Clear and distinct

(Mt 5:33-37)

«Yes, when it is yes; No, when it is no». There is no need to reinforce trust.

Every oath – even a sacred one – is a loophole that does not heal an already dead reality.

The theatre of bombastic formulas only admits the conviction that the Other cannot be fully trusted.

Total transparency in relationships does not need a stool to support it. 

It is ridiculous to try to encourage reciprocity by inventing the crutch of oaths, which reinforce a person's word with something greater than themselves [capable of punishing them in the event of non-compliance; come what may].

Good relationships, the ideal of justice, credit, and our whole life come to perfection in a clear way.

There is no need to beat about the bush, to become artificial, to rely on other precautions that then go back on their word, even if they are well prepared and perfectly staged.

Let us come to the theological point: what matters to the Father is the Person, not his symbolic expressions or his 'merits' - false props in a face-to-face encounter, to be displayed in the window to divert attention.

The face-to-face encounter is worth the whole game: much more than what sounds good to the ear, far beyond the accounting of what women and men have accomplished.

Our strong loyalty before God is not there; indeed, we need it. It is useless to hide the dust under a carpet of slogans and high-sounding rhetoric.

Even the pile of 'perfectly' fulfilled legal works provides no support.

In fact, the scaffolding may seem lofty and phenomenal, but it is superficial (often unfortunately insincere: castles made of paper and papier-mâché) and serves a dual purpose.

The Father is impressed by his creative masterpiece, by the sincere heart of women and men, not by the smoke and mirrors of impersonal structures set up for the occasion.

Nor is he flattered by ritual expressions, acronyms, clichés, or even heroic deeds that risk damaging the core of one's personality and Calling by Name.

There is nothing higher than our 'face'; the rest is cunning and lies. These are dangerous shortcuts.

The puritanical laymen used to say, 'The greater the form, the less the truth'. Not: give credence.

Clear actions, behaviours, words. This is what counts. 

In short, we must not 'improve' ourselves according to external models and facsimiles - nor organise more events - except with His Free Gift, which is far more reliable, permanent and effective than our [conformist and sometimes vain] observances.

The power we have cannot even affect the natural colour of a hair; this is the reality behind the grand stage we set up to avoid admitting that... something is wrong.

The integrity that matters is calm, transparent, spontaneous, and sincere: it cannot be ours. It is useless to make and remake 'vows' to deceive even God.

To internalise and live the message:

Have you ever found yourself a merchant at the last fair? Have you ever expressed yourself like a forger?

The vain water of the sacred that holds back, and the true Source

(Jn 5:1-3, 5-16)

'But he did many things with him, first of all taking him aside from the crowd. On this occasion, as on others, Jesus always acts with discretion. He does not want to impress people; He is not seeking popularity or success, but only desires to do good to people. With this attitude, He teaches us that good must be done without fanfare, without ostentation, without 'blowing the trumpet'. It must be done in silence.

[…] Healing was for him an 'opening' to others and to the world.

This Gospel story emphasises the need for a twofold healing. First of all, healing from illness and physical suffering, to restore the health of the body, even if this goal is not completely achievable in the earthly horizon, despite the many efforts of science and medicine. But there is a second healing, perhaps more difficult, and that is healing from fear. Healing from the fear that drives us to marginalise the sick, the suffering, and the disabled. And there are many ways to marginalise, even with pseudo-pity or by removing the problem; we remain deaf and mute in the face of the pain of people marked by illness, anguish, and difficulties. Too often, the sick and suffering become a problem, when they should be an opportunity to show a society's concern and solidarity towards the weakest members of society.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 9 September 2018]

Jesus prefers to break the law than to align himself with the ruthless world and the inviolable society that marginalises the unfortunate.

In the religion of competitive trophies, real abandonment and false or trivial hopes, someone wins the lottery and is healed, but everyone else does not. Only the quickest are healed, not the most needy.In any case, the vast majority remain watching, paralysed by loneliness - on the other hand, those affected ask for life, refreshment; the bubbling song of a truly sacred story.

At that time, in 'holy' places, the cult of sacrifice required a lot of water [to wash the animals before slaughtering and butchering them], especially during major festivals.

Large cisterns collected rainwater, and public baths (to the north) crowded the sick waiting for help or healing from the very isolation to which they were condemned - according to purity rules.

The pools outside were used to wash the lambs before their sacrifice at the Temple, and this method of use gave the water itself an aura of healing holiness.

Many sick people flocked to bathe in the 'motion of the water' (v.3).

It was said that an angel stirred the waters of the public baths [perhaps due to an intermittent spring] and that the first person to enter at the moment when they became restless would be healed.

A symbol of a religion that offers false hope to the infirm, which nevertheless appeals to the imagination of the excluded masses, oppressed by calamities - who do not know the man-God of their destiny.

'But the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, being in a crowd of people' (v. 13).

The Face of the Son is unrecognisable in the crowd, despite the plethora of impeccable guides and devotees - who only distract and are content with the habitual forms of the organisation, which are exaggeratedly solemn.

Abundant conduct purified the Temple and neglected the people.

An icon of a rich and miserable religiosity: vain, useless, harmful; abandoning to themselves those whom it is called to support.

The scribes taught the law to students in the sacred enclosure and the rabbis received their clients under Solomon's portico, on the Temple esplanade, towards the east.

Above, the Torah and its commerce; below and outside, nearby, the betrayal of the poor.

Water flowed in the Temple, but it did not cleanse anyone - on the contrary, it made the situation worse.

