Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ [22 June 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! At a time when it seems that the Eucharist is not always at the centre of Christian life, this day invites us to reflect and to place at the heart of our priestly life the daily worthy celebration of the Eucharist and the adoration that prepares for it and continues its contemplation throughout the day.   

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (14:18-20)

Melchizedek is mentioned only twice in the Old Testament: here in the Book of Genesis and in Psalm 109/110, which we also read this Sunday. This character will play an important role for those who were waiting for the Messiah, and even more so among Christians, so much so that he is also mentioned in a Eucharistic prayer. Abraham meets Melchizedek on his return from a victorious expedition. The Bible rarely recounts the celebrations after a military victory, but here there is celebration, and much later, this story is given great importance. These are the facts: a war breaks out between two small coalitions, five against four, and the king of Sodom is among the combatants, but neither Melchizedek nor Abraham are directly involved at the beginning. The king of Sodom is defeated and Lot, Abraham's nephew, is taken prisoner among his subjects. Abraham, upon hearing this, rushes to free him along with the king of Sodom and his subjects. The king of Sodom thus becomes Abraham's ally. At this point, Melchizedek (whose name means 'king of righteousness') intervenes, perhaps for a meal of alliance, but the biblical author does not specify this and, indeed, from this point onwards, focuses the narrative on the figure of Melchizedek and his relationship with Abraham. We have very unusual information about Melchizedek in the Bible: he has no genealogy, he is both king and priest, whereas for many centuries in Israel this was not supposed to happen; he is king of Salem, probably the city that later became Jerusalem when David conquered it to make it his capital; the offering he brings consists of bread and wine and not animals, as will be the sacrifice offered by Abraham, recounted in Genesis 15.  Melchizedek blesses the Most High God and Abraham, who gives him a tithe (a tenth of the spoils of war), and with this gesture recognises his priesthood. These are all details that have clear significance for the sacred author, who focuses on the relationship between royal power and the priesthood: for example, this is the first time the word 'priest' appears in the Bible, and Melchizedek has all the characteristics of a priest: he offers a sacrifice, pronounces a blessing in the name of 'the Most High God who created heaven and earth' and receives a tithe of Abram's goods. There is complete silence about Melchizedek's origins: the Bible attaches great importance to the genealogy of priests, but we know nothing about Melchizedek, the first on the list, and he seems timeless. However, the fact that he is recognised as a priest means that a priesthood existed before the legal establishment of the priesthood in Jewish law linked to the tribe of Levi, son of Jacob and great-grandson of Abraham. In other words, there were priests who were not descended from Levi and therefore 'according to the order of Melchizedek', in the manner of Melchizedek. No exegete can say with certainty who wrote this text, when, or for what purpose. It may date back to the time when the dynasty of David seemed to have died out and a different Messiah was beginning to emerge: no longer a king descended from David, but a priest, capable of bringing the blessing of the Most High God to the descendants of Abraham. Melchizedek, "king of justice and king of peace", is considered an ancestor of the Messiah, as we see more clearly in Psalm 109/110. Abraham was not yet circumcised when he was blessed by Melchizedek, and in the controversies of the early communities formed by circumcised Jews and pagans, Christians deduced that it was not necessary to be circumcised to be blessed by God. Finally, in the offering of bread and wine, which seals a covenant meal, we Christians recognise Christ's gesture in continuity with God's plan. At every Eucharist, we repeat Melchizedek's gesture, accompanying the offering of bread and wine with the words "Blessed are you, God of the universe, from your goodness we have received the bread (wine) that we offer you..."

*Responsorial Psalm (109/110:1-4)

Some of these verses from the psalm are addressed to the new king of Jerusalem on the day of his coronation, a ritual that subtly expressed the expectation of the Messiah, and it was hoped that every newly crowned king would be the Messiah. The ceremony took place in two stages, first in the Temple, then inside the royal palace in the throne room. When the king arrived at the Temple escorted by the royal guard, a prophet placed the diadem on his head and handed him a scroll called 'the Testimonies', i.e. the document of the Covenant concluded by God with the descendants of David containing formulas applied to each king: 'You are my son, today I have begotten you', 'Ask of me and I will give you the nations for your inheritance', and this document also revealed his new name (cf. Isaiah 9:5). The priest anointed him, and the ritual in the Temple ended with the acclamation called "Terouah," a war cry transformed into an ovation for the new king-leader. The procession then wound its way to the Palace, and along the way, the king stopped to drink from a spring, symbolising the new life and strength he had to take on to triumph over his enemies. Once at the palace, the second part of the ceremony took place in the throne room. At this point, today's psalm begins: the prophet speaks on behalf of God, using the solemn formula: 'Oracle of the Lord to my lord', which should be read as 'word of God to the new king'. In the Bible, we find the expression 'to sit on the throne of kings', which means 'to reign'. The new king is invited to climb the steps of the throne and sit down: 'Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool'. Enemy warriors in chains are carved or engraved on the steps of the throne: thus, as he climbs the steps, the king will place his foot on the necks of these soldiers, a gesture of victory and a harbinger of his future victories. This is the meaning of the first verse, to make his enemies the footstool of his feet. The expression 'at my right hand' once had a concrete, topographical meaning: in Jerusalem, Solomon's palace is located south of the Temple (therefore to the right of the Temple, if one faces east), so God reigns invisibly above the Ark in the Temple and the king, sitting on his throne, will be at his right hand. Then the prophet hands the sceptre to the new king; and this is the second verse: 'The sceptre of your power extends from Zion; you rule in the midst of your enemies'. The handing over of the sceptre is a symbol of the mission entrusted to the king, who will rule over his enemies by joining the long line of kings descended from David, who in turn was the bearer of the promise made to David. The king is only a mortal man, but he bears an eternal destiny because God's plan is eternal. This is probably the meaning of the following verse, which is somewhat obscure: "The principality is yours on the day of your power (i.e. the day of your coronation) among holy splendours (you are clothed in the holiness of God and therefore in his immortality). From the womb of the dawn like dew, I have begotten you," a way of saying that it has been planned by God since the dawn of the world. The king remains mortal but, in the faith of Israel, the descendants of David, foreseen from eternity, are immortal. In the same sense, the following verse uses the expression 'forever': 'You are a priest forever', the future king (i.e. the Messiah) will therefore be both king and priest, mediator between God and his people. Here we have proof that, in the last centuries of biblical history, it was thought that the Messiah would also be a priest. Finally, the psalm specifies: priest "according to the order of Melchizedek" because there was the problem that one cannot be a priest unless one is descended from Levi. How can this Law be reconciled with the promise that the Messiah would be a king descended from David of the tribe of Judah and not from Levi? Psalm 109/110 provides the answer: he will be a priest, yes, but in the manner of Melchizedek, king of Salem, who was both king and priest long before the tribe of Levi existed. Psalm 109/110 was sung in Jerusalem during the Feast of Tabernacles to remember God's messianic promises: evoking a scene of enthronement, it was precisely these promises that were thought of in order to keep the hope of the people alive. Rereading this psalm in the New Testament, a new depth was discovered: Jesus Christ is truly that priest 'forever', mediator of the definitive Covenant, victor over man's worst enemy, death. St Paul says this in his first letter to the Corinthians: 'The last enemy to be destroyed will be death, for he has put everything under his feet'.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians (11:23-26)

St Paul reveals here the true meaning of the word 'tradition': a precious deposit faithfully handed down from generation to generation. If we are believers today, it is because, for over two thousand years, Christians in every age have faithfully handed on the deposit of faith as in an unbroken relay race. Transmission is faithful when the tradition of the Lord is preserved, as St Paul writes: "I have received from the Lord what I have handed on to you". Only this faithful transmission builds the Body of Christ throughout human history, since it is not the transmission of intellectual knowledge, but of the mystery of Christ, and fidelity is measured by our way of life. This is why Paul is concerned with correcting the bad habits of the Corinthians and affirms that living in fraternal communion is directly connected with the mystery of the Eucharist. Paul writes: Jesus "on the night he was betrayed, took bread". "He was betrayed": Just as he was misunderstood and betrayed, handed over into the hands of his enemies, Jesus "took bread, gave thanks, broke it and said...". He thus has the strength to turn the situation upside down and, from a path of death, performs the supreme gesture of the Covenant between God and humankind, echoing his words: "No one takes my life from me. I lay it down of my own accord" (Jn 10:18). He transforms a context of hatred and blindness into a place of love and sharing: "My body is given for you", a body given for our liberation, and the effectiveness of this gift is linked to the biblical concept of "memorial": "Do this in memory of me".  "This cup is the new covenant in my blood." This formula centres on the theme of the new covenant, taken from Jeremiah (31:31-34) and established not with blood shed on the people (Ex 24), but with his blood and in the Holy Spirit. Here we can understand what forgiveness is, the perfect gift given beyond hatred, pure love that transforms death into a source of life. Only forgiveness is this miracle, and we repeat it in every Eucharist: 'Mystery of faith'. "For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death": we proclaim his death, a testimony of love to the extreme, as the Eucharistic Prayer of Reconciliation reminds us: "his outstretched arms mark the indelible sign of the Covenant" between God and humanity. "We proclaim his death": we commit ourselves to the great work of reconciliation and covenant inaugurated by Jesus. "Until he comes": we are the people of expectation that we proclaim in every Eucharist, and if Jesus invites us to repeat this prayer so often, it is to educate us in the hope that means becoming impatient for his Kingdom in joyful expectation of his coming. Finally, Paul says "until he comes" and not until he returns because Christ has not left us; he is with us until the end of the world (cf. Mt 28:20). Indeed, he never ceases to come because he is a working presence who progressively realises the great divine plan since the creation of the world and asks us to collaborate in it.

