5th Easter Sunday (year A)  [3 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (6:1-7)

Paradoxically, the problem facing the early Christian community arose from its very success. In those days, as the number of disciples grew, the Greek-speaking believers began to grumble against the Hebrew-speaking ones (Acts 6:1). The numbers were growing so rapidly that maintaining unity became difficult. Every expanding group faces the same question: how to remain united when numbers grow? Numerous, and therefore diverse. In truth, the seeds of this difficulty were already present on the morning of Pentecost. In Jerusalem lived devout Jews from every nation under heaven (cf. Acts 2:5). On that day there were three thousand conversions, and others followed in the months and years that followed. All were Jews, for the question of non-Jews arose only later, but many were Jews who had come to Jerusalem on pilgrimage from all over the Empire. These were the Jews of the Diaspora known as Hellenists: their mother tongue was neither Hebrew nor Aramaic, but Greek, which was then the common language throughout the Mediterranean. Thus, the young community immediately found itself facing the ‘challenge of languages’. And we know that the language barrier is much more than a mere difficulty of translation: a different mother tongue means different cultures, customs, and ways of understanding life and solving problems. If language is a net cast over the reality of things, a different language is another net, and the meshes rarely coincide. The practical problem that arose in Jerusalem was the care of widows. Looking after them was a rule of the Jewish world and the community did so willingly, but those managing the service, recruited from the majority Hebrew-speaking group, tended to favour the widows of their own group, whilst the Greek-speaking widows were neglected. These complaints could only grow more bitter, until they reached the ears of the apostles. Their reaction can be summarised in three points. First: they summoned the entire assembly of disciples because every decision is taken in plenary session, given that the Church functions synodally: Why then has this been lost? Second: they recalled the objective. It is a matter of remaining faithful to three demands of apostolic life: prayer, the ministry of the Word and the service of the brothers and sisters. Third: they are not afraid to propose a new organisation. Innovation is not unfaithfulness; on the contrary: faithfulness demands the ability to adapt to new circumstances. Being faithful does not mean remaining fixated on the past, for example by entrusting all tasks to the Twelve simply because they were chosen by Jesus. Being faithful means keeping one’s eyes fixed on the goal, and the goal, as the evangelist John writes, is ‘that they may be one so that the world may believe’ (Jn 17:21). Accepting diversity is the challenge facing every growing community, and when conflicts arise, splitting up is not the best solution; this is why the apostles do not consider dividing the community in two, with Greeks on one side and Jews on the other. The Holy Spirit has brought about numerous and diverse conversions and now inspires the apostles to organise themselves differently to deal with the consequences. The Twelve therefore decide to appoint men capable of taking on the task of serving at the tables, since that is where the problem arises: “Brothers, choose seven of you, men respected by all, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, and we will entrust this task to them. We, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and the ministry of the Word’. The seven chosen all bear Greek names: they were therefore almost certainly part of the group of Greek-speaking Christians, from whom the complaints had come. Thus a new institution is born: these servants of the community do not yet have a title, and the text does not use the word ‘deacon’. Although we must not be too quick to identify these men with today’s deacons, one thing remains clear: in every age, the Spirit inspires innovations that are indispensable for faithfully fulfilling the Church’s various missions and priorities. 

Responsorial Psalm (32/33)

I shall begin where the reading of this psalm ends, for there lies a key to understanding the whole. I return to the penultimate verse, verse 18: “The Lord’s eye is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love.” Here we discover a beautiful definition of “fear of God”: to fear the Lord is simply to place our hope in his love. The believer, in the biblical sense, is a person full of hope; and if they are so, whatever happens, it is because they know that ‘the earth is full of his love’, as verse 5, which we have just heard, says. Knowing that the Lord’s loving gaze is always upon us is the source of our hope. I should point out that, in the Hebrew text, the name ‘Lord’ is the one revealed to Moses in the burning bush: the four-letter name YHWH which, out of respect, Jews never pronounce, and which means something like ‘I am, I will be with you, from everlasting to everlasting, in every moment of your history’. This name reminds Israel of the care with which God surrounded his people throughout the Exodus. If we translate it as ‘God watches over’, this vigilance is well conveyed. Thus we understand the following verse: ‘to deliver him from death and sustain him in times of famine’ (v. 19). These are allusions to the exodus from Egypt: by leading the people across the sea on dry ground behind Moses, the Lord saved the people from the certain death decreed by the Pharaoh; then, by sending manna from heaven in the desert, he truly nourished his people in times of famine. Then praise flows spontaneously from the heart of those who have experienced God’s care: “Rejoice, O righteous ones, in the Lord; for the upright, praise is beautiful” (v. 1). The expression “the upright” may surprise us, yet it is common in the Bible. One is considered upright/righteous who enters into God’s plan, who is united with God like a well-tuned musical instrument. This is said of Abraham: Abraham believed in the Lord, and it was credited to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6). He had faith, that is, he trusted in God and in his plan. Therefore, we could translate “righteous men”, in Hebrew hassidim, as “the men of the Covenant”, or “the men of God’s merciful plan”: those who have accepted the revelation of God’s benevolence and respond to it by adhering to the Covenant. These titles, “righteous men” and “upright men”, do not denote moral qualities, for the hassid is a man like any other, a sinner like any other, but he lives within the Lord’s Covenant; he lives in trust in the faithful God. And since he has discovered the God of tenderness and faithfulness, quite logically he lives in praise: “Rejoice in the Lord, you righteous; praise is fitting for the upright.” This call to praise was the entrance hymn of a liturgy of thanksgiving. We note in passing an indication of how the psalms were performed and of at least one of the instruments used in the Temple of Jerusalem: this psalm was probably intended to be accompanied by a ten-stringed harp. Singing a new song to the Lord does not mean a song never heard before, but a new song in the sense that words of love, even the most familiar ones, are always new. When lovers say ‘I love you’, they are not afraid to repeat the same words, and yet the wonder is that that song is always new. One more note: “The word of the Lord is upright, and all his works are trustworthy” (v. 4). Contrary to appearances, these are not two separate statements, one concerning the word of God and the other concerning his works, because in the Bible the Word of God is already an act in progress: “God said, and it was done,” repeats the account of creation in the first book of Genesis. It is no coincidence that this psalm has twenty-two verses, corresponding to the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet: it is a tribute to the Word of God, as if to say that it is the whole of our life, from A to Z. And it is no empty compliment, for Israel recognises that from God’s first word to his people, Israel has simultaneously experienced how the promised Word of liberation is, at the same time, already God’s liberating intervention: in every age, the Word of God calls to freedom, and is at the same time a divine force acting within humanity to secure freedom from all idolatry and all slavery. Finally: “He loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of the Lord’s love” (v. 5). Here the vocation of the whole of creation is described: God is love, and the earth is called to be a place of love, righteousness and justice. Remember the prophet Micah: ‘O man, it has been taught to you what is good and what the Lord requires of you: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God’ (Mic 6:8).