This had been going on for an entire era - a 'generation' (v. 5). This symbolises the 38 years (Deut. 2:14) that lacked a welcoming mentality.

The official religious institution kept the crowd at a safe distance, revealing only a ridiculous and brutal caricature of the friendly, hospitable and compassionate Face of the Father.

The crowd of needy people who received the miraculous water only by chance and surprise is a parable of humanity in need, dramatically deprived of everything, even authentic spiritual comfort.

Jesus, on the other hand, approaches the needy on his own initiative (vv. 6, 14) and involves himself - at the risk of his life - with those who are most alone, awkward and clumsy.

He is in us: welcoming faces and the active presence of the Father, instinctively drawn not to people who matter, but to the neglected, the sick—those who are unable even to receive miracles.

We are sent not to the deserving and self-sufficient, but precisely to those who are unable to use their own means to come forward.

Those who are faltering - and there is no need for an imprimatur on this: such a rule is divine law.

No joy on the part of the authorities... only inquiries.

It does not matter: no reverential fear. God is not eager to be obeyed; rather, he wants to fulfil us.

Christ himself does not work to be recognised and acclaimed ['he had withdrawn']. Nor does he care for us solely to bring about religious conversion.

He heals because he perceives the need, not so that the sick may believe in God.

The Tao Te Ching [x] says: 'Let creatures live and nourish them, let them live and do not keep them as your own'. 'Talking a lot and scrutinising rationally is worth less than keeping oneself empty' (v).

Let people be free to go through their seasons, not stereotypes.

Let us simply help to open doors that are more genuine and commensurate with the personal journey, even if unexpected or uncontrolled.

We are called upon and sent to accompany each person into the unheard of, the entirely original - guiding them not towards a pre-established sacredness, but towards the plasticity of healthy awareness.

[...] Talking about God means first of all expressing clearly what God we must bring to the men and women of our time: not an abstract God, a hypothesis, but a real God, a God who exists, who has entered history and is present in history; the God of Jesus Christ as an answer to the fundamental question of the meaning of life and of how we should live. Consequently speaking of God demands familiarity with Jesus and his Gospel, it implies that we have a real, personal knowledge of God and a strong passion for his plan of salvation without succumbing to the temptation of success, but following God’s own method. God’s method is that of humility — God makes himself one of us — his method is brought about through the Incarnation in the simple house of Nazareth; through the Grotto of Bethlehem; through the Parable of the Mustard Seed.

We must not fear the humility of taking little steps, but trust in the leaven that penetrates the dough and slowly causes it to rise (cf. Mt 13:33). In talking about God, in the work of evangelization, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we must recover simplicity, we must return to the essence of the proclamation: the Good News of a God who is real and effective, a God who is concerned about us, a God-Love who makes himself close to us in Jesus Christ, until the Cross, and who in the Resurrection gives us hope and opens us to a life that has no end, eternal life, true life [...]

So it is that talking about God means making people realize through our speech and example, that God is no rival in our existence but rather is its true guarantor, who guarantees the greatness of the human person. Thus we return to the beginning: speaking of God is communicating what is essential, forcefully and simply, through our words and through our life: the God of Jesus Christ, that God who showed us a love so great that he took flesh, died and rose again for us: that God who asks us to follow him and to let ourselves be transformed by his immense love in order to renew our life and our relationships; that God who has given us the Church, so that we may walk together and, through the word and the sacraments, renew the entire city of men and women, so that it may become a City of God.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 28 November 2012]

1. In the Gospels we find another fact that attests to Jesus' consciousness of possessing divine authority, and the persuasion that the evangelists and the early Christian community had of this authority. In fact, the Synoptics agree that Jesus' listeners "were amazed at his teaching, because he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes" (Mk 1:22; Mt 7:29; Lk 4:32). This is valuable information that Mark gives us from the very beginning of his Gospel. It attests to the fact that the people had immediately grasped the difference between Christ's teaching and that of the Israelite scribes, and not only in the manner, but in the very substance: the scribes based their teaching on the text of the Mosaic Law, of which they were the interpreters and commentators; Jesus did not at all follow the method of a "teacher" or a "commentator" of the ancient Law, but behaved like a legislator and, ultimately, like one who had authority over the Law. Note: the listeners were well aware that this was the divine Law, given by Moses by virtue of a power that God himself had granted him as his representative and mediator with the people of Israel.

The evangelists and the first Christian community who reflected on that observation of the listeners about Jesus' teaching, realised even better its full significance, because they could compare it with the whole of Christ's subsequent ministry. For the Synoptics and their readers, it was therefore logical to move from the affirmation of a power over the Mosaic Law and the entire Old Testament to that of the presence of a divine authority in Christ. And not just as in an Envoy or Legate of God as had been the case with Moses: Christ, by attributing to himself the power to authoritatively complete and interpret, or even give in a new way, the Law of God, showed his consciousness of being "equal to God" (cf. Phil 2:6).

2. That Christ's power over the Law entails divine authority is shown by the fact that he does not create another Law by abolishing the old one: "Think not that I am come to abolish the law or the prophets; I am not come to abolish but to fulfil" (Mt 5:17). It is clear that God could not 'abolish' the Law that he himself gave. It can instead - as Jesus Christ does - clarify its full meaning, make its proper sense understood, correct the false interpretations and arbitrary applications, to which the people and their own teachers and leaders, yielding to the weaknesses and limitations of the human condition, have bent it.

This is why Jesus announces, proclaims and demands a "righteousness" that is superior to that of the scribes and Pharisees (cf. Mt 5:20), the "righteousness" that God Himself has proposed and demands with the faithful observance of the Law in order to the "kingdom of heaven". The Son of Man thus acts as a God who re-establishes what God willed and placed once and for all.