NOTE. The last words of the Bible, in Revelation, are precisely "Come, Lord Jesus." The beginning of the book of Genesis spoke to us of the vocation of humanity, called to be the image and likeness of God, and therefore destined to live in love, dialogue and sharing, just as God himself is Trinity. The last word of the Bible tells us that the plan is fulfilled in Jesus Christ, and when we say 'Come, Lord Jesus', we invoke with all our strength the day when he will gather us from the four corners of the world to form one Body.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (9:11b-17)

 For the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ, we read the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves, in which Luke certainly wants to emphasise the link with the Eucharist by describing Jesus' gestures with the same words as the Eucharistic liturgy: "He took the five loaves and the two fish, raised his eyes to heaven, recited the blessing over them, broke them and gave them to the disciples": a clear allusion to the disciples of Emmaus (Lk 24:30). Jesus is announcing the kingdom of God, preaching the Gospel and performing miracles. The multiplication of the loaves takes place in this context: it is evening, the disciples are worried about the crowd and suggest sending everyone away so that they can find food for themselves in the surrounding area. Jesus does not accept this solution because the Kingdom of God is a mystery of communion. He is not satisfied with "every man for himself" and proposes his own solution: "You yourselves give them something to eat". But how? Five loaves and two fish, the apostles reply, are only enough for a family, not for five thousand men. Jesus does not want to put them in difficulty, but if he tells them to feed them themselves, it is because he knows they can do it. The disciples respond by offering to go and buy bread, but Jesus has another solution: "Have them sit down in groups of about fifty." He chooses the "solution of gathering" because the Kingdom of God is not an indistinct crowd, but a community of communities. Jesus blessed the loaves, recognising bread as a gift from God to be used to serve the hungry. Recognising bread as a gift from God is a true programme of life, and this is the meaning of the "preparation of the gifts" during Mass. It was formerly called the "offertory," and the liturgical reform of the Second Vatican Council replaced it with the "preparation of the gifts" to help us better understand that it is not we who give something of our own, but rather it is the 'preparation of God's gifts'. By bringing bread and wine, symbols of the entire cosmos and of humanity's work, we recognise that everything is a gift and that we are not masters of what God has given us (both material goods and physical, intellectual and spiritual riches), but only administrators. This gesture, repeated at every Eucharist with faith, transforms us, making us truly stewards of our riches for the good of all. It is precisely in this gesture of generous self-emptying that we can find the courage to perform miracles: when he tells his disciples, "Give them something to eat," Jesus wants them to discover that they have unsuspected resources, but on condition that they recognise everything as a gift from God. Before the hungry of the whole world, he also says to us: "Feed them yourselves," and, like the disciples, we have resources that we are unaware of, provided that we recognise that what we possess is a gift from God and that we are only administrators who reject the "logic of dispersion," that is, thinking only of our own interests. The link between this multiplication of the loaves and the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ thus becomes clear. The three synoptic Gospels recount the institution of the Eucharist on Holy Thursday evening, and Luke adds the Lord's command, "Do this in memory of me," but St John offers us another key: he relates the washing of the feet with Jesus' command to the disciples to do the same. Here, then, are two inseparable ways of celebrating the memorial of Christ: sharing the Eucharist and placing oneself at the service of others.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Sons’ Prayer: performance or Listening?

Mt 6:7-15 (v.13)

«When you pray, do not babble like the pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their wordiness» (Mt 6:7; cf. Lk 11:1).

The God of religions was named with an overabundance of high-sounding honorific epithets, as if he craved ever more numerous ranks of incensers.

The «Father» is not accompanied by prestigious titles. A child doesn’t address the parent as a very high, eternal and omnipotent, but the a reliable family Person who transmits life to him.

And the son doesn’t imagine that he has to offer external cries and acknowledgments: the Father looks at needs, not merits.

«Et ne nos inducas in tentationem»: ancient Prayer of the sons.

«Do not induce us [Lead us not into]» is (in the Latin and Greek sense: «until the end») an ancient Symbol of the ‘reborn in Christ’, in the experience of real life.

In religions there are clearly opposed demons and angels: disordered and dark powers, contrary to the bright and "right" ones.

But by dint of relegating the former, the worst continually resurface, until they win the game and spread.

In the lives of the saints we see these great women and men strangely always under temptation - because they disdain evil, therefore they do not know it.

Gradually, however, the little constant naggings becomes overwhelming crowds.

The persons of Faith do not act according to pre-established and superficial models, not even religious ones; they are aware that they are not heroes or paradigm phenomena.

That's why they rely on. They let intimate problems go by: understood its strength!

This is the meaning of the formula of the Our Father, in its original sense: «and lead us not into [the end of] temptation [trial] (because we know our weakness)».

If, on the other hand, our 'counterpart' becomes a protagonist, a one-sided pivot, a constant afterthought, and a block, we’re done for.

Pain, failures, sadness, frustrations, weaknesses, a thousand anxieties, too many falls, accustom us to experience transgressions as part of ourselves: Condition to be evaluated, not "guilt" to be cut horizontally.

In the process of true salvific transmutation, that signal speaks of us: within a deviation or the eccentricity there is a secret or a knowledge to be found, for a ‘new personal birth’.

Looking at the discomforts and oppositions, we realize that these critical sides of being become like a malleable magma, which approaches our healing more quickly. As if through a permanent, radical conversion… because it involves and belongs to us; not in peripheral mode, but basically, of Seed and Nature.

Absorbed patterns and beliefs don’t allow us to understand that the passionate life is composed of opposing states, of competitive energies - which must not be disguised in order to be considered decent people.

Perceiving and integrating such depths, we lay down the idea and atmosphere of impending danger, devoid of further opportunity; only for death.

We become mature, without dissociation or hysterical states resulting from contrived identifications, nor disesteem for an important part of us.

In short, straits and "crosses" have something to tell us.

They shake the soul to the root, sweep away the absorbed masks, ignite the person, and save the life.

In this way, inconveniences and anxieties help us. They hide capabilities and possibilities that we do not yet see.

In the virtue of the shaky yet unique exceptionality for each person, here is the true journey opening up.

Path of the Father and of the heart, Way that wants to guide us to alternative trajectories, new dimensions of existence.

The difference of the Faith, compared to ancient religiosity [in the sense of the ‘Cross-inside’]?

It’s in the consciousness that only the sick heal, only the incomplete grow.

Only the halting women and men regain expression, evolve. And falling, they snap forward.

[Thursday 11th wk. in O.T.  June 19, 2025]

Sons’ Prayer: Performance or Listening?

(Mt 6:7-15)

In the communities of Mt and Lk the "prayer" of the sons - the "Our Father" - does not originate as prayer, but as a formula of acceptance of the Beatitudes (in its scans: invocation to the Father, human situation and advent of the Kingdom, liberation).

In any case, the full difference between religious prayer and expression animated by Faith lies in the distinction between: Performance or Perception.

[As Pope Francis says: "To pray is not to talk to God like a parrot". "Our God does not need sacrifices to win his favour! He needs nothing'].

In religions - in fact - it is the praying subject who 'prays', making requests, expounding himself, praising, and so on.

Still in Thomism, the virtue of religion was considered to be an aspect of the cardinal virtue of Justice. As if to say: man's rightful position before God is that of one who recognises a duty of worship (worship that is directed from him) towards the Creator; and man - the subject of prayer - would fulfil it.

Conversely, the child of God in Christ is a "hearer" of the Logos: he is the one who tends his ear, perceives, welcomes: in short, the authentic Subject who expresses himself is God himself.

He reveals Himself through the Word, in the reality of events, in the folds of universal and personal history, in the particular Calling He grants us, even in intimate images.

They become plastic expressions of Mystery (and personal Vocation) that wave upon wave even guide the soul.

