don Giuseppe Nespeca

don Giuseppe Nespeca

Giuseppe Nespeca è architetto e sacerdote. Cultore della Sacra scrittura è autore della raccolta "Due Fuochi due Vie - Religione e Fede, Vangeli e Tao"; coautore del libro "Dialogo e Solstizio".

Palm Sunday (year C) [13 April 2025].

God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Let us enter Holy Week with Jesus welcomed in Jerusalem and let us prepare ourselves in the Easter Triduum to follow him on the path of passion death and resurrection. 

 

*First reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah (50:4-7)

This text is taken from the part of the book of Isaiah that collects the so-called 'Servant Songs', which are particularly important for two reasons: first, because of the message Isaiah wanted to convey to his contemporaries, and because they were applied by the early Christians to Christ, although Isaiah was certainly not thinking of Jesus when he wrote this text probably in the 6th century BC during his exile in Babylon. To the people exiled under very harsh conditions, who were in danger of succumbing to great discouragement, he reminds them that Israel is the servant of God sustained and nourished every morning by the Word, but persecuted because of their faith and, in spite of everything, able to withstand every trial. He clearly describes the extraordinary relationship that unites with his God the Servant (Israel) whose main characteristic is listening to the Word, 'the open ear', as Isaiah writes. Listening to the Word, letting oneself be instructed by it, means living in trust. Listening is a word that in the Bible means trusting, because there are two attitudes between which our existence continually oscillates: trust in God, serene abandonment to His will because we know from experience that His will is only good; or mistrust, suspicion of divine intentions and rebellion in the face of trials, a rebellion that can lead us to believe that He has abandoned us or, worse, that He can find satisfaction in our suffering. All the prophets repeat this invitation: 'Listen, Israel' or 'listen today to the Word of God'. On their lips, the exhortation 'listen' is an invitation to trust in God, whatever happens. In this regard, St Paul will explain that God makes everything contribute to the good of those who love and trust him (cf. Rom 8:28) because out of every evil, difficulty, trial, he knows how to draw good; out of every hatred, he opposes an even stronger love; in every persecution, he gives the strength of forgiveness; out of every death, he gives birth to life. The whole Bible is the narration of the story of a mutual trust: God trusts his servant and entrusts him with a mission; in return, Israel accepts the mission with trust. And it is this trust that gives him the strength to resist all the opposition he will inevitably encounter. In this text, the mission consists in being able to "address a word to the challenged" by testifying to the faithfulness of the Lord who gives the necessary strength and the appropriate language. Indeed, it is the Lord himself who nourishes this trust, the source of all boldness in the service of others: "The Lord God opened his ear to me and I did not resist, I did not draw back".  Everything then becomes a gift: the mission, the strength and the trust that makes one unwavering. This is the characteristic of the believer: recognising that everything is a gift from God. When he then makes the permanent gift of the Lord's strength bear fruit, the believer is able to face everything, even persecution, which is never absent, and indeed every authentic prophet who speaks on behalf of God is rarely recognised and appreciated in life.Isaiah invites his contemporaries to resist: the Lord has not forsaken you, on the contrary, he has entrusted you with his mission and do not be surprised if you are mistreated because the Servant who listens to the Word of God and puts it into practice, certainly becomes uncomfortable and with his conversion provokes others: some listen to his call, others reject him and, in the name of their good reasons, persecute him. This is why the Servant draws strength only from the One who enables him to face everything: "I have presented my back to the scourgers, my cheeks to those who plucked out my beard ... the Lord God assists me so I will not be shamed". Isaiah then uses a common expression in Hebrew: 'for this I make my face hard as stone' which expresses determination and courage; not pride or conceit, but pure confidence because he knows where his strength comes from.  Jesus is a perfect portrait of the Servant of God at the heart of persecution and also at the moment when the acclamations of the Palm Sunday crowd marked and accelerated his condemnation. St Luke takes up exactly this expression when he writes 'Jesus hardened his face to go to Jerusalem' (Lk 9:51), which in our translations becomes 'Jesus resolutely took the road to Jerusalem'.

 

*Responsorial Psalm from Psalm 21(22) (2:8-9,17-20,22b-24)

Psalm 21/22 holds some surprises, starting with the opening words: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?", much quoted, which, taken out of context, is misinterpreted. To understand its true meaning, one must read the entire psalm, composed of thirty-two verses, which closes with a thanksgiving: "I will proclaim your name to my brothers, I will praise you in the midst of the assembly". He who in the first verse cries out "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" thanks God in the end for the salvation he has received. Not only has he not died, but he gives thanks precisely because God has not forsaken him. At first glance, this psalm seems to be written for Jesus: "They have dug out my hands and my feet. I can count all my bones," a clear allusion to the crucifixion he experienced under the cruel eyes of the executioners and the crowd: "A pack of dogs surrounds me, a band of evildoers encircles me...they mock me who see me...they divide my garments, on my tunic they cast lots." Actually, it was not written for Jesus Christ, but composed for the exiles who had returned from Babylon, and it compares their deliverance to the resurrection of a condemned man, since the exile was a real death sentence for Israel who ran the risk of being erased from history. Now he is compared here to a condemned man who risked death on the cross, a torture that was very common at the time: he suffered outrages, humiliation, the nails, abandonment in the hands of the executioners, but miraculously emerges unharmed. In other words: having returned from exile, Israel indulges in the joy he proclaims to all, shouting louder than when he wept in his anguish. The reference to the crucifixion is thus not the focus of the psalm, but serves to emphasise the thanksgiving of Israel, which in the midst of its anguish never ceased to cry out for help and never doubted for a moment. The great cry "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" is certainly a cry of anguish in the face of God's silence, but it is not a cry of despair, nor does it express doubt; rather, it is the prayer of one who suffers and dares to cry out his pain. How much light this psalm sheds on our prayer in times of suffering of any kind: we have the right to cry out, and the Bible encourages us to do so. Returning from exile, Israel remembers the past pain, the anguish, the apparent silence of God when he felt abandoned in the hands of his enemies, yet he continued to pray. Prayer is clear evidence of his constant trust; he kept remembering the Covenant and the benefits he had received from God. In its entirety, this psalm resembles an 'ex-voto' as when one is in grave danger, one prays and makes a vow and, when grace is obtained, fulfils the promise by taking the ex-voto to a church or shrine.  Psalm 21/22 describes the horror of the exile, the anguish of Israel and Jerusalem besieged by Nebuchadnezzar, the sense of helplessness in the face of men's hatred that provokes an ardent supplication: 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' and finally gratitude to God for one's salvation: 'I will proclaim your name to my brothers, I will praise you in the midst of the assembly. Praise the Lord you his faithful".  Palm Sunday does not include the last verses, but we hear them often in the liturgy: "The poor shall eat and be satisfied, they shall praise the Lord who seek him; your hearts shall live forever! All the ends of the earth shall remember and return to the Lord; all the families of the peoples shall bow down before you ... They shall proclaim his righteousness; to the people that are born they shall say, 'Behold the work of the Lord'."