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (2:4–9)

In Hebrew, the same verb is used to mean ‘to build a house’, ‘to found a family’ and ‘to found a society’. For this reason, even in the Old Testament, the prophets readily used the language of building to speak of human society. Isaiah, for example, devised a parable: he compared the kingdom of Jerusalem to a building site (Isaiah 28:16–17). On that site there was a remarkable block of stone that was meant to become the cornerstone of the building, but the architects scorned that block and preferred to use stones of poor quality. This was a way of accusing the authorities of abandoning true values to build society on false ones. Over time, it became customary to apply the term ‘cornerstone’ to the Messiah: he would be able to take over and restore God’s building site. Peter, in turn, develops this comparison to speak of Christ. Jesus, the Messiah, is truly the most precious stone that God has placed at the centre of the building; and all people are called upon to become stones in this spiritual edifice. Those who agree to become one with him are integrated into the structure, becoming supporting elements themselves. But of course this is a choice to be made, and people may also choose the opposite path, that is, to reject the project and even sabotage it. Then everything happens for them as if the keystone were not at the heart of the building: it has remained on the ground, an admirable block but a hindrance on the building site. The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone, a stumbling block and a stone of offence (cf. 1 Pet 2:7–8). Our Baptism was the moment of choice. Since then, we have been integrated into the building of what Peter calls the spiritual temple, as opposed to the stone temple in Jerusalem where animal sacrifices were offered. From the beginning of history, humanity has sought to reach God by worshipping him in the way it believes is worthy of him. Along its journey, the chosen people discovered the true face of God and learnt to live within his Covenant. Little by little, in the light of the prophets’ teaching, it was discovered that the true temple of God is humanity itself, and that the only worship worthy of him is love and service to our brothers and sisters, and no longer animal sacrifices. But this places a tremendous responsibility upon us: the temple in Jerusalem was the sign of God’s presence among his people. Now, the sign of God’s presence visible to the world is us, the Church of Christ. Peter’s words then resound as a vocation: “Like living stones, you too are being built into a spiritual house” (1 Pet 2:5). Peter distinguishes between those who entrust themselves to Christ and those who reject him. ‘Believing’ and ‘rejecting’ are two acts of free will, and those who do not accept Christ, Peter affirms, stumble because they do not obey the Word. This was their destiny (cf. v. 5); this phrase speaks only of the consequence of their free choice, not of predestination by God’s arbitrary decision: the liberating God can only respect our freedom. At the presentation of Jesus in the temple, Simeon had announced to Joseph and Mary: ‘He is here for the fall and the rising again of many in Israel’ (cf. Lk 2:34). Simeon does not speak of a necessity willed by God, but of the consequences of Jesus’ coming. In fact, his presence was for some an occasion of total conversion, whilst others hardened their hearts. Peter concludes: ‘ But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood” (1 Pet 2:9). On the day of our Baptism, grafted into Christ, we became members of Christ, the one true “priest, prophet and king”. United with him, we have become part of his holy people; we have acquired a new citizenship, that of the people of God, and our national anthem is now the Alleluia. Peter concludes by telling us that we are charged with proclaiming the marvellous works of the One who has called us out of darkness into his marvellous light.

From the Gospel according to John (14:1–12)

If Jesus begins by saying, ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled’ (Jn 14:1), it is because the disciples were not hiding their anguish, and one can understand why. They knew they were surrounded by general hostility and sensed that the countdown had begun. This anguish was compounded, at least for some of them, by a terrible disappointment: “We had hoped that he would be the one to redeem Israel” (from the Romans), the disciples of Emmaus would say (cf. Lk 24:21). The apostles shared this political hope; now their leader is about to be condemned and executed, and their illusions are coming to an end. Jesus sets about redirecting their hope: he will not fulfil the expectations his miracles have raised; he will not lead the national uprising against the occupier; on the contrary, he will not cease to preach non-violence. The liberation he has come to bring lies on another plane: he does not wish to fulfil his people’s earthly and political expectation of the Messiah, but to make them understand that he is the one who has always been awaited. He begins by appealing to their faith, that is, to that fundamental attitude of the Jewish people which we read of in all the psalms, for hope can rest firmly only on faith. This is why Jesus returns repeatedly to these words: ‘believe’, ‘let not your hearts be troubled (for) you believe in God’. Yet it is one thing to believe in God—and this is a given—and quite another to believe in Jesus, precisely at the moment when he seems to have definitively lost the battle. For his contemporaries, to accord Jesus the same faith as God required a tremendous leap, and Jesus seeks to help them perceive the profound unity existing between the Father and himself. Here we have the second key theme of this text: “I am in the Father and the Father is in me” (a phrase he repeats twice). And then: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father”, and this last phrase resonates in a very special way in the light of what will happen a few hours later, for the revelation of the Father reaches its climax when Jesus dies on the cross. As he dies, Jesus continues to love mankind, all mankind, and even forgives his executioners. It would be necessary to dwell on every sentence of this final conversation between Jesus and his disciples, indeed on each of the words laden with the whole of biblical experience: to know, to see, to abide, to go towards. Every word is at the same time an event, a ‘work’. When he says: ‘I am’, to Jewish ears this clearly evokes God himself, and he dares to say: “I am the way, the truth and the life”, identifying himself with God himself. And at the same time, the Father and he are two distinct persons, for Jesus says: “I am the way” (implied: to the Father). No one comes to the Father except through me. Another way of saying “I am the way” or “I am the gate”, as in the discourse on the Good Shepherd. And when we are united with him, the divine plan of our solidarity in Jesus Christ with the whole of humanity is realised. This is truly a mystery, and we struggle greatly to grasp it, yet it is the very essence of God’s merciful plan, which St Augustine calls the “total Christ”. This solidarity in Jesus Christ is present throughout the New Testament. Paul, for example, evokes it when he speaks of the New Adam and also when he says that Christ is the head of the Body of which we are the members. “The whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth until now” (Rom 8:22): the birth of which he speaks is precisely that of the Body of Christ. Jesus himself very often used the expression ‘Son of Man’ to announce the definitive victory of the whole of humanity gathered together as one man. If we take seriously the expression ‘No one comes to the Father except through me’ and if we consider the solidarity existing among all men in Jesus Christ, then we must also say that Christ does not go to the Father without us. This is the meaning of these words of Jesus: “Where I am, there you will be too”, and again, “When I have gone and prepared a place for you, I will come again and take you to be with me”. Paul affirms this in another way when he writes: “Nothing can ever separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:39). Jesus concludes with a solemn promise: “Whoever believes in me will do the works that I do.” After all that Jesus has just said about himself, the term “works” certainly does not refer solely to miracles, for throughout the Old Testament, when the word “work” is used in reference to God, it always refers to God’s great work of liberating his people. This means that the disciples are now associated with the work undertaken by God to free humanity from all physical or moral bondage. This promise of Christ encourages us to believe that, even though history shows the enduring presence of many forms of slavery, this liberation is possible and will come to pass. It is up to each of us to make our own contribution.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Fourth Easter Sunday (year A)  [26 April 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (2:14a, 36–41)

