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

God bless us and may the Virgin protect us!

3rd Sunday in Lent (year C)  [23 March 2025]

*First Reading from the book of Exodus (3:1-8a.10.13-15)

This text has a fundamental importance for the faith of Israel and also for us because for the first time mankind discovers that it is loved by God, a God who sees, hears and knows our sufferings. Never could man have come so far if God Himself had not decided to reveal Himself, and it is precisely from His autonomous revelation that Israel's faith, and consequently ours, was born. We must grasp the strength of this biblical text, which unfortunately the liturgical translation renders weakly. When we read: "I have seen the misery of my people", the Hebrew text is much more insistent, so it would be more correct to translate it this way, hearing the voice God: "indeed I have seen, yes, I have seen" the misery of my people in Egypt. A real misery as seen in the story of the Hebrew people who emigrated centuries earlier due to a famine, and while things were going well at first, then as their numbers grew, just as Moses was born the Egyptians began to worry. They kept the Hebrews as cheap labour, but wanted to prevent their population growth by having every male infant killed by the midwives. Moses was saved because he was adopted by Pharaoh's daughter and grew up in his court, but could not forget his origins, constantly torn between his adoptive family and his blood brothers, who were reduced to helplessness and revolt. Until one day he killed an Egyptian who was using violence towards a Jew, but the next day, intervening between two quarrelling Jews, they told him not to interfere, which meant that they did not recognise his responsibility for leading a rebellion against the Pharaoh while Pharaoh had decided to punish him for the murder of the Egyptian. Moses was forced, in order to avoid revenge, to flee to the Sinai desert, where he took as his wife a Midianite, Sipporah, daughter of Jethro, and today's text starts from here. While shepherding his father-in-law's flock, one day he arrived across the desert at the mountain of God, Horeb, where he met God who entrusted him with a great mission. Beware! Moses felt the misery of his brothers and had risked his life for them by killing an Egyptian, but he had to recognise his powerlessness, so he fled, marginalised by his blood brothers who recognised no authority in him. He is therefore a humanly bankrupt man who approaches a strange burning bush and from here his story changes completely. I close with two reflections. The first: Moses encounters the transcendent God and at the same time the near God. Transcendent because one can only approach him with fear and respect, but also the near God, who sees the misery of his people and raises up a deliverer. We grasp God's holiness and man's deep respect for his presence in these expressions: 'the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire from the midst of a bush'. To indicate God's presence, the periphrasis: "the Angel of the Lord" is used, which is a respectful way of speaking of God, as are the words: "Come no closer! Take off your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground"; and finally "Moses then covered his face, because he was afraid to look towards God". God, however, is revealed as the God who is close to man, the one who stoops to his suffering. The second reflection concerns the way God intervenes: he sees man's suffering, acts and sends Moses. God calls a co-worker, but for the deliverance to take place, the one who is called must accept to respond, and the one who suffers must accept to be saved.

*Responsorial Psalm (102 (103), 1-2, 3-4, 6-7, 8.11)