 

*Second Reading from the Second Letter of St Paul to the Philippians (2:6-11)

This text is often called the Hymn of the Letter to the Philippians, because one gets the impression that Paul did not write it in his own hand, but quoted a hymn in use in the liturgy. First of all, note the insistence on the theme of the Servant: "he emptied himself by assuming the condition of a servant": the first Christians, faced with the scandal of the cross, often meditated on the Servant Songs contained in the book of Isaiah, because they offered food for thought for understanding the mystery of the person of Christ. "Christ Jesus, though he was in the condition of God, did not consider it a privilege to be like God". It is tempting to read: although he was in the condition of God, although in reality, it is the other way around, and one must therefore read: 'precisely because he was in the condition of God, he did not consider it a privilege to be like God'. One of the dangers of this text is the temptation to read it in terms of reward, as if the reasoning were: Jesus behaved admirably and therefore received an extraordinary reward. Grace, as its very name suggests, is gratuitous, but we are always tempted to speak of merits. The wonder of God's love is that He does not wait for our merits to fill us; this is the discovery that the men of the Bible made through Revelation. Therefore, to be faithful to the text, we must read it in terms of gratuitousness. We risk misunderstanding it if we forget that everything is God's gift, everything is grace, as Teresa of the Child Jesus used to say. The gratuitous gift of God is for St Paul an obvious truth, a conviction that permeates all his letters, so obvious that he does not even feel the need to reiterate it explicitly, so that we can summarise his thought in this way: God's plan, the design of his mercy is to make us enter into his intimacy, his joy and his love, an absolutely gratuitous plan. There is nothing surprising in this, since it is a project of love, a gift to be accepted: it is participation in the divine life, indeed with God, everything is a gift. One excludes oneself from this gift when one assumes an attitude of pretension, if one behaves like the progenitors in the Garden of Eden who appropriated the forbidden fruit. Jesus, on the contrary, did nothing more - "becoming obedient" - than welcome God's gift without demanding it. "Although he was in the condition of God, he did not consider it a privilege to be like God" and it is precisely because he is of divine condition that he does not claim anything. He knows what gratuitous love is, he knows that it is not right to claim, he does not consider it good to claim the right to be like God. It is the same situation as in the episode of the temptations (see the gospel of the first Sunday of Lent): Satan proposes to Jesus only things that are part of God's plan, but Jesus refuses to appropriate them by his own strength. because he wants to entrust himself to the Father so that He can give them to him. The tempter provokes him: "If you are the Son of God, you can afford everything, your Father cannot refuse you anything: turn stones into bread when you are hungry... throw yourself down from the temple, he will protect you... worship me, and I will give you dominion over the whole world". Jesus, however, expects everything from God alone: he has received the Name that is above every other name, the Name of God. For to say that Jesus is Lord is to affirm that he is God. In the Old Testament, the title 'Lord' was reserved for God and so was genuflection 'that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend'. Here is an allusion to a passage from the prophet Isaiah: "Before me every knee shall bow, let every tongue proclaim, 'Jesus Christ is Lord!' shall swear an oath" (Is 45:23). Jesus lived in humility and trust; trust that St Paul calls obedience. To obey, in Latin 'ob-audire', literally means to put the ear (audire) before (ob) the word: it is the attitude of perfect dialogue, without shadows, it is total trust.  The hymn concludes: 'Let every tongue proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Glory is the revelation of infinite love made person. In other words, we too, like the centurion, seeing Christ love us supremely, accepting to die to reveal to us how far God's love goes, proclaim, 'Yes, indeed, this was the Son of God'... because God is love.

 

* Gospel. Passion of Jesus Christ according to St Luke (22.14 - 23.56)

Every year, for Palm Sunday, the account of the Passion returns in one of the three synoptic gospels; this year, it is that of Luke and I confine myself to commenting on the episodes proper to this gospel. While it is true that the four Passion narratives are similar, when one takes a closer look, one realises that each evangelist has particular accents, and this is because they are all witnesses to the same event and they each recount the events from their own point of view, and the Passion of Christ is recounted in four different ways: they do not all choose the same episodes and phrases. Here, then, are the episodes and words that we find only in Saint Luke. 1.After the Last Supper, before going to Gethsemane, Jesus had foretold to Peter his triple denial. In truth, all the gospels narrate this, but only Luke records this sentence of Jesus: "Simon, Simon, behold, Satan has sought you out to sift you like wheat; but I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail. And thou, when thou art converted, confirm thy brethren" (22:32). A gentleness of Jesus, which will help Peter after his betrayal to get up again instead of despairing. Again only Luke notes the gaze Jesus casts on Peter after his denial: three times in succession, Peter states that he does not know him in the high priest's house. Immediately afterwards Jesus, turning around, fixed his gaze on Peter and here we hear the echo of the first reading where Isaiah writes: 'The Lord God has given me a disciple's tongue, that I may speak a word to the distrustful'. This is what Jesus wants to do with Peter, to comfort him in advance so that when he denies him he does not fall into despair. Another episode in this gospel is Jesus before Herod Antipas. At Jesus' birth, Herod the Great reigned over the whole territory under the authority of Rome, but at his death (in 4 BC.), the territory was divided into several provinces, and at the time of Jesus' death (in the year 30 AD), Judea, i.e. the province of Jerusalem, was ruled by a Roman procurator, while Galilee was under the authority of a king recognised by Rome, who was a son of Herod the Great: his name was Herod Antipas, who had long wanted to meet Jesus and hoped to see him perform a miracle. Now he asks him many questions, but Jesus remains silent. Herod insults and taunts him by having him clothed in a shining mantle and sends him back to Pilate, strengthening the friendship between Herod and Pilate that day. 

