Today we celebrate "with joy the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary: from her arose the sun of justice, Christ, our God!"

This Marian feast is an invitation to joy, precisely because with the birth of Mary Most Holy, God gave the world a concrete guarantee that salvation was now imminent: humanity, which for millennia, in more or less conscious ways, had been waiting for something or someone who could free it from pain, evil, anguish and despair, and which had found in the Chosen People, especially in the Prophets, the spokespeople of the reassuring and consoling Word of God, could finally look, moved and anxious, to Mary "the Child," who was the point of convergence and arrival of a complex of divine promises, mysteriously echoed in the very heart of history.

It is precisely this Child, still small and fragile, who is the 'Woman' of the first announcement of future Redemption, set by God in opposition to the tempting serpent: 'I will put enmity between you and the woman, between your offspring and her offspring: he will crush your head and you will strike his heel!' (Gen 3:15).

It is precisely this Child who is the 'Virgin' who 'will conceive and bear a Son, who will be called Emmanuel, which means: God with us' (cf. Is 7:14; Mt 1:23).

It is precisely this Child who is the "Mother" who will give birth in Bethlehem to "the one who is to be ruler over Israel" (cf. Mt 5:1f).

Today's liturgy applies to Mary the passage from the Letter to the Romans in which St Paul describes God's merciful plan for the elect: Mary is predestined by the Trinity for a very high mission; she is called; she is sanctified; she is glorified.

God predestined her to be intimately associated with the life and work of his only-begotten Son. For this reason, he sanctified her in a wonderful and unique way from the first moment of her conception, making her "full of grace" (cf. Lk 1:28); he made her conform to the image of his Son: a conformity that, we can say, was unique, because Mary was the first and most perfect disciple of the Son.

God's plan for Mary culminated in that glorification which made her mortal body conform to the glorious body of the risen Jesus. Mary's assumption into heaven, body and soul, represents the final stage in the story of this creature, in whom the heavenly Father manifested his divine pleasure in an exalted manner.

The whole Church, therefore, cannot fail to rejoice today in celebrating the Nativity of Mary Most Holy, who - as St John Damascene movingly affirms - is that 'virginal and divine door, from which and through which God, who is above all things, is about to make his bodily entrance into the world... Today a shoot has sprung from the trunk of Jesse, from which a Flower substantially united with the divinity will be born into the world. Today, on earth, from earthly nature, He who once separated the firmament from the waters and raised it high, has created a heaven, and this heaven is far more divinely splendid than the first!" (St John Damascene, Homily on the Nativity of Mary: PG 96,661s).

3. Looking to Mary means mirroring ourselves in a model that God himself has given us for our elevation and sanctification.

And Mary today teaches us first of all to keep intact our faith in God, the faith that was given to us in Baptism and that must continually grow and mature in us throughout the various stages of our Christian life. Commenting on the words of St. Luke (Lk 2:19), St. Ambrose expresses himself thus: "We recognise in everything the modesty of the Holy Virgin, who, unblemished in body as well as in words, meditated in her heart on the matters of faith" (St Ambrose, Expos. Evang. sec. Lucam, II, 54: CCL, XIV, p. 4). We too, dear brothers and sisters, must continually meditate in our hearts on "the things concerning the faith"; that is, we must be open and receptive to the Word of God, so that our daily life - on a personal, family and professional level - may always be in perfect harmony and coherence with the message of Jesus, with the teaching of the Church, and with the examples of the Saints.

Mary, the Virgin Mother, reaffirms to us all today the supreme value of motherhood, the glory and joy of women, and also that of Christian virginity, professed and accepted 'in view of the Kingdom of Heaven' (cf. Mt 19:12), that is, as a testimony, in this transitory world, of that final world, in which the saved will be "like the angels of God" (cf. Mt 22:30).

[Pope John Paul II, homily in Frascati, 8 September 1980]

"Everything is in the small things." God's style of acting in small things but opening up great horizons for us was the focus of Pope Francis' meditation during Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on Tuesday, 8 September, the liturgical memorial of the Nativity of Mary.

Referring to the text of the opening prayer recited shortly before — in which the Lord is asked for "the grace of unity and peace" — the Pontiff focused on two verbs already highlighted in his homilies of "recent days": to reconcile and to pacify. God, he said, "reconciles: he reconciles the world with himself and in Christ." Jesus, brought to us by Mary, the peacemaker, "gives peace to two peoples, and makes two peoples into one: the Jews and the Gentiles. One people. He makes peace. Peace in hearts." But, the Pope asked, "how does God reconcile?" What is his "style"? Perhaps he "holds a large assembly? Do they all agree? Do they sign a document?" No, he replied, "God pacifies in a special way: he reconciles and pacifies in small ways and along the way."

Francis' reflection then began with the concept of "small," that "small" mentioned in the first reading (Micah 5:1-4): "And you, Bethlehem of Ephrathah, so small..." This was the Pope's comment: "So small: but you will be great, because your leader will be born from you and he will be peace. He himself will be peace," because from that "small" "comes peace." This is God's style, who chooses "small things, humble things to do great works." The Lord, the Pope explained, "is the Great One" and we "are the little ones," but the Lord "advises us to make ourselves small like children in order to enter the kingdom of Heaven," where "the great, the powerful, the proud, the arrogant cannot enter." God, therefore, "reconciles and pacifies in the small."