In the first reading, the account of the burning bush from the book of Exodus chapter 3, God reveals his Name: 'I am' ... that is, 'with you' in the depths of your suffering. Almost echoing this, the responsorial psalm proclaims: 'Merciful and gracious is the Lord, slow to anger and great in love'. The two formulations of the Mystery of God: 'I am' and 'Merciful and gracious' complement each other. In the episode of the burning bush, the expression 'I am' or 'I am who I am' should not be taken as the definition of a philosophical concept. The repetition of the verb 'I am' is an idiomatic form of the Hebrew language that serves to express intensity, and God begins by recalling the long history of the Covenant with the Fathers: 'I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob' to express his faithfulness to his people through the ages. Then he wanted to manifest his compassion for humiliated Israel, enslaved in Egypt, and only then does he reveal his Name 'I am'. Moses' first discovery at Sinai was precisely the intense presence of God in the heart of human despair: 'I have seen,' said God, 'yes, I have seen the misery of my people in Egypt, and I have heard their cries under the beatings of the overseers. Yes, I know his sufferings. I have come down to deliver them..." Moses retained such a profound memory that he drew from it the incredible energy that transformed him from a lonely man, exiled and rejected by all, into the tireless leader and liberator of his people. However, when Israel remembers this unprecedented adventure, it knows very well that its first liberator is God, while Moses is only its instrument. Moses' 'Here I am' (like that of Abraham, and of so many others later) is the answer that allows God to bring about the liberation of humanity. And, henceforth, when one says "The Lord" - translation of the four letters (YHVH) of God's name - one evokes God's liberating presence. To better understand the mystery of God's presence, we need to go back to the account of the burning bush: the bush burned with fire, but was not consumed (cf. Ex 3:2). God reveals himself in two ways: through this vision as through the word that proclaims his Name. Confronted with the flame that burns a bush without consuming it, Moses is invited to understand that God, comparable to a fire, is in the midst of his people (the bush) as a presence that does not consume or destroy the people; Moses veiled his face and understood that one should not be afraid. Thus came the vocation of Israel, the place chosen by the Lord to manifest his presence and, from then on, the chosen people will testify that God is among men and there is nothing to fear.  The responsorial psalm proclaims this: "Merciful and gracious is the Lord", that is, tenderness and mercy, echoing another revelation of God to Moses (Ex 34:6), and the two merge into a single truth. The psalm continues: 'The Lord does just things, he defends the rights of all the oppressed. He made known to Moses his ways, his works to the children of Israel". God is the same from everlasting to everlasting: he is in our midst, a flame, a fire of tenderness and mercy, and Israel is called to bear witness to this in the world that needs such a message because it suffers if such a fire does not burn there. Hence the preaching of the prophets who always highlight two aspects of Israel's vocation: to proclaim one's faith by revealing the truth of which one is the bearer, and to act in the image of one's Lord, that is, working in justice in defence of the oppressed. All the prophets struggled against idolatry because a people who have experienced the presence of the God who sees their suffering cannot put their trust in idols of wood or stone and at the same time must defend the rights of the oppressed, as Isaiah says: "The fasting that pleases me...is to share your bread with the hungry, to take in the homeless poor, to clothe the naked, not to turn your back on your fellow man" (Is 58:6-7). 

*Second reading from the First Letter of St Paul to the Corinthians (10:1-6.10-12)

In order to warn the community of Corinth, as it is important what he is about to say, Paul starts like this: "I do not want you to be ignorant, brothers", he then recalls what happened during the exit from Egypt and ends with "therefore, whoever thinks he is standing, watch that he does not fall", i.e. do not overestimate yourselves as no one is safe from temptation. In the first chapters of the letter, the Apostle warned the Christians of Corinth of the many risks of corruption and immorality, inviting them to be humble. He proposed to them a rereading of the entire history of the people of Israel during the Exodus: a history where God's gifts were not lacking, but man's fickleness always emerges. God promised Moses to be the faithful God, present to his people on the difficult journey towards freedom, through the Sinai desert, but in return on many occasions the people betrayed their Covenant. The Apostle retraces the stages narrated in the book of Exodus, from the departure from Egypt before the crossing of the Red Sea, when the Lord himself had taken over the leadership of operations by marching at their head by day in a pillar of cloud, to show them the way, and by night with a pillar of fire (cf. Ex 13:21-22). From the first encampment, however, the people seeing the Egyptians behind them were afraid and rebelled against Moses: "Perhaps because there were no graves in Egypt, you led us to die in the desert? What have you done to us, bringing us out of Egypt? ... Leave us alone, we want to serve the Egyptians. It is better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!" (cf. Ex 14:10-11). And this will be repeated with every difficulty because the path to freedom is full of obstacles and the temptation to fall back into the old slavery is constant. Paul conveys this message to the Corinthians: Christ has set you free, but you are often tempted to fall back into the old errors and you do not realise that these behaviours make you slaves. The path of Christ seems difficult to you, but trust him: he alone is the true deliverer. Even at the crossing of the Red Sea, in a situation that was humanly desperate, God intervened (cf. Ex 14:19) and the people were able to cross it because the waters opened up to let them pass: "The Lord all night long drove the sea with a strong east wind, making it dry; the waters parted" (Ex 14:21). The trials will continue and, on many occasions, the Israelites will return to regret the security of slavery in Egypt. They will complain and rebel instead of trusting in the knowledge that God will always intervene. The episode that best highlights this crisis is when in the desert the people began to really suffer thirst and began to protest, accusing Moses and, through him, God himself: "Why did you bring us up from Egypt? To make us and our children and our cattle die of thirst?" (Ex 17:3). It was then that Moses struck the Rock and water gushed out of it and gave that place the name Massa e Meriba, which means "Trial and Dispute", because the children of Israel had disputed the Lord (Ex 17:7). The problems of the Corinthians, of course, are not the same, but there are other "Egypts" and other forms of slavery: for these new Christians there are choices to be made in the name of their baptism, there are behaviours that can no longer be maintained. And these choices sometimes become painful. Let us think of the demands of the catechumenate that entailed real renunciations of certain behaviours, certain relationships and sometimes even a trade; renunciations that can only be accepted when one places all one's trust in Jesus Christ. In the mixed and particularly permissive society of Corinth, maintaining Christian behaviour required courage, but Paul emphasises, what seems folly to men is true wisdom in the eyes of God. It is no coincidence that, during Lent, the Church invites us to meditate on this text of Paul's, which reminds us how demanding we must be with ourselves in order not to fall into old slavery, and instead how much renewed trust must be placed in God at all times.

