26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [27 September 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel (18:25–28)

To understand Ezekiel’s prophecy, we must recall the dramatic context in which he speaks. In 597 BC, many inhabitants of Jerusalem were deported to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar’s army. Jerusalem had been devastated, the Temple desecrated, and the population decimated. The exiles found themselves far from the Promised Land and from everything that had given meaning to their lives. Faced with such a tragedy, the question arose spontaneously: ‘What have we done to God to deserve all this?’. At that time, it was widely believed that there was a direct correlation between a person’s behaviour and what happened to them: the righteous are rewarded and the sinner punished. For this reason, the exiles repeated a proverb: ‘The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge’ (Ezekiel 18:2). In other words: we are paying for the sins of our fathers and of previous generations.

Ezekiel breaks with this mindset. God says through the prophet: ‘You shall no longer repeat this proverb in Israel.’ No one is condemned to live under the burden of others’ sins. Every person is called to answer for their own choices. And here a great new truth emerges: the past does not definitively determine the future. If the wicked turn away from their ways, practise righteousness and justice, repent and return to God, they may live. ‘If the wicked turn away from all the sins they have committed, […] they shall live’ (cf. Ezekiel 18:21). It is an extraordinarily relevant message: no one is a prisoner of their own past, but it is always possible to start afresh, and this frees people from the belief that they are condemned to pay for the sins of others and restores to them the possibility of hope. No past is so burdensome as to prevent a fresh start. Even in times of trial, God opens up a new path before us. Hope springs precisely from the certainty that God’s mercy always leaves open the possibility of a fresh start.  Conversion, from a biblical perspective, is precisely a change of direction, a ‘returning’ to God. Ezekiel also reminds us that true conversion does not consist merely of words or religious practices: it is manifested concretely in the practice of law and justice, that is, in the way we treat others.

Responsorial Psalm (24/25) 

The words ‘way’, ‘road’, ‘path’ and the verb ‘guide me’ recur several times in the Psalm: ‘Lord, make me know your ways; teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and instruct me, for you are the God of my salvation… The Lord shows sinners the way; he guides the poor in righteousness and teaches the humble his way’. The theme of the journey is characteristic of penitential psalms. God’s Law—that is, his commandments—is like a sort of ‘highway code’. The speaker is a sinner who recognises that he has gone astray, that he has taken the wrong path, and asks God to bring him back onto the right path. It is no coincidence that, in the Bible, to ‘convert’ literally means ‘to turn back’, ‘to turn round’. And it is never too late to turn back. In the first reading, Ezekiel reminded us that a future is always possible: no one is definitively condemned by their past. That is why we can still pray: ‘Lord, teach me your ways’. What is asked of us? First and foremost, not perfection, but humility: ‘The Lord teaches the humble his way’. The Hebrew word anawim, translated as ‘the humble’ or ‘the poor’, refers to those who recognise that they are poor, fragile, without resources and in need of God. They are the ‘poor in spirit’, those who are able to pray simply: ‘Lord, have mercy on me’. Their plea is already a call for conversion: ‘Lord, teach me your way’. And the ‘I’ speaking in the Psalm is not merely an individual, but the entire people. Psalm 24/25 was probably used in penitential celebrations in the Temple in Jerusalem, which is why there is a constant interplay between ‘I’ and ‘we’ in biblical prayer. The Psalm speaks in the first person, but at the end it says: ‘Deliver Israel, O God, from all its troubles’. The ‘I’ therefore encompasses the ‘we’. The biblical person possesses a strong sense of solidarity across generations: the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is the God of their descendants; the Covenant with Noah, Abraham and Moses concerns not only the individual, but the whole people. Today, however, our society often tends to place the individual, their freedom and their personal rights at the centre, sometimes at the expense of the communal dimension. The Bible has taken a different path: it has progressively discovered the importance of the individual without ever separating them from the community. This is one of the great riches of biblical revelation: the individual is not lost within the community, nor is the community forgotten in favour of the individual. We are personally responsible, yet at the same time we stand in deep solidarity with one another. For this reason, in the Psalm, that humble and trusting sinner is at once each one of us and the entire community of believers. Finally, there is a particularly beautiful detail: the Psalm continually plays on the theme of memory and forgetfulness: ‘Remember, Lord, your mercy… Do not remember the sins of my youth… Do not forget me’. It is almost a prayer that God might have a ‘selective memory’: that he might forget our sins and remember his mercy instead!