The Pontiff then addressed the second concept, according to which the Lord reconciles "even on the way: walking". And he explained: "The Lord did not want to pacify and reconcile with a magic wand: today — bang! — everything done! No. He set out to walk with his people". An example of this action of God can be found in the Gospel of the day (Matthew 1:1-16, 18-23). This passage, the genealogy of Jesus, may seem a little repetitive: "This begot this, this begot this, this begot this... It is a list," Francis pointed out. Yet, he explained, "it is God's journey: God's journey among men, good and bad, because in this list there are saints and there are criminal sinners."

A list, therefore, where we also encounter "much sin." However, "God is not afraid: he walks. He walks with his people. And on this journey, he increases the hope of his people, the hope in the Messiah." This is the "closeness" of God. Moses said to his people: "But think: what nation has a God as close to them as we do?" So "this walking in small ways, with his people, this walking with the good and the bad, gives us our way of life." To "walk as Christians," to "pacify" and "reconcile" as Jesus did, we have the way: "With the Beatitudes and with that protocol by which we will all be judged. Matthew 25: 'Do this: small things.'" This means "in small things and on the journey."

At this point, the Pope added another element. The people of Israel, he said, 'dreamed of liberation', they had 'this dream because it had been promised to them'. Joseph also 'dreams', and his dream 'is a bit like a summary of the dream of this whole story of God's journey with his people'. But, Francis added, "it is not only Joseph who has dreams: God dreams. Our Father God has dreams, and he dreams beautiful things for his people, for each one of us, because he is a Father and, being a Father, he thinks and dreams the best for his children."

In conclusion: "This almighty and great God teaches us to do the great work of pacification and reconciliation in small ways, on our journey, without losing hope in that ability" to have "great dreams" and "great horizons."

Therefore, the Pontiff invited everyone — in this commemoration of the beginning of a decisive stage in the history of salvation, the birth of Our Lady — to ask for "the grace we have asked for in prayer, for unity, that is, for reconciliation and peace." But "always on the journey, in closeness with others" and "with great dreams." With the style of the "small", that smallness, he recalled, which is found in the Eucharistic celebration: "a small piece of bread, a little wine...". In "this 'smallness' there is everything. There is God's dream, there is his love, there is his peace, there is his reconciliation, there is Jesus".

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 09/09/2015]

And worry about the number

(Lk 14:25-33)

Jesus is concerned to see around him «many crowds» (v.25).

Unusual that a proposal for total gift and risk of the whole life - goods, relationships, prestige, hopes - can find oceanic consensus.

In fact, there are not a few who don’t know «where» He goes. Not to take power and share it to friends - along with the loot.

The Lord is worried (v.25) and must start teaching again. Having so many admirers is a strange thing for Who proposes to involve themselves and not give in to indifference.

Even today, the Lord challenges, and urges us; He stings.

For those who make the choice of gratuitous love, first disposition is the integration of affections, even "family members". Not - to make us give up living.

Circles can detach us from the boundless demands of a relationship between people who share great ideals across borders.

Feelings and bonds must be relocated; they must acquire a new light.

Nobody is so much hero that he can no longer think of himself and his own, but a perspective dimension takes over, in the experience of a Father who provides for creating more wise turns.

All the logics of common sense take on another meaning.

Even attachment to one’s own image and reputation: «take, lift, carry the arm of the Cross» [v.27: sense of the Greek verb].

It was the moment of the maximum loneliness and perception of failure.

Those who are agitated by opinion-around limit themselves, do not begin paths, do not rely on their own skills or even discover them; they do not learn to take the step of what happens, nor subvert what must be detested.

The contrast with the strong powers that demand the usual double-edged loyalty, is simply to be taken into account from the outset.

Third "commitment" (v.33). Excess goods serve only to build “Relationship”. This is the threshold of Happiness: it makes one similar to God.

Absurd deal, but a source of unconditional joy, which brings us much more than emotion. So we must open our eyes well.

Because in mission you do not live on adrenaline, but on convictions that reflect the intimate life and the fullness of being.

Pay attention: the one who puts his face on it must first meet and measure himself very deeply, because he goes as in war (vv.31-32).

This is no joke here: the gendarmes of the established clans are capable of anything, to continue to give themselves importance and occupy positions.

You pay in person. You don’t participate in a triumphal procession: rather, you are rejected.

But Faith sustains: it believes that the Lord does not exert abuses, nor does he want around him resigned witnesses.

His Dream supplants common sense - to make us wince of an unexpected specific ‘pondus’ that we find free in our hearts.

From now on there is no more downwards haggling: this is the new Tower (vv.28-30) to be built.

[23rd Sunday in O.T.  (year C), September 7, 2025]

And worrying about numbers

(Lk 14:25-33)

In his commentary on the Tao Tê Ching (vii) Master Ho-shang Kung writes: "The saint is devoid of self-interest and does not care to give himself importance: therefore he can realise his interest".

Jesus is worried about seeing "many crowds" around him [v.25 Greek text]: having so many admirers is a strange thing for one who proposes to involve himself and not give in to indifference.