2.There are then three sentences that we find only in Luke's Passion narrative. Two words of Jesus and, if Luke notes them, it is because they reveal what is important to him: the first is his prayer while the Roman soldiers are crucifying him: 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do'. But what are they doing? They have expelled the Holy One par excellence from the Holy City; they have cast out their God, putting the Master of life to death; the Sanhedrin, the court of Jerusalem, has condemned God in the name of God. And what does Jesus do instead? He forgives his enemies by showing how far God's love goes. He who has seen me has seen the Father, Jesus had said the day before. The second sentence: 'Today with me you will be in Paradise'. If you are the Messiah, he is mocked by the leaders... If you are the king of the Jews, he is mocked by the Roman soldiers... If you are the Messiah, he is insulted by one of the two evildoers crucified with him. The other crucified with him begins to tell the truth: we deserve this punishment but not Jesus, and turns to Jesus: 'remember me when you enter your kingdom'. He recognises Jesus as the Saviour, he invokes him with a humble and trusting prayer: he seems to have understood everything. Finally, only Luke reports this last sentence: "Already the Sabbath lights were shining" (23:54) thus concludes the Passion narrative with an insistent evocation of the Sabbath. He speaks of the women who had followed Jesus all the way from Galilee and now went to the tomb to observe how he had been buried, bringing aromas and perfumes for the burial rites. The lights of the Sabbath were already shining: everything ends on a note of light and peace: the Sabbath is a foreshadowing of the world to come, the day on which God had rested from all the work of creation (cf. Genesis); the day on which, out of fidelity to the Covenant, the Scriptures were scrutinised in anticipation of the new creation. Luke makes us understand that in the labour of Christ's Passion the new humanity was born, which is the beginning of the kingdom of grace. The risen crucified one shows the way forward: the way of love and forgiveness at any cost.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

5th Sunday in Lent (year C) [6 April 2025]

God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Tomorrow, Wednesday 2 April, will be the 20th anniversary of the death of St John Paul II. We remember him in prayer, invoking his protection and intercession.

 

*First Reading From the book of the prophet Isaiah (43:16-21)

At first glance, this text consists of two mutually contradictory parts: the first is a reference to the past, to leaving Egypt, while in the second, the prophet exhorts us to leave the past behind. But which past is it? Let us try to better understand by examining these two parts one after the other. The incipit is as always solemn: "Thus says the Lord" to introduce words of great importance which are immediately followed by the reference to the famous passage in the sea, the miracle of the Sea of Rushes during the Hebrews' flight from Egypt: "The Lord opened a way in the sea and a path in the midst of mighty waters". The reference to the memorable night of the deliverance from Egypt narrated in chapter 14 of the book of Exodus always returns. In the first reading, Isaiah offers further details: "the Lord brought forth chariots and horses, army and heroes at once, and they all lay dead and never rose again, they went out like a lamp. God saved his people by destroying the Egyptians and it is interesting to note that Isaiah uses the name 'Lord' (the Tetragrammaton YHVH), a name that qualifies the God of Sinai as the deliverer of his people. Here is God's work in the past that constitutes the source of hope for Israel's future, and Isaiah points out: 'Behold, I do a new thing'. To understand what this is all about and to whom the prophet foretells a new world, we need to go back to the historical context. The deuteroIsaiah, whom we are reading here, lived in the 6th century BC, during the exile in Babylon (from 587 to 538 BC), a period marked by a terrible trial: deported to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, who had defeated the small kingdom of Judah of which Jerusalem was the capital, the Jews hoped one day to escape from Babylon, but there were serious difficulties because they had to cross the Syrian desert, hundreds of kilometres long and in terrible conditions for fugitives. The prophet therefore has the difficult task of restoring courage to his contemporaries: he does so in this book called the Book of the Consolation of Israel, because chapter 40 begins: 'Console, console my people, says your God'. And when he says: 'your God' he recalls the Covenant that was never broken because God did not abandon them. In fact, one of the formulas of the Covenant was: 'You shall be my people and I will be your God' and whenever the expression my God or your God is echoed, the possessive is an encouraging reminder of the Covenant and, at the same time, a profession of faith. Isaiah intends to keep the exiles' hope alive by reminding them that God has not only not abandoned them, on the contrary, he is already preparing their return to their homeland. Nothing can be seen yet, but it will happen and why is it certain? Because God is faithful to his Covenant and since he chose this people he has never ceased to deliver them and keep them alive, through all the vicissitudes of their history. He has freed them from Pharaoh; he has protected them all along the way; he made them pass through the sea dry when they came out of Egypt.Israel's hope thus rests on its past: this is the meaning of the word 'memorial', constant remembrance of God's work that continues today, and from this we derive the certainty that it will continue into the future. Past, present, future: God is always present alongside his people. This is one of the meanings of God's name: 'I am', that is, I am with you in all circumstances. And precisely during the difficult period of exile, when there was the risk of giving in to despair, Isaiah develops a new metaphor, that of the sprout: "Behold, I am doing a new thing: right now I am sprouting, do you not notice?" Starting from the extraordinary experience of a tiny seed capable of becoming a great tree, it is easy to understand how the word "sprout" has become in Israel and today for us a symbol of hope, and it is important to learn to recognise the sprouts of the new world, the Kingdom that God is building.