"When you pray, do not babble like the pagans, for they think they are heard because of their wordiness" (Mt 6:7; cf. Lk 11:1).

In the Faith we participate in the authentic prayer of Jesus Himself - Person in us - addressed to the Father, first of all "listening" to His providential proposals: as if united to the Friend and Brother we enter into this Dialogue - full of even figurative suggestions.

But it is the Only-begotten who prays; we are not the great protagonists. Only in this sense can the act of praying be defined as 'childlike' or 'Christian'.

Our prayer life is not an ascetic exercise - let alone a duty, nor a shopping list - because God does not need to be informed about something He had not thought of before.

As the Master says, the Father knows what we need (Mt 6:8). So to turn to Him does not require any effort [ lacerating effort to centre oneself and step outside oneself]. Nor does it force us into too many (or the right) words.

Authentic prayer is not a tracing, nor a leap into outer darkness, but an excavation and sifting, given. It is a plunge into our being, where the intimacy of the Understanding aims to understand the Author's signature at the heart of events; even emotions.

The prayer of the man of Faith does not aim to introduce God's will and the reality of situations into narrow horizons and judgments that are already comprehensible, as if pushing it into unnatural attunements.

Prayer is a perceptive leap without repetitive identities, from one's own Core - which clears away mental toxins; and so it becomes an experience of fullness of being, in search of global and personal meaning.

The praying man is not even prey to some excited paroxysmal state (ridiculous or soporific): he is welcoming an Action - a Work of paradoxical suspension, on the path towards his own Bliss.

Prayer is even a gesture of aesthetic order in Christ. Precisely because it tends to rake our everyday imagery so that it is shaped according to the guiding vision it inhabits. It shifts and almost directs the eye of the soul, and the ecclesial experience.

A virtue-event that gradually chisels that very personal image that brings to awareness a goal or a communal reality of praise, that is, an innate narrative Voice of unknown energies, for important changes.

Step by step, this perception and dialogue that emerges induces us to internalise hidden flashes of the pathway that belongs to us: a missionary spirit that seeks harmony, the creation of a living environment, and so on. Even destabilising.

Only in this sense is prayer in order to our benefits.

Nor can it be reduced to a group badge, because although we recognise ourselves in certain knowledge, each one has its own language of the soul, a relevant history and sensitivity, an unprecedented iconic world (also in terms of micro and macro dream relationships), as well as an unrepeatable task of salvation.

For this reason too - albeit in terms of the community of reference - the Symbol of the reborn in Christ turning to the Father has come down to us in different versions: Mt, Lk, Didaché ["Teaching" perhaps contemporary with the last New Testament writings, a kind of early Catechism].To introduce us to specific considerations, it is appropriate to ask: why did Jesus not attend places of worship to recite traditional formulas, but to teach?

And never does it appear that the apostles pray with Him: it seems that they only wanted a formula to distinguish themselves from other rabbinical schools (cf. Lk 11:1).

The Lord only holds fast to the mindset and lifestyle: He proceeds on fundamental options - and insists on the perception of welcoming, rather than our saying and organising (which are not very steeped in well-founded eternity).

Father

The God of religions was named with an overabundance of high-sounding honorary epithets, as if he craved ever-growing ranks of incense-givers.

The Father is not accompanied by prestigious titles. A son does not address his parent as high, eternal or lofty, but as the one who imparts life to him.

And the son does not imagine that he has to give external shout-outs and accolades - otherwise the superior and master would admonish and chastise: the Parent looks at needs, not merits.

The God of religions governs his subjects by enacting laws, as a sovereign does; the Father transmits his Spirit, his own Life, which elevates and perfects both personal listening skills and the noticing (e.g. of brothers).

The only request is to extend our missionary resources and feed on the Father-Person who reshapes us on his own virtues, according to what we should be, and could perhaps already have been.

One reality within our reach is the cancellation of material debts that our neighbour has incurred in need.

There is no witness to God-Love that does not pass through a fraternal community, in which we experience the communion of goods.

The security of being right with God is in the joy of living together and sharing.

In religious belief, material blessings are often confused with divine blessings, which accentuates the competitions, artificial primacy and inconveniences of real life.

Conversely, the spirit of the Beatitudes is made manifest in a people where distinctions between creditors and debtors are abolished.

"Do not induce us": ancient Prayer of the children, in real life

Essence of God is: Love that does not betray or forsake; useless, confusing and blasphemous to ask a Father: 'Do not forsake me' [cf. Greek text]. Although it may be impressive to the outer ear.

The false mysticism of the forsaken Jesus (even by the Father!) does not educate; perhaps it fascinates, certainly confuses - and plagues.

Only the Spirit is guaranteed in prayer: the lucidity to understand the fruitfulness of the Cross, the gain in the loss, the life not in triumph but in death. And the strength to be faithful to one's own Calling, despite persecutions, even "internal" ones.

The community and individual souls, however, ask not to be placed in the extreme conditions of trial, knowing their own limit, their personal invincible precariousness, albeit redeemed.

This is the threshold that distinguishes religiosity and Faith: on the one hand, the 'safe' formula of the convinced and strong; on the other, a resigned and expectant prayer: of the unsteady, redeemed by love.

"Non c'indurre" is precisely (in the Latin and Greek sense: "to introduce to the end") an ancient Symbol of the reborn in Christ, in the experience of real life.

In religions, there are clearly opposed demons and angels: disordered and dark powers, opposed to the bright and 'proper' ones.

But by dint of pushing the former back, the worse ones continually resurface, until they win the game and run rampant.

In the lives of the saints, we see these great men strangely always under temptation - because they disdain evil, therefore they do not know it. Gradually, however, the constant nagging becomes uncontrollable droves.

The woman and man of Faith do not act according to rushed and superficial predetermined models, not even religious ones; they are aware that they are not heroes or paradigm phenomena.

That is why they trust. They let their intimate problems pass them by: they have understood their power!

This is the meaning of the formula of the Lord's Prayer, in its original sense: 'do not carry us through the trial to the end, for we know our weakness'.

Such attention arises so that sin itself - by dint of denying it, then disguising it - does not paradoxically become the hidden protagonist of our path. The pivot of attention, which unfortunately engulfs thoughts, blocking the internal processes of spontaneous growth, perception of Grace and self-healing [in order to one's own unrepeatable Calling].

This would be the opposite of Redemption and Freedom, hence of Love: it is annihilated where there is a superior above - even God.

On the contrary, it is very fruitful to recover its energy, which has put us in contact with our deepest layers, for new horizons. And to take it on by making it our own host, in its own right - to (only then) invest it in an unexpected and wise manner.If, on the other hand, our 'counterpart' becomes a constant afterthought and block, we’re done for.

Sorrows, failures, sadness, frustrations, weaknesses, a thousand anxieties, too many downfalls, accustom us to experiencing evil as part of ourselves: a condition to be evaluated, not a 'fault' to be cut horizontally.

In the process of true salvific transmutation, that signal speaks of us: within a deviation or eccentricity there is a secret or knowledge to be found, to be reborn personally.

By casting our gaze on the discomforts and oppositions, we realise that these critical sides of being become like a malleable magma, which more quickly approaches healing. Like through a conversion, permanent, radical... because it involves and belongs to us; not artificial and peripheral, but fundamental, of Seed and Nature.

Absorbed patterns and convictions do not allow us to realise that passionate life is composed of opposing states, of competitive energies - which we must not disguise in order to be considered decent people.

Perceiving and integrating such depths, we lay down the idea and atmosphere of impending danger, devoid of further opportunities, only for death.

We become mature, without dissociation or hysterical states resulting from contrived identifications, nor disesteem for an important part of us.

In short, narrowness and 'crosses' have something to tell us.

They shake the soul at the root, sweep away the absorbed masks, ignite the person, and save life.

In this way, inconveniences and anxieties help us. They conceal capacities and possibilities that we do not yet see.

In the virtue of the shaky yet unique exceptionality of each person, the true path opens up.

Path of the Father and of the heart, Way that wants to guide us towards alternative trajectories, new dimensions of existence.

The difference of the Faith, compared to ancient religiosity [in the sense of the cross within]?

It is in the awareness that only the sick heal, only the incomplete grow.

Only the lame regain expression, evolve. And falling, they move forward.

Cf. Jn 16:23-28: Prayer in the Name: comm. quotid. Saturday 6th Easter

Cf. Mt 11,25-27: The only prayer of Jesus ever taught Wednesday 15.a

In the preceding series of Catecheses I have spoken of Jesus’ prayer and I would not like to conclude this reflection without briefly considering the topic of Jesus’ silence, so important in his relationship with God.

