business is thinking about how best to enjoy his wealth; he thinks about demolishing his warehouses and building bigger ones to store all his grain and goods, and then he says to himself: 'My soul, you have many goods stored up for many years; rest, eat, drink and be merry' (v. 19). Unfortunately, he has forgotten that his life does not depend on him, and in fact he dies that very night. He thinks he is rich, but true wealth is not what he imagines. To better understand Jesus' teaching, we need to remember what he said earlier: "Be careful and keep away from all greed, because even if someone has an abundance, his life does not depend on what he has" (v. 13) and, even though it is not in this Sunday's liturgical reading, he concludes: "Do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food and the body more than clothing' (Lk 12:22-23). Jesus' teaching is not new; it takes up themes already familiar in the Old Testament. Ben Sira said that those who become rich do not know how long they have to live, then they will leave their possessions to others and die (cf. Sir 11:18-19); and in this Sunday's first reading, Qohelet offered similar reflections: "What profit does a man gain from all his toil and from the cares of his heart, with which he toils under the sun?" (Qo 2:22), returning several times to the same theme (cf. Qo 5:9...15). The prophet Isaiah is very incisive in accusing the people of Jerusalem of being dazed by pleasures instead of listening to God's call to conversion (cf. Is 22:13), and the book of Job repeats: "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return there" (Job 1:21), a phrase still recited today in Israel at every funeral. All these phrases sound like reminders of the reality of life. Jesus denounces senseless behaviour: "Fool! This very night your life will be demanded of you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?" (v. 20) and the parable ends: "So is the one who stores up treasure for himself and is not rich in God." This implies two things: Never forget that riches come from God and belong to him because he entrusts them to us to put them at the service of the Kingdom of God. Life is short, but precisely for this reason, let us hurry to put it to good use! Jesus responds sharply to the man asking for his inheritance: that man has his priorities wrong because the most precious inheritance is the faith we have received from our fathers. And every time Jesus responds sharply (to his mother at Cana (Jn 2:4) and to Peter in Caesarea (Mt 16:23), it is because his mission is at stake.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

(Lk 9:28b-36)

In biblical language, the experience of «the Mount» is an icon of the Encounter between God and man. Yes, for us it’s like “losing our minds”, but in a very practical way - not at all visionary.

The Master imposes it on the three eminent figures of the first communities, not because he considers them the chosen ones, but the exact opposite: he realizes that it’s his captains who need verification.

The synoptic Gospels do not speak of Transfiguration any, but of «Metamorphosis» [Greek text of Mk 9:2 and Mt 17:2]: a passing under a different ‘form’.

In particular, Lk 9:29 emphasizes that «the appearance of his face became ‘other’». Not because of a paroxysmal state.

It sounds crazy, but the hieratic magnificence of the Eternal One is revealed against the tide: in the image of the humble servant.

The experience of divine Glory is unsustainable for the eminent disciples - not in reference to physical flashes of light.

As in Oriental icons, they find themselves face to earth [Mt 17:6 - in ancient Eastern culture it meant precisely: "defeated" in their aspirations] and frightened. Fearful of being they too called to the gift of self (Mk 9:6; Mt 17:6; Lk 9:34-36).

The vertigo of the experience of God was not what they cultivated and wanted.

The dazzling light to which the passage refers (Mk 9:3; Mt 17:2.5; Lk 9:29) is that of a Revelation that opens our eyes to the "impossible" identity of the Son.

He was popularly expected as resembling David, powerful sovereign, able to assure the people a quick and easy well-being.

He’s ‘revealed’ in a reversal: the Glory of God is Communion in simplicity, which qualifies us everyone.

The ‘shape’ of the "boss" is that of the attendant, who has the freedom to step down in altitude to put the least at ease: the humanly defeated one!

Peter elbows more than others to have his say. As usual, he wants to emerge and reiterate ancient ideas, but he reveals himself as the most ridiculous of all (Mk 9:6; Lk 9:33): he’s ranting.

For him [again!] at the centre of the triptych remains Moses (Mk 9:5; Mt 17:4; Lk 9:33).

With the help of prophecies animated by fiery zeal [Elijah], according to Simon, Jesus would be one of the many who makes others practise the legalistic tradition.

At foundatiion remain the Commandments, not the Beatitudes.

The first of the apostles just does not want to understand that the Lord doesn’t impose a Covenant based on obeying, but on Resembling!

Of course, the other "great ones" were also half asleep. Who knows what they were dreaming of... then bewildered, they all look for a Jesus according to Moses and Elijah (Mk 9:8-10; Mt 17:8; Lk 9:36).

In the culture of the time, the new, observant and disruptive Prince was expected during the Feast of Huts.

He would inaugurate the rule of the chosen people over all the nations of the earth (Zk 14:16-19); in practice, the golden age.

In Judaism, the Feast of Booths commemorated the ‘Mirabilia Dei’ of the Exodus [Lk 9:31: here, the new and personalised liberation from the land of slavery] and looked to the future by celebrating the prospects of victory for the protagonist ethnicity.

But the Kingdom of the Lord is not an empire affected by prodigious and immediate verticalism.

To build the Church of God there are no shortcuts, no numb safety points, and there sitting quiet - at a safe distance - by raving about accolades.

[Transfiguration of the Lord, August 6, 2025]

Faith and Metamorphosis

(Mt 17:1-9; Mk 9:2-13; Lk 9:28-36)

"The mountain - Tabor like Sinai - is the place of closeness with God. It is the elevated space, compared to everyday existence, where one can breathe the pure air of creation. It is the place of prayer, where one can be in the presence of the Lord, like Moses and like Elijah, who appear next to the transfigured Jesus and speak with Him of the "exodus" that awaits Him in Jerusalem, that is, of His Passover. The Transfiguration is an event of prayer: by praying, Jesus immerses himself in God, unites himself intimately with Him, adheres with his own human will to the Father's will of love, and thus light invades Him and the truth of His being appears visibly: He is God, Light from Light. Jesus' robe also becomes white and blazing. This brings to mind Baptism, the white robe worn by the neophytes. He who is born again in Baptism is clothed with light, anticipating the heavenly existence, which Revelation represents with the symbol of the white garments (cf. Rev 7:9, 13). Here is the crucial point: the transfiguration is an anticipation of the resurrection, but this presupposes death. Jesus manifests his glory to the Apostles, so that they have the strength to face the scandal of the cross, and understand that it is necessary to go through many tribulations to reach the Kingdom of God. The voice of the Father, resounding from on high, proclaims Jesus his beloved Son as at the Baptism in the Jordan, adding: "Listen to him" (Mt 17:5). To enter eternal life, one must listen to Jesus, follow him on the way of the cross, carrying in one's heart like him the hope of the resurrection. "Spe salvi", saved in hope. Today we can say: 'Transfigured in hope'" [Pope Benedict].