 

*Responsorial Psalm [125 (126)]

 This psalm echoes the first reading, where the prophet Isaiah announces the return of the people exiled in Babylon and sings of this miracle just as the Jews had sung of the prodigy of the exit from Egypt. These are the events: in 587 BC. Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, had conquered Jerusalem and deported the population, but, in turn, was defeated by Cyrus, king of Persia well known for his successes. Nebuchadnezzar's troops pillaged, plundered, raped, massacred and devastated, systematically deporting the population. Cyrus, on the other hand, adopted a completely different policy: he preferred to rule over prosperous peoples and allowed all deported populations to return to their homelands by providing the means to do so. And so, having conquered Babylon in 539 B.C., he allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem as early as 538 B.C., also granting them economic aid and even returning the objects looted from the Temple by Nebuchadnezzar's soldiers.

The psalm does not say 'when the king of Persia Cyrus restored the lot of Zion' but 'when the Lord restored the lot of Zion', a way of affirming that God remains the Lord of history who pulls all the strings and therefore there is no other god - again a nod to the fight against idolatry. This psalm, probably written long after the return from exile, evokes the joy and excitement of liberation and return. How many times during exile did one dream of this moment! When it was realised, one almost dared not believe it: 'When the Lord restored the lot of Zion, it seemed to us as if we were dreaming ... our mouths were filled with a smile, our tongues with joy'.  One even imagines that the other peoples are also amazed by this miracle: "Then it was said among the nations: 'The Lord has done great things for them'. In this sentence, two elements emerge: an infinite gratitude for the gratuitousness of God's choice and the chosen people's awareness of having been chosen for the world: their vocation is to be witnesses of God's work, an awareness matured precisely during exile. In the psalm, astonishment at God's choice is expressed with the words: 'great things', that is, God's work of deliverance, particularly the liberation from Egypt. Words like feat, work, great things, wonders, which are often found in the psalms, are always a reference to the Exodus. Here, a new work of God's deliverance is added: the end of the exile experienced by the people as a true resurrection. To express this, the psalmist uses two images: The streams in the desert: "Restore, Lord, our lot, like the streams in the Negheb", desert south of Jerusalem, where myriads of flowers bloom in spring. The other image is the seed: 'he who sows in tears, will reap in joy'. the sown grain seems to rot and die... but when the ears sprout, it is like a rebirth, an eloquent image because the return of the exiles meant a true rebirth for the land as well. A final observation: when the return from the Babylonian exile is sung in this psalm, it had already taken place a long time ago, but Israel does not speak of the past just to recount it, but to communicate a message and a teaching for the future: this return to life, historically placed, becomes a reason to hope for other future resurrections and deliverances. Every year, during the Feast of Tents in the autumn, this song was sung during the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. As the pilgrims ascend, they sing of the deliverance that has already taken place and pray to God to hasten the day of final deliverance, when the promised Messiah will appear. Even today, there are many places of slavery, many 'Egypt' and 'Babylon'. This is what we think of when we sing: "Restore, Lord, our lot like the streams in the Negheb", asking for the grace to collaborate with all our strength in the work of liberation inaugurated by the Messiah, in order to hasten the day when the whole of humanity can sing: "Great things the Lord has done for us".

 

*Second Reading from the Letter of St Paul the Apostle to the Philippians (3:8-14)

 St Paul uses the image of running, and we know how important the goal and the desire to reach it is for every person. Here the Apostle speaks of himself: "I know only this: forgetting what lies behind me and reaching out to what lies ahead, I run towards the goal, to the prize that God calls us to receive up there in Christ Jesus. To run towards this same goal and obtain the promised prize, one must turn one's back on many things, as St Paul did when he felt conquered by Christ. The Greek verb he uses (katalambano) means to grasp, to seize, to take by force, and expresses the way in which he was completely transformed from a persecutor of Christians into an apostle of the gospel (Acts.9) when Christ literally took possession of him on the road to Damascus. St Paul presents his Christian faith as a natural continuation of his Jewish faith because Christ fully realises the expectations of the Old Testament by ensuring its continuity with the New Testament. Here, however, he insists on the newness that Jesus Christ brings: 'I consider everything to be a loss because of the sublimity of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord. The knowledge of Christ brings radical newness because one truly becomes a 'new creature', as he writes in his second letter to the Corinthians, which we read last Sunday (2 Cor 5:17-21). Now he says it in another way: "For him I have given up all these things and consider them rubbish in order to gain Christ and be found in him". In other words: what previously appeared important in my eyes, that is, an advantage and a privilege, I now reject altogether. The advantages of which he speaks were the pride of belonging to the people of Israel, the faith and unshakeable hope of that people, the assiduous and scrupulous practice of all the commandments that he calls obedience to the law of Moses. But now Jesus Christ has taken all the space in his life and he possesses the greatest good, the only true wealth in the world, the true treasure of human existence: to know Christ. Knowing in biblical language does not mean intellectual knowledge but living in intimacy with someone, loving him and sharing his life. Paul insists on this bond with Christ because in the community of Philippi some Christians of Jewish origin wanted to impose circumcision on all Christians before baptism and this created great division as we read in the second reading of the second Sunday of Lent. This issue was resolved by the Apostles at the First Council in Jerusalem by affirming that in the New Covenant, the Law of Moses has been superseded and baptism in the name of Jesus makes us children of God so circumcision is no longer indispensable to be part of the people of the New Covenant. Paul also speaks here of "communion" with Christ's sufferings, of being conformed to his death in the hope of attaining the resurrection from the dead, grafted into him in order to follow his same path: "communion with his sufferings, making me conform to his death". 