Unusual that a proposal of total gift and risk of one's entire life (goods, relationships, prestige, hopes) can find oceanic consent.

Truly unusual, perhaps grotesque, that so many people wish to gamble everything, even their health, for an ideal that generally does not 'sell' much.

Those who make genuine choices know well that sequela Christi is not to take part in a triumphal procession.

Indeed, there are not a few who do not know 'where' it goes....

Not to seize power and share it - alongside the spoils - with friends in his circle!

At best, they have misunderstood him, imagining that they are able to sacralise a quiet and smooth experience - with Him on the bedside table.

That is, picturesque and brilliant in society - intimate inside (with Him in the little heart). All hoods that soften the overhangs of principle.

Jesus notices those who follow Him for induced reasons, almost like enthusiastic festivals, or even venal, opportunistic ones, and only want to share the spoils of the new King of the Holy City. 

He understands why he has so many crowds around him. They have not grasped that God is beyond their reach.

Even in our days, the many crowds that attend the appointments of the 'Church of events' - Pope Francis would say - amaze.

For this reason, Christ sends and makes verifications, challenges and continues to incite the crumbling of any reflexive, quietist, external, self-interested or facilitation illusion - which, however, aggregates.

The first disposition of mind that presses and stings is the integration of affections, even 'family' affections. Not to make us give up living.

They can detach us from the boundless demands of a relationship between people who share great ideals across borders.

The hindrance of old feelings and ties must indeed be relocated, acquiring a new light.

The goal is authentic celebration. Not the useful and immediate; not even the pious mortifications or the abstract perfectionism of those who chase after frantic and contrived acts of strength.

No one is so heroic that he can no longer think of himself and his own, but a perspective dimension takes over; as well as the experience of the Father, who provides for wiser turns.

All the logic of common sense and balance is enhanced, yet takes on another meaning. In view of a Love in which every other good acquires full value.

Even the attachment to one's own image and reputation: "to take up, lift up and carry the arm of the Cross" [v.27 sense of the Greek verb].

It was a time of utmost loneliness and perception of failure, personal, religious, social.

He who is agitated by the opinion-around him limits himself, does not initiate paths, does not rely on his own talents, nor does he discover them; he does not learn to take the pace of what is happening, nor does he subvert what is to be detested.

Paraphrasing the encyclical Fratelli Tutti (n.187, "The sacrifices of love") one could say that precisely "from there, the paths that open up are different from those of a soulless pragmatism".

It is not enough to accept the normal contrarieties.

Those who remain attached to the idol of quiet expectations, looks, cheering crowds and the (invigorating) opinion of others cannot be in the Christi sequel.

Lies, but precious ones at heart - inside out. Because this is not the enthusiasm we seek.

We experience it inside: the lust for prestige does not listen to authentic needs, does not reinvent the present.

Subjection to the fear of social scorn [this is the proposal of the Cross] does not build the breakthrough that belongs to us; it loses it.

Despite the hubbub of outward appearances, conformists and qualunquists do not discern the authentic Sacred in the judgement of the Gospels.

The Word of God does not declare certain faith "how much we need" or what we can "sell".

Traditional discipline and discernment - but also the great disembodied ideas of fashionable thinking - never want to make important what characterises the real woman and man.

According to current sophistication, they will first have to be content to be numbers, to follow custom, to adapt.

In this way, at first glance the critical witness might seem wrong or unequal: one would have to align oneself - are we not for an ecclesiology of communion?

But the very conviviality of differences, even within the same family, demands it.

What is valid is harmony that recovers the whole human being, including the opposite poles.

They complete us, and will have to come into play sooner or later; although they do not correspond to the fundamental trait of every character.

We see it: characters who, in order not to feel devalued and unappreciated, readjust to all seasons - but only to settle down.

They do not value their own energetic contradictions... with the sole purpose of living.

They think: when life seems to be stronger than us, we might as well get even - without ever attempting to objectify their own innermost, unprecedented, personal, disproportionate aspirations.

The appointment with the Unexpected does not settle for neat, contrived, or cerebral and schematic things, which dampen the potential for growth.

We are forced to put back into circulation forces, virtues, resources, even the sharpest, most eccentric and unpredictable ones - that we did not even think we had.

The contrast with the strong powers that demand the usual double-edged loyalty, and the aversion of the tenants of the papier-mâché castles, is simply to be reckoned with.

Power seeks useful idiots and servile office-bearers, not apostles who enjoy the varied expressions of life.

We belong to another planet: we are not interested in careers, management and consideration, but in the Calling by Name, which activates unknown capacities - those that multiply energies and set things in motion.

There is no better alternative path, to overcome even the global emergency, which grips life today and the world: it is asking us to regenerate, not to go back to the way it was.

Third "commitment" (v.33): excess goods are only for building Relationship. This is the threshold of Happiness: it makes one like God.

An absurd affair, but a source of unconditional joy, which brings us far more than emotion. So you have to open your eyes wide.

Because on a mission we do not live on adrenalin, but on convictions that reflect the intimate life and fullness of being - the heavenly condition.

We will no longer dream of changing smartphones, or the stripe or tear in our trousers, and still have fun: we will widen spaces, invent roads, plant a seed of an alternative society.