In biblical language, the experience of "the Mount" is an icon of the encounter between God and man. It is like losing one's mind, but in a very practical way - not at all visionary.

The Master imposes it on the three eminent figures of the first communities, not because he considers them to be the chosen ones, but the exact opposite: he realises that it is his captains who need verification.

The Synoptic Gospels do not speak of transfiguration at all, but of "Metamorphosis" [Greek text of Mt 17:2 and Mk 9:2]: passage in a different form.

In particular Lk 9:29 emphasises that "the appearance of his face became other" [Greek text]. Not because of a paroxysmal state.

It sounds crazy, but the hieratic magnificence of the Eternal One is revealed against the grain: in the image of the resigned henchman.

The experience of divine glory is unbearable for the eminent disciples - not in reference to physical flashes of light.

As in oriental icons, they find themselves face down on the ground. "And hearing the disciples fell on their faces and were greatly seized with fear" (Mt 17:6).

In the culture of the ancient East it meant precisely: 'defeated' in their aspirations - and afraid. Afraid that they too would be called to the gift of self: Mt 17:6; Mk 9:6; Lk 9:34-36.

The vertigo of experiencing God was not what they cultivated and wanted.

The dazzling glimmer referred to in the passage (Mt 17:2.5; Mk 9:3; Lk 9:29) is that of a Revelation that opens one's eyes to the "impossible" identity of the Son.

He was popularly expected to resemble David, a powerful ruler, able to ensure the people's easy and ready welfare.

He reveals himself in reverse. A glaring manifestation of God is: Communion in simplicity, which qualifies us all.

The form of the 'leader' is that of the caretaker, who has the freedom to step down to make the least comfortable: the humanly defeated!

Peter struggles more than others to have his say. As usual, he wants to emerge and reiterate old ideas, but he reveals himself as the most ridiculous of all (Mk 9:6; Lk 9:33): he rambles.

For him [again!] at the centre of the triptych remains Moses (Mt 17:4; Mk 9:5; Lk 9:33).

With the help of prophecies animated by fiery zeal [Elijah], according to Simon Jesus would be one of many who would have the legalistic tradition practised.

The Commandments, not the Beatitudes, remain the foundation.

The first of the apostles just doesn't want to understand that the Lord does not impose a Covenant based on obeying, but on Resembling!

Of course, the other "great ones" were also asleep. Who knows what they were dreaming of... then bewildered they all seek a Jesus according to Moses and Elijah (Mt 17:8; Mk 9:8-10; Lk 9:36).

In the culture of the time, the new observant and disruptive Prince was expected during the Feast of Booths.

He would inaugurate the rule of the chosen people over all the nations of the earth (Zech 14:16-19); in practice, the Golden Age.

In Judaism, the Feast of Tents commemorated the 'mirabilia Dei' of the Exodus [Lk 9:31: here, the new and personalised deliverance from the land of bondage] celebrating the prospects of victory.But the Kingdom of the Lord is not an empire to be enjoyed, prodigious and immediate - taking care not to do too much harm, that is, keeping a safe distance.

No smooth-running life proposition. Rather, change of face and cosmos.

Unexpected development and passage, which, however, convinces the soul: it invites introspection and acknowledgement - thus it completes us and makes us wince (with perfect virtue).

To build the Church of God, there are no shortcuts, no numbing points of safety, and there to sit quietly and cultivate consensus - sheltered from wounds, or blind to other relationships.

The experience of glory is 'sub contraria specie': in the kingship that pushes down.

But in parsimony it makes us discover awe-inspiring metamorphoses - so close to our roots.

Elijah, John, Jesus: Evolution of the Sense of Community

Curved trajectory, and the model that is not the "sphere"

(Mt 17:10-13)

The experience of "the Mount" - the so-called Transfiguration - is followed by the episode of Elijah and John [cf. Mt 17:10-13 and parallel Mk 9:2-13].

Jesus introduced the disciples in view but more stubborn than the others to the perception of the Metamorphosis (Mt 17:2 Greek text) of the divine Face and to an inverted idea of the expected Messiah (vv.4-7).

The experts of the sacred Scriptures believed that the return of Elijah was to anticipate and prepare for the coming of the Kingdom of God.

Since the Lord was present, the early disciples wondered about the value of that teaching.

Even in the communities of Mt and Mk, the question arose among many from Judaism about the weight of ancient doctrines in relation to Christ.

The Gospel passage is endowed with a powerful personal, Christological specificity [the redeeming, closest brother: Go'El of the blood].

To this is added a precise communitarian meaning, because Jesus identifies the figure of the prophet Elijah with the Baptist.

At the time, in the Palestinian area, economic difficulties and Roman domination forced people to retreat to an individual model of life.

The problems of subsistence and social order had resulted in a crumbling of relationship life (and bonds) both in clans and in families themselves.

Clan nuclei, which had always provided assistance, support and concrete defence for the weakest and most distressed members.

Everyone expected that the coming of Elijah and the Messiah would have a positive outcome in the reconstruction of fraternal life, which had been eroded at the time.

As it was said: "to turn the hearts of the fathers back to the sons and the hearts of the sons back to the fathers" [Mal 3:22-24 announced precisely the sending of Elijah] in order to rebuild the disintegrated coexistence.

Obviously the recovery of the people's internal sense of identity was frowned upon by the system of domination. Let alone the Jesuit figure of the Calling by Name, which would have opened the people's pious life wide to a thousand possibilities.

John had forcefully preached a rethinking of the idea of conquered freedom (the crossing of the Jordan), the rearrangement of established religious ideas (conversion and forgiveness of sins in real life, outside the Temple) and social justice.

Having an evolved project of reform in solidarity (Lk 3:7-14), in practice it was the Baptizer himself who had already fulfilled the mission of the awaited Elijah [Mt 17:10-12; Mk 9:11-13].

For this reason he had been taken out of the way: he could reassemble a whole people of outcasts - outcasts both from the circle of power and of the verticist, accommodating, servile, and collaborationist religiosity.