The account of Peter’s speech in Jerusalem on the morning of Pentecost continues, and since he is now filled with the Holy Spirit, he reads, as it were, an open book in God’s plan. Everything appears clear to him; he recalls the prophet Joel who had announced: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh” (Joel 2:28), and it is evident to him that we are at the dawn of the fulfilment of this promise. Through Jesus, rejected and put to death by men, yet raised and exalted by God, the Spirit has been poured out upon all flesh, and Jewish pilgrims from every corner of the Roman Empire have come to celebrate the feast of Pentecost, the feast of the gift of the Law. During their journey and even upon arriving at the Temple in Jerusalem, the pilgrims sang psalms and implored God for the coming of the Messiah. Peter sought to open their eyes: the Messiah of whom you speak is that Jesus whom you have crucified, and when he declares Jesus to be Lord and Messiah, the Christ, these statements of his certainly seem very bold. If the man from Nazareth is the expected Messiah, this means that all the hope of Israel rests upon Jesus. Peter’s listeners were struck to the heart, says Luke, and Peter certainly knew how to touch their hearts. What must we do, they ask themselves? The answer is simple: repent to save yourselves from this perverse generation, and to repent, in biblical language, is precisely to turn around, to make a U-turn. There are two paths before us, and we often take the wrong one: we must then return to the right path. Peter makes a simple observation: the generation living at the time of Christ and the apostles was faced with a real challenge, namely to recognise in Jesus the Messiah awaited for centuries. Unfortunately, however, Jesus did not possess the characteristics or fulfil the hopes placed in the Messiah, who was imagined as the liberator of the Jewish people; thus, an error of judgement was made and the path was lost. For this reason, Peter calls on everyone to be converted and invites them to receive Baptism: be baptised in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit promised to you, to your children, and to all those who are far off, whom our Lord God will call. Furthermore, for Jews familiar with the study of the Scriptures, Peter recalls the prophecy of Joel – ‘I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh’ – just as his words echo those of the prophet Isaiah concerning the peace and covenant desired by God with the people of Israel (cf. Is 49:1; 57:19). It was precisely through this Covenant that Israel felt bound to God: they were the chosen people, the son, as the prophet Hosea says (11:1), whilst other peoples seemed far from God. When Isaiah then states that peace is also for those who are far away, he recalls that the chosen people have a mission of peace for all humanity, called to enter into what might be called God’s plan of peace. The author notes that on that day three thousand were baptised. He adds that the three thousand Jews who had become Christians were among those whom Peter called ‘neighbours’. Little by little, throughout the Book of Acts, even those who were far off will join those ‘called’ by God. To them, St Paul will say, in his letter to the Ephesians: you who were once far off have now become neighbours through the blood of Christ. And it is Christ, our peace, for ‘of the two, the Jew and the Gentile’, he has made one (Eph 2:14–18).

Responsorial Psalm (22/23)

We encountered Psalm 22/23 on the Fourth Sunday of Lent.  At the time, I emphasised three points in my commentary: first, the psalms speak of Israel as a whole, even though the speaker uses the first person singular, saying ‘I’; second, to describe its religious experience, Israel uses two comparisons: that of the Levite who finds joy in dwelling in the House of God, and that of the pilgrim who takes part in the sacred meal following the thanksgiving sacrifices. However, one must read between the lines to see that, through these two comparisons, the chosen people feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for God’s gratuitous Covenant. Thirdly, the early Christians recognised in this psalm the privilege of their own experience as the baptised, and Psalm 22/23 became, in the early Church, the hymn for the celebration of Baptism. I shall simply pause at the first verse: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” There are many references in the Bible. The prophet Micah prays thus: Lord, with your staff be the shepherd of your people, the flock that belongs to you, so that the people may perceive themselves as God’s inheritance (cf. Mic 7:14). In Psalm 15/16, however, we find the inverse expression: ‘Lord, my portion and my cup; you determine my lot; the portion that falls to me brings me joy; I truly have the finest inheritance.’ When God is compared to a shepherd and Israel to his flock, one dares to think that the chosen people are a treasure to their God, which is a bold notion, and the use of such language is an invitation to trust, for God is portrayed as a good shepherd—that is, the one who gathers, guides, nourishes, cares for, protects and defends his flock, watching over all its needs. The prophet Micah writes that God will gather together all the remnant of Israel (cf. 2:12), and bring them together as a flock, gathering the lame and the scattered sheep. Zephaniah takes up the same theme: I will save the lame sheep (cf. 3:19), I will gather those who are scattered, which means that whenever we sow division, we are working against God. God, the attentive shepherd, shepherd-guide and defender of his flock. We find this frequently in the Psalms, particularly in Psalm 94/95, which is the daily morning prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours, where we read: ‘We are the people he leads, the flock guided by his hand’. In Psalm 77/78 we read that, like a shepherd, God leads his people, drives his flock into the desert, guides them, defends them, reassures them, and Psalm 79/80 begins with an appeal: “Shepherd of Israel: listen, you who lead Joseph, your flock, reveal your strength and come to save us”. It is clear that in difficult times, when the flock—that is, Israel—feels ill-guided, abandoned, mistreated or, worse still, beaten down, the prophets often turn to the image of the good shepherd to restore hope. It is therefore no surprise to find this theme in Second Isaiah, in the Book of the Consolation of Israel: God, like a shepherd, tends his flock; his arm gathers the lambs, carries them close to his heart, and leads the nursing ewes (cf. 40:11), so that along the roads they may still graze; on the barren heights shall be their pastures; they shall neither hunger nor thirst; the scorching wind and the sun shall no longer strike them, for he, full of compassion, will guide them, lead them to living waters (cf. Is. 49:9–10). Finally, Ezekiel also takes up this theme, saying that thus says the Lord God: “I myself will tend my sheep and search for them, just as a shepherd searches for his flock when he is among his scattered sheep; so I will search for my sheep and rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and thick fog; I will feed them on the mountains of Israel, in the valleys and in all the best places. I will feed them in good pasture, and their grazing grounds will be on the highlands of Israel; there my sheep will lie down in lush pastures and graze in rich pastures. ‘On the mountains of Israel, I myself will tend my flock and let them rest,’ declares the Lord God. ‘The lost sheep I will seek out; the strayed I will bring back; the injured I will bind up; the sick I will strengthen’ (cf. 34:11–16).  Today, in turn, we sing this Psalm 22/23, knowing that Jesus presented himself as the shepherd of the lost sheep, inviting us to place our trust in the tenderness of God the Shepherd. In a time like ours, when our societies are going through days of clouds and gloom, we are invited to contemplate the image of the Good Shepherd and to renew our trust: God, the true Good Shepherd, never abandons us. 