He who puts his face to it to make the world wise and transparent, even the ecclesiastical world, must however first meet and measure himself very very thoroughly, for he goes as if to war (vv.31-32).

This is also why one must learn to put a whole new mind into the game and not just combing parlor trinkets, as if caught up in the squalor of the chase - instead of the poignant and sacred goals.

There is no joking here: the gendarmes and the various established clans guarding their ancient or à la page are capable of all the worst there is, to continue to give themselves importance and occupy positions that matter, and yield.

One pays in person. One is rejected. But the Faith sustains: it believes that the Lord does not exercise abuse, nor does He want resigned followers around.

His Dream transcends common sense - to make us wince with an unexpected ‘pondus’ that we find free in our hearts.

In commentary on the Tao xxvi, Master Wang Pi writes: "To lose the foundation is to lose the person".

And Master Ho-shang Kung adds: "If the ruler is light and arrogant, he loses his ministers; if the ruler is light and licentious, he loses the essence.

Light-heartedness, externality and booty are puerile expectations.

Henceforth there is no more bargaining: this is the new Tower (vv.28-30) to be built.

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

“Sine dominico non possumus!” Without the gift of the Lord, without the Lord’s day, we cannot live: That was the answer given in the year 304 by Christians from Abitene in present-day Tunisia, when they were caught celebrating the forbidden Sunday Eucharist and brought before the judge. They were asked why they were celebrating the Christian Sunday Eucharist, even though they knew it was a capital offence. “Sine dominico non possumus”: in the word dominicum/dominico two meanings are inextricably intertwined, and we must once more learn to recognize their unity. First of all there is the gift of the Lord – this gift is the Lord himself: the Risen one, whom the Christians simply need to have close and accessible to them, if they are to be themselves. Yet this accessibility is not merely something spiritual, inward and subjective: the encounter with the Lord is inscribed in time on a specific day. And so it is inscribed in our everyday, corporal and communal existence, in temporality. It gives a focus, an inner order to our time and thus to the whole of our lives. For these Christians, the Sunday Eucharist was not a commandment, but an inner necessity. Without him who sustains our lives, life itself is empty. To do without or to betray this focus would deprive life of its very foundation, would take away its inner dignity and beauty.

Does this attitude of the Christians of that time apply also to us who are Christians today? Yes, it does, we too need a relationship that sustains us, that gives direction and content to our lives. We too need access to the Risen one, who sustains us through and beyond death. We need this encounter which brings us together, which gives us space for freedom, which lets us see beyond the bustle of everyday life to God’s creative love, from which we come and towards which we are travelling.

Of course, if we listen to today’s Gospel, if we listen to what the Lord is saying to us, it frightens us: “Whoever of you does not renounce all that he has and all links with his family cannot be my disciple.” We would like to object: What are you saying, Lord? Isn’t the family just what the world needs? Doesn’t it need the love of father and mother, the love between parents and children, between husband and wife? Don’t we need love for life, the joy of life? And don’t we also need people who invest in the good things of this world and build up the earth we have received, so that everyone can share in its gifts? Isn’t the development of the earth and its goods another charge laid upon us? If we listen to the Lord more closely, and above all if we listen to him in the context of everything he is saying to us, then we understand that Jesus does not demand the same from everyone. Each person has a specific task, to each is assigned a particular way of discipleship. In today’s Gospel, Jesus is speaking directly of the specific vocation of the Twelve, a vocation not shared by the many who accompanied Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem. The Twelve must first of all overcome the scandal of the Cross, and then they must be prepared truly to leave everything behind; they must be prepared to assume the seemingly absurd task of travelling to the ends of the earth and, with their minimal education, proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ to a world filled with claims to erudition and with real or apparent education – and naturally also to the poor and the simple. They must themselves be prepared to suffer martyrdom in the course of their journey into the vast world, and thus to bear witness to the Gospel of the Crucified and Risen Lord. If Jesus’s words on this journey to Jerusalem, on which a great crowd accompanies him, are addressed in the first instance to the Twelve, his call naturally extends beyond the historical moment into all subsequent centuries. He calls people of all times to count exclusively on him, to leave everything else behind, so as to be totally available for him, and hence totally available for others: to create oases of selfless love in a world where so often only power and wealth seem to count for anything. Let us thank the Lord for giving us men and women in every century who have left all else behind for his sake, and have thus become radiant signs of his love. We need only think of people like Benedict and Scholastica, Francis and Clare of Assisi, Elizabeth of Hungary and Hedwig of Silesia, Ignatius of Loyola, Teresa of Avila, and in our own day, Mother Teresa and Padre Pio. With their whole lives, these people have become a living interpretation of Jesus’s teaching, which through their lives becomes close and intelligible to us. Let us ask the Lord to grant to people in our own day the courage to leave everything behind and so to be available to everyone.