A watertight compartmentalised devotion, which allowed absolutely no 'remembrance' of themselves, nor of the old communitarian social order, prone to sharing.

In short, the system of things, interests, hierarchies, forced to take root in that unsatisfactory configuration. But here is Jesus, who does not bend.

Whoever has the courage to embark on a journey of biblical spirituality and Exodus learns that everyone has a different way of going out and being in the world.

So, is there a wise balance between respect for self, context, and others?

Jesus is presented by Mt to his communities as the One who wanted to continue the work of Kingdom building.

With one fundamental difference: with respect to the bearing of ethno-religious conceptions, the Master does not propose to all a kind of ideology of body, which ends up depersonalising the eccentric gifts of the weak - those unpredictable to an established mentality, but which trace a future.

In the climate of the clan that has been strengthened, it is not infrequently those without weight and those who know only abysses (and not summits) who come as if driven to the assent of a reassuring conformation of ideas - instead of dynamic - and a forge of wider acceptance.Those who know no summits but only poverty, precisely in moments of crisis are the first invited by adverse circumstances to obscure their gaze on the future.

The miserable remain the ones who are unable to look in another direction and move, charting a different destiny - precisely because of tares external to them: cultural, of tradition, of income, or 'spiritual'.

All recognisable boxes, perhaps not alarming at times, but far removed from our nature.

And right away: with the condemnation at hand [for lack of homologation].

Sentence that wants to clip the wings, annihilate the hidden and secret atmosphere that truly belongs to personal uniqueness, and lead us all - even exasperatedly.

The Lord proposes an assembly life of character, but not stubborn or targetted - not careless ... as in the extent to which it is forced to go in the same old course as always. Or in the same direction as the chieftains.

Christ wants a more luxuriant collaboration that makes good use of resources (internal and otherwise) and differences.

Set-up for the unprecedented: so that, for example, falls or inexorable tensions are not camouflaged - on the contrary, they become opportunities, unknown and unthinkable but very fruitful for life.

Here even crises become important, indeed fundamental, in order to evolve the quality of being together - in the richness of the "polyhedron" that as Pope Francis writes "reflects the confluence of all the partialities that in it maintain their originality" [Evangelii Gaudium no. 236].

Without regenerating oneself, only by repeating and tracing collective modalities - from the sphere model (ibid.) - or from others, that is, from nomenclature, not personally re-elaborated or valorised, one does not grow; one does not move towards one's own unrepeatable mission.

One does not fill the lacerating sense of emptiness.

By attempting to manipulate characters and personalities to guide them to 'how they should be', one is not at ease with oneself or even side by side. The perception of esteem and adequacy is not conveyed to the many different ones, nor is the sense of benevolence - let alone joie de vivre.

Curved or trial-and-error trajectories suit the Father's perspective, and our unrepeatable growth.

Difference between religiosity and Faith.

To internalise and live the message:

When in your life has your sense of community grown sincerely and unconstrained by circumstances?

How do you contribute in a convinced way to concrete fraternity - sometimes prophetic and critical (like John and Jesus)? Or have you remained with the fundamentalist zeal of Elijah and the uniting but purist zeal of the precursors of the Lord Jesus?

In all the Synoptics, the passage of the Metamorphosis of Glory is followed by the episode of the healing of the epileptic boy [in Matthew precisely after the issue of the Return of Elijah that Mark includes]. A theme that the other evangelists draw precisely from Mk 9:14-29. Let us go directly to that source, which is very instructive in order to grasp and specify the profound meaning of the subject and the essential common proposal, introduced by the Authors in the catechesis of the so-called "Transfiguration":

Faith, Prayer of attention, Healings: no holds barred

(Mk 9:14-29)

How to adjust in helplessness in the face of the dramas of humanity? Even in the journey of Faith, at a certain point in our journey we perceive an irrepressible need to transform ourselves.

We want to realise our being more fully, and to do good, even to others. It is an innate urge.

The need for life does not arise from reasoning: it arises spontaneously, so that new situations, other parts of us, emerge.

Change is a law of nature, of every Seed.

Such motion 'calls' to us from the depths of our Core, so that we come to change balances, convictions, ways of going about things that have had their day.

This vocation can be answered by making ourselves available, in order to discover different points of view. Even external ones, but starting from the discovery of a kind of 'new self' that actually lay in the shadows of our virtues.

Energies that we had not yet allowed to breathe.

Conversely, we may instinctively oppose this process, due to various fears, and then every affair becomes difficult; like an obstacle course.

Finally, in our itinerary of transformation we often encounter opposition from others, who may appear more experienced than us...

They appear to be experts and veterans, yet they too are 'frightened' by the fact that we do not intend to stop at the post already dictated.

In any case, the drive for change will not let go.

We will take new actions, express different opinions, show opposite sides of the personality; we will leave more room for the life wave.

No more compromises, even if others may doubt that we have become 'tortuous'.

In short, what power does the coming of the choice of Faith have in life, even in the midst of people's disbelief?And - as in the Gospel passage - in the incapacitated scepticism [of the apostles themselves, who would be the first to manifest it]?

Even today, some of the old 'characters' and guides are waning, displaced by the new onset of awareness, or by changing enigmas, and different units of measurement.

The old 'form' no longer satisfies. On the contrary, it produces malaise. But there is around - precisely - a whole system of expectations, even 'spiritual', or at least rather conformist 'religious' ones.

What is the point, if even we priests are no longer reassuring? And what does God think?

The messianicity of Christ and Salvation itself belong to the sphere of Faith and Prayer.

They are the realms of intimate listening, acute perception, trusting spousal acceptance, and liberating drive.

The Master himself - fluid and concrete - did not immerse himself in the system of rigid social [mutual] expectations of his time, and decided to step out of the 'group'.

On this point, Jesus rails against the mediocrity and peak-less action - all predictable - of his own (vv.18-19) and is forced to start again from scratch (vv.28-29).

Of course, perhaps the others also lack creative Faith without inflection and turbulence, but at least they recognise it (v.24) and with extreme reserve wish to be helped, well before becoming teachers of others (v.14).

Sometimes the very intimates of the true Master, perhaps still poorly versed in the great signs of God, seek only the hosanna of roles, and consent in the spectacular.

So much so that "having entered into His house", that is, into His Church (v.28), He must begin again to do basic catechism [perhaps pre-catechism, precisely to His leaders].

Without wanting to concede any outside festivals to the crowds, as the 'intimates' would probably have done.