In the Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Verbum Domini, I spoke of the role that silence plays in Jesus’ life, especially on Golgotha: “here we find ourselves before ‘the word of the cross’ (cf. 1 Cor 1:18). The word is muted; it becomes mortal silence, for it has ‘spoken’ exhaustively, holding back nothing of what it had to tell us” (n. 12). Before this silence of the Cross, St Maximus the Confessor puts this phrase on the lips of the Mother of God: “Wordless is the Word of the Father, who made every creature which speaks, lifeless are the eyes of the one at whose word and whose nod all living things move!” (Life of Mary, n. 89: Testi mariani del primo millennio, 2, Rome, 1989, p. 253).

The Cross of Christ does not only demonstrate Jesus’ silence as his last word to the Father but reveals that God also speaks through silence: “the silence of God, the experience of the distance of the almighty Father, is a decisive stage in the earthly journey of the Son of God, the Incarnate Word. Hanging from the wood of the cross, he lamented the suffering caused by that silence: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (Mk 15:34; Mt 27:46). Advancing in obedience to his very last breath, in the obscurity of death, Jesus called upon the Father. He commended himself to him at the moment of passage, through death, to eternal life: ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit’ (Lk 23:46)” (Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Verbum Domini, n. 21).

Jesus’ experience on the cross profoundly reveals the situation of the person praying and the culmination of his prayer: having heard and recognized the word of God, we must also come to terms with the silence of God, an important expression of the same divine Word.

The dynamic of words and silence which marks Jesus’ prayer throughout his earthly existence, especially on the cross, also touches our own prayer life in two directions.

The first is the one that concerns the acceptance of the word of God. Inward and outward silence are necessary if we are to be able to hear this word. And in our time this point is particularly difficult for us. In fact, ours is an era that does not encourage recollection; indeed, one sometimes gets the impression that people are frightened of being cut off, even for an instant, from the torrent of words and images that mark and fill the day.

It was for this reason that in the above mentioned Exhortation Verbum Domini I recalled our need to learn the value of silence: “Rediscovering the centrality of God’s word in the life of the Church also means rediscovering a sense of recollection and inner repose. The great patristic tradition teaches us that the mysteries of Christ all involve silence. Only in silence can the word of God find a home in us, as it did in Mary, woman of the word and, inseparably, woman of silence” (n. 66). This principle — that without silence one does not hear, does not listen, does not receive a word — applies especially to personal prayer as well as to our liturgies: to facilitate authentic listening, they must also be rich in moments of silence and of non-verbal reception.

St Augustine’s observation is still valid: Verbo crescente, verba deficiunt “when the word of God increases, the words of men fail” (cf. Sermo 288, 5: pl 38, 1307; Sermo 120, 2: pl 38, 677). The Gospels often present Jesus, especially at times of crucial decisions, withdrawing to lonely places, away from the crowds and even from the disciples in order to pray in silence and to live his filial relationship with God. Silence can carve out an inner space in our very depths to enable God to dwell there, so that his word will remain within us and love for him take root in our minds and hearts and inspire our life. Hence the first direction: relearning silence, openness to listening, which opens us to the other, to the word of God.

However, there is also a second important connection between silence and prayer. Indeed it is not only our silence that disposes us to listen to the word of God; in our prayers we often find we are confronted by God’s silence, we feel, as it were, let down, it seems to us that God neither listens nor responds. Yet God’s silence, as happened to Jesus, does not indicate his absence. Christians know well that the Lord is present and listens, even in the darkness of pain, rejection and loneliness.

Jesus reassures his disciples and each one of us that God is well acquainted with our needs at every moment of our life. He teaches the disciples: “In praying do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard for their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Mt 6:7-8): an attentive, silent and open heart is more important than many words. God knows us in our inmost depths, better than we ourselves, and loves us; and knowing this must suffice.

In the Bible Job’s experience is particularly significant in this regard. In a short time this man lost everything: relatives, possessions, friends and health. It truly seems that God’s attitude to him was one of abandonment, of total silence. Yet in his relationship with God, Job speaks to God, cries out to God; in his prayers, in spite of all, he keeps his faith intact, and in the end, discovers the value of his experience and of God’s silence. And thus he can finally conclude, addressing the Creator: “I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you” (Job 42:5): almost all of us know God only through hearsay and the more open we are to his silence and to our own silence, the more we truly begin to know him.

This total trust that opens us to the profound encounter with God developed in silence. St Francis Xavier prayed to the Lord saying: I do not love you because you can give me paradise or condemn me to hell, but because you are my God. I love you because You are You.

As we reach the end of the reflections on Jesus’ prayer, certain teachings of the Catechism of the Catholic Church spring to mind: “The drama of prayer is fully revealed to us in the Word who became flesh and dwells among us. To seek to understand his prayer through what his witnesses proclaim to us in the Gospel is to approach the holy Lord Jesus as Moses approached the burning bush: first to contemplate him in prayer, then to hear how he teaches us to pray, in order to know how he hears our prayer” (n. 2598).

So, how does Jesus teach us to pray? We find a clear answer in the Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church: “Jesus teaches us to pray not only with the Our Father” — certainly the high point of his instruction on how to pray — “but also when he prays. In this way he teaches us, in addition to the content, the dispositions necessary for every true prayer: purity of heart that seeks the Kingdom and forgives enemies, bold and filial faith that goes beyond what we feel and understand, and watchfulness that protects the disciple from temptation” (n. 544).

In going through the Gospels we have seen that concerning our prayers the Lord is conversation partner, friend, witness and teacher. The newness of our dialogue with God is revealed in Jesus: the filial prayer that the Father expects of his children. And we learn from Jesus that constant prayer helps us to interpret our life, make our decisions, recognize and accept our vocation, discover the talents that God has given us and do his will daily, the only way to fulfil our life.

Jesus’ prayer points out to us, all too often concerned with operational efficacy and the practical results we achieve, that we need to pause, to experience moments of intimacy with God, “detaching ourselves” from the everyday commotion in order to listen, to go to the “root” that sustains and nourishes life.

One of the most beautiful moments of Jesus’ prayer is precisely when — in order to deal with the illnesses, hardships and limitations of those who are conversing with him — he turns to the Father in prayer and thereby teaches those around him where to seek the source of hope and salvation.

I have already recalled as a moving example Jesus’ prayer at the tomb of Lazarus. The Evangelist John recounts: “So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, ‘Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you hear me always, but I have said this on account of the people standing by, that they may believe that you sent me’. When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out’” (Jn 11:41-43).

However Jesus reaches the most profound depths in prayer to the Father at the moment of his Passion and his death when he says the extreme “yes” to God’s plan and shows how the human will finds its fulfilment precisely in full adherence to the divine will rather than in opposition to it.

In Jesus’ prayer, in his cry to the Father on the cross, are summed up “all the troubles, for all time, of humanity enslaved by sin and death, all the petitions and intercessions of salvation history.... Here the Father accepts them and, beyond all hope, answers them by raising his Son. Thus is fulfilled and brought to completion the drama of prayer in the economy of creation and salvation” (Catechism of the Catholic Church n. 2606).

Dear brothers and sisters, let us trustingly ask the Lord to grant that we live the journey of our filial prayer learning daily from the Only-Begotten Son, who became man for our sake, what should be our way of addressing God.

St Paul’s words on Christian life in general also apply to our prayers: “I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:38-39).

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 7 March 2012]

Our Father, who art in heaven . . .".

We stand at the altar around which the whole Church is gathered in Sarajevo. We utter the words that Christ, Son of the Living God, taught us: Son consubstantial with the Father. He alone calls God "Father" (Abba - Father! My Father!) and He alone can authorise us to address God by calling Him "Father", "Our Father". He teaches us this prayer in which everything is contained. We wish to find in this prayer today what we can and must say to God - our Father, at this moment in history, here in Sarajevo.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven". 

"I, the Bishop of Rome, the first Slavic Pope, kneel before You to cry out: "From plague, famine and war - deliver us!""

2. Our Father! Father of men: Father of peoples. Father of all peoples who dwell in the world. Father of the peoples of Europe. Of the peoples of the Balkans.

Father of the peoples who belong to the family of the South Slavs! Father of the peoples who have written their history here, on this peninsula, for centuries. Father of the peoples, touched unfortunately not for the first time by the cataclysm of war.

"Our Father . . .". I, Bishop of Rome, the first Slavic Pope, kneel before You to cry out: "From plague, famine and war - deliver us!" I know that in this plea many join me. Not only here in Sarajevo, in Bosnia and Herzegovina, but in the whole of Europe and beyond. I come here carrying with me the certainty of this prayer uttered by the hearts and lips of countless of my brothers and sisters. For so long they have been waiting for this very "great prayer" of the Church, of the people of God, to be fulfilled in this place. For so long, I myself have invited everyone to join in this prayer.