Yet if we now turn once more to the Gospel, we realize that the Lord is not speaking merely of a few individuals and their specific task; the essence of what he says applies to everyone. The heart of the matter he expresses elsewhere in these words: “For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake, he will save it. For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?” (Lk 9:24f.). Whoever wants to keep his life just for himself will lose it. Only by giving ourselves do we receive our life. In other words: only the one who loves discovers life. And love always demands going out of oneself, it always demands leaving oneself. Anyone who looks just to himself, who wants the other only for himself, will lose both himself and the other. Without this profound losing of oneself, there is no life. The restless craving for life, so widespread among people today, leads to the barrenness of a lost life. “Whoever loses his life for my sake … ”, says the Lord: a radical letting-go of our self is only possible if in the process we end up, not by falling into the void, but into the hands of Love eternal. Only the love of God, who loses himself for us and gives himself to us, makes it possible for us also to become free, to let go, and so truly to find life. This is the heart of what the Lord wants to say to us in the seemingly hard words of this Sunday’s Gospel. With his teaching he gives us the certainty that we can build on his love, the love of the incarnate God. Recognition of this is the wisdom of which today’s reading speaks to us. Once again, we find that all the world’s learning profits us nothing unless we learn to live, unless we discover what truly matters in life. 

“Sine dominico non possumus!” Without the Lord and without the day that belongs to him, life does not flourish. Sunday has been transformed in our Western societies into the week-end, into leisure time. Leisure time is something good and necessary, especially amid the mad rush of the modern world; each of us knows this. Yet if leisure time lacks an inner focus, an overall sense of direction, then ultimately it becomes wasted time that neither strengthens nor builds us up. Leisure time requires a focus – the encounter with him who is our origin and goal. My great predecessor in the see of Munich and Freising, Cardinal Faulhaber, once put it like this: Give the soul its Sunday, give Sunday its soul.

Because Sunday is ultimately about encountering the risen Christ in word and sacrament, its span extends through the whole of reality. The early Christians celebrated the first day of the week as the Lord’s day, because it was the day of the resurrection. Yet very soon, the Church also came to realize that the first day of the week is the day of the dawning of creation, the day on which God said: “Let there be light” (Gen 1:3). Therefore Sunday is also the Church’s weekly feast of creation – the feast of thanksgiving and joy over God’s creation. At a time when creation seems to be endangered in so many ways through human activity, we should consciously advert to this dimension of Sunday too. Then, for the early Church, the first day increasingly assimilated the traditional meaning of the seventh day, the Sabbath. We participate in God’s rest, which embraces all of humanity. Thus we sense on this day something of the freedom and equality of all God’s creatures.

In this Sunday’s Opening Prayer we call to mind firstly that through his Son God has redeemed us and made us his beloved children. Then we ask him to look down with loving-kindness upon all who believe in Christ and to give us true freedom and eternal life. We ask God to look down with loving-kindness. We ourselves need this look of loving-kindness not only on Sunday but beyond, reaching into our everyday lives. As we ask, we know that this loving gaze has already been granted to us. What is more, we know that God has adopted us as his children, he has truly welcomed us into communion with himself. To be someone’s child means, as the early Church knew, to be a free person, not a slave but a member of the family. And it means being an heir. If we belong to God, who is the power above all powers, then we are fearless and free. And then we are heirs. The inheritance he has bequeathed to us is himself, his love. Yes, Lord, may this inheritance enter deep within our souls so that we come to know the joy of being redeemed. Amen.

[Pope Benedict, homily in Vienna, 9 September 2007]

Christianity has its principal symbol in the cross. Wherever the Gospel has put down roots, the cross is there to indicate the presence of Christians. In churches and homes, in hospitals and schools, in cemeteries - the cross has become better than any other, the sign of a culture that draws from the message of Christ truth and liberty, trust and hope. 

In the process of secularization, that characterizes a great part of the contemporary world, it is all the more important for believers to fix their gaze on this central sign of Revelation and accept its original and genuine meaning. 

2. Even today, following the teaching of the early Fathers, the Church presents the Cross to the world as "the tree of life", from which one can receive the ultimate and full meaning of every single existence and of the whole of human history. 

From when Jesus made it the instrument of universal salvation, the Cross is no longer synonymous with a curse, but, on the contrary, with a blessing. For the human person, tormented by doubt and sin, it reveals that "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but have eternal life" (Jn 3,16). In a word, the cross is the supreme symbol of love. 

For this reason, young Christians carry it proudly through the streets of the world, entrusting to Christ all their worries and all their expectations of freedom, justice and peace.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 15 September 2002]

In today’s Gospel Jesus insists on the conditions for being his disciples: preferring nothing to the love of Christ, carrying one’s cross and following him. Many people in fact drew near to Jesus, they wanted to be included among his followers; and this would happen especially after some miraculous sign which accredited him as the Messiah, the King of Israel. However Jesus did not want to disappoint anyone. He knew well what awaited him in Jerusalem and which path the Father was asking him to take: it was the Way of the Cross, the way of sacrificing himself for the forgiveness of our sins. Following Jesus does not mean taking part in a triumphal procession! It means sharing his merciful love, entering his great work of mercy for each and every man and for all men. The work of Jesus is, precisely, a work of mercy, a work of forgiveness and of love! Jesus is so full of mercy! And this universal pardon, this mercy, passes through the Cross. Jesus, however, does not want to do this work alone: he wants to involve us too in the mission that the Father entrusted to him. After the Resurrection he was to say to his disciples: “As the Father has sent me, even so I send you”... if you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven” (Jn 20:21-22). Jesus’ disciple renounces all his possessions because in Jesus he has found the greatest Good in which every other good receives its full value and meaning: family ties, other relationships, work, cultural and economic goods and so forth.... The Christian detaches him or herself from all things and rediscovers all things in the logic of the Gospel, the logic of love and of service.