3. In fact, of the Law of God he first proclaims: "Verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass away, not one iota or one sign of the law shall pass away, and all things shall be fulfilled" (Mt 5:18). It is a drastic declaration, with which Jesus wants to affirm both the substantial immutability of the Mosaic Law and the messianic fulfilment it receives in his word. This is a "fullness" of the Old Law, which he, teaching "as one having authority" over the Law, shows to be manifested above all in love of God and neighbour. "On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets" (Mt 22:40). It is a matter of a "fulfilment" corresponding to the "spirit" of the Law, which already transpires from the "letter" of the Old Testament, which Jesus grasps, synthesises, and proposes with the authority of one who is Lord also of the Law. The precepts of love, and also of hope-generating faith in the messianic work, which he adds to the ancient Law by explicating its content and developing its hidden virtues, are also a fulfilment.

His life is a model of this fulfilment, so that Jesus can say to his disciples not only and not so much: Follow my Law, but: Follow me, imitate me, walk in the light that comes from me.

4. The Sermon on the Mount, as it is reported by Matthew, is the place in the New Testament where one sees clearly affirmed and decisively exercised by Jesus the power over the Law that Israel has received from God as the hinge of the covenant. It is there that, after having declared the perennial value of the Law and the duty to observe it (Mt 5:18-19), Jesus goes on to affirm the need for a "justice" superior to "that of the scribes and Pharisees", that is, an observance of the Law animated by the new evangelical spirit of charity and sincerity.

The concrete examples are well known. The first consists in the victory over wrath, resentment, and malice that easily lurk in the human heart, even when an outward observance of the Mosaic precepts can be exhibited, including the precept not to kill: "You have heard that it was said to the ancients, 'You shall not kill; whoever kills shall be brought into judgment. But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother will be brought into judgment" (Matt 5:21-22). The same thing applies to those who offend another with insulting words, with jokes and mockery. It is the condemnation of every yielding to the instinct of aversion, which potentially is already an act of injury and even of killing, at least spiritually, because it violates the economy of love in human relationships and harms others, and to this condemnation Jesus intends to counterpose the Law of charity that purifies and reorders man down to the innermost feelings and movements of his spirit. Of fidelity to this Law Jesus makes an indispensable condition of the same religious practice: "If therefore you present your offering at the altar and there you remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go first to be reconciled with your brother and then return to offer your gift" (Mt 5:23-24). Since it is a law of love, it is even irrelevant who it is that has something against the other in his heart: the love preached by Jesus equals and unifies all in wanting good, in establishing or restoring harmony in relations with one's neighbour, even in cases of disputes and legal proceedings (cf. Mt 5:25).

5. Another example of perfecting the Law is that of the sixth commandment of the Decalogue, in which Moses forbade adultery. With hyperbolic and even paradoxical language, designed to draw attention and shake the mood of his listeners, Jesus announces. "You have heard that it was said, 'Do not commit adultery, but I say to you . . ." (Mt 5:27); and he also condemns impure looks and desires, while recommending the flight from opportunities, the courage of mortification, the subordination of all acts and behaviour to the demands of the salvation of the soul and of the whole man (cf. Mt 5:29-30).

This case is related in a certain way to another one that Jesus immediately addresses: "It was also said: Whoever repudiates his wife, let him give her the act of repudiation; but I say to you . . ." and declares forfeited the concession made by the ancient Law to the people of Israel "because of hardness of heart" (cf. Mt 19:8), prohibiting also this form of violation of the law of love in harmony with the re-establishment of the indissolubility of marriage (cf. Mt 19:9).

6. By the same token, Jesus contrasts the ancient prohibition against perjury with the prohibition not to swear at all (Mt 5:33-38), and the reason that emerges quite clearly is still founded in love: one must not be unbelieving or distrustful of one's neighbour when he is habitually frank and loyal, and rather one must on the one hand and on the other follow this fundamental law of speech and action: "Let your language be yes, if it is yes; no, if it is no. The more is from the evil one" (Mt 5:37).

[John Paul II, General Audience 14 October 1987]

Today’s liturgy presents us with another passage of the Sermon on the Mount, which we find in the Gospel of Matthew (cf. 5:17-37). In this passage, Jesus wants to help his listeners to reread the Mosaic law. What had been said in the ancient covenant was true, but that was not all: Jesus came to bring to fulfillment and to promulgate in a definitive way the Law of God, up to the last iota (cf. v. 18). He manifests its original aims and fulfils its authentic aspects, and he does all this through his preaching and, even more, with the offering of himself on the Cross. In this way, Jesus teaches how to fully carry out God’s will, and he uses these words: with a ‘righteousness’ that ‘exceeds’ that of the scribes and the Pharisees (cf. v. 20). A righteousness enlivened by love, charity, mercy, and hence capable of fulfilling the substance of the commandments, avoiding the risk of formalism. Formalism: this I can, this I cannot; up to this point I can, up to this point I cannot.... No: more, more.

In particular, in today’s Gospel, Jesus examines three aspects, three commandments [that regard] murder, adultery and swearing.

With regard to the commandment ‘you shall not kill’, he states that it is violated not only by murder in effect, but also by those behaviours that offend the dignity of the human person, including insulting words (cf. v. 22). Of course, these insulting words do not have the same gravity and culpability as killing, but they are set along the same line, because they are the pretext to it and they reveal the same malevolence. Jesus invites us not to establish a ranking of offences, but to consider all of them damaging, inasmuch as they are driven by the intent to do harm to one’s neighbour. Jesus gives an example. Insulting: we are accustomed to insulting; it is like saying “good morning”. And that is on the same line as killing. One who insults his brother, in his heart kills his brother. Please do not insult! We do not gain anything....