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (2:20b–25)

Saint Peter addresses a particular social group, slaves, because slavery still existed at that time and, under Roman law, a slave was at the mercy of his master, an object in his hands. It therefore happened that slaves suffered mistreatment at the whim of their masters, and a Christian slave serving a non-Christian master was exposed to even harsher oppression. Peter essentially encourages us to imitate Christ, who was himself a ‘slave out of love’ (cf. Phil 2:7) and who devoted his entire life to the service of all people. How, then, did he behave? When insulted, he did not respond with insults; when made to suffer, he did not threaten, but entrusted himself to the One who judges justly. Saint Peter urges us to endure suffering even when doing good, knowing that it is a grace in God’s eyes to be able to behave like Christ when facing trials. Certainly there is no Christian vocation to suffering, but in suffering there is a call to behave according to the example of Christ. So it is not suffering for the sake of suffering, but imitating Christ, who himself suffered by taking our sins upon himself on the wood of the cross, so that, having died to sin, we might live for righteousness. For by his wounds we have been healed. God has saved us so that we may live for righteousness. We have been healed of our wounds, which are our inability to love and to give, to forgive, to share. Because of original sin, we were far from God and disoriented, wandering like sheep. In Christ, crucified for our sins, we have regained fidelity to God’s plan, and his wounds have healed us. Christ died to bear witness to the truth, remaining faithful to the Father even on the cross. The cross, a place of utter horror and unbridled human hatred, has become the throne of absolute love. In Jesus’ forgiveness of his executioners, we are given the chance to contemplate and believe in God’s love for humanity, revealed in the cross, which can transform and convert us.  The prophet Zechariah reminds us: “They will look upon him whom they have pierced” (cf. 12:10), and this heals us, saves us—that is, it makes us capable once more of loving and forgiving as Christ did. When we allow ourselves to be moved by this absolute love of God, our hearts of stone become hearts of flesh, capable of living as he did. Let us allow ourselves to be transformed by this contagion of mercy so that Christ may continue, through us too, the work of transforming all humanity: He continues to send out disciples “like lambs among wolves” (cf. Lk 10:3; Mt 10:16) so that, following in his footsteps, we may be witnesses everywhere to God’s infinite mercy.  

From the Gospel according to Saint John (10:1-10)

The coherence of this Sunday’s biblical readings is truly evident, for the psalm, the second reading and the Gospel lead us into a sheepfold. The psalm compares God’s relationship with Israel to a shepherd’s care for his flock: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures”; in the second reading, Saint Peter speaks of people like lost, wandering sheep, invited to return “to your shepherd, the guardian of your souls”. Here, in the Gospel, we read a passage from the long discourse on the Good Shepherd and a sheepfold. To understand it, we must make the effort to imagine the landscape of the Near East, where the flock is gathered for the night in a well-guarded enclosure and in the morning the shepherd comes to release the sheep to lead them to pasture: a scene very familiar to Jesus’ listeners at the time, firstly because there were many flocks in Israel, and secondly because the Old Testament prophets had taken to comparing God’s relationship with his people to that of a shepherd caring for his flock. In the responsorial psalm we have just heard some passages on this subject, and I would add a reference to the prophet Isaiah, who emphasises God’s care for his people: full of compassion, he ‘will lead them to springs of water’ (49:9–10). Furthermore, it was said of the future Messiah that he would be a shepherd for Israel, but at the same time the prophets never ceased to warn against false shepherds, a real danger to the sheep, and a matter of life and death for the flock. Jesus, in turn, takes up precisely this same theme, highlighting the shepherd’s care for his sheep and the danger of false shepherds—a subject he revisits in this Sunday’s Gospel in the form of two brief, successive parables: that of the shepherd, followed by that of the gate. It is interesting that he takes care to introduce both with the solemn formula ‘Truly, truly, I say to you’, an expression that always introduces something new. But if the theme of the shepherd was well known, where is the novelty? On the other hand, John specifies that these two parables are addressed to the Pharisees: Jesus tells the first, but, as he notes, they did not understand what Jesus meant to say to them, so Jesus continues with the second. The Pharisees did not understand the first, or did not want to understand it, perhaps simply because, quite clearly, Jesus suggests that he himself is this good shepherd capable of bringing happiness to his people, and they suddenly find themselves demoted to the rank of bad shepherds. Is it not that they understood perfectly well what Jesus meant, but could not accept it because that would be to admit that this Galilean is the Messiah, the One sent by God? Jesus bears no resemblance whatsoever to the image they had of him, and this is perhaps why Jesus took care to say, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you’. When he begins a discourse with this opening, one must pay particular attention, for it is equivalent to idiomatic expressions frequently found in the prophets of the Old Testament. Indeed, when the Spirit of God breathes into them words that are hard to understand or accept, the prophets always take care to begin—and sometimes end—their preaching with phrases such as ‘the word of the Lord’ or ‘thus says the Lord’. Although they knew this and were therefore aware that Jesus was speaking of matters of great importance, the Pharisees did not understand or did not wish to understand; nevertheless, Jesus persists, and John helps us to understand this deliberate insistence by noting that “then Jesus said again”. Here we see all of Jesus’ patience, as he tries in every way to convince his listeners: “Truly, truly, I say to you: I am the gate for the sheep” and whoever enters through me will be saved. Different ways to help them understand that he is the Messiah, the Saviour, and that only through him does the flock gain access to true life, life in abundance. We can draw one final lesson from this Gospel: Jesus says that the sheep follow the shepherd because they know his voice, and behind this image, we can discern a reality of the life of faith: our contemporaries will not follow Christ, will not be his disciples, if we do not make the voice of Christ resound, if we do not make the Word of God known. Is this not, once again, Jesus’ heartfelt appeal to make the sound of his voice heard by every means possible? 