Note: St Paul invites us to live like Christ and to accept all the risks of proclaiming the Gospel, but can we say, like him, that the only good for us is the knowledge of Christ and everything else is but rubbish? The word rubbish that is used here translates the Greek word skubala, which has a very strong meaning that can be translated in several ways: as waste, refuse, dry excrement and filth, rotten and spoiled food residue. In short, a total rejection of everything, when one knows Christ and is possessed by him.

 

*From the Gospel according to John (8:1-11)

We are already in the context of the Passion and the first line mentions the Mount of Olives. Since the evangelists only mention it in the last days of Jesus' public life and the Pharisees want to set a trap for him here, this makes it clear that it has now been decided to try and condemn him. That is why every detail of this text must be carefully examined because it is not a simple episode in Jesus' life, but the very heart of his mission.  At the beginning Jesus is seated as a teacher: "all the people came to him and he sat down and began to teach them". However, the question of the scribes and Pharisees immediately puts him in the position of judge and Jesus is the only seated person. This detail helps us to understand that the theme of judgement, in St John, is central: the episode of the adulterous woman implements what he writes at the beginning of his gospel: "God sent the Son into the world, not to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him" (John 3:17). We are faced with a mock trial because the issue is clear: the adulterous woman was caught in the act and there are witnesses; the Law of Moses condemns adultery as one of the commandments given by God on Sinai (Thou shalt not commit adultery, Ex 20:14; Deut 5:18); Leviticus prescribes the death penalty: "If anyone commits adultery with his neighbour's wife, the adulterer and the adulteress shall be put to death" (Lev 20:10). The scribes and Pharisees, who question Jesus, are as always very attached to the Law of Moses, but they forget to add that the Law provides for the condemnation of both offenders, the man and the adulterous woman. The fact that despite knowing this, no one remembers it, shows that the real issue is not the observance of the Law, but something else, and the text says it clearly: "They said this to test him and to have reason to accuse him". It is therefore a trap-question and what do they want to accuse Jesus of? Jesus cannot approve of the stoning because it would contradict the whole preaching on mercy; if, however, he publicly defends the woman, he can be accused of inciting the people to disobey the Law. In John's Gospel (chapter 5), we have already seen him tell the healed paralytic to take his bed, an act forbidden on the Sabbath. They failed to condemn him that day, but this time the disobedience would be public. After all, despite the apparent respect with which they call him 'Master', Jesus is in as much danger as the adulterous woman: both risk death. Jesus does not immediately respond: "He stooped down and began to write with his finger on the ground". With his silence, a constructive silence, he invites each one to reflect without humiliating anyone, and he, the incarnation of mercy, does not put the scribes and Pharisees or the adulterous woman in difficulty: he wants each one to take a step forward by trying to reveal to the Pharisees and scribes the true face of the God of mercy. When he responds, he does so almost by posing a question: 'Let him who is without sin among you cast the stone at her first'. At this point they all leave, "one by one, beginning with the elders". Nothing surprising: the elders appear to be the ones most ready to listen to the call to mercy. Who knows how many times they have experienced God's mercy on them... How many times they have read, sung, meditated on the verse: "God of tenderness and mercy, slow to anger and abounding in love" (Ex 34:6). How many times have they recited Psalm 50(51): "Have mercy on me, O God, according to your mercy, in your great goodness blot out my sin". Now they can understand that their lack of mercy is a fault, a lack of faithfulness to the God of the Covenant. Jesus' statement may have led them to this reflection: 'Let him who is without sin among you cast the stone first'. Being the first to throw the stone was an expression known to all in the context of the fight against idolatry. The Law did not say that it had to be the witness of adultery who threw the first stone; but it did say so expressly for the case of idolatry (Deut 13:9-10; Deut 17:7). Thus Jesus' reply can be interpreted as: "This woman is guilty of adultery, in the literal sense of the word, it is true; but are you not committing an even more serious adultery, an unfaithfulness to the God of the Covenant? The prophets often speak of idolatry in terms of adultery.  In the end, only Jesus and the woman remain: it is the face-to-face, as St Augustine says, between misery and mercy. For her, the Word once again fulfils his mission, speaking the word of reconciliation. Isaiah, speaking of the servant of God, had announced it: 'He will not break a cracked reed, he will not quench a smouldering wick...' (Is 42:3). But this is not goodism because Jesus clearly tells the woman to sin no more, sin remains condemned, but only forgiveness can enable the sinner to be reborn to hope.

Note: What does Jesus write on the ground? The evangelist does not specify, and this has given rise to various interpretations: Some Church Fathers, such as St Augustine, speculate that Jesus was writing down the hidden sins of those who accused the woman. This is why, one by one, they go away; It refers to the Mosaic Law: according to a rabbinic interpretation, it could refer to Jeremiah 17:13: "Those who turn away from you will be written in the dust, because they have forsaken the Lord, the source of living water." If so, Jesus would be indicating that the accusers themselves are guilty of unfaithfulness to God. It could be a symbolic act of detachment; writing in the dust could symbolise that the accusations against the woman are ephemeral, destined to fade away; it could indicate a call to patience and reflection; finally, it could be a way of not responding immediately, prompting the accusers to reflect on their hypocrisy.

Jesus' gesture invites us to shift our attention not to the guilt of others, but to our own conscience. No one can condemn another without first examining himself. This episode teaches us that God's mercy exceeds human condemnation, and that forgiveness is always possible when there is a heart willing to change. 