Another fulfillment is generated by the matrimonial law. Adultery was considered a violation of man’s property right over the woman. Instead, Jesus goes to the root of the evil. As one comes to killing through injuries, offences and insults, in this way one reaches adultery through covetous intentions in regard to a woman other than one’s own wife. Adultery, like theft, corruption and all the other sins, are first conceived in the depth of our being and, once the wrong choice is made in the heart, it is carried out in concrete behaviour. Jesus says: one who looks with a covetous spirit at a woman who is not his own is an adulterer in his heart, has set off on the path towards adultery. Let us think a little bit about this: about the wicked thoughts that go along this line.

Jesus then tells his disciples not to swear, as swearing is a sign of the insecurity and duplicity with which human relationships unfold. God’s authority is exploited so as to guarantee our human narrative. Instead, we are called to establish among ourselves, in our families and in our communities, a climate of clarity and mutual trust, so that we can be considered sincere without resorting to greater tactics in order to be believed. Mistrust and mutual suspicion always threaten peace!

May the Virgin Mary, a woman of listening and joyful obedience, help us to draw ever closer to the Gospel, to be Christians not ‘of façade’, but of substance! This is possible with the grace of the Holy Spirit, who allows us to do everything with love, and thus to wholly fulfil the will of God.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 12 February 2017]

Pentecost Sunday (Year C)  [8 June 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! On the feast of Pentecost, like Mary and the apostles, let us prepare our hearts to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit who transforms us into fire and light of love. Today, the first reading and the responsorial psalm are common to years A, B, and C, while the second reading and the Gospel are different each year.

*First reading from the Acts of the Apostles (2:1-11)

Jerusalem is not only the city where Jesus instituted the Eucharist, died and rose again, but it is also the city where the Spirit was poured out upon humanity. It was the year of Jesus' death, but the people in the city had probably never heard of his death, let alone his resurrection, so the feast of Pentecost was like any other for them. The Jewish Pentecost was very important because it was the feast of the giving of the Law, one of the three feasts of the year for which people went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and the list of all the nationalities present on that occasion proves its great interest. For the disciples of Jesus, who had seen, heard and touched him after his resurrection, nothing was the same as before, even if they did not expect what was about to happen. Luke helps us to understand what is happening by choosing his words carefully and evoking at least these three texts from the Old Testament: the gift of the Law at Sinai, a prophecy of Joel, and the episode of the Tower of Babel. First of all, Sinai. The tongues of fire and the sound like a mighty wind recall what happened at Sinai when God gave the tablets of the Law to Moses (Exodus 19:16-19).  Following this line, Luke helps us understand that Pentecost was not simply a traditional pilgrimage, but a new Sinai, where God gave his Law to teach the people how to live in the Covenant. At Pentecost, He gave His own Spirit, and from then on, His Law, the only true path to freedom and happiness, was no longer written on stone tablets but in the hearts of men, as Ezekiel had prophesied (Ezekiel 11:19-20; 36:26-27). The prophet Joel: Luke certainly wanted to evoke a word of Joel: 'I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh, says God' (Joel 3:1), that is, on all humanity. For Luke, those devout Jews from all nations under heaven, as he calls them, are a symbol of the whole of humanity, for whom Joel's prophecy is finally fulfilled, and this means that the long-awaited 'Day of the Lord' has come. The Tower of Babel is an event that can be summarised in two acts: Act 1: Men, who speak the same language and the same words, decide to build an immense tower between the earth and the sky. Act 2: God stops them and scatters them across the earth, confusing their languages, and from that moment on they no longer understand each other. What is the meaning of this story? God certainly does not want to stifle man's potential, and if He intervenes, He does so to spare humanity the false path of single-minded thinking and a human project that excludes God. It is as if He were saying: you are seeking unity, which is a good thing, but you are going about it the wrong way, because unity in love does not come through standardisation, but through diversity. And this is the message of Pentecost: at Babel, humanity learns diversity; at Pentecost, it learns unity in diversity, 'conviviality' (as Don Tonino Bello writes), because all nations hear the proclamation, each in its own language, of the one message: 'Magnalia Dei, the great works of God' (Acts 2:11).

*Responsorial Psalm (103 (104), 1.24, 29-30, 31.34)