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Scientists and Lowlies: abstract world and incarnation

(Mt 11:25-30)

The leaders looked at religiosity with a view to interest. Professors of theology were accustomed to evaluate every comma on the basis of their own knowledge, ridiculous but supponent - unrelated to real events.

That which remains tied to customs and the usual protagonists does not make one dream, it is not an apparition and astonishing testimony of Elsewhere; it detracts expressive richness of the announcement and life.

The Lord rejoices in his own experience, which brings a non-epidermal joy and a teaching from the Spirit - about those who are well disposed, and able to understand the depths of the Kingdom, in ordinary things.

In short, after an initial moment of enthusiastic crowds, the Christ delves deeper into the themes and finds himself all against, except God and the least ones: the weightlesses, but eager to start from scratch.

Glimpse of the Mystery that leavens history - without making it a possession.

At first even Jesus is stunned by the rejection of those who considered themselves already satisfied and no longer expected anything that could overcome habits.

Then He understands, praises and blesses the Father's plan: the authentic Person is born from the gutter, and possesses «the sense of neighborhood» (FT n.152).

The Creator is simple Relationship: He demystifies the idol of greatness.

The Eternal One is not the master of creation: He is Refreshment that reassures, because makes us feel complete and lovable. He seeks us out, He pays attention to the language of the heart.

He is Custodian of the world, even of the unlearned ones - of the «infants»  (v.25) spontaneously empty of boastful spirit, that is, of those who do not remain closed in their sufficient belonging.

Thus the Father-Son bond is communicated to God’s poor: those who are endowed with the attitude of family members (v.27).

Insignificant and invisible without great external capacities, but who abandon themselves to the proposals of the provident life that comes, like babies in the arms of parents.

In this way, with a pietas’ Spirit that favours those who allow themselves to be filled with innate wisdom.

The only reality that corresponds to us and does not present the "bill": it does not proceed along the paths of functional thinking, of calculating initiative.

Sapience that transmits freshness in the readiness to personally receive, welcome, re-temper the Truth as a Gift, and the spontaneous enthusiasm itself, capable of realizing it.

A simple blessing prayer, for the simple ones - this of Jesus (v.25) - which makes us grow in esteem, fits perfectly with our experience, and gets along well with ourselves.

The new ones, the nullities, the voiceless and invisible do not think in terms of doctrine and laws [vv.29-30: unbearable "yoke" that crushes people, and concrete, particular vocations] but in terms of life and humanity.

Thus they enrich the fundamental and spontaneous experience of Faith-Love, satisfying, fulfilling it without mannerisms or intimate forcing.

While the exteriority of the pyramidal world, the distrust of those who want “to count", the anxiety of a competitive society, impoverish the gaze and contaminate the vital wave.

We, too, do not appreciate too much the energy of the 'models', nor the aggressive power of the “big guys”.

Rather than only with the “big” and external, we wish to live by Communion - even with the 'small' self, or there will be no loveliness, no authentic life.

To internalize and live the message:

What do you feel when you are told: «You don't count»? 

Does it remain a humiliating contempt or do you consider it a great Light received, as Jesus did

[St Catherine of Siena, April 29]

(Mt 11:25-30)

The one prayer of Jesus little taught

Scientists and Little People: abstract world and incarnation

(Mt 11:25-27)

"The world gives credit to the "wise" and the "learned", while God prefers the "little ones". The general teaching from this is that there are two dimensions of reality: one is deeper, true and eternal, the other marked by finiteness, impermanence and appearance" [Pope Benedict].

God's Broad Reason is not according to "fortune", or "measure"

In commentary on the Tao Tê Ching (iv) Master Ho-shang Kung writes:

"Human desires are sharp and subtle; they strive to appropriate merit and glory. When they are blunted, man masters them, and in imitation of the Way, does not fill himself".

The leaders looked at religiosity with an interest. Professors of theology used to evaluate every comma from their own ridiculously supponent knowledge - unrelated to real events.

Jesus finds himself against even his own family. Under the cloak and blackmail of habitual social conventions, they too were subjected to the preconception of the opinion of the 'great' and the evasive oral tradition, which did not convey nourishment to the concrete fabric of human time.

The Lord observes: even the Apostles are not free people; that is why they do not emancipate anyone and even prevent any breakthrough (cf. Luke 9).

Their way of being is so grounded in standard attitudes and compulsory behaviour that it translates into impermeable mental armour.

Their predictability is too limiting: it gives no breathing space to the path of those who instead want to reactivate themselves, discover and value surprises behind the secret sides of reality and personality.

That which remains bound to ancient customs [or abstractions] and usual protagonists [or sophisticated pseudo-teachers] does not make one dream, it is not an apparition and astonishing testimony of the Other; it takes away expressive richness from the Announcement and from life.

The Master rejoices in his own experience, which brings a non-epidermal joy and a teaching from the Spirit - about those who are well-disposed, and capable of understanding the depths of the Kingdom, in ordinary things.

[At a certain point in the spiritual journey, one realises in Christ that one must detach oneself from the idolatry of deference: it stifles and mocks life.

Faith proceeds on the track of the Happiness of the concrete woman and man, conversely rendered puppet-like by a false piety that is all exhibitionist or disembodied].

In short, after an initial moment of enthusiastic crowds, the Master delves deeper into the issues and finds everyone against him, except God and the least: the weightless, but with a strong desire to start from scratch.

Gleam of the Mystery that leavens history - without making it a possession.

At the conclusion of the encyclical Fratelli Tutti, Pope Francis cites the figure and experience of Charles de Foucauld, who - subverting everything - "only by identifying himself with the least came to be a brother to all" (no. 287).

At first, even Jesus is stunned by the rejection of those who were already satisfied with the official religious structure and were no longer waiting for anything that could oust the beaten track, arousing habits (or fantasies) and gaining advantage.

Then it overcomes the initial surprise: it fully grasps, praises and blesses the Father's plan, making it its own, holding it close to itself.

He brings to full and proper knowledge his Secret: that the Root of the transformation of being into the Unseen of God is concealment, "tapinōsis" [(tapeínōsis, "lowering"), from ταπεινός (tapeinós, "low") [v.29; Lk 1:48].

Here, the Son knows and understands the nucleus of the Expectations and Promises of the Covenant, and its protagonists - on the contrary: the trustworthy Person is born precisely from the slums, not from the class of elites.