*From the Gospel according to St Luke (13:1-9)

 In this Sunday's gospel, we find the account of two facts of crime, Jesus' commentary with the parable of the fig tree, and their juxtaposition is surprising, though certainly the evangelist intentionally proposes it to us. Therefore, it is precisely the parable that can help us understand the meaning of what Jesus means about the two news events.

The first concerns a massacre of Galilean pilgrims who had come to Jerusalem to offer a sacrifice in the Temple. These events were not unusual at the time since Pilate's cruelty was known and pilgrims were often accused of being opponents of Roman power.  In truth, the majority of the Jewish people hardly tolerated the occupation of the Romans and it was precisely from Galilee, at the time of Jesus' birth, that the revolt of Judas the Galilean had started. The second news event, the collapse of the tower of Siloe with 18 victims, was a tragedy like many others. From Jesus' words we can guess the question that the disciples had on their lips and that we often hear repeated even today: 'What did they do wrong to deserve this divine punishment? This is the great question about suffering, which to this day is an unsolved problem. In the Bible, the book of Job poses the problem in the most dramatic way and the three friends - Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar - try to explain his suffering through the principle of retributive justice, according to which suffering is a punishment for sin and therefore Job must have committed some hidden fault that justifies his afflictions.  However, Job declares himself innocent and rejects these explanations. At the end of the book, God intervenes and rebukes Job's friends for speaking incorrectly about him, instead representing Job's sincerity in his search for answers. The theme of suffering is a complex one, and God, who recognises all human attempts to interpret pain as ineffective because the control of events eludes human intelligence, invites man to maintain his trust in God in every difficulty, even the most dramatic. Faced with the horror of the massacre of the Galileans and the collapse of the tower of Siloe, Jesus is categorical: there is no direct link between suffering and sin so those Galileans were no more sinners than the others, nor were the eighteen people crushed by the tower of Siloe more guilty than the other inhabitants of Jerusalem. But then, starting from these two events, he invites the disciples to true conversion, indeed he insists on the urgency of conversion, echoing the appeals of the prophets such as Amos, Isaiah and many others. This is followed by the parable of the fig tree, which softens the apparent harshness of his words because it shows that God's thoughts are very different from those of men and shows us the face of a patient and merciful God. For us, a barren fig tree that uselessly exploits the soil must be cut down, that is, someone who does evil must be punished at once and even eliminated, but not so thinks our God who, on the contrary, affirms: "As I live - oracle of the Lord God - I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but in his conversion, that he may live" (Ez 33:11).  Jesus does not primarily ask us to change our behaviour, but to urgently change the image of a God who punishes. On the contrary, precisely in the face of evil, the Lord is "merciful and pitiful", as this Sunday's Psalm says: merciful, that is, bent over our miseries, and the conversion that awaits us is to entrust ourselves to his infinite and patient mercy. In short, taking up the conclusions of the book of Job, Jesus invites us not to try to explain suffering with sin and other theories as it is a mystery, but to keep our trust in God in spite of everything. And when he says: "unless you are converted, you will all perish in the same way" he means that humanity is heading for ruin when it loses trust in God. Like Israel in the wilderness, whose adventure Paul recalls in the second reading, we too are challenged to always choose whether to trust or to be suspicious of God. However, we must know that his plan is always in our favour and if it changes our heart (that is conversion), it will also change the face of the world.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

God bless us and may the Virgin protect us! Here is the commentary on next Sunday's texts with the assurance of prayer for the Pope and for the great spiritual and social needs of our society.