How can we not recall here the prayer made in Assisi in January last year? And then the one raised in Rome, in St Peter's Basilica, in January of this year? From the beginning of the tragic events in the Balkans, in the countries of former Yugoslavia, the guiding thought of the Church, and in particular of the Apostolic See, has been the prayer for peace.

3. Our Father, "hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come . . .". May your holy and merciful name shine among men. Thy kingdom come, kingdom of justice and peace, of forgiveness and love.

"Thy will be done . . .".

Thy will be done in the world, and particularly in this troubled land of the Balkans. Thou lovest not violence and hatred. Thou shun injustice and selfishness. Thou wilt that men be brothers to one another and acknowledge Thee as their Father.

Our Father, Father of every human being, "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven". Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven!

4. It is Christ "our peace" (Eph 2:14). He who taught us to address God by calling him "Father".

He who by His blood conquered the mystery of iniquity and division, and by His Cross broke down the massive wall that separated men, making them strangers to one another; He who reconciled humanity with God and united men among themselves as brothers.

That is why Christ was able to say one day to the Apostles, before his sacrifice on the Cross: "I leave you peace, I give you my peace. Not as the world gives it, I give it to you" (John 14: 27). It is then that he promised the Spirit of Truth, who is at the same time Spirit of Love, Spirit of Peace!

Come, Holy Spirit! "Veni, creator Spiritus, mentes tuorum visita . . .!" "Come, Creator Spirit, visit our minds, fill with your grace the hearts you have created".

Come, Holy Spirit! We invoke you from this city of Sarajevo, crossroads of tensions between different cultures and nations, where the fuse was lit which, at the beginning of the century, triggered the First World War, and where, at the end of the second millennium, similar tensions are concentrated, capable of destroying peoples called by history to work together in harmonious coexistence.

Come, Spirit of peace! Through you we cry out: "Abba, Father" (Rom 8:15).

5. "Give us this day our daily bread . . .".

Praying for bread means praying for all that is necessary for life. Let us pray that, in the distribution of resources among individuals and peoples, the principle of a universal sharing of mankind in God's created goods may always be realised.

Let us pray that the use of resources in armaments will not damage or even destroy the heritage of culture, which constitutes the highest good of humanity. Let us pray that restrictive measures, deemed necessary to curb the conflict, will not cause inhuman suffering to the defenceless population. Every man, every family has a right to its 'daily bread'.

6. "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us . . .".

With these words we touch upon the crucial issue. Christ himself warned us of this, who, dying on the cross, said of his slayers: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Lk 23:34).

The history of men, peoples and nations is full of mutual resentment and injustice. How important was the historic expression addressed by the Polish Bishops to their German brethren at the end of the Second Vatican Council: 'Let us forgive and ask forgiveness'! If peace has been possible in that region of Europe, it seems to have come about thanks to the attitude effectively expressed by those words.

Today we want to pray for the renewal of a similar gesture: "Let us forgive and ask forgiveness" for our brothers in the Balkans! Without this attitude it is difficult to build peace. The spiral of 'guilt' and 'punishment' will never be closed, if at some point forgiveness is not achieved.

Forgiveness does not mean forgetting. If memory is the law of history, forgiveness is the power of God, the power of Christ acting in the affairs of men and peoples.

7. "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil . . .".

Lead us not into temptation! What are the temptations that we ask the Father to remove today? They are those that make the heart of man a heart of stone, insensitive to the call of forgiveness and concord. They are the temptations of ethnic prejudices, which make one indifferent to the rights of others and their suffering. They are the temptations of exaggerated nationalisms, which lead to the overpowering of one's neighbour and the lust for revenge. They are all the temptations in which the civilisation of death expresses itself.

Faced with the desolating spectacle of human failures, let us pray with the words of Venerable Brother Bartholomew I, Patriarch of the Church of Constantinople: "Lord, make our hearts of stone crumble at the sight of your suffering and become hearts of flesh. Let your Cross dissolve our prejudices. With the vision of your agonising struggle against death, flee our indifference or our rebellion" (Way of the Cross at the Colosseum, Good Friday 1990, Opening Prayer).

Deliver us from evil! Here is another word that belongs completely to Christ and his Gospel. "I did not come to condemn the world, but to save the world" (Jn 12:47). Humanity is called to salvation in Christ and through Christ. To this salvation are also called the nations that the current war has so terribly divided!

Let us pray today for the saving power of the Cross to help overcome the historic temptation of hatred. Enough of the countless destructions! Let us pray - following the rhythm of the Lord's prayer - that the time of reconstruction, the time of peace, may begin.

Pray with us the dead of Sarajevo, whose remains lie in the nearby cemetery. They pray for all the victims of this cruel war, who in the light of God invoke reconciliation and peace for the survivors.

8. "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God" (Mt 5:9). This is what Jesus told us in today's Gospel passage. Yes, dear Brothers and Sisters, we shall be truly blessed, if we make ourselves peacemakers of that peace that only Christ knows how to give (cf. Jn 14:27), indeed Christ himself. "Christ is our peace". We shall become peacemakers, if like him we are willing to forgive.

"Father, forgive them!" (Lk 23:34). Christ from the Cross offers forgiveness and also asks us to follow him on the arduous way of the Cross to obtain his peace. Only by accepting this invitation of his can we prevent selfishness, nationalism and violence from continuing to sow destruction and death.

Evil, in all its manifestations, constitutes a mystery of iniquity, in the face of which the voice of God, which we heard in the First Reading, rises up clear and decisive: "Thus speaks the High and Exalted . . . In high and holy place I dwell, but I am also with the oppressed and the humiliated" (Is 57:15). In these prophetic words is contained for all an invitation to a serious examination of conscience.

God is on the side of the oppressed: he is with the parents who mourn their murdered children, he listens to the helpless cry of the downtrodden, he is in solidarity with women humiliated by violence, he is close to refugees forced to leave their land and homes. He does not forget the suffering of families, the elderly, widows, young people and children. It is his people who are dying.

We must put an end to such barbarity! No more war! No more destructive fury! It is no longer possible to tolerate a situation that produces only fruits of death: killings, destroyed cities, ruined economies, hospitals lacking medicines, sick and elderly abandoned, families in tears and torn apart. A just peace must be achieved as soon as possible. Peace is possible if the priority of moral values over the claims of race or force is recognised.

9. Dear Brothers and Sisters! At this moment, together with you, I raise to the Lord the psalmist's cry: "Help us, God, our salvation, for the glory of your name, save us and forgive us our sins" (Ps 79:9).

Let us entrust this plea of ours to her who "stood" beneath the Cross silent and praying (cf. Jn 19:25). Let us look to the Blessed Virgin, whose Nativity the Church joyfully celebrates today.

It is significant that this visit of mine, long desired, has been able to take place on this Marian feast so dear to you. With Mary's birth there has blossomed in the world the hope of a new humanity no longer oppressed by selfishness, hatred, violence and the many other forms of sin that have stained the paths of history with blood. To Mary Most Holy, we ask that the day of full reconciliation and peace may also dawn for this land of yours. 

Queen of peace, pray for us!

[Pope John Paul II, in connection with Sarajevo, 8 September 1994]

Let us continue the catechesis on the “Lord’s Prayer”, now arriving at the penultimate invocation: “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil” (Mt 6:13). Another version says: “let us not fall into temptation”. The “Our Father” begins in a calm manner: it makes us desire that God’s great plan be fulfilled in our midst. It then casts a gaze on life, and makes us ask ourselves what we need each day: “daily bread”. Then the prayer turns to our interpersonal relationships, often tarnished by selfishness: we request forgiveness and we commit to bestow it. But it is with this penultimate invocation that our dialogue with the heavenly Father gets, so to speak, to the heart of the drama: that is, to the matter of the contrast between our freedom and the pitfalls of evil.

As we know, the original Greek expression contained in the Gospels is difficult to render in an exact manner, and all the modern translations are somewhat weak. But we can agree unanimously on one element: however one understands the text, we have to exclude the possibility that God is the protagonist of the temptations that loom over mankind’s journey. As if God himself were lurking with hidden pitfalls and snares for his children. One such interpretation contrasts first and foremost with the text itself, and is far from the image of God that Jesus revealed to us. Let us not forget: the “Our Father” begins with “Father”. And a father does not lay snares for his children. Christians are not dealing with an envious God, in competition with mankind, or who enjoys putting them to the test. These are the images of many pagan divinities. We read in the Letter of the Apostle James: “let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am tempted by God’; for God cannot be tempted with evil and he himself tempts no one” (1:13). If anything, it is the contrary: the Father is not the creator of evil. He does not give a serpent to any child who asks for a fish (cf. Lk 11:11) — as Jesus teaches — and when evil appears in people’s lives, he fights beside them, so they may be freed from it. A God who always fights for us, not against us. He is the Father! It is in this sense that we pray the “Our Father”.