In short, Christ intuits the all-round authenticity precisely of the unfortunate - the profound impulse, motive, motor, quintessence and unique energy of salvation history.

Transparency of the Eternal, which comes from another elaboration.

Genesis itself upsets the established religious relationship, which at times has become inert and "reassuring" - never profound nor decisive for human destiny.

God is Simple Report: he demythologises the idol of greatness.

The Eternal One is no longer the master of creation [He who manifested Himself strong and peremptory; in His action, still in the Old Covenant illustrated through the irrepressible powers of nature].

Quite the opposite. In this way, reflexively, and also in the spiritual journey, the Father does not lead us to alienation, to the hysteria of forcings we do not want, to inner dissociations.

He is Friend and Refreshment that refreshes, because He makes us feel complete and lovable; He seeks us by Name, He is attentive to the language of the heart.

He is Keeper of the world, even of the unlearned - of the "infants" (v.25) spontaneously empty of a boastful spirit, that is, of those who do not remain closed in their sufficient belonging.As it is, 'perfect' in order to their mission in the world. Not empty glasses, only to be re-educated in institutional function.

No longer souls to be chiselled according to models.

If anything, hearts to be guided to total awareness; souls to be completed in the sense of complete self-discovery, in the opposites of character and vocational essence.

In this way, the Father-Son relationship is communicated to God's poor: those endowed with a family-like attitude (v.27).

Capable of coexistence, yet more autonomous than the identified and well-integrated... totally committed to tracing, in order to be recognised.

The poor remain genuine: what they are; not outsiders.

Insignificant and invisible, devoid of great gifts, but strangely always filled with an Other 'power'.

This is the 'virtue' of the infirm, who abandon themselves to the proposals of the providential life that comes, like children in the arms of parents.

With a spirit of 'pietas' - which favours those who allow themselves to be filled with innate wisdom.

The only reality that corresponds to us and does not present the 'bill': it does not proceed along the paths of functional thinking, of calculating initiative.

Wisdom that conveys freshness in the readiness to receive, welcome, personally reinvigorate the Truth as Gift - and the spontaneous enthusiasm itself, capable of realising it.

A prayer of blessing that is simple, for the simple - this of Jesus (v.25) - that makes us grow in esteem, fits perfectly with our experience, and agrees with ourselves; starting from the innermost.

But that strangely, the learned in the territory who do not live 'the spirit of the neighbourhood' (FT no.152) but in the territory claim positions and always play smart, have never wanted to transmit to us.

The new, the voiceless and invisible do not reason in terms of doctrine and laws - vv.29-30: unbearable 'yoke' that crushes people and concrete, particular vocations - but in terms of life and humanity.

This is how we enrich the fundamental and spontaneous experience of Faith-Love, fulfilling it without mannerisms or intimate forcing that then pulls us out of ourselves.

Because the exteriority of the pyramidal world, the distrust of those who want to "count", the anxiety of the competitive and epidermic society, impoverish the gaze; they contaminate the vital wave.

For God, it is better to 'count' little.

He does not force us into the energy of models, nor does he put forward the aggressive power of the 'big shots' as an ideal.

In this way, his intimates, rather than only with the 'great' and external, will live in communion with the 'small' in themselves; or they will not enjoy amiability, nor authentic life.

To internalise and live the message:

What do you feel when you are told: 'You don't count'?

Does it remain a humiliating contempt or do you consider it a great Light received, as Jesus did?

The Yoke on the Little Ones

Religion turned into obsession - for "held back"

(Mt 11:28-30)

The rabbis chose disciples from among those with greater intellectual and ascetic abilities. Jesus instead goes after the outcasts, the "infants" (v.25) who did not even have self-esteem.

Even for the rebirth that is on the horizon today, Christ has no need of false phenomena; on the contrary, it is He who frees from external constraints; He releases inner strength [and also heals the brain]. 

Into the intimacy of the Mystery of divine life enters those who know how to receive everything and let go - but remain themselves.

God is not distant, but very near; he is not great, but small: the effective way to become intimate with the Father is not to make oneself subordinate with effort, but to know oneself as a dissolved family member.

Only here can we grasp him in the centre of his unveiling: wise power, succouring, united; for us, as we are.

The pundits of official religion - overflowing with self-love and a sense of election - preached a God to be convinced with confident attitudes and a contrived, cutting, imperious manner.

They let neither being nor becoming be. Intransigence was a sign that they did not know the Father.

The Eternal One transformed into the Controller had become a source of discrimination and obsession for the intimate life of tiny people, harassed by the insecurity of distinguishing-avoiding-observing, and by doubts of conscience.

Discouraged from living personally (and as a class) the conversion they preached to others, the professors did not realise that they had to empty themselves of absurd presumptions and become - they - pupils of ordinary people.

In short, as children we are incessantly invited to build a multifaceted family, where we are not always on the alert.

We are not the subordinates of a frowning and all-distant - but manipulative - Lord.

Rather, they were called to a paradoxical, personal and class choice: and without forcing it, to recognise themselves - to stand alongside the humiliated and harassed.

This is while provincial false piety continues to drag burdens - precisely those of the thwarted and weary, of existence made more hesitant rather than free; obsessed and heavy, rather than light.

Why? Without mincing words, the Encyclical Brothers All would reply:

"The best way to dominate and advance without limits is to sow the seeds of hopelessness and arouse constant distrust, albeit disguised with the defence of certain values" (no.15).

As if to say: when the authorities and the top of the class have little credibility, only the sowing of fear produces significant conditioning in the people, and puts them on a leash.

In the widespread Church, we have only for the past few decades overcome the cliché of moralistic and terroristic preaching [e.g. even at Advent time] divorced from a meridian sense of humanisation.

The excluded, dejected and exhausted by meaningless fulfilments have nevertheless continued to meet the Saviour frankly, finding rest of soul, conviction, peace, balance, hope.

By instinct, they have succeeded in carving out what no pyramidal religion had ever been able to offer and deploy.

In this way, the new, the voiceless, inadequate and invisible, never know how to calculate in terms of doctrine and laws, norm and code - ancient 'yoke' (vv.29-30) unbearable, which crushes people and concrete vocations; particular autonomies or communionalities.

In short, no 'patriarch' is empowered by God to pack our souls, force directions, and keep a maniacal, perfectionist, and meticulous eye on us.

Exaggerating failures, across the board.

Everyone has an inherent way of being in the world, all their own - even if it is habitual. It is an opportunity of impulse and richness for all.

We ourselves do not want to exacerbate events by regulating every detail, even 'spiritual' ones, from irritating patterns of vigilance that do not belong to us.