2nd Sunday in Lent year C (16 March 2025)

*First Reading from the book of Genesis (15.5-12.17-18)

 In the time of Abraham, the covenant between two heads of tribes took place with a ceremonial similar to the one described here: adult animals in the fullness of their strength were sacrificed and torn in two as if to say: may the same happen to me as to these if I am not faithful to the covenant we are making. In addition, both parties would walk barefoot through the carcasses thus wanting to share blood, that is, life, and become like blood relatives. The animals had to be three years old because mothers suckled their children until they were three years old and the number 3 had become a symbol of maturity so that the three-year-old animal was considered an adult. Abraham performs these customary rites for a covenant with God that on the surface seems to respect traditional rites yet everything is different because for the first time in human history, one of the contracting parties is God himself. Similar to similar rituals is that Abraham rips the animals in two and places each half in front of the other without, however, dividing the birds because the birds of prey descended on the carcasses and chased them away considering them birds of ill omen (Abraham, despite having discovered the true God, still retained a certain superstition). What is different, however, is that at sunset Abraham falls into a mysterious sleep accompanied by a dark and profound anguish and at that moment he sees a smoking brazier and a blazing torch passing among the pieces of animals. The text speaks of a mysterious sleep, but uses a word that is not in common use but was already used to indicate Adam's sleep while God created woman. It is therefore a way of saying two things: firstly, man cannot witness God's work and when man wakes up (whether Adam or Abraham), a new day, a new creation, begins; it also shows that man and God are not on the same level because in the work of creation and the covenant God takes all the initiative while for man it is enough to trust: Abraham had faith in the Lord and the Lord considered him righteous. God's presence is symbolised by fire, as is often the case in the Bible: "a smoking brazier and a blazing torch", like the burning bush, the smoke of Sinai, the pillar of fire that accompanied the people during the Exodus in the desert, up to the tongues of fire of Pentecost. These are the terms of the covenant: God promises Abraham a descendant and a land, descendant and land terms placed in inclusion in the narrative: at the beginning, God had said: look at the sky and count the stars, if you can... so shall your descendants be, "I am the Lord, who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldees to give you possession of this land" and at the end: "To your descendants I give this land".  Surprising is this promise to a childless old man, and it is not the first time that God has made it to him even though until now Abraham has not even seen the shadow of its fulfilment while continuing to walk sustained only by the promise of a God unknown to him. Let us recall the precedents of his vocation: "Get thee out of thy country, and out of thy father's house, unto the land that I will show thee. I will make you a great nation (Gen 12:1) and the Bible has always emphasised the indomitable faith of Abraham who "departed as the Lord had told him" (Gen 12:4). Here, the text states: "Abraham had faith in the Lord, and the Lord counted him righteous". This is the first appearance of the word faith in the Bible: it is the irruption of faith into human history. The verb to believe in Hebrew comes from a root meaning to stand firm: Amen comes from the same root. To believe means to stand firm, to trust to the end, even in doubt, discouragement and anguish. This is Abraham's attitude; and that is why God considers him righteous, and in the Bible, the righteous is he whose will is according to God's will. Later, St Paul will use this phrase to affirm that salvation is not a matter of merit: "If you believe... you will be saved" (Rom 10:9). On reflection, God gives and asks only one thing of us... to believe, that is, to trust him. 

Notes for further study.

v.7: "I am the Lord who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldees"; it is the same verb used for the exit from Egypt with Moses, six hundred years later: God's work is presented from the beginning as a work of deliverance.

- v.12: "mysterious sleep" = tardemah = same word used for Adam, Abraham and Saul (1 Sam 26).