The passage is structured along the lines of the early catechumenal liturgies.

The Lord wants people enslaved by normal thinking, power ideology and false religion to be brought to Him (v.19) and demands the Faith of those who lead them (vv.23-24).

The beginner goes through a life overhaul that "contorts" and "brings one to the ground".

This is because one can be plagued by dirigiste, unwise, covertly manipulative - despite being ineffective and underneath insecure - 'spiritual' guides.

Then it is a real heartbreak to discover that from childhood (v.21) we have been governed by a mortifying model - made up of easy classifications, which however do not realise, but dehumanise.

Perhaps we too have been conditioned by unwise directors.

And it was only through arduous, harrowing experiences that we discovered that precisely what we had been taught as sublime - and capable of assuring us communion with God - was conversely the primary cause of detachment from Him, and from a more harmonious and full personal and ecclesial existence.

In order to be liberated and rise to new life (v.27), the candidate of the path of Faith passes as if through a death - a sort of baptismal immersion, which drowns his old [de facto] paganising formation.

At the time of Mk many spoke of the expulsion of demons.

In the typology of the new baptism, the community of Rome wanted to express the goal of the Glad Tidings of the Gospels: to help people rise up - freeing themselves from the conditioning fears of evil.

That is not the real power.

In the passage, the child's deafness and muteness indicate the lack of the 'Word' that becomes an 'event' - unceasing, growing life, capable of transforming the marked, standard fate of 'earth'.

A lack that exists both among the bewildered people and - unfortunately - first and foremost among the disciples, sick of protagonism and one-sidedness.

The young man's very behaviour (vv.18.20.26) traces the existential modes of people subjugated by invincible forces, because they are self-destructive - therefore in the grip of obsessive, unrelenting lacerations.

Contrary to the quintessence of personal character.

It is a harrowing situation indeed: that of those who discover they have been deceived by a religiosity of all-too-common convictions - with the epidermic, persuasive trick of herd or mass directions.

The coming of the Kingdom of God already meant the coming of an 'internal' power stronger than the Roman army itself, whose legions were used precisely to maintain situations of civil oppression, even religious fear.

Even today, a no-holds-barred struggle rages between the drives that induce deep-seated illnesses [like something that has taken hold of us] and the presence of the Messiah.

The two opposite poles cannot stand each other; they spark.

But the solution is not to amaze the crowds, nor is it to attempt to remake things that finally return to sacralising the status quo.

Thus, it sometimes seems that we are in no condition to initiate genuine healing processes (v.18b).

Yet evil does not give way by miracle and clamour, nor by man's force or insistence, but by attunement and Gift (v.29). From internal powers-events.

Here is the space of prayer-hearing.

Prayer brings one out of the confines and puts one in contact with other energies and surprises that one was not aware of: innate virtues and Grace, which allow one to see every situation with other eyes, liberated.

For solutions that solve real problems, from within, we constantly need not conformist rules, but a new reading. 

Here is the dissymmetrical gaze.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (i): 'The Tao [way of conduct] that can be said is not the Eternal Tao. The name that can be named is not the Eternal Name'. Master Wang Pi comments: 'An effable Tao indicates a practice.

Our life is not about the initiative of what we are already able to set up and practice - or interpret, design and predict (vv.14-19) - but about Attention (v.29).

The "mountain" to be moved [parallel v. Mt 17:20 - cf. Mt 19:20ff; Mk 10:20ff; Lk 18:21ff] is not outside, but within us.

In this way, the conformist idea that discourages us, or all obstacles (instead of harming us) will be precious opportunities for growth.

We will be at the centre of the reality of Incarnation.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you live your conflicts? What is your healing experience?

To overcome that "something of unbelief",

and "putting meat on the fire"

Miracles still exist today. But to enable the Lord to perform them there is a need for courageous prayer, capable of overcoming that "something of unbelief" that dwells in the heart of every man, even if he is a man of faith. A prayer especially for those who suffer from wars, persecutions and every other drama that shakes society today. But prayer must "put flesh on the fire", that is, involve our person and commit our whole life, to overcome unbelief [...].

Returning to the Gospel episode, the Holy Father reproposed the question of the disciples who had not been able to drive out the evil spirit from the young man: "But why could we not drive him out? This kind of demons, Jesus explained, cannot be driven out in any way except by prayer". And the boy's father "said: I believe Lord, help my unbelief". His was "a strong prayer; and this prayer, humble and strong, enables Jesus to perform the miracle. Prayer to ask for an extraordinary action,' the Pontiff explained, 'must be a prayer that involves all of us, as if we were committing our whole life to it. In prayer we must put meat on the fire'.

The Pontiff then recounted an episode that took place in Argentina: "I remember something that happened three years ago in the sanctuary of Luján. A seven-year-old girl had fallen ill, but the doctors could not find a solution. She was getting worse and worse, until one evening, the doctors said there was nothing more they could do and that she only had a few hours to live. "The father, who was an electrician, a man of faith, became like mad. And driven by that madness he took the bus and went to the sanctuary of Luján, two and a half hours by bus, seventy kilometres away. He arrived at nine in the evening and found everything closed. And he began to pray with his hands clinging to the iron gate. He was praying and crying. So he stayed the whole night. This man was fighting with God. He was really struggling with God for the healing of his maiden. Then at six in the morning he went to the terminal and took the bus. He arrived at the hospital at nine o'clock, more or less. He found his wife crying and thought the worst: what happened? I don't understand. What happened? The doctors came, his wife told him, and they said the fever is gone, she's breathing well, there's nothing.... They will only keep her another two days. But they don't understand what has happened. And this,' the Pope commented, 'still happens. There are miracles. But prayer is needed! A courageous prayer, which struggles to reach that miracle, not those prayers out of courtesy: Ah, I will pray for you! Then a Pater Noster, an Ave Maria and I forget. No! It takes courageous prayer, like that of Abraham who wrestled with the Lord to save the city; like that of Moses who prayed with his hands up and tired praying to the Lord; like that of so many people who have faith and with faith pray, pray".

Prayer works miracles, "but," Pope Francis concluded, "we must believe it. I think we can make a beautiful prayer, not a prayer out of courtesy, but a prayer with the heart, and say to Him today throughout the day: I believe Lord! Help my unbelief. We all have unbelief in our hearts. Let us say to the Lord: I believe, I believe! You can! Help my unbelief. And when we are asked to pray for so many people who suffer in wars, in their plight as refugees, in all these dramas we pray, but with our hearts, and we say: Lord, do. I believe, Lord. But help my unbelief".