It is a bold prayer, yet also one of profound humility. Bold, because it springs from trust in the Covenant; humble, because it acknowledges one’s own sin and frailty. Man asks God: ‘Do not remember what I have been; remember instead who You are: merciful, faithful, slow to anger and great in love.’ After all, even in the Old Testament, Israel had discovered something surprising: God is not merely the Judge, but a Father full of tenderness and mercy. And so the prayer of the Psalm can also become our own: “Lord, when I have gone astray, teach me your way. When I have fallen, show me that I can return. When I recognise my own poverty and fragility, guide me. Do not remember my sins: remember your mercy. And grant that my ‘I’ may never forget the ‘we’ of the community of your children”.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Philippians (2:1–11)

On Palm Sunday, every year we hear above all the second part of this text, the part that contemplates the mystery of Christ: ‘Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped’. Today, however, let us focus on the first part, in which Paul explains to us how to live ‘in Christ’. Paul uses this expression at the beginning and end of the passage: ‘If, then, there is any consolation in Christ…’ and then: ‘Have in you the same mindset as Christ Jesus’. Between these two statements, he lists the attitudes that must characterise the Christian life: comfort, love, fellowship, tenderness, compassion. It is no coincidence that these are the very same attributes with which God is described in the Old Testament. Being ‘in Christ’ is therefore not merely a figure of speech. From the moment of Baptism, we belong to Christ; we are incorporated into Him and become members of His Body. This new identity transcends all our differences: cultural, social, economic and physical. We now have a common name: Christians. It is like what happens in a large family: when we meet, before any other differences, we recognise that we belong to the same family. It is this profound sense of belonging that should characterise the Christian community. Paul says: ‘Have the same mindset, the same love, one spirit and one purpose’. It is as if he were telling us: honour the family to which you belong; honour the name you bear. Then comes a surprising expression: ‘Consider others better than yourselves’. This does not mean belittling oneself or thinking one is inferior. The Gospel does not ask us to rank people as superior or inferior. The Kingdom of God does not operate according to the logic of competition and comparison. The point is quite another: to learn to look at others with a positive gaze, almost with an attitude of admiration, seeking to see not what they possess, but what they are. The differences we see – physical, cultural, social, economic – belong above all to the dimension of ‘having’. Paul, on the other hand, leads us into the dimension of ‘being’: ‘ ‘As many of you as were baptised into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ’ (Gal 3:27). When I meet another baptised person, therefore, I must not stop at what is apparent. I must remember that they are a member of the Body of Christ, a temple of the Holy Spirit, and that they have a personal vocation, different from my own, yet necessary to God’s plan. Everyone possesses a gift that no one else can replace. Because of the mission God has entrusted to them, the other person may be ‘better’ than me, in the sense that they possess what I do not possess and can accomplish what I cannot. For this reason, they also need my esteem, my encouragement and my trust. The important thing is not to determine who is worth more, but to know what mission God entrusts to each individual and to the community as a whole. Every person is called to contribute to the building of the Kingdom according to the gift received from the Spirit. Finally, there is a great truth contained in this text: the Kingdom of God is already present, but it has yet to be fulfilled in our lives. In Christ, indeed, God’s plan to reunite humanity has already begun and, through Baptism, we have been incorporated into this reality. But what is already true in Christ must also gradually become true in our daily lives. Our being ‘in Christ’ cannot remain merely an inner reality or a simple religious formula: it must tangibly transform the way we view, welcome and treat others, both Christians and non-Christians. And here we understand the profound link between the two parts of the text. First, Paul tells us how those who are ‘in Christ’ should live; then he shows us how Christ himself lived: not seeking his own advantage, but humbling himself, becoming a servant and giving himself even to the point of death on the cross. For this reason, the Christological hymn is not merely a beautiful contemplation of Jesus: it is the concrete measure of our lives. ‘Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus’. To be Christian, therefore, means allowing the very movement of Christ to enter our lives: not asserting ourselves against others, but giving of ourselves; not seeking to be superior, but serving; not focusing on what the other possesses, but recognising who they are before God. It is in this way that what Christ has already accomplished becomes, day by day, a reality lived out in the Church and in the world. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (21:28–32)