This psalm has 36 verses of praise and wonder at the works of God, a beautiful poem. It is proposed for the feast of Pentecost because Luke, in the book of the Acts of the Apostles, recounts that on the morning of Pentecost, the apostles, filled with the Holy Spirit, began to proclaim in all languages the 'great works of God' of creation. All civilisations have poems about the beauty of nature. In particular, a poem written by the famous pharaoh Akhenaten (Amenhotep IV) was found in Egypt in the tomb of a pharaoh, a hymn to the Sun God. Amenhotep IV lived around 1350 BC, at a time when the Jews were probably in Egypt and may have known this poem. There are similarities in style and vocabulary between the pharaoh's poem and Psalm 103/104, but what is interesting is to note the differences marked by God's revelation to the people of the Covenant. First difference: God alone is God, an essential difference for the faith of Israel: God is the only God, there are no others, and the sun is not a god. The account of creation in the book of Genesis puts the sun and moon in their place: they are not gods, but luminaries, themselves simple creatures. Several verses show God as the only Lord of creation using royal language: God presents himself as a magnificent, majestic and victorious king. Second peculiarity: Creation is all good, and here there is an echo of Genesis, which repeats tirelessly: 'And God saw that it was good'. This psalm evokes all the elements of creation with the same wonder: 'I rejoice in the Lord', and the psalmist adds (in a verse not read this Sunday): 'I will sing to the Lord as long as I live, I will sing praise to my God while I have my breath'. However, evil is not ignored: the end of the psalm mentions it and invokes its disappearance, since it was already understood in the Old Testament that evil does not come from God, because all creation is good and one day God will remove all evil from the earth: the victorious King will eliminate everything that hinders human happiness. Third peculiarity: Creation is continuous, not an act of the past, as if God had thrown the earth and man into space once and for all, but a perennial relationship between the Creator and his creatures. When we say in the Creed: "I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth," we are not only affirming our faith in an initial act, but we are recognising that we are in a necessary relationship with him, and this psalm reiterates this by speaking of God's constant action: "All wait for you... You hide your face, they are dismayed... You take away their breath, they die and return to their dust. You send forth your spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the earth." Another peculiarity: Man is the culmination of creation. According to the Jewish faith, man is at the summit of creation, the king of creation, and for this reason he is filled with the breath of God. And this is precisely what we celebrate at Pentecost: the Spirit of God who is in us vibrates and resonates with man and with all creation, and the psalmist sings: 'Let God rejoice in his works! I rejoice in the Lord." In conclusion, creation makes sense in the light of the Covenant: In Israel, every reflection on creation is placed in the perspective of the Covenant, since Israel first experienced liberation by God and only afterwards meditated on creation in the light of this fundamental experience. There are visible traces of this in the psalm: First of all, the name of God used is always the famous tetragrammaton YHWH, which we translate as Lord, the name of the God of the Covenant, revealed to Moses. Furthermore, in the expression, 'Lord, my God, how great you are', the possessive is a reference to the Covenant, since God's plan in the Covenant was precisely this: 'You shall be my people, and I will be your God'. This promise is fulfilled in the gift of the Spirit to all flesh, as the prophet Joel proclaims, and every person is invited to receive the gift of the Spirit to become a true child of God.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:8–17)

 The main difficulty in this text lies in the word 'flesh', which in St Paul's vocabulary does not have the same meaning as in our vocabulary, where the two components of the human being, body and soul, are often contrasted, with the risk of misinterpreting what Paul means when he speaks of flesh and Spirit. What he calls 'flesh' is not what we call body, and what he calls 'Spirit' does not correspond to what we call soul; indeed, he specifies several times that it is the Spirit of God, 'the Spirit of Christ'. He does not contrast two words, 'flesh' and 'Spirit', but two expressions: 'living according to the flesh' and 'living according to the Spirit', that is, choosing between two ways of living, or rather deciding whom to follow and what course of action to take. Here we return to the theme of the two paths that every Jew, like St Paul, knows well: choosing between two paths, between two possible attitudes in the face of difficulties or trials: trust in God or distrust; the certainty of never feeling abandoned by God or the doubt and suspicion that God does not really seek our good; fidelity to his commandments because we trust him, or disobedience because we consider ourselves capable of autonomous decisions. The history of Israel in the Bible (think of Massah and Meribah in the Book of Exodus) presents numerous examples of mistrust in the face of life's trials, especially in the desert, where the people faced many trials, including hunger and thirst. When the people suspected that God had abandoned them, they put God and Moses on trial. Even Adam, faced with the limits placed on his desires, suspected and disobeyed the Lord. The temptation of Adam and Eve in Eden is repeated in our lives every day: it is the constant problem of trust and distrust, the so-called 'original' sin in the sense that it is at the root of all human disasters. Opposed to suspicion and rebellion against God is Christ's attitude of trust and submission because he knows that God's will is only good. Especially in the face of the challenges of pain in all its forms and death, there are two opposing attitudes that Paul calls 'living according to the flesh' or 'living according to the Spirit'. For him, living according to the flesh means behaving like slaves who do not trust and obey out of obligation or fear of punishment. "Living according to the Spirit," on the other hand, means "behaving like children," that is, weaving relationships of trust and tenderness which, following Christ's example, lead to life. Living under the influence of the flesh (i.e., in an attitude of distrust and disobedience towards God) leads to death, while living through the Spirit is to put to death the works of sin. In other words, the attitude of a slave is destructive, while the attitude of a child is the way to peace and happiness. The Spirit of God, who dwells in us through baptism, enables us to call God 'Abba-Father', and on the day when all humanity recognises God as Father, the divine plan will be fulfilled, and we will all enter into his glory together. A few verses later, Paul notes that creation eagerly awaits the revelation of the children of God. Finally, today's text reminds us that since we are children of God, we are also heirs of God, co-heirs with Christ, on condition that we suffer with him in order to be with him in glory. This text can be read in two ways: the slave imagines a God who sets conditions on inheritance; instead, the son considers God as Father even and above all in suffering. Suffering is inevitable, as it was for Christ, but lived with him and like him, it becomes a path to resurrection, and then 'on condition that we suffer with him' means: on condition that we are with him, that we remain united to him at all times, even in inevitable suffering.