*Responsorial Psalm (26 (27),1.7-8.9a-d.13-14)

 This psalm presents such contrasting states of mind that one could almost doubt that it is the same person speaking from beginning to end, but, on closer inspection, it always expresses the same faith that manifests itself in both exultation and supplication according to the states of mind of the praying person who feels empowered to say everything to the Lord. And so prayer embraces man's entire existence: serenity that stems from certainty - "The Lord is my light and my salvation: of whom shall I be afraid? The Lord is the defence of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?", combined with an ardent plea - "Hear, Lord, my voice. I cry out: have mercy on me, answer me!' Israel has always kept its faith firm in the midst of its vicissitudes and indeed in difficulties has made its faith more true. Finally, between the first and the last verse, there is the passage from the present to the future: in the first verse, "The Lord is my light and my salvation" which is the language of faith, that is, of unshakeable trust, while in the last verse, "I am certain to contemplate the goodness of the Lord ... and hope in the Lord, be strong" expresses hope conjugated together with faith in the future. There are ways to comment on this psalm often in the three-year liturgical cycle, so today we will stop at just these two verses: "Your face, Lord, I seek" and "I am certain to contemplate the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living".  First of all, "Your face, Lord, I seek": seeing the face of God is the desire, the thirst of every believer because we are created in the image of God and we are drawn to him, our Creator. The desire to seek his face becomes more intense during Lent. As the Lord told Moses, we cannot see him and remain alive (cf. Ex 33:18-23. In this text, the greatness and inaccessibility of God is present together with all the tender closeness of God, who is so immense that we cannot see him with our eyes. The radiance of his ineffable, inaccessible Presence - what the texts call his glory - is in fact too blinding for us. Can our eyes gaze upon the sun? How then can they look at God? This greatness, however, does not crush man, on the contrary, it protects him, it is his security and the profound respect that invades the believer before God does not arouse fear, but a mixture of total trust and infinite respect that the Bible calls 'fear of God'. This helps us understand the first verse: "The Lord is my light and my salvation, of whom shall I be afraid?" That is: he who believes is no longer afraid of anything, not even death, and no other god can ever arouse in him that religious feeling of fear, as the next verse reiterates: "The Lord is the defence of my life: of whom shall I be afraid? Confidence that we find again in the last verse: "I am certain to contemplate the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living". But what is the land of the living? Certainly the land given to his people and the possession of which has become for Israel a symbol of God's gifts, but there is also the reminder of the demands of the Covenant: the holy land was given to the chosen people to live in holily. And this is one of the main themes of the book of Deuteronomy (cf. Deut 5:32-33), where the living in the biblical sense are the believers.

*Second Reading from the Letter of St Paul to the Philippians (3:17-4:1)

The fundamental question of Christianity and central to human history, as it emerges in the Gospel, in the Acts of the Apostles, in Paul's letters, and which continues to be relevant today, is this: the incarnation, passion, death and resurrection of Christ, which the apostle calls here "the cross of Christ".  If Christ truly died and rose again, the face of the world was changed because he made peace with the blood of his cross. For Paul, the cross of Christ is truly the crucial event for the Christian that changes the way of thinking, reasoning and living. Those who think that the rite of circumcision remains indispensable even now act as if the event of the 'cross of Christ' has not taken place and St Paul calls them the 'enemies of the cross of Christ'. The Philippians may have been hesitant, but St Paul warns them sternly, inviting them to beware of dogs, bad workers and false circumcision (3:2), adding that the (true) circumcised are we, who worship through the Spirit of God by putting our glory in Jesus Christ without trusting in ourselves. He even uses a paradox: the truly circumcised are those who are not circumcised in their flesh, but baptised into Jesus Christ because their whole existence and salvation is in Jesus Christ and they know that they are saved by the cross of Christ and not by ritual practices. False circumcisions, on the other hand, are those who have received circumcision in their flesh, according to the law of Moses, and attach greater importance to this rite than baptism. And when Paul states that "the belly is their god" he is referring precisely to circumcision. Moreover, Paul sees another pitfall in the believer's attitude: is salvation earned by one's own practices or do we receive it freely from God? When he says that the belly is their god, he wants to imply that these people are betting on Jewish ritual practices and they are wrong: "they boast of what they ought to be ashamed of and think only of the things of the earth" for which "their final fate will be perdition".  And he goes on to point out which is the right choice: he reminds the Philippians that our citizenship is in heaven while we await Jesus Christ as saviour, who will transform our poor bodies into the image of his glorious body, with the active power that makes him even able to subject all things to his dominion. If we await him as saviour, it means that we recognise that all our trust is placed in him and not in ourselves and our own merits. We are thus the true circumcision and worship by the Spirit of God, because our glory is placed in Jesus Christ and we do not trust in ourselves. At this point Paul sets himself up as a model since if there was one with merits to be reckoned with under Jewish law, it was he. For he writes that if anyone else believes that he can trust in himself, I can trust even more, I, circumcised on the eighth day, of the seed of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Jew, the son of Jews; by the law, a Pharisee; by zeal, a persecutor of the Church; by the righteousness found in the law, become blameless. Now all these things, which were gains for me, I counted as loss because of Christ (cf. Phil 3:4-7). In summary, to take Paul's example means to make Jesus Christ - and not our practices - the centre of our lives and this means to be 'citizens of heaven'.