We prefer to let personal ways of dealing with reality flow; thus tracing its essential and spontaneous energies.

We reason according to codes of life and humanisation: temperament, unrepeatable history, cultural influences, broad friendships. We do not live to prevent.

Only in this way can we enrich the fundamental experience: Love - which does not come from judgements, cuts and separations, but from the Father-Son relationship. One that does not irritate.

The root of the transformation of being in God's unpredictable is precisely concealment, 'tapinōsis' [(tapeínōsis, 'lowering'), from ταπεινός (tapeinós, 'low') [v.29 Greek text; Lk 1:48].

Only those who love strength start from the too far from themselves.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you find yourself more or less free and serene in community?

Does your Calling obtain breath or do you feel the burden of others' doubts, judgments, prohibitions and prescriptions?

Do you suffer from some guide or from yourself a kind of controller complex?

The world considers a long life fortunate, but God, more than age, looks at the uprightness of heart. The world gives credit to the "wise" and "intelligent", while God prefers the "lowly". The general teaching that we can draw from this is that there are two dimensions to reality: a more profound, true and eternal one and the other, marked by finitude, transience and appearance. Now, it is important to emphasize that these two dimensions are not placed in simple temporal succession, as if true eternal life were to begin only after death. In reality, true life, eternal life already begins in this world, although within the precariousness of human history; eternal life begins in the measure to which we open ourselves to the mystery of God and welcome it in our midst. It is God, the Lord of life, in whom "we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17: 28), as St Paul said at the Areopagus in Athens.

God is the true wisdom that never ages, the authentic wealth that never corrupts, the happiness to which every man aspires in the depths of his heart. This truth, that passes through the Wisdom Books and re-emerges in the New Testament, comes to fulfilment in the existence and teaching of Jesus.

[Pope Benedict, homily 3 November 2008]

1. An innumerable host of "wise virgins" like those praised in the Gospel parable we have just heard, have known, throughout the Christian centuries, how to await the Bridegroom with their lamps, well stocked with oil, to participate with him in the feast of grace on earth, and of glory in heaven. Among them, today shines before our gaze the great and beloved Saint Catherine of Siena, splendid flower of Italy, most resplendent gem of the Dominican Order, star of unparalleled beauty in the firmament of the Church, whom we honour here on the sixth centenary of her death, which occurred on a Sunday morning, about the third hour, on 29 April 1380, while the feast of Saint Peter the Martyr, whom she loved so much, was being celebrated.

Happy to be able to give you a first sign of my lively participation in the centenary celebration, I cordially greet all of you, dear brothers and sisters, who, to worthily commemorate the glorious date, have gathered in this Vatican Basilica, where the ardent spirit of the great Sienese woman seems to hover. I greet in a special way the Master General of the Friars Preachers, Father Vincent de Couesnongle, and the Archbishop of Siena, Monsignor Mario Ismaele Castellano, the main promoters of this celebration; I greet the members of the Dominican Third Order and of the Ecumenical Association of the Catholics, the participants in the International Congress of Catholics Studies, and all of you, dear pilgrims, who have travelled so many roads of Italy and Europe to unite yourselves in this centre of Catholicity, on such a beautiful and significant feast day.

2. Today, we look to St Catherine first of all to admire in her what immediately struck those who approached her: the extraordinary richness of her humanity, in no way obscured, but rather increased and perfected by grace, which made her almost a living image of that true and healthy Christian "humanism", the fundamental law of which is formulated by Catherine's brother and teacher, St Thomas Aquinas, in the well-known aphorism: "Grace does not suppress, but supposes and perfects nature" (St Thomas, Summa Theologia, p. 4). Thomas, Summa Theologiae, I, q. 1, a. 8, ad 2). The full-sized man is the one who is realised in the grace of Christ.

When, in my ministry, I insist on drawing everyone's attention to the dignity and values of man, which must be defended, respected and served today, it is above all of this nature that came forth from the hands of the Creator and was renewed in the blood of Christ the Redeemer that I speak: a nature that is good in itself, and therefore healable in its infirmities and perfectible in its gifts, called to receive that "more" that makes it share in the divine nature and in "eternal life". When this supernatural element is grafted into man and can act on him with all its force, we have the prodigy of the 'new creature', which in its transcendent elevation does not annul, but makes richer, denser, firmer everything that is purely human.

Thus our saint, in her nature as a woman endowed with imagination, intuition, sensitivity, volitional and operative vigour, communicative capacity and strength, willingness to give of herself and to service, is transfigured, but not impoverished, in the light of Christ who calls her to be his bride and to mystically identify with him in the depths of 'interior knowledge', as well as to commit herself to charitable, social and even political action, among the great and the small, the rich and the poor, the learned and the ignorant. And she, almost illiterate, becomes capable of making herself heard, and read, and taken into consideration by governors of cities and kingdoms, by princes and prelates of the Church, by monks and theologians, by many of whom she is even revered as 'teacher' and 'mother'.

She is a prodigious woman, who in that second half of the 14th century shows in herself what a human creature is capable of, and - I insist - a woman, the daughter of humble dyers, when she knows how to listen to the voice of the only shepherd and master, and nourish herself at the table of the divine Bridegroom, to whom, as a 'wise virgin', she has generously consecrated her life.

It is a masterpiece of the renewing and elevating grace of the creature to the perfection of holiness, which is also the full realisation of the fundamental values of humanity.

3. Catherine's secret in responding so meekly, faithfully and fruitfully to the call of her divine Bridegroom can be grasped from the same explanations and applications of the parable of the 'wise virgins' that she makes several times in her letters to her disciples. Particularly in the one sent to a young niece who wants to be a 'bride of Christ', she lays down a small summary of spiritual life, which applies especially to those who consecrate themselves to God in the religious state, but is of guidance and direction to all.

"If you want to be a true bride of Christ," writes the saint, "you better have the lamp, the oil and the light."Do you know what is meant by this, my child?".

And here is the symbolism of the lamp: "By the lamp is meant the heart, which must resemble a lamp. Thou seest well that the lamp is wide above, and narrow below: and so is our heart made, to signify that we must always have it wide above, by holy thoughts, holy imaginations, and continual prayer; with the memory always turned to remembering the benefits of God, and especially the benefit of the blood by which we have been recompensed...".

"I also told you that the lamp is narrow below: so also is our heart, to signify that it must be narrow towards these earthly things, neither desiring them nor loving them disorderly, nor coveting them in greater quantity than God wants to give us, but we must thank him always, admiring how sweetly he provides for us, so that we never lack anything..." (Letter 23).