‘Which of the two did the will of his father?’ This question from Jesus seems simple, almost too simple. Once again we find ourselves in the vineyard, as we did last Sunday. A father asks his two sons to go and work in the vineyard. The first replies ‘no’, but then changes his mind and goes; the second replies straight away: ‘Yes, sir’, but then does not go. Jesus asks the chief priests and the elders: ‘Which of the two did the will of his father?’ Clearly, he does not wish to test them with a simple riddle: he wants to open their eyes. The answer is obvious: the first. And it is precisely then that Jesus applies the parable to his listeners: you are like the second son. You say ‘yes’ to God; you are religious people, you know the Law, you await the Messiah and pray for his coming; yet when God sends him to you, you do not recognise him and you do not accept his word. It was the Father’s will that his people—and above all his religious authorities—should welcome his Envoy, the Messiah, Jesus. Herein lies the tragedy that will lead to the Passion: precisely those who seemed best prepared to welcome the Messiah will be the ones who refuse to recognise him. Jesus then utters a very strong statement: ‘Tax collectors and prostitutes will enter the Kingdom of God before you.’ He is not praising them because they are sinners. Their sin is certainly no cause for merit. Rather, they are like the younger son: they began by saying ‘no’, but then changed their ways. What happened? They believed the preaching of John the Baptist. John had called everyone to repentance: ‘Bear fruit worthy of repentance.’ The tax collectors and prostitutes, precisely because they recognised their own poverty and sinfulness, were able to listen. The religious authorities, on the other hand, refused to believe John and later Jesus. Matthew probably links this parable to the events that had just taken place in Jerusalem. At the beginning of chapter 21, Jesus had entered the city and the crowd had welcomed him as the Messiah, shouting: ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’ (Ps 117/118:26). But this enthusiasm was not shared by the chief priests and the elders. When Jesus was teaching in the Temple, they asked him: ‘By what authority are you doing these things? Who gave you this authority?’ In reality, the problem was precisely this: in their eyes, Jesus did not possess the necessary authority to speak in God’s name. Jesus, as is often the case, does not answer directly. He asks them: ‘Where did John’s baptism come from: from heaven or from men?’ They do not dare to reply, because any answer would have put them in a difficult position: to acknowledge John would have meant acknowledging his testimony about Jesus as well.

That is why Jesus tells the parable of the two sons. It is almost a final appeal for their conversion. Jesus does not wish to exclude anyone: he desires the salvation of all. If he speaks harshly, it is because time is now running out: we are on the eve of the Passion. But what had John the Baptist said? He had denounced precisely that religious self-assurance which prevents conversion: ‘Do not say amongst yourselves: “We have Abraham as our father.”’ It is not enough to belong to the chosen people, to know the Law or to hold a religious position. One must bear the fruits of conversion. Perhaps this was the real problem with the authorities: a certain certainty that they already possessed the truth about God, to the point where they were no longer capable of allowing themselves to be challenged by his word.

The tax collectors and the prostitutes, on the other hand, precisely because they recognised themselves as sinners and the poor before God, had more open ears and hearts. The problem, therefore, is not simply being a sinner or being religious. The problem is becoming so certain of one’s own convictions that one is no longer able to hear God when He speaks in a way that differs from what we expect. The parable thus presents us with a much deeper question. It is not enough to say ‘yes’ to God with our lips. Faith is recognised in our lives. It is not enough to know the Father’s will: we must carry it out. And the question that Jesus puts to the religious leaders becomes, today, a question for each of us: Have I truly entered the Father’s vineyard? Does my ‘yes’ to God find expression in my everyday life? Am I still capable of hearing a word that calls me to change? Or do I think I already know everything about God and leave no room for conversion?