To explain this requirement, Jesus uses two parables: that of the tower to be built and that of the king going to war. The latter says: “What king, going to encounter another king in war, will not sit down first and take counsel whether he is able with ten thousand to meet him who comes against him with twenty thousand? And if not, while the other is yet a great way off, he sends an embassy and asks terms of peace” (Lk 14:31-32). Jesus does not wish to address the topic of war here; it is only a parable. Yet at this moment in which we are praying intensely for peace, this word of the Lord touches us to the core, and essentially tells us: there is a more profound war that we must all fight! It is the firm and courageous decision to renounce evil and its enticements and to choose the good, ready to pay in person: this is following Christ, this is what taking up our cross means! This profound war against evil! What is the use of waging war, so many wars, if you aren't capable of waging this profound war against evil? It is pointless! It doesn’t work.... Among other things this war against evil entails saying “no” to the fratricidal hatred and falsehood that are used; saying “no” to violence in all its forms; saying “no” to the proliferation of weapons and to the illegal arms trade. There is so much of it! So much of it! And the doubt always remains: is this war or that war — because wars are everywhere — really a war to solve problems or is it a commercial war for selling weapons in illegal trade? These are the enemies to fight, united and consistent, following no other interests than those of peace and of the common good.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 8 September 2013]

A look into the «darkness».

As I have already mentioned, many poets and writers have described the flow of the human soul.

Eugenio Montale expresses this in one of his poems from 1925, on the pain of living, providing us with the image of a stream that cannot flow, a leaf crumpled by excessive heat, a horse exhausted on the ground.

These are images that linger in our minds, leaving us with food for thought and questions to ponder.

There have been moments of 'darkness' in our lives, and perhaps there will be more.

Feelings of discouragement and not knowing which path to take - each of us has experienced this first-hand.

The intensity and duration of the 'darkness' vary depending on the circumstances and our personal ability to react.

We react differently to defeat or disappointment; what upsets one person may leave another completely indifferent.

An encounter with 'darkness' can be common when faced with serious difficulties such as bereavement, loss of employment, the onset of illness, the end of a relationship, and so on.

This state of mind is temporary and ends spontaneously, without bringing about changes in a person's life.

In other cases, it is important not to underestimate this state of mind, as it could be a sign of psychosomatic or psychological distress.

In these cases, we often experience inexplicable feelings of worry and apathy, and we feel more fatigued.

Let us remember that the reaction to 'darkness' often follows a traumatic experience, which in ordinary circumstances would not have caused any temporary feelings of low mood.

A more severe and prolonged reaction, one that the individual cannot overcome on their own, is an unusual condition.

In older people, emotional shocks can trigger moments of 'darkness' more easily than in younger people.

Sometimes older people are marginalised, have fewer social relationships, and often suffer a loss of prestige, especially when they lose hope.

But even adolescents [with their precariousness] are not immune to these moments of unease.

It is not true that adolescence is a happy time of life; on the contrary, it is perhaps one of the most troubled.

In these moments of 'darkness', which clinicians call «depression», we notice that people going through this phase greatly reduce their activities, have less self-confidence, and take an interest in few things.

They are able to keep their jobs even if they have to work harder. Usually, their memory and relationship with reality are not altered - unless a serious condition («psychosis») has arisen.

Arieti describes the depression we have called 'darkness' here as a combination of sadness and pessimism.

The latter is the essential element of the combination; the unhealthy idea is to believe that what has happened to a person will always happen to them, or that their state of mind will never change.

Defeatism, the illusion of knowing what will happen to us in the future, consolidates sadness into 'darkness'.

Often the 'darkness' of the soul is discharged onto the body.

We may experience weight loss, feelings of oppression in the heart, decreased bodily secretions, insomnia, and frequent headaches.

In our behaviour towards others, 'darkness' makes us tend to exploit and influence others; it makes us  unwilling to be persuaded. We find it difficult to satisfy others, and hostility often overwhelms us.

Faber Andrew wrote a poem entitled “To those who are going through their darkness”...

The poet invites the reader to «believe in poetry. In the eyes of those who have already found that road».

Then again: «There is a sky here waiting for you, with a breathtaking panorama of dreams».

For a poet, poetry is the main road, but we who are not poets have something to believe in, and that is the pillar of our reality.

Let us always remember that when the night reaches its darkest point, the dawn of a new day begins.

Francesco Giovannozzi, psychologist and psychotherapist.

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C) [31 August 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us. For many, the holiday season is coming to an end and we are preparing to resume our normal rhythm of life. The Word of God comes to us with appropriate advice. 