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 20-21/05/2013].

Liturgy is dominated by the episode of the Transfiguration which in Luke's Gospel immediately follows the Teacher's invitation: "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" (Lk 9: 23). This extraordinary event is an encouragement in the following of Christ. 

Luke does not speak of the Transfiguration but describes what happens through two elements: the Face of Jesus which changes and his clothes that become a dazzling white in the presence of Moses and Elijah, a symbol of the Law and of the Prophets. The three disciples who witness the scene are heavy with sleep: this is the attitude of those who, although they have seen divine miracles, fail to understand. It is only the struggle against drowsiness that enables Peter, James and John to "see" Jesus in his glory. Then the rhythm quickens: while Moses and Elijah take their leave of the Master, Peter speaks and as he speaks a cloud envelops him and the other disciples in its shadow. This cloud, while it covers them, reveals the glory of God, just as happened for the pilgrim people in the desert. Their eyes can no longer see but their ears can hear the voice that comes out of the cloud: "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" (v. 35). 

The disciples no longer have before them a transfigured face or dazzling garments or a cloud that reveals the divine presence. They have before them "Jesus... alone" (v. 36). Jesus is alone with his Father while he prays but at the same time, "Jesus... alone" is all that the disciples and the Church of every epoch have been granted; and this must suffice on the journey. The only voice to listen to, the only voice to follow is his, the voice of the One going up to Jerusalem who was one day to give his life to "change our lowly body to be like his glorious body" (Phil 3: 21). 

"Master, it is well that we are here" (Lk 9: 33) are Peter's ecstatic words, that often resemble our own desire before the Lord's consolations. However the Transfiguration reminds us that the joys sown by God in life are not finishing lines; rather they are lights he gives us during our earthly pilgrimage in order that "Jesus alone" may be our Law and his word the criterion that directs our existence.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 28 February 2010]

The mystery of the Transfiguration takes place at a very precise moment in Christ's preaching of his mission, when he begins to confide to his disciples that he must "go up to Jerusalem and suffer much ... and be killed and rise again on the third day" (Mt 16:21). With reluctance they accept the first announcement of the passion and the divine Master, before repeating and confirming it, wants to give them proof of his total rootedness in the will of the Father so that before the scandal of the cross they will not succumb. The passion and death will in fact be the way by which the heavenly Father will lead "the beloved Son", raised from the dead, to glory. This will henceforth also be the way of his disciples. No one will come to the light except through the cross, symbol of the sufferings that afflict human existence. The cross is thus transformed into an instrument of atonement for the sins of all humanity. United with his Lord in love, the disciple participates in his redemptive passion.

[Pope John Paul II, homily 7 March 1993]

Liturgy leads us to contemplate the event of the Transfiguration in which Jesus allows the disciples Peter, James and John a foretaste of the glory of the Resurrection: a glimpse of heaven on earth. Luke the Evangelist (cf. 9:28-36) reveals to us Jesus transfigured on the mountain, which is the place of light, a fascinating symbol of the unique experience reserved to the three disciples. They go up the mountain with the Master, they see him immersed in prayer and, at a certain point, “the appearance of his countenance was altered” (v. 29). Accustomed to seeing him daily in the simple appearance of his humanity, they are astonished as they face that new splendour that also envelops his entire body. And Moses and Elijah appear beside Jesus and speak with Him about his forthcoming “exodus”, that is, of his Paschal death and Resurrection. It is a preview of Easter. Then Peter exclaims: “Master, it is well that we are here” (v. 33). He wished that that moment of grace would never end!

The Transfiguration occurs at a precise moment in Christ’s mission, that is, after he has confided to his disciples that he would have to “suffer many things, [...] be killed, and on the third day be raised” (v. 21). Jesus knows that they do not accept this reality — the reality of the Cross, the reality of Jesus’ death —, and so he wants to prepare them to withstand the scandal of the passion and death on the Cross, so that they may know that this is the way through which the heavenly Father will lead his Son to glory; by raising him from the dead. And this will also be the way for the disciples: no one can reach eternal life if not by following Jesus, carrying their own cross in their earthly life. Each of us has his or her own cross. The Lord reveals to us the end of this journey which is the Resurrection, beauty: by carrying one’s own cross.

Therefore, the Transfiguration of Christ shows us the Christian perspective of suffering. Suffering is not sadomasochism: it is a necessary but transitory passage. The point of arrival to which we are called is luminous like the face of Christ Transfigured: in him is salvation, beatitude, light and the boundless love of God. By revealing his glory in this way, Jesus ensures that the cross, the trials, the difficulties with which we struggle, are resolved and overcome in Easter. Thus this Lent, let us also go up the mountain with Jesus! But in what way? With prayer. Let us climb the mountain with prayer: silent prayer, heartfelt prayer, prayer that always seeks the Lord. Let us pause for some time in reflection, a little each day, let us fix our inner gaze on his countenance and let us allow his light to permeate us and shine in our life.

Indeed, Luke the Evangelist emphasizes the fact that Jesus was transfigured, “as he was praying” (v. 29). He was immersed in an intimate dialogue with the Father in which the Law and the Prophets — Moses and Elijah — also echoed; and as he adhered with his entire being to the Father’s will of salvation, including the Cross, the glory of God flooded him, even shining on the outside. This is how it is, brothers and sisters: prayer in Christ and in the Holy Spirit transforms the person from the inside and can illuminate others and the surrounding world. How often have we found people who illuminate, who exude light from their eyes, who have that luminous gaze! They pray, and prayer does this: it makes us luminous with the light of the Holy Spirit.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 17 March 2019]

The difficult condition of the disciple in the Church and the world

(Mt 14:22-36)

Having reached the ultimate condition (v.23) Jesus does not allow the Apostles to keep the treasures of God for themselves.

He compels his own to the mission to the Gentiles (v.22). But the 'headwinds' were many.

About half a century after the Lord's death, the communities of Galilee and Syria faced a difficult crossing.

The securities of the ancient religion and the sense of rootedness in the customs of the “chosen” people were breaking down. Even small privileges of position were crumbling.

With the increasing entry of pagans into communities, third-generation believers were forced to ask themselves how they could break out of their old cultural isolation and open up to a new way of seeing things.

In addition to the persecutions, internal conflicts intensified: for example, over the position to be taken in relation to the Empire itself.