The first reading and this Sunday's Gospel have the same message: forget the past, don't get attached to it... nothing, not even memories, should stop you from moving on. In the first reading, Isaiah speaks to the people in exile... in the Gospel, Jesus speaks to a woman caught in the act of adultery: apparently, two very different cases, but the message is the same: turn your gaze firmly towards the future, no longer think about the past.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Today, 25 March, we are in the heart of the Jubilee contemplating the mystery of the Annunciation and Incarnation of the Word. It used to be a predominantly Marian feast, as it still appears in many popular religious traditions. With the liturgical reform, it was highlighted as an important Christological solemnity that immerses us in the heart of the Incarnation of the eternal Word: God becoming man for our salvation. The presence of Mary - The Annunciation - as the one who with her 'yes' made the mystery of our salvation possible, the miracle of the Incarnation, always remains strong; and she invites each one of us to unite our 'yes' to hers, aware that only in humility is the human heart capable of responding to God's call.

 

IV Sunday in Lent (year C) [30 March 2025] 

 

*First Reading From the book of Joshua (5, 9a 10- 12)

Moses did not enter the promised land because he died on Mount Nebo, at the Dead Sea, on the side that today corresponds to the Jordanian shore. It was therefore not he who introduced the people of Israel into Palestine, but his servant and successor Joshua. The whole book of Joshua recounts the entry of the people into the promised land, starting with the crossing of the Jordan since the tribes of Israel entered Palestine from the east. The aim of the writer of this book is quite clear: if the author recalls God's work for Israel, it is to exhort the people to faithfulness. Within the few lines of today's text lies a real sermon that is divided into two teachings: firstly, we must never forget that God has delivered the people from Egypt; and secondly, if he has delivered them, it is to give them this land as he promised our fathers. We receive everything from God, but when we forget this, we put ourselves in dead-end situations. This is why the text draws continuous parallels between leaving Egypt, life in the desert and entering Canaan. For example, in chapter 3 of the book of Joshua, the crossing of the Jordan is solemnly recounted as a repetition of the Red Sea miracle. In this Sunday's text, the author insists on the Passover: "they celebrated the Passover, on the fourteenth day of the month, in the evening". Just as the celebration of the Passover had marked the exit from Egypt and the Red Sea miracle, the Passover now follows the entry into the promised land and the Jordan miracle. These are intentional parallels by which the author wants to say that, from the beginning to the end of this incredible adventure, it is the same God who acts to free his people, in view of the promised land. The book of Joshua comes immediately after Deuteronomy. "Joshua" is not his name, but the nickname given to him by Moses: at first, he was simply called "Hoshéa", "Hosea" meaning "He saves" and the new name, "Joshua" ("Yeoshoua") contains the name of God to indicate more explicitly that only God saves. Joshua after all understood that he alone cannot deliver his people. The second part of today's text is surprising because on the surface it speaks only of food, but there is much more: "On the day after the Passover, they ate the produce of that land: unleavened and toasted wheat. And from the next day, as they had eaten, the manna ceased. The Israelites had no more manna: that year they ate the fruits of the land of Canaan." This change of food suggests a weaning: a new page is turned, a new life begins and the desert period with its difficulties, recriminations and even miraculous solutions ends. Now Israel, having arrived in the God-given land, will no longer be nomads, but a sedentary people of farmers feeding on the products of the soil; an adult people responsible for its own subsistence. Having the means to provide for themselves, God does not replace them because he has great respect for their freedom. However, this people will not forget the manna and will retain the lesson: just as the Lord provided in the desert, so Israel must become solicitous towards those who for various reasons are in need. It is clearly stated in the Book of Deuteronomy: God has taught us to feed the poor by sending down bread from heaven for the children of Israel, and now it is up to us to do the same (cf. Deut.34:6). Finally, the crossing of the Jordan and the entry into the promised land, the land of freedom, helps us to better understand Jesus' baptism in the Jordan, which will become the sign of the new entry into the true land of freedom. 

 

*Responsorial Psalm (33 (34) 2-3, 4-5, 6-7)

In this psalm, as in others, each verse is constructed in two lines in dialogue and ideally it should be sung in two alternating choruses, line by line. It is composed of 22 verses corresponding to the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet, in poetry called an acrostic: each letter of the alphabet is placed vertically in front of each verse, beginning with the corresponding letter in the margin. This procedure, quite frequent in psalms, indicates that we are dealing with a psalm of thanksgiving for the covenant. We could say that it is a response to the first reading from the book of Joshua, where although it tells a story, there is actually an invitation to give thanks for all that God has accomplished for Israel.  The language of thanksgiving is omnipresent, as is evident in the first verses: 'I will bless the Lord at all times ... on my lips always his praise ... magnify the Lord with me ... let us exalt his name together'. The speaker is Israel, witness to the work of God: a God who responds, frees, listens, saves: "I sought the Lord: he answered me; from all fear he delivered me... this poor man cries out and the Lord listens to him: he saves him from all his anguish."  This attention of God emerges in the passage from chapter 3 of Exodus, which was the first reading of last Sunday, the third of Lent i.e. the episode of the burning bush: "I have seen the misery of my people... their cry has reached me... I know their sufferings." Israel is the poor liberated by God's mercy, as we read in this psalm, and has discovered its twofold mission: firstly, to teach all the humble about faith, understood as a dialogue between God and man who cries out his distress and God hears him, liberates him and comes to his aid; secondly, to be willing to collaborate with God's work. Just as Moses and Joshua were God's instruments to deliver his people and bring them into the promised land, so Israel will be the attentive ear to the poor and the instrument of God's concern for them: 'let the poor hear and rejoice'. Israel must echo down the centuries this cry, which is an interwoven polyphony of suffering, praise and hope to alleviate all forms of poverty. It is necessary, however, to be poor in heart with the realism of recognising ourselves as small and to invoke God for help in the certainty that he accompanies us in every circumstance to help us face life's obstacles. 