In the lamp you need oil. "The lamp would not be enough if there were no oil in it. And by oil is meant that sweet little virtue of deep humility.... Those five foolish virgins, glorying solely and vainly in the integrity and virginity of the body, lost the virginity of the soul, because they did not bring with them the oil of humility..." (Ibid).

"Finally, it is necessary for the lamp to be lit and for the flame to burn in it: otherwise it would not be enough for us to see. This flame is the light of the most holy faith. I say living faith, because the saints say that faith without works is dead..." (Ibid; cf. Letters 79, 360).

Throughout her life, Catherine actually nourished the lamp of her heart with great humility, and kept the light of faith, the fire of charity, and the zeal of good works done for the love of God burning, even in the hours of tribulation and passion, when her soul reached its greatest conformation to Christ crucified, until one day the Lord celebrated the mystical wedding with her in the small cell where she lived, made all resplendent by that divine presence (cf. Life, nos. 114-115).

If men today, and especially Christians, could rediscover the wonders that can be known and enjoyed in the "inner cell", and indeed in the heart of Christ! Then, yes, man would find himself, the reasons for his dignity, the foundation of his every value, the height of his eternal vocation!

4. But Christian spirituality does not exhaust itself in an intimistic circle, nor does it push towards an individualistic and egocentric isolation. The elevation of the person takes place in the symphony of the community. And Catherine, who keeps the cell of her home and heart to herself, has lived since her youth in communion with so many other children of God, in whom she feels the mystery of the Church vibrate: with the friars of St Dominic, to whom she is united in spirit even when the bell calls them in choir, at night, for matins; with the capes of Siena, among whom she is admitted for the exercise of works of charity and the common practice of prayer; with her disciples, who grow to form around her a cenacle of fervent Christians, who welcome her exhortations to the spiritual life and the incitements to renewal and reform that she addresses to all in the name of Christ; and one can say with the entire 'mystical body of the Church' (cf. Dialogue, can. 166), with whom and for whom Catherine prays, works, suffers, offers herself, and finally dies.

His great sensitivity to the problems of the Church of his time is thus transformed into a communion with the 'Christus patiens' and the 'Ecclesia patiens'. This communion is at the origin of the same outward activity, which at a certain moment the saint is driven to carry out first with charitable action and the lay apostolate in her city, and soon on a broader level, with commitment on a social, political, ecclesial scale.

In any case, Catherine drew from that inner source the courage for action and that inexhaustible hope that sustains her even in the most difficult hours, even when all seems lost, and allows her to influence others, even at the highest ecclesiastical levels, with the strength of her faith and the charm of her person completely offered to the cause of the Church.

At a meeting of Cardinals in the presence of Urban VI, according to the account of Blessed Raymond, Catherine "showed that divine Providence is always present, especially when the Church suffers"; and she did so with such ardour that the pontiff finally exclaimed: "What has the vicar of Jesus Christ to fear, if the whole world were to turn against him? Christ is more powerful than the world, and it is not possible for him to abandon his Church!" (Vita, n. 334).

5. That was an exceptionally serious moment for the Church and the Apostolic See. The demon of division had penetrated the Christian people. Discussions and fights were breaking out everywhere. In Rome itself there were those who plotted against the Pope, not without threatening him with death. The people were rioting.

Catherine, who did not cease to hearten pastors and faithful, felt however that the hour had come for a supreme offering of herself, as a victim of expiation and reconciliation together with Christ. And so he prayed to the Lord: "For the honour of your name and for the sake of your holy Church, I will gladly drink the cup of passion and death, as I have always wished to drink; you are my witness, since, by your grace, I began to love you with all my mind and with all my heart" (Ibid., no. 346).

From then on it began to deteriorate rapidly. Every morning of that Lent of 1380, "she went to the church of St Peter, prince of the apostles, where, having heard mass, she remained long in prayer; she did not return home until the hour of vespers", exhausted. The next day. early in the morning, "starting from the street known as Via del Papa (today St Clare's Street), where she was at home, between Minerva and Campo dei Fiori, she went swiftly to St Peter's, making a journey to tire even a healthy man" (Ibid., no. 348; cf. Letter 373).

But at the end of April, he could no longer get up. He then gathered his spiritual family around his bed. In her long farewell, she declared to her disciples: 'I commit life, death and everything into the hands of my eternal Spouse.... If it pleases him that I should die, hold firm, my dear children, that I have given my life for the holy Church, and this I believe by the exceptional grace which the Lord has granted me' (Ibid., no. 363).

Shortly afterwards she died. She was but 33 years old: a beautiful youth offered to the Lord by the 'wise virgin' who had come to the end of her waiting and service.

We are gathered here, six hundred years since that morning (Ibid., no. 348), to commemorate that death and especially to celebrate that supreme offering of life for the Church.

My dear brothers and sisters, it is consoling that you have come in such great numbers to glorify and invoke the saint on this auspicious occasion.

It is fitting that the humble Vicar of Christ, like so many of his predecessors, should inspire, precede and guide you in paying homage of praise and thanksgiving to her who loved the Church so much, and who worked and suffered so much for her unity and renewal. And I did so wholeheartedly.

Now let me give you a final remembrance, which is meant to be a message, an exhortation, an invitation to hope, a stimulus to action: I take it from the words that Catherine addressed to her disciple Stefano Maconi and to all her companions in action and passion for the Church: "If you will be what you must be, you will set fire to the whole of Italy..." (Letter 368). (Letter 368); indeed, I would add: in the whole Church, in the whole world. Humanity needs this 'fire' even today, and indeed perhaps more today than yesterday. May Catherine's word and example awaken in so many generous souls the desire to be flames that burn and that, like her, are consumed in order to give their brothers and sisters the light of faith and the warmth of charity "that does not fail" (1 Cor 13:8).

[Pope John Paul II, homily VI centenary s. Catherine of Siena, 29 April 1980]

Today we celebrate the feast of St Catherine of Siena, Co-Patroness of Italy. This great figure of a woman drew from communion with Jesus the courage of action and that inexhaustible hope that sustained her in the most difficult hours, even when all seemed lost, and enabled her to influence others, even at the highest civil and ecclesiastical levels, with the strength of her faith. May her example help each one to know how to unite, with Christian consistency, an intense love for the Church with an effective solicitude in favour of the civil community, especially in this time of trial. I ask Saint Catherine that she protect Italy during this pandemic; and that she protect Europe, because she is the patroness of Europe, that she protect all of Europe so that it may remain united.

[Pope Francis, greetings after the General Audience 29 April 2020]