*From the Gospel according to Saint Luke (9:28-36)

In chapter nine Luke relates that Jesus, while he was praying in a lonely place, asked the disciples this question: "Who do the crowds say that I am?", then to them: "But who do you say that I am?" and Peter answered: "The Christ (i.e. the Messiah) of God". Jesus then announced the necessity of the sacrifice of the Son of Man rejected by the elders, the high priests and the scribes, put to death but resurrected on the third day. Today's episode seems to take up the same discourse eight days later. Jesus leads Peter, James and John up the mountain because he wants to pray with them again and it is in this context that God chooses to reveal the mystery of the Messiah to these three privileged ones. Here it is no longer men, the crowd or the disciples, who express their opinion, but it is God himself who invites us to contemplate the mystery of Christ: "This is my Son, the chosen one; listen to him!" The mountain of the Transfiguration brings to mind Sinai, and Luke chooses a vocabulary that evokes the context of God's revelation on Sinai: the mountain, the cloud, the glory, the resounding voice, the tents. The presence of Moses and Elijah is understandable since Moses spent forty days on Sinai in the presence of God and came down with a face so radiant that it amazed everyone. Elijah, on the other hand, walked for forty days and forty nights to the mountain where God revealed Himself in a totally unexpected way: not in the power of wind, fire, or earthquake, but in the gentle whisper of a gentle breeze. The two Old Testament characters who had the privilege of seeing the glory of God are also present here where the glory of Christ is manifested. Only Luke specifies the content of their conversation with Jesus, that is, they were talking about his exodus that was about to take place in Jerusalem. Luke uses the word exodus because one cannot separate the glory of Christ from the cross and resurrection, which he calls the Passover of Christ. Just as the Passover of Moses inaugurated the Exodus of Israel from slavery in Egypt to the land of freedom, the Passover of Christ opens the path of liberation for all mankind. From the cloud a voice says: "This is my Son, the chosen one; listen to him!". These three words: My Son, the Chosen One, Listen to him, expressed at the time of Christ the diversity of portraits with which the Messiah was imagined. The title of Son of God was conferred on kings on the day of their consecration; the Elect is one of the names of the servant of God mentioned by Isaiah in the Servant Songs: "Behold my servant whom I uphold, my Elect"; Hear him, seems to allude to the promise God made to Moses to raise up a prophet after him: "I will raise up to them a prophet like you from among their brethren; I will put my words in his mouth" (Deut 18:18), and some inferred from this that the expected Messiah would be a prophet. "Listen to him," is not the order of a demanding or domineering teacher, but a plea: Listen to him, that is, trust him. Peter, contemplating the transfigured face of Jesus, proposes to settle on the mountain all together, but Luke specifies that he did not know what he was saying because it is not the case to isolate oneself from the world and its problems since time is short. God's plan is not for a chosen few: Peter, James and John must rather hurry to join the others and work because on the last day, it will be the whole of humanity that will be transfigured. Paul says it in his letter to the Philippians: "we are citizens of heaven".

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Here is a short version for those who wish it 

God bless us and may the Virgin protect us!