 

*Second Reading from the Second Epistle of St Paul to the Corinthians (5:17-21)

This text can be understood in two ways and everything revolves around the central phrase: "not imputing (God) to men their faults" (v.19) which can have two meanings. The first: since the beginning of the world, God has kept count of men's sins, but, in his great mercy, he agreed to wipe them out through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and this is what is known as 'substitution', i.e. Jesus took on in our place a debt too great for us. Secondly, God has never counted the sins of men, and Christ came into the world to show us that God has always been love and forgiveness, as we read in Psalm 102 (103): "God turns away our sins from us". The whole path of biblical revelation moves us from the first hypothesis to the second, and in order to understand it better, we need to answer these three questions: Does God keep count of our sins? Can we speak of 'substitution' in the death of Christ? If God does not reckon with us and if we cannot speak of 'substitution', how should we interpret this text of Paul?

First: Does God keep count of our sins? At the beginning of the covenant history, Israel was certainly convinced of this and it is clear why. Man cannot discover God unless God himself reveals himself to him. To Abraham God does not speak of sin, but of covenant, of promise, of blessing, of descent, and never does the word 'merit' appear. "Abraham had faith in the Lord and it was credited to him as righteousness" (Gen 15:6), so faith is the only thing that counts. God does not keep track of our actions, which does not mean that we can do anything, because we are responsible for building the Kingdom. To Moses, the Lord reveals himself as merciful and forgiving, slow to anger and rich in love (cf. Ex 34:6). David, precisely on the occasion of his sin, understands that God's forgiveness precedes even our repentance and Isaiah observes that God surprises us because His thoughts are not our thoughts: He is only forgiveness for sinners (cf. Is 55:6-8). In the Old Testament, the chosen people already knew that God is tenderness and forgiveness and called him Father long before we did. The parable of Jonah, for example, was written precisely to show that God cares even for the Ninevites, Israel's historical enemies.

Second: Can one speak of 'substitution' in the death of Christ? If God does not keep count of sins and therefore we do not have a debt to pay, there is no need for Jesus to replace us. Moreover, the New Testament texts speak of solidarity, never substitution, and Jesus does not act in our place, nor is he our representative. He is the 'firstborn' as Paul says, who opens the way and walks before us. Mixed in with sinners he asked for Baptism from John and on the cross he accepted to give his life for us. He drew near to us so that we could draw near to Him.

Thirdly: How then is this text of Paul's to be interpreted? First of all, God has never kept count of the sins of men, and Christ came into the world to make us understand this. When he says to Pilate: "I have come into the world to bear witness to the truth" (Jn 18:37), he affirms that his mission is to reveal the face of God who is always love and forgiveness. And when Paul writes: "...not imputing (God) to men their faults" he means to make it clear that God erases our false ideas about Him, those that portray Him as an accountant.  Jesus came to show the face of God Love, but was rejected and therefore accepted to die. He had become too inconvenient for the religious authorities of the time, who thought they knew better than he did who God was, and so he died on the cross because of human pride that had turned into implacable hatred. To Philip in the Upper Room he said: "He who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9) and even in the midst of humiliation and hatred he only uttered words of forgiveness. We understand at this point the sentence with which this passage closes: "He who knew no sin, God made him sin for our sake, that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (v. 21). On the face of Christ crucified, we contemplate to what extent the horror of our sin reaches us, but also to what extent God's forgiveness reaches us, and from this contemplation our conversion can be born: "They shall look upon him whom they have pierced", a text from the prophet Zechariah (12:10), which we find in the Fourth Gospel (Jn 19:37). Hence our vocation as ambassadors of God's love: "We beseech you in the name of Christ: be reconciled to God" (v.20).

 

*From the Gospel according to Luke (15:1-3. 11-32)

The interpretive key to this text is found in the very first words. St Luke writes that "all publicans and sinners came to Jesus to listen to him" while "the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, 'He welcomes sinners and eats with them'. The former are public sinners to be avoided, while the latter are honest people who seek to do what pleases God. In truth, the Pharisees were generally upright, pious people and faithful to the Law of Moses, shocked however by the behaviour of Jesus who does not seem to understand who he is dealing with if he even eats and mingles with sinners. God is the Holy One and for them there was a total incompatibility between God and sinners and therefore Jesus, if he was truly from God, had to avoid associating with them. This parable is intended to help one discover the true face of God who is Father. In fact, the main character in this story is God himself, the father who has two kinds of sons, both with at least one point in common, namely the way they conceive of their relationship with their father in terms of merits and accounts, even though they behave differently: the younger offends him gravely, unlike the elder, and in the end, however, acknowledges his sin: "I am no longer worthy to be called your son"; the elder, on the other hand, boasts of having always obeyed but complains that he has never even received a kid as he deserves. The Father is out of these calculations and does not want to hear about merits because he loves his children and in this relationship there is no room for calculating accounts. To the prodigal son, who had demanded 'my share of the inheritance that is due to me', he had gone far beyond the demand, as he will eventually say to both of them: all that is mine is yours. To the prodigal son who returns he does not even leave time to express any repentance, he does not demand an explanation; on the contrary, he wants to celebrate immediately, because 'this son of mine was dead and has come back to life; he was lost and has been found'. The lesson is clear: with God it is not a matter of calculations, merits, even if we struggle to eradicate this mentality, and the whole Bible, from the Old Testament onwards, shows the slow and patient pedagogy with which God seeks to make himself known as Father, ready to celebrate every time we return to him.

Two small comments to conclude:

1. In the first reading, taken from the book of Joshua, Israel is nourished by manna during the desert crossing, while here there is no manna for the son who refuses to live with his father and finds himself in an existential desert, because he has cut himself off. 

2. Concerning the connection with the parable of the lost sheep, which is also found in this chapter of Luke, it is observed that the shepherd goes to look for the lost sheep and brings it back by putting it on his shoulders, while the father does not prevent the son from leaving and does not force him to return because he respects his freedom to the full.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Reflections on the religious sense.

 

This reflection also stems from a dialogue with a gentleman of about my age.