These two moments — trial and temptation — were mysteriously present in the life of Jesus himself. In this experience the Son of God became wholly our brother, in a way that is almost scandalous. And it is precisely these Gospel passages that show us that the most difficult invocations of the “Our Father”, those that conclude the text, have already been granted: God does not leave us on our own, but in Jesus he manifests himself as the “God-with-us” up to utmost consequences. He is with us when he gives life; he is with us throughout life; he is with us in joy; he is with us in trials; he is with us in sorrow; he is with us in defeat when we sin. But he is always with us, because he is Father and cannot abandon us.

If we are tempted to commit evil, by denying our fraternity with others and desiring absolute power over everything and everyone, Jesus has already fought this temptation for us: the first pages of the Gospels attest to it. Right after receiving Baptism from John, amid the multitude of sinners, Jesus withdraws into the desert and is tempted by Satan. Thus begins Jesus’ public life, with the temptation that comes from Satan. Satan was present. Many people say: “But why speak of the devil, which is antiquated? The devil does not exist”. But look at what the Gospel teaches you: Jesus is confronted by the devil; he was tempted by Satan. But Jesus rejects every temptation and emerges victorious. The Gospel of Matthew has an interesting note that concludes the duel between Jesus and the Enemy: “Then the devil left him, and behold, angels came and ministered to him” (4:11).

But even at the time of supreme trial God does not leave us on our own. When Jesus withdraws to pray in Gethsemane, his heart is overwhelmed by unspeakable anguish — as he says to the disciples — and he experiences loneliness and abandonment. Alone, with the responsibility of the sins of the world upon his shoulders; alone, with unspeakable anguish. The trial is so excruciating that something unexpected happens. Jesus never begs for love for himself, but that night he feels his soul sorrowful, even to death, and so he asks his friends for closeness: “remain here, and watch with me” (Mt 26:38). As we know, the disciples, weighed down by a lethargy wrought by fear, fall asleep. In a time of agony, God asks man not to abandon him, but instead, man falls asleep. But when man faces times of trial, God is watching. In the most awful moments of our life, in the most painful moments, in the most anguishing moments, God watches with us; God fights alongside us; he is always close to us. Why? Because he is Father. Thus, we began the prayer: “Our Father”. And a father does not abandon his children. That night of Jesus’ suffering and struggle is the ultimate seal of the Incarnation: God descends to find us in our abyss and in the anguish that pervades our history.

He is our comfort at the time of trial: knowing that since Jesus crossed it, that valley is no longer desolate but is blessed by the presence of the Son of God. He will never abandon us!

Deliver us, thus, Oh God, from the time of trial and temptation. But when this time arrives for us, Our Father, show us that we are not alone. You are the Father. Show us that Christ has already taken upon himself the weight of that cross too. Show us that Jesus calls us to carry it with him, abandoning ourselves trustfully to your Fatherly love. Thank you.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 1 May 2019]

Holy Trinity [15 June 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! 

*First Reading from the Book of Proverbs (8:22-31)

 Last Sunday, the feast of Pentecost, in the responsorial psalm (Ps 103/104), we sang: "You have made all things with wisdom". Today, in this passage from the Book of Proverbs, there is a splendid hymn to Wisdom personified, through whom God guides the world. "The Lord created me as the first of his works... From eternity I was formed... when there were no depths, I was brought forth" (vv. 22-24). The author makes Wisdom speak as a person, and the Hebrew verb qanah means to acquire, to possess, to create, to generate, all meanings appropriate when taken into account the various nuances of the concept of Wisdom. Wisdom never speaks of herself, but always in relation to God, as if they were inseparable. Therefore, there is great intimacy between God and Wisdom. The Jewish faith in the one God has never imagined a triune God; but here it seems that, while remaining firm in the uniqueness of God, it senses that within the One God there is a mystery of dialogue and communion. There is a word that recurs often in this passage: 'first'. 'The Lord created me before his works... from eternity... before the foundations of the earth were laid... before the hills'.  Wisdom is prior to all creation, and the work she accomplishes is so beautiful that it generates true joy: 'I was his delight every day, playing before him... on the earth's surface, placing my delight among the sons of men' (vv. 30-31).  Wisdom 'finds its delight' in God and also in us. We can hear here an echo of the refrain from Genesis: 'God saw that it was good'; and even more so on the sixth day, when man was created (Gen 1:31).  This text from the book of Proverbs reveals a particular aspect of the faith of Israel: eternal Wisdom presided over the entire work of creation, and since the dawn of the world, humanity and the cosmos have been immersed in God's Wisdom, so that the created world is not disordered. Indeed, Wisdom is its creator, and this urges us never to lose faith. Finally, it is truly "folly" of faith to believe that God is always present in human life and, even more, that God finds delight in our company. Divine folly, but reality: if God continues tirelessly to offer us his Covenant of love, it is precisely because "he finds his delight among the children of men" (v. 31).  This text never mentions the Trinity because when the Book of Proverbs was written, not only did the term Trinity not exist, but the very idea did not even occur to anyone. For the chosen people, the first priority was to affirm the one God, and the prophets fought against idolatry and polytheism, since Israel was called to be the witness of the one God (Deut 4:35). Later, however, after the resurrection of Christ, believers discovered that God is One but not solitary: God is Trinity. When this mystery began to be glimpsed, the Scriptures were reread in a new light, and in particular this text which speaks of the Wisdom of God, in order to discern, as in a filigree, the person of Christ. St John writes: 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God', an expression which in Greek expresses an intimate communion, an uninterrupted dialogue of love. St Irenaeus and Theophilus of Antioch identified Wisdom with the Spirit, while Origen identified it with the Son. This second interpretation was then accepted by Christian theology.

*Responsorial Psalm (8)

"When I see your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have set in place." Perhaps we are in the context of a night-time celebration, and the prophet Isaiah sometimes alludes to night-time celebrations, for example when he says: "You will sing as on the night of the festival" (Isaiah 30:29). Let us imagine, then, that we are on a summer evening in Jerusalem during a pilgrimage under the stars. If we read the psalm in its entirety, we notice that the first and last verses are exactly the same: "O Lord, our Lord, how great is your name in all the earth!" (vv. 1, 10). The theme is therefore a hymn to the greatness of God, and the name of God is the name of the Covenant, the famous four letters YHVH, which are never pronounced. And so, even if the word "Covenant" is not pronounced, it is implied, and it is the people of the Covenant who are speaking. The first and last verses frame a meditation on man with an interesting construction. Man is at the centre of creation and then everything, including man, is brought back to God: God acts and man contemplates. Everything is the work of God's fingers, who fixed the stars... he thinks of man, cares for him, crowned him with glory and honour and set him above the works of his hands, placing everything at his feet. The overall structure of the psalm therefore presents concentric circles: at the centre is man – 'What is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You have given him power over the works of your hands, you have put everything under his feet'. Then there is a first circle, creation: on one side the starry sky and the moon... on the other all living beings: flocks, wild animals, birds, fish; a second circle, the repeated phrase: man contemplates the true king of Creation: 'O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is your name in all the earth!'.  God does not jealously guard his kingship for himself, but in turn crowns man, and even for man, royal language is used: man is "a little lower than a god", he is "crowned"... everything is "at his feet". Our thoughts turn to the book of Genesis, which recounts the creation of man as the last act after all other living beings, precisely to show that man is at the summit and gives a name to all creatures. Man's vocation is to be the king of creation, and to the first human couple, God said to be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and subdue it (Gen 1:28). We are faced with a psalm that breathes the joy of living, even though there may be days when God's presence is perceived as oppressive. Think of Job, who surely knew this psalm by heart. Yet in his despair, he regretted having sung it with enthusiasm and went so far as to say: 'Why do you search out man every morning and test him every moment?  How long will you look down on me and let me swallow my saliva? (Job 7:17-19). On that day, his faith was in danger of wavering. This can happen to us too, but, as with Job, in the end we too discover that God watches over us and, whatever happens, continues to 'take care of man'. The Bible is a 'joyful' book, and this psalm breathes joy in the splendour of God and man. Man, the king of creation, submits himself to the true Lord: he recognises his smallness and knows that he owes everything to his Creator.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (5:1-5)