There was no shortage of heated debates on the figure and history of the Master himself - as well as on the attitude to take towards the tradition of the 'fathers' [which to some seemed a call to turn back].

Even though the situation was fraught with friction, bitterness, and rancour between Judaizers and those from paganism, as well as impetuous dangers, the Glad Tidings of unconditional Salvation could not be kept in an inner circle.

The quotation of the divine Name «I Am» (v.27) refers here to the Exodus story (3:14).

It is a reminder to the disciples. They still seemed to be in the grip of immediate fears about the real power of Life and Deliverance of Christ - so much so that they did not recognize Him (v.26).

Without ceasing, the Risen One still makes himself Present, so that we can open up and move forward; without the burden of opposition or nostalgia. There is a whole new reality waiting.

We are inhabited by the power of God (vv.28-31).

Authentic communities - «flap of his cloak» (v.36) that is of his Person - will still experience the power of the Spirit.

Through evangelization and the new way of living and helping others gratuitously, any storms that may be gathering on the horizon will clear up.

It will be replaced by an ever deeper and more acute experience of the burgeoning diversity of the 'other shore'; of one's neighbour, of oneself, of the life to come, and of God.

But the virtue that dominates the elements cannot be experienced as Peter intended, that is, as an external, immediate, decisive, and final power - but rather as mysterious and inner, animated in time, and of profound relationship.

The “victory” will be the result of Faith alone: trust in the strength that the silent Messiah gives.

Potency far greater than what we already know about ourselves - despite the fact that we often (like Simone) pretend to an easier, quicker, immediately decisive shortcut.

Emotionally relevant situations have their own meaning, they carry a significant appeal; they introduce a different introspection, the decisive change - a new 'genesis'.

Trial in fact activates souls in the most effective way, because it disengages us from the idea of stability, and brings us into contact with dormant energies, initiating the new dialogue with events.

In Him, we are therefore imbued with a different vision of danger.

[Monday 18th wk. in O.T. (year A)]

[Tuesday 18th wk. in O.T. (year B-C), August 5, 2025]

The risk of drowning

(Mt 14:22-36)

Some other providence, which you do not know

"It is good not to fall, or to fall and get up again. And if you do fall, it is good not to despair and not to become estranged from the love that the Sovereign has for man. For if he wishes, he can show mercy to our weakness. Let us only not stray from him, let us not feel distressed if we are constrained by the commandments, and let us not be disheartened if we achieve nothing (...).

We must neither be hasty nor give up, but always start again (...).

Wait for him, and he will show you mercy, either through conversion, through trials, or through some other providence that you do not know.

(Peter Damascene, Book Two, Eighth Discourse, in The Philokalia, Turin 1982, I,94)

Having reached the final stage (v. 23), Jesus does not allow the Apostles to keep God's treasures for themselves.

He compels them to go on mission to the pagans (v. 22). However, there were many adverse 'winds'.

About half a century after the Lord's death, the communities of Galilee and Syria were facing a difficult crossing.

The certainties of the ancient religion and the sense of rootedness in the customs of the "chosen" people were fading. Even the small privileges of position were crumbling.

With the increasing entry of pagans into the communities, the third generation of believers were forced to ask themselves how to break out of their ancient cultural isolation and open themselves up to a new way of seeing things.

In addition to persecution, internal conflicts were intensifying, for example, over the position to take in relation to the Empire itself.

There were heated debates about the very figure and history of the Master, as well as about the attitude to take towards the tradition of the fathers (which some saw as a call to return to the past).

Although the situation was fraught with friction, bitterness, resentment between those who had converted from Judaism and those who came from paganism, as well as impetuous dangers, the Good News of unconditional salvation could not be kept within a small circle.

The mention of the divine name 'I Am' refers here to the story of Exodus 3:14. It is a reminder to the disciples, who were still overcome by immediate fears about the real power of life and liberation of Christ - so much so that they did not recognise him (v. 26).

The Risen One makes himself present again and again, so that we may open ourselves and move forward without the burden of opposition or nostalgia. A whole new reality awaits us.

We are filled with God's strength (vv. 28-31), and today too, for our rebirth from the global crisis, we are called to a personal, cultural, radical and unprecedented response of love: to introspection, but not as intimidated subjects; to boldness, but not as hasty superficial people.

Authentic communities - "the corner of his cloak" (v. 36), that is, of his Person - will experience once again the power of the Spirit.

Through evangelisation and a new way of living and helping others freely, every storm that may gather on the horizon will dissipate.

It will be replaced by an ever deeper and more acute experience of the flourishing diversity on the other side: of our neighbour, of ourselves, of the very life that is coming, and of God.

But the virtue that dominates the elements cannot be experienced as Peter intended, that is, as an external, immediate, decisive, and final power, but rather as mysterious and interior, animated in time and deeply relational.

'Victory' will be the fruit of faith alone: trust in the power that the silent Messiah gives.

This power is far greater than what we already know about ourselves, even though we often (like Simon) demand an easier, quicker, and immediately decisive shortcut.

(Mt 8:23-27)

The direction imposed by Jesus on his followers seems counterintuitive and blatantly breaks the rules accepted by everyone.

While the disciples cherished nationalistic desires, the Master began to make it clear that He was not the Messiah commonly believed to be the restorer of the defunct empire of David or the Caesars.

The Kingdom of God is open to all humanity, which in those times of turmoil seeks security, welcome and points of reference. Everyone can find a home and shelter there (Mt 13:32c; Mk 4:32b).

But the apostles and church veterans seem averse to Christ's proposals; they remain insensitive to an idea of brotherhood that is too broad and unsettling for them. It is a serious and pressing problem.

The teaching and call imposed on the disciples is to cross over to the other side (Mk 4:35; Lk 8:22), that is, not to keep for themselves, but to communicate the riches of the Father to the pagans, considered impure and disreputable.

Yet his followers do not want to know about risky disproportions that effectively highlight the action of the Son of God. They are calibrated to common religious customs and a limited ideology of power.Their resistance to the divine commission and the ensuing internal debate unleashed a great storm in the assemblies of believers.

'And behold, there came a great storm upon the sea, so that the boat was being covered with waves' (Mt 8:24).

The storm affects only the disciples, who are the only ones who are frightened; not Jesus: "but he was asleep" (Mt 8:24c: this is the Risen One).

What happens 'inside' is not simply a reflection of what happens 'outside'! This is the mistake that needs to be corrected.