This well known and respected gentleman in his village met an old acquaintance of his and was rebuked by the latter because he did not attend religious services; according to her, he should have done so for his own good. The gentleman replied that he did not feel this need and that it did not seem to him that his behaviour might offend the generally understood religious sense. 

Discussions like this occur often among human beings, this is nothing new. I report it because it made me reflect on the religious sense in human life. The topic touches on several disciplines and is complex.     

Studies by Fiorenzo Facchini say that various behaviours of prehistoric man are read in a religious sense. Our ancestors gave burials to their dead and painted representations on the walls.      

These caves had something sacred about them. Religious manifestations of antiquity were songs and dances.

In all religions we find a need for reassurance about our lives and also the need to find magical answers to our problems.

Bettelheim argues that on an individual level and especially in childhood, religion can provide that basis of stability and security with which the child can evolve towards autonomy.

The society in which we live forces us to run, to be in step with the times; it wants to give us its values.

Today there is the fashion of the ephemeral, of competitiveness - and so it is psychologically reassuring to believe in a 'mother-environment' that loves us, or to be within a design that gives meaning to our lives.

Unlike Freud who did not have a positive view, or the philosopher Charles Marx who claimed that religion is the opium of the people, Jung in the eleventh volume "Psychology and Religion" says verbatim:

"Since' religion is indisputably one of the first and universal expressions of the human soul [...] it is not only a sociological or historical phenomenon, but an important personal matter" (vol.XI, p.15).

In my long professional practice I have often encountered people who have had to come to terms with this issue.

The therapist's task is not to condition the other, but to clarify the underlying dynamics.

I have met people who described themselves as non-believers but who on an unconscious level had to come to terms with their dreams. Or individuals who belonged to different religions that were so rigid that they inhibited their vital sense.

In all these cases, knowledge of the human soul grew, whether they claimed to be religious or not. We are not discussing each person's philosophical position.

There were differences between the person who called himself religious and one who was not.

I would like to point out that these differences do not constitute value judgements, but only behavioural characteristics.

The religious person believes that there is a reality that is sacred and beyond this world - and that his existence is enhanced according to his belief.

He who called himself a non-believer rejected transcendence, was one who is self-made and believes that he alone constructs his own destiny.

A constant concern was to deny any reference or wisecrack that was made to religious topics.

I have even met someone who was more concerned about what my beliefs were than his personal problems. I always replied that my sphere of action was the psyche in all its manifestations. Beyond any manifestation sacred or not, respect for the person is already a sacred attitude.

"To 'desacralise' oneself completely is not easy either, as it is difficult to deny history altogether - both for those who believe in creation and those who believe in evolution.

Who knows whether evolution includes a creation?

 

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi Psychologist-psychotherapist 

Page 35 of 38
It may have been a moment of disillusionment, of that extreme disillusionment and the perception of his own failure. But at that instant of sadness, in that dark instant Francis prays. How does he pray? “Praised be You, my Lord…”. He prays by giving praise [Pope Francis]
Potrebbe essere il momento della delusione, di quella delusione estrema e della percezione del proprio fallimento. Ma Francesco in quell’istante di tristezza, in quell’istante buio prega. Come prega? “Laudato si’, mi Signore…”. Prega lodando [Papa Francesco]
The Lord has our good at heart, that is, that every person should have life, and that especially the "least" of his children may have access to the banquet he has prepared for all (Pope Benedict)
Al Signore sta a cuore il nostro bene, cioè che ogni uomo abbia la vita, e che specialmente i suoi figli più "piccoli" possano accedere al banchetto che lui ha preparato per tutti (Papa Benedetto)
As the cross can be reduced to being an ornament, “to carry the cross” can become just a manner of speaking (John Paul II)
Come la croce può ridursi ad oggetto ornamentale, così "portare la croce" può diventare un modo di dire (Giovanni Paolo II)
Without love, even the most important activities lose their value and give no joy. Without a profound meaning, all our activities are reduced to sterile and unorganised activism (Pope Benedict)
Senza amore, anche le attività più importanti perdono di valore, e non danno gioia. Senza un significato profondo, tutto il nostro fare si riduce ad attivismo sterile e disordinato (Papa Benedetto)
Are we not perhaps all afraid in some way? If we let Christ enter fully into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to him, are we not afraid that He might take something away from us? Are we not perhaps afraid to give up something significant, something unique, something that makes life so beautiful? Do we not then risk ending up diminished and deprived of our freedom? (Pope Benedict)
Non abbiamo forse tutti in qualche modo paura - se lasciamo entrare Cristo totalmente dentro di noi, se ci apriamo totalmente a lui – paura che Egli possa portar via qualcosa della nostra vita? Non abbiamo forse paura di rinunciare a qualcosa di grande, di unico, che rende la vita così bella? Non rischiamo di trovarci poi nell’angustia e privati della libertà? (Papa Benedetto)
For Christians, volunteer work is not merely an expression of good will. It is based on a personal experience of Christ (Pope Benedict)
Per i cristiani, il volontariato non è soltanto espressione di buona volontà. È basato sull’esperienza personale di Cristo (Papa Benedetto)
"May the peace of your kingdom come to us", Dante exclaimed in his paraphrase of the Our Father (Purgatorio, XI, 7). A petition which turns our gaze to Christ's return and nourishes the desire for the final coming of God's kingdom. This desire however does not distract the Church from her mission in this world, but commits her to it more strongly [John Paul II]
‘Vegna vêr noi la pace del tuo regno’, esclama Dante nella sua parafrasi del Padre Nostro (Purgatorio XI,7). Un’invocazione che orienta lo sguardo al ritorno di Cristo e alimenta il desiderio della venuta finale del Regno di Dio. Questo desiderio però non distoglie la Chiesa dalla sua missione in questo mondo, anzi la impegna maggiormente [Giovanni Paolo II]
Let our prayer spread out and continue in the churches, communities, families, the hearts of the faithful, as though in an invisible monastery from which an unbroken invocation rises to the Lord (John Paul II)

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