*First Reading from the Book of Sirach (3:17-18, 20, 28-29 NV 3:19-21, 30, 31) 

This text becomes clearer if we begin reading it from the end: 'The wise heart meditates on parables, and an attentive ear is what the wise man desires' (v. 29). When the Bible speaks of wisdom, it means the art of living happily. Being a 'wise man' is the ideal of everyone in Israel: such a small people, born as a 'people' only at the time of the exodus from Egypt, has the privilege, thanks to Revelation, of knowing that 'all wisdom comes from the Lord' (Sir 1:1), in the sense that only God knows the mysteries of life and the secret of happiness. It is therefore to the Lord that we must ask for wisdom because, in his sovereign freedom, he chose Israel to be the repository of his wisdom. Yeshua Ben Sira (Jesus son of Sira), the author of the book, makes wisdom itself speak as if it were a person (cf. Sir 24:8); Israel seeks wisdom every day (cf. Sir 51:14) and, according to Psalm 1, finds its happiness in it: ' Blessed is the man who meditates on the law of the Lord day and night (1:2). 'Day and night' means always. Those who seek will find, Jesus will later say: but one must seek, that is, recognise that one does not possess everything and is always in need of something. Ben Sira had opened a school of theology (beth midrash) in Jerusalem around 180 BC and, to promote it, he said: "Come to me, you who are uneducated, and dwell in my school" (Sir 51:23). A true son of Israel knows that wisdom comes from God, allows himself to be taught by Him, meditates on the maxims of wisdom, and his ideal is an ear that listens. Israel has treasured this lesson so much that it recites the "Shema' Israel, Hear, O Israel" (Deut 6:4) several times a day. An "open ear" means listening to advice, instructions, commandments; the proud, on the other hand, believe they know everything and close their ears, but they forget that if the house has its shutters closed, the sun cannot enter. We read in verse 28: "There is no remedy for the miserable condition of the proud, for the plant of evil is rooted in them." In other words, the proud are incurably sick because, being full of themselves, they close their hearts. The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Lk 18) is interesting in this regard: the tax collector limited himself to being true because the humble have their feet on the ground and therefore recognise themselves as poor and rely only on God. The Pharisee, self-sufficient in everything, returned home as he had come, while the tax collector was transformed. Isaiah describes the joy of these humble people: ' The humble will rejoice more and more in the Lord, and the poor will exult because of the Holy One of Israel" (Isaiah 29:19), and Jesus will exclaim: "I praise you, Father... because you have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and revealed them to the little ones" (Matthew 11:25 // Luke 10:21). God can accomplish great things with the humble, making them servants of his plan, as with Moses, his great and tireless servant, whose secret, as we read in the book of Numbers, was that he was a very humble man, more than anyone else on earth" (12:3), and Jesus, the Servant of God, says of himself: "I am gentle and humble in heart" (Mt 11:29), while Paul writes: "If I must boast, I will boast of my weakness... The Lord has told me... for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 11:30; 12:9). Ultimately, humility is more than a virtue: it is a vital minimum and a prerequisite.

*Responsorial Psalm (67/68) 

"The Lord is his name" (v. 5), this very short phrase sets the tone for the whole: "Lord" is the tetragrammaton (YHWH) revealed to Moses, which expresses God's permanent presence among his people: "Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh" (I am who I am). And since He surrounds us at all times with His care, each of the verses can be read on several levels, and the richness and complexity of this psalm lies in being able to sing it in every age and feel involved. "The righteous rejoice, they exult before God and sing for joy. Sing to God, praise His name. Lord is His name" (vv. 4-5). David also dances before the Ark, but here we are talking about the joy of the people freed from Egypt: Moses' song after the crossing of the sea; Miriam, sister of Aaron (and Moses), took up the tambourine and all the women went out after her, dancing and playing the tambourine. Later, during the Exodus, there were many reasons to sing and dance. This emerges in the following verses: 'He brings out the prisoners with joy' (7). 'You have poured out abundant rain, O God, you have strengthened your weary inheritance, and your people have dwelt in it, in that which, in your goodness, you have made secure for the poor, O God' (10-11).  Here, different levels of interpretation overlap, but every allusion to liberation always refers to the exodus from Egypt, the return from Babylonian exile, and other liberations, that is, every time that individuals or entire peoples advance towards greater justice and freedom and, finally, the definitive liberation that we still await. "He brings out the prisoners with joy": for us Christians, this is a reminder of Christ's Resurrection, thinking of our own. "You have poured out abundant rain": this reference to the Exodus offers several interpretations: the manna in the desert (cf. Ex 16:4, 13-15) and most likely also the beneficial rain on which all life depends, because without "abundant rain" the promised land does not flow with "milk and honey". In the past, there have been memorable droughts (and therefore famines): the seven years of famine that led Jacob's sons and their father to go down to Egypt to Joseph; the drought in the time of Elijah (1 Kings 17-18) with the harsh confrontation between Elijah and Queen Jezebel, worshipper of Baal, the god of fertility, storms and rain; the famine under Emperor Claudius when the Christian communities of the Mediterranean basin, regions not affected, were invited to provide financial assistance to the victims, and St Paul called on the community of Corinth for their slowness in giving their contribution (cf. 2 Cor 8-9). Finally, we too have reason to give thanks for the new manna, our daily bread: Jesus Christ, the living bread that came down from heaven (Jn 6:48-51).

*Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (12:18-19, 22-24a)

Addressed to Christians of Jewish origin, the Letter to the Hebrews aims to place the New Covenant in its proper perspective in relation to the Old Covenant. With the earthly life, passion, death and resurrection of Christ, the entire past is considered by Christians as a necessary stage in the history of salvation, but now superseded, though not annulled, so that between the First and the New Covenant there is both continuity and radical novelty. In favour of continuity are elements familiar to Israel: Sinai, fire, darkness, gloom, hurricane, trumpets, Zion, Jerusalem, names written in the heavens, judge and justice, covenant with language that evokes the entire spiritual experience of the people of the Covenant and certainly familiar to listeners at that time. (cf. Ex 19:16-19; 20:18, 21; Dt 4:11). Israel feeds on these stories as titles of glory of the people of the Covenant. However, the Letter to the Hebrews seems to downplay this memorable experience because that Covenant has now been completely renewed. Moses approached God, but the people remained at a distance; in the New Covenant, the baptised are introduced into a true intimacy with God, and the author describes this new spiritual experience as entering a new world of beauty and celebration (cf. vv. 22-24). The "fear of God" in the Old Testament was fear in the face of manifestations of power, so much so that the people came to ask not to hear God's voice anymore, but later, little by little, their relationship with God was transformed and fear became filial trust. Those who knew Jesus discovered in him the true face of the Father: "The Spirit himself testifies to our spirit that we are children of God" (Rom 8:15-16). Jesus, therefore, fully fulfils the role of mediator of the New Covenant and allows all the baptised to approach God and become "firstborn" (in the sense of "consecrated"). Thus, the ancient promise to Moses on Sinai: "If you will listen to my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my special possession among all peoples... you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation" (Ex 19:4) is finally fulfilled in Christ, and for this reason we too "let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence" (Heb 4:16).

*From the Gospel according to Luke (14:1a, 7–14)

In Luke's Gospel, there are often scenes of meals: at the home of Simon the Pharisee (7:36); at Martha and Mary's house (10:38); again at the home of a Pharisee (11:37); at Zacchaeus' house (19); the Passover meal (22). The importance that Jesus attached to meals even led his detractors to say, "Here is a glutton and a drunkard" (Lk 7:34). Three of these meals take place in the homes of Pharisees and become occasions for disagreement. During the first, at Simon's house (Lk 7:36), a woman of ill repute threw herself at Jesus' feet and, contrary to all expectations, he took her as an example. The second (Lk 11:37) was also the occasion for a serious misunderstanding, this time because Jesus did not wash his hands before sitting down at the table: the discussion degenerates and Jesus takes advantage of it to launch into a severe diatribe, so much so that the episode ends with the scribes and Pharisees beginning to rage against him, setting traps for him to catch him in the act (cf. Lk 11:53). Today, the third meal in the house of a Pharisee takes place on the Sabbath, a day of rest ('Shabbat' in Hebrew means to cease all activity) and celebration: a memorial of the creation of the world, the liberation of the people from Egypt and the anticipation of the great feast of the Day when God will renew the entire creation. The Sabbath included a solemn meal, often an occasion to invite fellow believers, even though the ritual prohibitions of the Law were so numerous that, for some, observance of the prescriptions had obscured the essential: fraternal charity. On that Sabbath, Jesus had healed a man suffering from dropsy (a scene that does not appear in our liturgical reading: cf. Lk 14:2-6), and lively discussions ensued because Jesus was accused of breaking the Sabbath. Here I pause and ask a question: are the relations between Jesus and the Pharisees always a clash? In truth, they are a mixture of sympathy and severity: sympathy because their religious movement, born around 135 BC out of a desire for conversion, was esteemed, and the name 'Pharisee', which means 'separated', expressed the rejection of any political compromise or laxity in religious practice, two problems that were very present at the time. At the time of Christ, their fervent faith and courage in respecting tradition were appreciated, not in a pejorative sense, but as a treasure received from their fathers and transmitted in the form of precepts concerning the smallest details of daily life. These rules, written down after 70 AD, resemble those of Jesus himself and were therefore so respectable that Jesus did not refuse to speak with them, as demonstrated by these meals and the meeting with Nicodemus (cf. Jn 3). Under Herod the Great (39-4 BC), six thousand of them, in order to remain faithful to the Law, refused to swear allegiance to Rome and Herod and were punished with heavy fines. However, their strict observance sometimes led to excessive self-confidence and contempt for others, and Jesus reacted to this because it created certain ambiguities and deviations, well symbolised in the parable of the speck and the log (Mt 7:3-5; Lk 6:41-42). In today's text, Jesus invites us not to occupy the first places, not to recall a norm of good manners and philanthropy, but, in the manner of the prophets, he seeks to open their eyes before it is too late, because excessive self-satisfaction can lead to blindness. And so, precisely because they are people of value and faithful practitioners of the Jewish religion, Jesus unmasks the risk of their contempt for others by reminding them that to enter the Kingdom, they must become like children (cf. Lk 9:46-48; Mt 18:4), welcoming and respecting them without expecting anything in return and, indeed, opening one's heart to the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind (v. 13). This is a lesson for the Pharisees of yesterday and today, bearing in mind what St James writes: never mix personal favouritism with faith in Christ (cf. Jas 2:1).

+ Giovanni D'Ercole