Such identification blocks and makes life chronic, starting with the management of emotionally relevant situations - which have their own meaning. They carry a significant appeal, introducing a different perspective and dialogue.

Even from the peace of the divine condition that dominates chaos, the Lord calls attention and rebukes the apostles, accusing them of not having faith, that is, a grain of risk of love - like a mustard seed (Mt 8:26) - to bring to humanity in order to renew it.

In short, are we confused, embarrassed, and is the chaos of patterns (not excluding selfishness) raging? Paradoxically, we are on the right path, but we must not be overcome by fear.

In Him, we are imbued with a different vision of danger.

The Tao Te Ching (xxii) says: 'The saint does not see by himself, therefore he is enlightened'. Even in narrow places.

In fact, it seems that Jesus expressly wants the apostles to experience moments of confrontation and doubt (Mk 4:35; Lk 8:22b). This is also true for us, even if we are responsible for the Church... because otherwise we will not be able to cleanse ourselves of repetitive convictions.

Textbook expectations (and the habit of creating conformist harmonies) block the flowering of who we are and what we hope for.

Above all, what is annoying or even "against" us has something decisive to tell us. Even in the little boat of the churches (Mk 4:36), discomfort must be expressed.

'And they came and woke him, saying, "Lord, save us, we are perishing!"' (Matthew 8:25).

It is to revive the essence of each individual and of the community itself, to introduce change (hidden or repressed) and activate it in the most effective way... through contact with unspoken, primordial energies.

More than opposing frictions and conflicting external events, anxiety, impression and anguish come from the very fear of facing the normal or decisive questions of existence.

This is due to mistrust: feeling in danger perhaps only because we perceive ourselves as immature, incapable of other forms of dialogue, of discovering and reworking, of converting or reshaping ourselves.

The effort of questioning ourselves and the suffering that the adventure of Faith reserves for us will fade away even amid the troubles of the rough sea - which precisely does not want us to return to 'what we were before'.

All we need to do is let go of the idea of stability, even religious stability, and listen to life as it is, embracing it, even in its multitude of collisions, disappointments, hopes for harmony that are shattered, and sorrows, entertaining ourselves with this flood of new emergencies and encountering our deepest nature.

The best vaccine against the anxieties of adventure with Christ on the changing waves of the unexpected will be precisely not to avoid worries upstream - but rather to go out to meet them and welcome them; to recognise them and let them be.

Even in times of global crisis, the apprehensions that seem to want to devastate us come to us as preparatory energies for other joys that want to burst forth—new cosmic harmonies; for amazement starting from ourselves, and guidance for the hereafter.

Our little boat is in a state of inverted stability, upside down, unbalanced; uncertain, inconvenient - yet energetic, pungent, capable of reinventing itself. It may even be excessive, but it is born of turmoil.

For a proposal of Tenderness (not corresponding) that is not a relaxation zone, because it rhymes with terrible anxiety and... suburbs!

To internalise and live the message:

On what occasions have you found easy what previously seemed impossible?

A wonderful testimony:

'Once, like the first disciples, we met the Lord and heard his words: "Follow me!" Perhaps at first we followed him a little uncertainly, looking back and wondering if this was really the right path for us. And at some point along the way, we may have experienced what Peter did after the miraculous catch of fish, that is, we were frightened by his greatness, the greatness of the task and the inadequacy of our poor selves, so much so that we wanted to turn back: 'Lord, go away from me, for I am a sinful man! (Lk 5:8) But then, with great kindness, He took us by the hand, drew us to Himself and said: "Do not be afraid! I am with you. I will not leave you, do not leave me!" And more than once, perhaps, the same thing happened to each of us as happened to Peter when, walking on the water towards the Lord, he suddenly realised that the water was not supporting him and that he was about to sink. And like Peter, we cried out: "Lord, save me!" (Mt 14:30). Seeing all the fury of the elements, how could we pass through the roaring and foaming waters of the last century and the last millennium? But then we looked to Him... and He took us by the hand and gave us a new "specific weight": the lightness that comes from faith and draws us upwards. And then He gives us His hand that supports and carries us. He sustains us. Let us fix our gaze on Him again and again and stretch out our hands to Him. Let His hand take us, and then we will not sink, but we will serve the life that is stronger than death and the love that is stronger than hatred. Faith in Jesus, the Son of the living God, is the means by which we grasp Jesus' hand again and again and by which He takes our hands and guides us. One of my favourite prayers is the question that the liturgy puts on our lips before Communion: '... never let me be separated from you'. We ask never to fall out of communion with His Body, with Christ Himself, never to fall out of the Eucharistic mystery. We ask that He never let go of our hand...'.

(Pope Benedict, Chrism Mass homily, 13 April 2006)

Bread and wonders of the Christ-ghost. And we, the fringe of his cloak

(Mk 6:53-56 // Mt 14:34-36)

He who is devoted to the cause of non-violence and non-possession, who is driven by the search for truth and right vision, who is capable of resolving his own emotional and intellectual problems and can show others the way to overcome their emotional and intellectual problems, can carry the cloak of the Master.

(Acharya Mahaprajna)

While some people crowd around Him and prevent others from having a personal relationship with Jesus, it is necessary to come up with something, at least to touch Him (v. 56).

'And wherever he entered villages or towns or hamlets, they laid the sick in the marketplaces and begged him to touch even the fringe of his cloak. And all who touched him were saved'.

In fact, the fringe of his cloak is his People - and each one of us, when we are enabled by Gift to perceive and prolong his call, his spirit, his care, his action.

A 'touch' that is not a simple gesture: it calls for total involvement; personal faith, digging deep within.

The crowds around the Lord and the Church, his primary presence, seek bread and healing... but sometimes they forget their adherence to the inner Person who gives and cares.

Yet even in these cases, the infallible Guide re-proposes his uninterrupted vital wave - with therapies that do not impose themselves on souls like lightning, but in real life.

God frees, saves and creates, starting from tensions and defects (even religious ones) because he wants to bring us to awareness.

The Father wants to instil the value of the act of love that makes the weak strong; every re-creative gesture, embodied, open to any sense of emptiness.

Annoyances do not happen by misfortune or punishment: they come to let us flourish again, starting precisely from the pains of the soul.

If they persist, fear not: they become more explicit messages from our own higher Seed.

It means that something in our orchestra is out of tune or neglected, and must either fade away or be discovered and brought into play.

Otherwise, we will not be able to grow towards the destiny that characterises a Calling and every discomfort.