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (15:5-12, 17-18)

 In the time of Abraham, the covenant between two heads of tribes took place with a ceremonial similar to the one described here: adult animals in the fullness of their strength were sacrificed, torn in two as if to say: may the same happen to me as to these if I am not faithful to the covenant we are making. Furthermore, both contracting parties would walk barefoot through the carcasses thus wanting to share blood, i.e. life, and become like blood relatives. The animals had to be three years old because mothers suckled their children until they were three years old and the number 3 had become a symbol of maturity so that the three-year-old animal was considered an adult. Abraham performs these customary rites for a covenant with God. On the surface, he seems to respect the traditional rites, yet everything is different because for the first time in human history, one of the contracting parties is God himself. Let us first take a closer look at what is similar: Abraham rips the animals in two and places each half in front of the other without, however, dividing the birds because the birds of prey descended on the carcasses and Abraham chased them away considering them birds of ill omen. But there is something unusual: at sunset, Abraham falls into a mysterious sleep accompanied by a dark and deep anguish. The text speaks of a mysterious sleep, a word already used to refer to Adam's sleep while God created the woman, and it is used to say two things: first, man cannot witness God's work and when man awakens (whether Adam or Abraham), a new day, a new creation, begins. Moreover, man and God are not on the same level because in the work of creation and the covenant God takes all the initiative while man only has to trust: Abraham had faith and the Lord considered him righteous. God's presence is symbolised by fire, as is often the case in the Bible: "a smoking brazier and a blazing torch", like the burning bush, the smoke of Sinai, the pillar of fire that accompanied the people during the Exodus in the desert, up to the tongues of fire of Pentecost. These are the terms of the covenant: God promises Abraham a descendant and a land, a promise already made to a childless old man even though until now Abraham has not even seen the shadow of its fulfilment, but continues to trust a God unknown to him. For the first time, the word faith appears in the Bible: it is the irruption of faith into human history. The verb to believe in Hebrew comes from a root meaning to stand firmly: Amen comes from the same root. To believe means to stand firm, to trust to the end, even in doubt, discouragement and anguish. This is Abraham's attitude; and that is why God considers him righteous. The text states: 'Abraham had faith in the Lord, and the Lord considered him righteous'. Later, St Paul will use this phrase to affirm that salvation is not a matter of merit: 'If you believe... you will be saved' (Rom 10:9). On reflection, God gives everything and asks only one thing of us: to trust him. 

*Responsorial Psalm (26 (27),1.7-8.9a-d.13-14)

 This psalm presents such contrasting states of mind that one could almost doubt that it is the same person speaking from beginning to end, but, on reflection, it always expresses the same faith that manifests itself in both exultation and supplication according to the states of mind in which we find ourselves because prayer embraces the whole of human existence. Serenity is born of certainty - "The Lord is my light and my salvation ... he is the defence of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?", together with ardent supplication - "Hear, Lord, my voice. I cry out: have mercy on me, answer me!". In times of joy as well as in times of trial, Israel has always kept its confidence firm and indeed in difficulties has made its faith more true. This psalm returns often in the three-year liturgical cycle, so today we pause only on these two verses: "Your face, Lord, I seek" and "I am certain to contemplate the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living".  To see the face of God is the desire of every believer because we are created in God's image and are drawn to him, but the radiance of his ineffable Presence, which the Bible calls his glory, is too blinding for us. Can our eyes gaze into the sun? How then can they look at God? This greatness, however, does not crush man, on the contrary, it protects him, it is his security and the profound respect that invades the believer before God does not arouse fear, but a mixture of total trust and infinite respect that the Bible calls 'fear of God'. This helps us understand the first verse: "The Lord is my light and my salvation, of whom shall I be afraid?" That is: the believer is no longer afraid of anything or anyone, not even death, and no other god can ever again arouse in him that religious feeling of fear, as the next verse reiterates: "The Lord is the defence of my life: of whom shall I be afraid? We find trust again in the last verse: 'I am sure to contemplate the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living'. And the living in the biblical sense are the believers.