 We are in Rome, at the time of Emperor Nero, in the year 57 or 58 AD; as in almost all cities in the Mediterranean basin, there is a Jewish community, estimated at several tens of thousands of people, experiencing a first serious schism between Jews and Judeo-Christians (Jews converted to Christ), accusing each other of heresy or deviation. There are also difficult relations between Judeo-Christians, still attached to their religious practices, and converted pagans called pagan Christians, who maintain possible remnants of idolatry. These conflicts become more entrenched over the years, so that in his letter to the Romans, Paul sets himself the task of restoring peace. The big question between former Jews and former pagans is this: since God chose the Jewish people to proclaim salvation to the world and since Jesus was Jewish, should former pagans be asked to become Jews before becoming Christians and be required to undergo circumcision and all Jewish practices? St Paul responds by arguing as follows: first of all, Christians, whatever their past, are all equal before salvation when they accept Christ, the only one who saves. Furthermore, even though they know that only faith saves and not human merits, some Jewish Christians claimed the privilege of being the only people of the Covenant and do not consider pagans to be descendants of Abraham. In chapter four, Paul has already answered that Abraham was declared righteous long before he was circumcised and was a pagan when he received God's call and, moved by trust, obeyed the One who asked him to leave his land and go to the country he would show him (Genesis 12). 'Abraham believed in the Lord, and because of this, the Lord considered him righteous' (Genesis 15:6). In today's text, Paul has clearly in mind the exemplary adventure of Abraham who, "through faith," became the father of all believers, with or without circumcision. Therefore, there is no point in arguing about this among Christians. He states this clearly at the beginning of today's text: "Justified by faith, we are at peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." Salvation is a free gift from God, who asks for a trusting abandonment of faith. By repeating the expression "through faith" or "by faith," he reaffirms that we are justified by the death and resurrection of Christ, who makes us live in intimacy with God, what Paul calls "grace." By pure grace, we participate in Christ's justice, thus reintegrated into God's Covenant and immersed in Trinitarian communion. Here, as in the first reading (from the book of Proverbs), there is no mention of the word Trinity, but it is precisely the Trinity that Paul is referring to when he speaks of "the grace in which we find ourselves." He contemplates the mystery of God in Trinitarian terms when he writes: "we are at peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ" and "the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us". He then speaks of the turmoil that can become a path to God, producing perseverance and hope. Hope, a virtue of the poor, is at the end of a long journey of dispossession which, "despite everything", trials, discouragement, obstinacy, problems of all kinds, arises from trusting abandonment to God, knowing that divine love has been poured into our hearts through the gift of the Holy Spirit. Finally, when he writes 'the love of God', one wonders about the meaning of the preposition 'of': is it the love that God has for us or our love for God?  He answers that the Holy Spirit pours into our hearts the same love that God has for humanity and, in turn, we become capable of loving by entering more and more into the Trinitarian communion already now: this journey is participating "in the glory of God" in the hope of sharing in God's glory. This hope does not disappoint, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us, as we celebrated last Sunday, the feast of Pentecost.

*From the Gospel according to John (16:12–15)
To immerse ourselves in this Gospel, we need to 'dress our hearts', to paraphrase Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1900-1944): 'It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye' (The Little Prince, chapter 21). On the eve of his death, Jesus does not use the word "Trinity", but does much more by introducing us into the intimacy of the Trinity. To perceive this mystery of love and communion, we need to be in tune with him, to be ourselves a burning fire of love and communion. Unfortunately, however, we are more like green wood placed in contact with fire, which burns with difficulty. Jesus assures us that it will be the Spirit of God, the fire, that will come into us and dwell in our hearts. At the Last Supper, he prepares his disciples for the events that are about to take place, knowing that there are things that cannot yet be understood because 'you cannot bear it now' (v. 12). The history of humanity, like that of every human being, is the adventure of a long journey, and God accompanies us. Throughout biblical history, God reveals himself progressively, and the chosen people abandon their beliefs to discover the true face of God. Even the disciples struggled to recognise Jesus as the Messiah, so different were their messianic expectations. The journey of encounter and discovery of God will continue throughout the centuries and along this historical path, the Spirit of truth accompanies us to guide us to the whole truth. Truth, one of the key words of this text, is a goal, not a possession: it is not intellectual, it is not knowledge, and Jesus says, "I am the Truth": therefore, a Person to be "known." In biblical language, 'to know' indicates an experience of life to such an extent that 'to know' is used for marital union. It is a knowledge of love that cannot be explained, it can only be lived and marvelled at. The Spirit will come to dwell in us, to penetrate us and guide us towards Christ who is the Truth, and if we wish to enter into the knowledge of the mysteries of God, we must resolutely invoke the Holy Spirit. Then, little by little, the revelation of God's mystery will no longer be external to us: we will have an intimate perception of it, as the prophets already promised: 'All shall know me, from the least to the greatest' (Jer 31:34). One last observation: the Spirit 'will tell you things that are to come' (v. 13). Let us not expect revelations in the manner of seers, because this is something much greater: it is the plan of love and salvation that God is realising in human history. St. Paul calls it "the plan of his kindness," which is, in fact, the entry of the whole of humanity into the intimate life of the Trinity (cf. Eph 1:3-10). The Spirit of love enabled Jesus to overcome Satan's temptations in the desert, guided him throughout his mission, inspiring his words, actions and miracles, until the final act of extreme courage in his total abandonment in Gethsemane. In our existence, we too walk towards this whole truth of Christ, and it is the Spirit who dwells in us who makes us bold in our mission, introducing us to the very experience of the intimacy of the Triune God. Ultimately, in celebrating the feast of the Trinity, we do not contemplate from afar an inaccessible mystery; we are already celebrating the great feast of the end of time: that of humanity's entry into the House of God.

NOTE For the disciples of Christ, the truth is Christ himself: Jesus of Nazareth, true God and true man, who reveals the face of truth. Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote to Mrs Fonvizina in 1854 about the relationship between truth and Christ: 'I have formed a symbol of faith in which everything is clear and sacred to me. This symbol of faith is very simple, here it is: to believe that there is nothing more beautiful, more profound, more sympathetic, more reasonable, more courageous and more perfect than Christ; and not only is there nothing, but with jealous love I tell myself that there cannot be. But there is more: if someone proved to me that Christ is outside the truth and it actually turned out that the truth is outside Christ, I would prefer to remain with Christ rather than with the truth" (letter to N.F. Fonvizina, No. 61, February 1854). Without knowing Christ, there can be no knowledge of the truth. Benedict XVI also writes this clearly in his book Jesus of Nazareth.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Trumpets, bass drums and reciters, or perfect instruments

(Mt 6:1-6.16-18)

External wiles have no wisdom: they become a boomerang.

Whoever tries to shine obscures his own light. Anyone who cares about the opinion of the crowds will be a prisoner of it.

Life in the Spirit detaches itself from the practice of (accidental) things to show in order to beg for recognition.

Artificial alms:

Even show men who are starting to lack inspiration like to be considered benefactors of humanity, but their real goal is to go on stage - not the spread of a spirit of disinterest.

They intend to be recognized and acclaimed again - for this they use an absolutely flashy, exhibitionist and tacky way.

Reached the individualistic goal, despite the superficial altruism they would leave everything as it was.

It would be quite different if the left didn’t know what the right does, that is, if every gesture flourished spontaneously and in hiding rather than in overload - but let alone what a pleasure, not to let it be known.

The same orientation is valid for Prayer, much better if inapparent. The inner life is not unnatural acting.

In the Temple the sacrifices were accompanied by public formulas. To this effect, the synagogues were also considered an extension of the Temple. And at the appointed hours, prayer was also on the street.

Those who were able to recite long litanies by heart could thus flaunt their virtue and be admired.

But Dialogue with God is not performance, but essential Listening: root of renewal; principle of criteria and action.

Prayer is intimate perception and profound reading of things. Understanding and empathy that restore us to the meaning of personal life - critical moment of our growth and love for brothers.

The soul dominated by noise doesn’t grasp the guidance of the innate Friend, nor its own primary quality.

Open prayer establishes people in this intimate, secret, hidden atmosphere, which in the Spirit is intertwined with the deepest and most ancestral fibers.

Again, personal prayer is creative. It not only cancels the idea that we have made of life, pains, goals, relationships, defeats, judgments...

[The bitterness doesn’t seem to make life fly - but they invite to move our eyes].

And attentive Listening transmits a new Reading to us; pushes out of boundaries. Puts in contact with other energies and virtues.

A higher level of humanity ‘comes’ to us only in the amazement of this different advice, of an unexpected intuition, of a reality that displaces.

Principle of Liberation that lets our own deep sides meet, and reminds them, making us travel through the akin territory - which we do not yet know.

The woman and the man who gather in prayer are torn from the homologation of interpretative codes, and from the disease of the society of appearances - seated in the opinions and in the time of the minimal.

Finally the (forcibly) thoughtful and undone aspect:

Perhaps even today some use to pose in an extravagant way, showing themselves off as "alternative". Here and there, it seems to be some regurgitation of artificial asceticism.