*From the Gospel according to John (14:15-16, 23b-26)

 This well-known Gospel passage takes on new meaning today thanks to the other biblical texts proposed for the feast of Pentecost. For example, we are tempted to think of the Holy Spirit in terms of inspiration, ideas, discernment, intelligence, but for the feast of the gift of the Spirit, today's Gospel speaks only of love. Jesus says here that the Spirit of God is something else entirely: it is Love, Love personified. This means that on the morning of Pentecost in Jerusalem, when the disciples were filled with the Holy Spirit, it was love itself, which is God, that filled them. In the same way, we too, baptised and confirmed, know that our capacity to love is inhabited by the love of God himself. The responsorial psalm 103/104 reminds us of this when it proclaims: You send forth your Spirit, and we, created in the image of God, are called to resemble him more and more, constantly moulded by him in his image. The Spirit is the potter who works his clay, and every vessel becomes more and more refined in the hands of the craftsman. We are the clay in God's hands, so our likeness to Him is refined more and more as we allow ourselves to be transformed by the Spirit of Love. In the second reading, St. Paul speaks of our relationship with God, summarising it in one sentence: we are no longer slaves, but children of God, while in the Gospel, Jesus links our relationship with God to our relationship with our brothers and sisters: "If you love me, you will keep my commandments" (Jn 14:15), and we know well what his commandment is: 'that you love one another as I have loved you' (Jn 13:34).  If Jesus is referring to the gesture of washing feet, that is, to a decisive attitude of service, we can translate "if you love me, you will keep my commandments" as "if you love me, you will serve one another". God's love and love for our brothers and sisters are inseparable, so inseparable that it is by the quality of our service to our neighbour that the quality of our love for God is judged and therefore "if you do not serve your brothers and sisters, do not claim to love me!"  A little further on, Jesus takes up a similar expression and develops it: "If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him" (Jn 14:23). This does not mean that the Father in heaven does not love us if we do not serve our brothers and sisters, because there are no conditions or blackmail in him. On the contrary, the characteristic of mercy is precisely to bend down even more towards the poor, as we are all poor, at least in terms of love and service to others. Love is learned by practising it, but what the Lord is telling us here is something we know well: the ability to love is an art, and every art is learned by practising it. The Father's love is boundless, infinite, but our capacity to receive it is limited and grows as we practise it. We can therefore translate this as follows: 'If anyone loves me, he will put himself at the service of others and little by little, his heart will expand; the love of God will fill him more and more, and he will be able to serve others even better... and so on to infinity," that is, in unlimited progress. Let us conclude by returning to the term "Paraclete," which can be translated as comforter and defender. Yes, we need a defender, but not before God, and St. Paul makes this clear in the second reading: The Spirit you have received does not make you slaves, people who are still afraid, but rather the Spirit who makes you children (cf. Rom 8:15).  We are therefore no longer afraid of God and we do not need a lawyer before Him. But then why does Jesus say that he will pray to the Father, and he will give us another defender, to remain with us forever? Yes, we need an advocate, who defends us from ourselves, from our reluctance to serve others, from our lack of trust in God's power, who constantly defends the cause of others against our selfishness because, in doing so, he actually defends us, since true happiness consists in allowing ourselves to be moulded every day by God in his image, overcoming all selfish resistance.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

God bless us and may the Virgin protect us! For the feast of the Ascension, the first reading and the psalm are common to years A, B, C, while the second reading and the gospel change 

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

These first verses of the Acts of the Apostles recall the conclusion of Luke's gospel, also addressed to a certain Theophilus, and it is interesting to note that one begins where the other ends, that is, with the account of Jesus' Ascension, even though the two narratives do not match perfectly as we can see when reading the texts of Year C. The gospel narrates the mission and preaching of Jesus, the Acts of the Apostles focuses on the missionary activity of the apostles, hence the title. Luke's gospel begins and ends in Jerusalem, the heart of the Jewish world and of the First Covenant; Acts begins in Jerusalem, because the New Covenant continues the First, but ends in Rome, the crossroads of all the world's roads, and the New Covenant goes beyond the borders of Israel. For Luke it is clear that this expansion is the fruit of the Holy Spirit, the inspirer of the apostles since Pentecost, so much so that Acts is often called 'the gospel of the Spirit'. Jesus, after his baptism, prepared himself for his mission with forty days of desert, so he prepares the Church for this new missionary phase by appearing to the apostles for forty days and "speaking of the things concerning the kingdom of God". In fact, "while he was at table with them", thus during a last supper, he gives the apostles some instructions that can be summarised as: an order, a promise and a sending on mission.

The order: do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the fulfilment of the Father's promise that must be fulfilled in Jerusalem since all the preaching of the prophets, especially Isaiah, attributes to Jerusalem a central role in God's plan (cf. Is 60:1-3; 62:1-2). The promise: "John baptised with water, you on the other hand will be baptised in the Holy Spirit not many days from now". This too was known to the apostles, who remembered the prophecy of Joel: "I will pour out my spirit on every creature" (Joel 3:1), and the prophecies of Zechariah: (Zechariah 13:1; 12:10), and of Ezekiel: "I will pour out cleansing water on you and you will be purified... I will put a new spirit in you... I will put my spirit in you" (Ezek 36:25-27). When the apostles ask "whether this is the time when he will rebuild the kingdom for Israel", they show that they have understood that "the Day of the Lord" has dawned and God's plan now demands man's cooperation: with Christ, in fact, the promised Saviour has come, now it is up to human freedom to accept him, and for this the apostles' announcement is necessary. Hence the responsible mission of the apostles who receive the Holy Spirit: "You will receive the power of the Holy Spirit who will come upon you, and you will be my witnesses... to the ends of the earth". The plan that the book of Acts follows is in fact this: first the proclamation in Jerusalem, then throughout Judea and Samaria, and finally it must spread to the ends of the earth. Just as on Easter morning two men in shining garments aroused the women saying: "Why do you seek the Living One among the dead? He is not here, he is risen", so, on Ascension Day, "two men in white robes" do the same to the apostles: "Men of Galilee, why do you stand gazing into the sky? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven" (1:11). Jesus will return, we are certain of it, and we proclaim it in every Eucharist when we say 'In blessed hope of the coming of Jesus Christ our Saviour'. Finally, a cloud removes Jesus from human sight: his carnal presence ceases to usher in the spiritual one. A visible sign of this presence of God is the cloud already present at the Red Sea passage (Ex 13:21) and at the Transfiguration (Lk 9:34).