*Second Reading from the Letter of St Paul to the Philippians (3:17-4:1)

The fundamental question of Christianity and central to the history of humanity, as it emerges in the Gospel, in the Acts of the Apostles, in Paul's letters, and which continues to be relevant today, is this: the incarnation, passion, death and resurrection of Christ, which the Apostle calls here "the cross of Christ".  If Christ truly died and rose again, the face of the world was changed because he made peace with the blood of his cross. For Paul, the cross of Christ is truly the crucial event for the Christian that changes the way of thinking, reasoning and living. Those who thought that the rite of circumcision was also indispensable were acting as if the event of the 'cross of Christ' had not taken place, and St Paul calls them the 'enemies of the cross of Christ'. The Philippians may have been hesitant and St Paul urges them to beware of the false circumcisers (3:2), adding that the truly circumcised are we who place all our trust in Jesus Christ. And he goes so far as to use a paradox: the truly circumcised are those who are not circumcised in their flesh, but baptised into Jesus Christ because their whole existence is in Christ and they know that they are saved by the cross of Christ and not by ritual practices. When Paul states that "the belly is their god" he is referring precisely to circumcision and wants to make it clear that these people are betting on their ritual practices. The right choice is to remember that we are citizens of heaven and await the Lord Jesus Christ as saviour, who will transform our poor bodies into the image of his glorious body. If we await Christ as saviour, it means that we recognise that all our trust is in him and not in ourselves and our own merits. We are thus the circumcised (the true) and worship by the Spirit of God, because our glory is placed in Jesus Christ and we do not trust in ourselves. At this point Paul sets himself up as a model, since if there was one with merit to be reckoned with under Jewish law, it was he. By setting himself as an example he encourages us to make Christ, and not ritual practices, the centre of our lives and if we are in Christ we are already 'citizens of heaven', even though we still dwell on earth. 

*From the Gospel according to Saint Luke (9:28-36)

In chapter nine Luke relates that Jesus, while he was praying in a lonely place, asked the disciples: "Who do the crowds say that I am?", then to them: "But who do you say that I am?" and Peter answered: "The Christ (i.e. the Messiah) of God". And Jesus said: It is necessary that the Son of Man should suffer much, be rejected, put to death, and, on the third day, rise again. Today's episode seems to take up the same discourse eight days later with Jesus leading Peter, James and John up the mountain because he wants to pray with them again, and in this context God chooses to reveal to these three privileged ones the mystery of the Messiah. Here it is no longer men, the crowd or the disciples, who express their opinion, but it is God himself who provides the answer and invites us to contemplate the mystery of Christ: "This is my Son, the chosen one; listen to him!" The mountain of the Transfiguration brings to mind Sinai, and Luke chooses a vocabulary that evokes the context of God's revelation on Sinai: the mountain, the cloud, the glory, the resounding voice, the tents. Understandable is the presence of Moses and Elijah, the two Old Testament characters who had the privilege of the revelation of God's glory and are now witnesses of Christ's glory. Only Luke specifies the content of their conversation with Jesus, that is, they were talking about his exodus that was about to take place in Jerusalem. Luke uses the word exodus because one cannot separate the glory of Christ from the Cross, and he uses it referring to the Passover of Christ. Just as the Passover of Moses inaugurated the Exodus of Israel from slavery in Egypt to the land of freedom, the Passover of Christ opens the path of liberation for all mankind. Everything hinges on three words that expressed the different conceptions of the Messiah at the time of Christ: "This is my Son, the chosen one; listen to him!" The title Son of God was bestowed on kings on the day of their consecration; the Elect is one of the names of the servant of God mentioned by Isaiah in the Servant Songs: "This is my servant whom I uphold, my Elect"; Hear him seems to allude to the promise God made to Moses to raise up a prophet after him (Deut 18:18), and some inferred that the expected Messiah would be a prophet. Listen to him! This is not the order of a demanding or domineering teacher, but a plea: Listen to him, that is, trust him. Peter, amazed by the transfigured face of Jesus, proposes to settle on the mountain all together, but Luke specifies that Peter did not know what he was saying because it is not the case to isolate oneself from the world and its problems since time is short. Rather, Peter, James and John must hurry to join the others because God's plan is not limited to a chosen few: on the last day, it will be the whole of humanity that will be transfigured. St Paul in his letter to the Philippians said that "we are citizens of heaven", because through baptism we are already in eternal life even though we are still pilgrimage on earth.

+Giovanni D’Ercole