The parable of the two sons goes even deeper than that of the labourers of the last hour. There, Jesus questioned the way we judge God’s mercy towards others; here, he questions our very piety. Ultimately, Jesus is not merely asking us: ‘Do you say “yes” to God?’, but: ‘Are you doing the Father’s will?’ Because in the Lord’s vineyard, it is not only what we say that counts, but the concrete response of our lives.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Creating abundance where there is none

(Lk 9:43b-45)

«Son of man» (v.44) is he who, having gone to the utmost human fullness, comes to reflect the divine condition - and radiates it, without narrow perspectives.

‘Son of man’ is the successful Son: the Person with a definitive step; Word made «brother», who in us aspires to the fullness spread throughout history.

It would seem not up to par; instead, it is indestructible weighing, inside each one who approaches such a ‘measure’ - encountering the divine markings that bring out who we are [and bring about rebirth].

In the Gospel passage it is the Messiah who becomes a servant (!) and «next of kin» [close relative]: the one who in Semitic culture was held to ransom and liberate his enslaved family members.

However, there is a sharp contrast between what people dream and hope for, and the opinion of the authorities, challenged by this atmosphere of humanization with too wide outlines.

Since time immemorial, in order to block the search for the You-for-you, the face-to-face with God [and to direct consciences], the leaders concerned had filled minds with things of the past, or all conformist, and people's lives with problems that stalled the way.

The slave of the ancient customary religion, allied with power, lived under condemnation because he was outside his Home, thus in a reality that stagnated, accentuating ballasts and emphasizing limitations and feelings of subservience.

By disturbing everyone’s life wave.

In this way, the dull soul submitted to the outer cloak, blocking spontaneous energy. Wrapping all proposals that came from Providence, and its own resources, with dead things.

«Son of Man» is not a "religious" or selective title, but a possibility for all those who adhere to the Lord’s life proposal, and reinterpret it in a creative way.

They transcend the firm, natural boundaries, making room for the Gift, receiving from God the fullness of being, in its new, unrepeatable tracks.

Feeling totally and undeservedly loved, they discover other facets, they change the way of being with themselves, and can grow, realize themselves, flourish, radiating the completeness they have received.

By emanating a different atmosphere, the person integrated in his or her even opposite sides, feels consciousnesses arise, creates projects, emits and attracts other energies; makes them activate.

Thus God wants to extend the sphere in which He "reigns" - relating to all humanity, a Church without visible boundaries.

In short, in the icon of the «Son of man» the evangelists want to indicate the triumph of the human over the inhuman, and the progressive disappearance of everything that blocks the communication of the vital wave.

The People that shines in a divine way is no longer entangled, indeed it brings to the maximum all its varied potential for love, for the outpouring of life.

«Son of man» - a possible reality - is anyone who achieves fullness, flowering of the ability to be, in the extension of relationships... in tune with the sphere of God the Creator, Lover of life.

He/she does it so in varied facets, and merges with Him - becoming One. By creating abundance.

«Son of man» is woman or man who behave on earth as God himself would do, who makes the divine and his strength present in history.

So they can afford to replace both gloomy seriousness and superficiality, with a wise ‘carefreeness’ that makes everything light.

«Son of Man» represents the maximum of the human, the Person par excellence, who becomes liberating instead of oppressive.

The consequences are unimaginable, because each of us in Christ and for the brothers no longer has dead, abstract, (or of others) paths to be redone.

[Saturday 25th wk. in O.T.  September 26, 2026]

Creating abundance where there is none

(Lk 9:43b-45)

'Son of God' is Christ who manifests God in the human condition. 'Son of man' is Jesus manifesting man in the divine condition.

'Son of man' (v.44) is the one who, having gone to the utmost human fullness, comes to reflect the divine condition - and radiates it, without narrow perspectives.

In short, 'Son of Man' is the trustworthy, authentic person; even the 'little one' - without even a legacy of just and invariable ideas, or forces of the same level, and always performing.

"Son of Man" is here the successful Son: the Person with the definitive step. Word made "brother", who in us aspires to the fullness spread throughout history.

It would seem to fall short; instead, it is indestructible charature, within each one who approaches such 'measure' - encountering the divine marks that bring out what we are [and are born again].

In the Gospel passage, it is the Messiah who becomes a servant (!) and becomes the 'next of kin': the one who in Semitic culture was held to ransom and liberate his enslaved kin.