Even the symptoms of restlessness belong to the innate quintessence, which always has the power of relevance.

The key will therefore not be appearance or health, but rather the acceptance of bitterness and hardship, which come to clear away the non-essential and free trapped spiritual impulses.

These are energies of imbalance, but they want to be transformed into the ability to throw off ballast... as well as to better accommodate and integrate one's vocation into one's own history, in order to build life again.

Perhaps many would prefer to wait for a miraculous arrival of the Master (the archetypal healer) who will bring immediate benefits and favours.

External salvation with a magical flavour - fleeting, even if physically palpable or even in ethical guise.

A phenomenal but simplistic Lord.

An appearance that dies quickly, then starts all over again - if He (in us, in our turning points) did not involve the same uncertainties that mark us. And the long time of the processes, which gradually take on a more intimate weight.

Total and sacred redemption - truly messianic - is not prone to superficial fanfare.

Healing is not spectacular. It is achieved only step by step; thus it remains profound and radical.

It becomes capable of new beginnings and acts of birth of still embryonic energy, starting precisely from individual precariousness.

His People – no longer an ineffable and mysterious presence – work in proximity to erase the false image of the philosophical or forensic God, always external. 

Sovereign or imperative motor, distant and absent - touchy - who occasionally points the finger; never surpasses, nor even reconfirms. Never looking at our present.

Thus, the Church rejects the idea of the Eternal One who ratifies, but also that of the mass miracle worker, immediately decisive (so dear to miracle merchants) - a figure who easily takes hold of our imaginations.

We proclaim with words and gestures his authentic Face, precisely to destroy the idea of the Christ-ghost of the previous passage (v. 49), a deplorable and absurd figure.

An icon that is merely apologetic, which unfortunately in history has given ample space to those in business with the Most High.

Being healed does not mean escaping transience.

For a saved existence, a transformation from within is needed; another beginning. A different hold on goodness.

Jesus walks through our environments like a silent wayfarer, and even accepts a primitive faith.

But even with humble power, the divine impulse works in every seeker of meaning and in every needy person; it establishes itself personally, starting precisely from interrupted dreams.

The Lord cannot be imprisoned or contained: he approaches us to begin a great cleansing, to shift our gaze and renew the stale universe.

Thus he transforms us, in the experience of his gratuitous communion,

a coexistence that wants to take up residence in us, to merge and expand the drive for life (perhaps hidden in abstention) so that each of us may be amazed at ourselves, at unknown passions, at new relationships.

Believers and communities manifest in empathetic ways the incisive healing power of faith in the Risen One, starting from their own intimate experiences.

We experience this in our monotonous, unrewarding and precarious daily lives, which are nevertheless capable of changing the structure of existence hidden in summary districts (v. 56: 'borgate') and its unexpressed destination.

Without disturbing with special effects, unilateral or pressing.

The Tao Te Ching (xi) writes: 'Thirty spokes come together at a single hub, and in its non-being is the usefulness of the wheel'.

Elsewhere, the civilisation of appearances brings about the improvement of our condition and security (from insecurity) - not in a simple, indiscreet and temporary recovery.

Phenomenal, but only punctual and inconclusive, or ultimately abdicating.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you view Jesus? As a miracle worker or a saviour?

How do you behave towards those who are excluded or seem without a shepherd?

Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni" – with these and similar words, the liturgy of the Church prays repeatedly [...]

These invocations were probably formulated during the decline of the Roman Empire. The disintegration of the fundamental legal systems and moral attitudes that gave them strength caused the collapse of the barriers that had hitherto protected peaceful coexistence among people. A world was coming to an end. Frequent natural disasters further increased this feeling of insecurity. There was no force in sight that could halt this decline. All the more insistent was the invocation of God's power: that He would come and protect men from all these threats.

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni" (Awaken, Lord, your power, and come). Even today, we have many reasons to join in this prayer [...] The world, with all its new hopes and possibilities, is at the same time distressed by the impression that moral consensus is dissolving, a consensus without which legal and political structures cannot function; as a result, the forces mobilised to defend these structures seem doomed to failure.

Excita – the prayer recalls the cry addressed to the Lord, who was sleeping in the disciples' boat, which was being tossed about by the storm and was about to sink. When his powerful word had calmed the storm, he rebuked the disciples for their lack of faith (cf. Mt 8:26 and par.). He meant: faith has fallen asleep in you. He means the same thing to us. Faith so often sleeps in us too. Let us therefore pray to Him to wake us from the sleep of a faith that has grown weary and to restore to faith the power to move mountains – that is, to put the things of the world in their proper order.

(Pope Benedict, to the Roman Curia, 20 December 2010)

Once, like the first disciples, we encountered the Lord and heard his words:  "Follow me!" Perhaps, to start with, we followed him somewhat hesitantly, looking back and wondering if this really was the road for us. And at some point on the journey, we may have had the same experience as Peter after the miraculous catch; in other words, we may have been frightened by its size, by the size of the task and by the inadequacy of our own poor selves, so that we wanted to turn back. "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord" (Lk 5: 8). 

Then,  however,  with  great  kindness, he took us by the hand, he drew us  to  himself  and  said  to  us:   "Do not fear! I am with you. I  will not abandon you, do not leave me!". 

And more than just once, the same thing that happened to Peter may have happened to us:  while he was walking on the water towards the Lord, he suddenly realized that the water was not holding him up and that he was beginning to sink. And like Peter we cried, "Lord, save me!" (Mt 14: 30). Seeing the elements raging on all sides, how could we get through the roaring, foaming waters of the past century, of the past millennium? 

But then we looked towards him... and he grasped us by the hand and gave us a new "specific weight":  the lightness that derives from faith and draws us upwards. Then he stretched out to us the hand that sustains and carries us. He supports us. Let us fix our gaze ever anew on him and reach out to him. Let us allow his hand to take ours, and then we will not sink but will serve the life that is stronger than death and the love that is stronger than hatred. 

Faith in Jesus, Son of the living God, is the means through which, time and again, we can take hold of Jesus' hand and in which he takes our hands and guides us. 

One of my favourite prayers is the request that the liturgy puts on our lips before Communion:  "...never let me be separated from you". Let us ask that we never fall away from communion with his Body, with Christ himself, that we do not fall away from the Eucharistic mystery. Let us ask that he will never let go of our hands...

[Pope Benedict, Chrism Mass homily, 13 April 2006]