NOTE: The events between the Resurrection and Ascension cannot be reconstructed exactly. In Luke's texts (Gospel and Acts) the narration is essentially identical: Jesus leaves Bethany and takes the disciples to the Mount of Olives recommending that they not leave Jerusalem until they have received the Holy Spirit. The only difference concerns the duration: in the gospel it appears that the Ascension takes place on the evening of Easter itself, whereas in Acts it is made clear that forty days elapse between Easter and Ascension - hence the feast forty days later. In the other gospels little is found about the Ascension: Matthew does not speak of it at all, reporting only the apparition to the women and the sending to Galilee (Matthew 28:18-20). John narrates several apparitions, but omits the Ascension. Mark mentions the Ascension briefly at the end (Mk 16:19). The differences show that the gospels do not aim at a precise geographical account but at emphasising theological aspects: Matthew insists on Galilee, Luke on Jerusalem. In fact, it is in Jerusalem that Jesus had ordered to wait for the Spirit: "Behold, I send upon you him whom my Father has promised; but you remain in the city until you are clothed with power from on high" (Lk 24:49).

*Responsorial Psalm (46 (47),2-3,6-7,8-9)

In this psalm Israel sings and acclaims God not only as its king, but as king of the whole earth. Before the exile in Babylon, no king of Israel had imagined that God could be the Lord of the whole universe, and therefore the psalm dates from a late period in Israel's history. God is the king of Israel and therefore in Israel the king did not hold all power because the true king was God himself. The king could not dispose of the law as he pleased and, like everyone else, had to submit to the Torah, i.e. the rules that God had given to Moses on Sinai. On the contrary, according to the book of Deuteronomy, he had to read the entire Law every day and, even sitting on the throne, he was (in principle) no more than an executor of God's orders, transmitted to him by the prophets. In the Books of Kings, kings sought the advice of the prophet in charge before embarking on a military campaign or, in the case of David, before starting the building of the Temple, so that the prophets freely intervened in the lives of kings, strongly criticising their actions. Such a conception of God's sovereignty was even an obstacle to the establishment of monarchy, as was the case when the prophet Samuel, in the time of the Judges, reacted strongly towards the tribal leaders who demanded a king to be like all other nations. To desire to be like other peoples, when one is God's chosen people and in covenant with Him, was something blasphemous, and if Samuel gave in to the pressure, he did not fail to warn of the ruin they were bringing upon themselves. When he anointed the first king, Saul, he took care to point out that he became the custodian of God's heritage because the people remained God's people, not the king's, and the king himself was only a servant of God. During the years of the monarchy, the prophets were charged with reminding the kings of this essential truth. One understands then that in honour of God, this psalm uses the vocabulary that was elsewhere reserved for kings. Even 'terrible' is an expression typical of court jargon and should be understood as follows: the king (God) does not frighten his subjects, but reassures them, and so the enemies are warned that 'our king' will be invincible. The God king of the universe, "the great king over all the earth" (v. 3), acclaimed in every verse of the psalm is precisely the God of Sinai, the "Lord" and in this feast all peoples participate: "All peoples clap your hands, acclaim God with shouts of joy!" so that the universal dimension profoundly pervades the psalm to the point of saying "God reigns over the nations" (v. 9) recognising him as the only God of the entire universe.

NOTE: The real discovery of monotheism occurred only with the Babylonian exile: until then Israel was not monotheist in the full sense of the term, but monolatrist, i.e. it recognised as its own one God - the God of the Sinai Covenant - but admitted that the neighbouring peoples each had their own god, sovereign in their own land and defender in battle. This psalm was therefore probably composed after the return from exile, not in the throne room, but in the rebuilt Temple in Jerusalem, in a liturgical context evoking God's great plan for humanity, anticipating the day when God will finally be recognised as the Father of all good. We Christians make this psalm our own, and the expression "God ascends amid acclamations" seems well suited for today's celebration of Jesus' Ascension. In paying this splendid homage to Christ, King of the Universe, we anticipate the song that on the last day the children of God finally gathered together will intone: "All peoples, clap your hands! Acclaim God with shouts of joy".

*Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (9:24-28 ; 10:19-23)     