But in this way believers only walk the way of renunciations in a manner [those that God doesn’t ask for]. And to the exact opposite, making the vital wave hysterical.

Instead, we are called to be in company: with ourselves and brothers. Even renunciation is for harmonious coexistence, without forcing that dissociate the main lines of the personality.

Here too the discernment of spirits becomes a propitious opportunity to create space for the humanizing vocation, and set the time of ambiguous noise in background.

[Wednesday 11th wk. in O.T.  June 18, 2025]

The faithless lower self, the thespian

Mt 6:1-6.16-18 (.19-23)

"Beware of practising your righteousness before men in order to be admired by them" (Mt 6:1). Jesus, in today's Gospel, reinterprets the three fundamental works of piety in the Mosaic Law. Almsgiving, prayer and fasting characterise the law-abiding Jew. In the course of time, these prescriptions had been marred by the rust of outward formalism, or had even mutated into a sign of superiority. Jesus highlights in these three works of piety a common temptation. When one does something good, almost instinctively a desire arises to be esteemed and admired for the good deed, that is, to have satisfaction. And this, on the one hand, locks one in, on the other hand, takes one out of oneself, because one lives projected towards what others think of us and admire in us. In re-proposing these prescriptions, the Lord Jesus does not ask for a formal observance of a law extraneous to man, imposed by a strict legislator as a heavy burden, but he invites us to rediscover these three works of piety by living them in a deeper way, not out of self-love, but out of love for God, as means on the path of conversion to Him. Almsgiving, prayer and fasting: this is the path of the divine pedagogy that accompanies us, not only in Lent, towards the encounter with the Risen Lord; a path to be travelled without ostentation, in the certainty that the heavenly Father knows how to read and see even in the secret of our hearts".

[Pope Benedict, homily 9 March 2011].

"But you, when you pray, go into your chamber and shut your door [Is 26:20; 2 Kings 4:33] and pray to your Father who is in secret" (Mt 6:6).

The Tao says: "He who tries to shine, obscures his own Light" and "If you worry about people's opinions, you will be their prisoner".

The disciples are called to a higher righteousness of intention (perfection) than the scribes and Pharisees - who performed according to appearance, public opinion, and retribution.

Jesus does not question religious practices per se, but their purpose and manner.

Aim: [among the still Judaizing veterans, from his communities in Galilee and Syria] to unmask the insistents of outward fulfilment.

Because shrewdness and the recitation of holiness manage to fool the imagination of many... at least for a time.

But the wiles that we are skilled in setting up to beg for recognition do not possess the step of Wisdom.

Fasting, penance and prayer are fundamental works, yet utterly worthless and meaningless if they are not made alive by charity and accompanied by righteousness.

Life in the Spirit is detached from the practice of 'spiritual' things - to show off... to delude even oneself.

Finally, the (all incidental) artifice of holy duplicity becomes vague; sooner or later a boomerang.

At that time, the commitment to the Alms was held in high regard, but the custom of announcing the most important initiatives - in the synagogue and even in the streets - had become general.

For Jesus, publicity undermines that which belongs to us deeply [let not your left hand know what your right hand is doing] and is honourable.

Even 'devoutly' tightrope walkers, or career politicians who begin to lack the cue, like to make themselves out to be benefactors of humanity. But their real goal is to show off - not the spreading of a spirit of selflessness.

They intend to be recognised and acclaimed again - for this they use an absolutely showy, exhibitionist and tawdry manner.

Having reached their true opportunist and individualist goal, they would plant everything there in spite of their selflessness.

Every convinced fulfilment should flourish spontaneously and hiddenly, instead of in overload - but imagine the taste, not to make it known [...].

In reality, renouncing façade propaganda to promote contrary dimensions would extinguish intimate lacerations and conflicts; hidden energies would be released. It would spread the most fruitful awareness.

A similar orientation applies to Prayer, much better if inapparent. The inner life is not unnatural acting.

The prayer of the sons is not reduced to a repetition of dirges, nor to a request for favours; much less is it an exhibitionist and affected parade, in order to be considered pious, 'proper' and 'proper' people.

In the Temple, sacrifices were accompanied by public formulas. To this effect, even the synagogues were considered an extension of the Temple. And at the appointed times, prayer was also said in the street.

Those who were able to recite long litanies from memory could thus flaunt their virtue and be admired.

But Dialogue with God is not performance, but essential Listening: root of renewal; distinguishing criteria and action.Understanding and empathy, intimate perception and profound intelligence of things restore us to the sense of personal life - the discriminator of our growth and love for our brothers and sisters.

Why do we thirst for this knowledge, which is only grasped in its exclusive purity in a space of solitude?

For the soul - overwhelmed with fracas - would not otherwise grasp the guidance of the innate Friend, nor its own essential quality.

There are inescapable questions, beyond the reach of our lower selves, i.e. our cerebral or practical activities.

What is our Way? How do we welcome that which has specific weight and character?

It is not worth solving problems hastily, at all costs, in a conformist or exaggerated manner.

Of course, we do not always get along with God who wants us to flourish. What is the antidote?

Open prayer establishes people in this intimate, secret, hidden atmosphere that radically belongs to us,

In the Spirit it is woven into the deepest, ancestral fibres - and gradually brings to the surface the hidden path and destiny.

Personal prayer is creative.

It not only erases the idea we have formed of life, of sorrows, goals, relationships, defeats, judgements...

(Bitterness does not seem to make life fly by - but it does invite the eye to shift).

And Attention Listening conveys a new Reading; it brings us out of the confines. It makes contact with other energies and virtues.

A higher level of humanity comes to us only in the amazement of such different advice, of unexpected intuition; of a reality that disorients.

Principle of Liberation that lets us encounter our own deepest sides, and reminds us of them, making us tread the kindred territory - that we do not yet know.

We need to understand more deeply than the action-reaction mechanisms allow, filled with distracted tension - absent from our own Calling by Name, which would give us enthusiasm.

Not infrequently, the soul itself - which detests certain outcomes that the society [also ecclesial] of the outside world would like to let us live with - revolts, attacks and leads to the failure of all too normal goals.

Even discomforts come because we are not on the Path of deep attunements: "point" that bends its contractions towards us, for having chosen the wide but artificial path of compromises.

There are fundamental inclinations for everyone: it would be constructive to yield to them - and to allow ourselves to be guided.

Our complete existence is not a path laid out by 'where we should go'.

It is appropriate not to persist, and to learn to accommodate the activity of metamorphosis that wants to live; to express itself in us - to guide us and sometimes deviate from 'how we should be'.

The woman and the man who gather in prayer are torn from the homologation of interpretative codes, and from the disease of the society of appearance - all sitting in the opinions and time of the minimal.

Identical viewpoint for the theme of Fasting: a practice considered a manifestation of conversion to God.

But to our surprise, we note that Jesus' call applies especially to religious people with a forcibly pensive and undone air.

Not a few devotees of all creeds use extravagant posturing - a tawdry expression of their emotional problems.

Indeed, here and there, even in youthful circles, there seems to be some regurgitation of artificial asceticism.

But in this way believers only tread the path of mannered renunciations [those that God does not ask for], artificial ones. And for the exact opposite, making the life wave hysterical.

Instead, we are called to be in company: with ourselves and with our brothers. Even renunciation is for the sake of harmonious coexistence, without forcing one's personality lines out of alignment.

Here too, the discernment of spirits becomes a propitious occasion to create space for the humanising vocation.

Already the prophet Isaiah had distinguished between authentic and false fasting [Is 58], that is, not aimed at a life of righteousness and communion, hence at feasting and joy.

It is useless to undergo practices that do not change the heart.

Along the unspontaneous or trickery - abnormal, or grown-up (of plagiarism suffered or imposed of one's own accord on the soul) the lamb's bleating will sooner or later become a roaring or braying. A matter of time.

In the discernment of spirits, it is the attitude that reveals the fiction of those who in reality only think of power (in greed) and great things, precisely those of megalomaniac superiors, or the elect.

All this using the poor Jesus and the little ones, or any creed whatsoever, as screens - precisely, for the other way round.

Almsgiving, fasting and prayer are attitudes, not knowable practices outside the unrepeatable language of God himself and his exceptional way of communicating with each person.Dialogue of an eccentric, precious, ineffable, fantastic, unsurpassed uniqueness, which does not allow itself to be attracted by window-dressing externality, nor by herd-like levelling, or crab-cassing.

Set against the backdrop of ambiguous noise.

"Precisely because it is great, my Way seems to be like nothing [...] I do not dare to be first in the world, so I can be chief of the perfect instruments" [Tao Tê Ching, Lxvii].

To internalise and live the message:

Is your spiritual life a time of noise... or a time and fertile ground, a propitious occasion to internalise, to encounter oneself, one's essence, and God in one's brothers and sisters?