In the first part of this text, the author meditates on the mystery of Christ; in the second part, he draws the consequences for the life of faith with the intention of reassuring his readers, Christians of Jewish origin, who felt a certain nostalgia for ancient worship since in Christian practice there is no longer a temple, nor blood sacrifice, and wondered if this is really what God wants. The author goes through all the rituals and realities of the Jewish religion showing that they are now outdated. He deals especially with the Temple, called the sanctuary, and makes it clear that one must distinguish the true sanctuary in which God dwells - heaven itself - from the temple built by men, which is only a pale image of it. The Jews were rightly proud of the Temple in Jerusalem, but they did not forget that every human construction, by definition, remains weak, imperfect and destined to perish. Moreover, no one in Israel claimed that one could enclose the presence of God in a building, no matter how majestic. The first builder of the Temple, King Solomon, had already said this: "Would God dwell on earth? The heavens and the heaven of heavens cannot contain you; let alone this House that I have built!" (1 Kings 8:27).  For Christians, the true Temple - the place of encounter with God - is no longer a building, because the Incarnation of the Word has changed everything. The place of encounter between God and man is Christ, the God made man, and St John explains this when he narrates Jesus driving the money changers and animal sellers out of the Temple. To those who asked him: "What sign will you show us to do this?" (i.e. "in whose name are you making this revolution?) he replied: "Destroy this temple and in three days I will restore it". Only after the resurrection will the disciples understand that he was talking about his body (Jn 2:13-21). Here, in the Letter to the Hebrews, the same thing is affirmed: only by being grafted into Christ, nourished by his body, do we enter into the mystery of the God who "entered not into a sanctuary made by human hands, a figure of the true one, but into heaven" (Heb 9:24). This occurred with the death of Christ, making clear the centrality of the Cross in the Christian mystery, as confirmed by all New Testament authors. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews specifies later that the culmination of Christ's life-offering is his death, but his sacrifice embraces his entire existence, not just his Passion (cp10). In the passage we read today, the focus is on the sacrifice of the Passion, as opposed to that which the high priest offered each year on the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). He entered alone into the Holy of Holies, pronounced the unspeakable name of God (YHVH), shed the blood of a bull for his own sins and that of a goat for those of the people, thus solemnly renewing the covenant, and when he left, the people knew that their sins were forgiven. That covenant had to be renewed every year, but the new covenant established with the Father is final in Christ crucified and risen. On the cross, the true face of God is revealed, who loves us to the uttermost, the Father of each one of us, for whom there is no longer any fear of God's judgement. When we proclaim in the Creed that Jesus will come to judge the living and the dead, we know that, in God, judgement means salvation, as we read here: "Christ, having offered himself once to take away the sin of many, will appear a second time, without any relation to sin to those who wait for him for their salvation" (Heb 9:28). This certainty of faith enables us to live our relationship with God in full serenity and thanksgiving. But it is important to bear witness to it, as this text exhorts us: "Let us continue without hesitation to profess our hope, for He who promised is faithful" (Heb 10:23). Jesus Christ is "the high priest of future goods" (Heb. 9:11).

*From the Gospel according to Saint Luke (24:46-53)

The synoptics, Matthew, Mark, and Luke differ in their account of the Lord's Ascension, 

Matthew places it on a mountain in Galilee, where Jesus had fixed his appointment with the apostles; Mark gives no geographical indication; Luke, on the contrary, places the event on the Mount of Olives towards Bethany. Thus he ends the gospel where it began, in Jerusalem: the holy city of the chosen people from which the revelation of the one God had radiated to the world; the city of the temple-sign of God's presence among men. But also the city of the fulfilment of salvation through Christ's death and resurrection, and the city of the gift of the Spirit. Finally, the city from which the final revelation is to radiate over the universe, and Luke makes Jesus' words ring in our ears: "Was it not necessary that Christ should suffer these things in order to enter into his glory?" (Lk 24:26). What is new here, in comparison to the three prophecies of his passion uttered by Jesus before the events and the two statements immediately after the resurrection and on the road to Emmaus, is the conclusion of the sentence, which takes the form of a missionary sending of the apostles: "Thus it is written: 'Christ will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and in his name shall be preached to all nations repentance and forgiveness of sins, beginning at Jerusalem. Of this you are witnesses (Lk 24:46-49) For the first Christians it was difficult to explain which passage of Scripture had announced the sufferings of the Messiah and his resurrection on the third day; among the last prophets of the Old Testament the prophecies about the conversion of all nations, beginning with Jerusalem, were much more widespread, as we read in Jeremiah: "On that day they shall call Jerusalem the throne of the Lord; all nations shall flock there, to the name of the Lord, to Jerusalem" (3:17); and in the third Isaiah: "My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples" (56:7); "From moon to moon, from Sabbath to Sabbath, every creature shall come and bow down before me" (66:23). Zechariah then develops this theme: "On that day many nations will gather to the Lord and will be a people to me" (Za 2:15), "Many peoples and mighty nations will come to Jerusalem to seek the Lord of hosts" (8:22).Exegetes state that although these reflections are present in numerous psalms, it was above all the songs of the Servant in Deutero-Isaiah (Is 42; 49; 50; 52-53) that inspired the evangelists' meditation and clarified Jesus' expression "It was necessary that::" because in these four canticles emerges the figure of the suffering and glorified Messiah and the proclamation of good for all the nations: "I, the Lord," have called you with righteousness, I have taken you by the hand, I have formed you; I have made you a covenant of the people, a light of the nations" (Is 42:6);

"The righteous, my servant, will justify the multitudes" (Is 53:11). This conclusion of Luke's gospel thus takes on the tones of the liturgy: Jesus, the true High Priest, blesses his own and sends them out into the world, and the people worship and give thanks: "Lifting up his hands, he blessed them. And as he blessed them, he departed from them and was taken up into heaven. And they prostrated themselves before him; then they returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and stood in the temple praising God" (Lk 24:50-53). Luke's gospel closes by going back to its beginning, when Zechariah, a priest of the Old Covenant, had heard the announcement of God's salvation (Lk 1:5-19), and the last image that the disciples kept of the Master is a gesture of blessing. This explains why they return to Jerusalem with great joy. In this concluding image is enclosed the mystery of the light and joy of the Ascension, a departure that is not abandonment but the certainty of a different presence, invisible but even more powerful and effective.

+Giovanni D'Ercole