There is, however, a sharp contrast between what the people dream and hope for, and the opinion of the authorities, who are challenged by this atmosphere of humanisation with its overly broad contours.

Established and official teachers of the spirit were at ease in the narrow sphere: accentuating guilt, disfiguring people; making them needy, childish - instead of adult, secure, emancipated.

Even the religious institution trembled: the divine condition diffused in the lives of women and men made autonomous and able to stand on their own two feet would make any mediating structure superfluous.

Since time immemorial, in order to block the search for the You-for-you, the face-to-face with God [and to direct consciences], the leaders concerned had filled minds with things of the past, or all conformist, and people's lives with problems that stalled the way.

The slave of the customary ancient religion, allied with power, lived under condemnation, because it was outside its home. In a reality that stagnated, or advanced in a severely moralistic manner.

Such confusion stranded souls - even more so by accentuating ballasts, emphasising limitations, and feelings of subservience. Disturbing the life-wave of each one.

The logic of the old masters was unacceptable, both from the point of view of personal fulfilment and for living together.

In any sphere, the criterion of the self-loving big-wigs was in force.

Everything was in accordance with the principle that he who stands still is best controlled, stays where you put him, and cannot have passions; therefore he does not set anything in motion. 

Under the enormous social conditioning, the dull soul was forced to submit to the outer cloak, which willingly blocked the spontaneous energy of souls, and of the world.

Even today, perhaps, there are still agencies of plagiarism that cloak all the proposals of Providence, and the very resources of women and men, or of charisma, with things already dead or abstract [mannered, external].

The true Son, on the other hand, conquers spaces of freedom, not so much from errors, as from egoism that annihilates communion, from self-love that refuses to listen, from standardisation that cancels uniqueness, from conformism that makes exceptionalism pale, from envy that separates and blocks the exchange of gifts, from competition, even spiritual competition that drugs us; from the sloth of those who believe they are not worth enough, which discourages and paralyses.

'Son of Man' is therefore not a 'religious' or selective title, but a possibility for all those who adhere to the Lord's proposal of life, and reinterpret it creatively.

They overcome the firm and proper natural boundaries, making room for the Gift; welcoming from God the fullness of being, in his new, unrepeatable tracks.

Feeling totally and undeservedly loved, they discover other facets, change the way they are with themselves, and can grow: they realise themselves, they flourish; they radiate the wholeness they have received.

Coming out of the poor or static idea we have of ourselves - a serious problem in many sensitive and dedicated souls - the relational personality can also begin to imagine.

And to dream, discovering that it can no longer give weight to those who want to condition its path as a person, in fullness of being, character, vocation.

He who activates the idea that he can do it, then transmits the power of the Spirit he has received and welcomed, and the universe around him blossoms.

Emanating a different atmosphere, the person integrated in his or her even opposite sides, feels consciousnesses arise, creates projects, emits and attracts other energies; makes them activate.

By relating interpersonally, God wants to extend the sphere in which he "reigns" - to all mankind.

Church without visible boundaries, which will begin with the 'Son of Man'. A figure not exclusive to Jesus.Son of David and Son of Man

This universalistic perspective emerges, inter alia, from the presentation Jesus made of himself not only as "Son of David", but as "Son of Man" (Mk 10:33). The title "Son of Man", in the language of the Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history in the Book of the Prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13-14), recalls the character who comes "with the clouds of heaven" (v. 13) and is an image that heralds an entirely new kingdom, a kingdom supported not by human powers, but by the true power that comes from God. Jesus uses this rich and complex expression and refers it to Himself to manifest the true character of His messianism, as a mission destined for the whole man and every man, overcoming all ethnic, national and religious particularism. And it is precisely in following Jesus, in allowing oneself to be drawn into his humanity and thus into communion with God, that one enters into this new kingdom, which the Church announces and anticipates, and which overcomes fragmentation and dispersion.

[Pope Benedict, Consistory 24 November 2012].

With the image of the Son of Man, the prophet Daniel already wanted to indicate an overturning of the criteria of human and divine authenticity: a man or a people, a leader, finally with a heart of flesh instead of a beast.

In the icon of the 'Son of Man', the evangelists wish to reveal and trigger the triumph of the human over the inhuman; the progressive disappearance of everything that blocks the communication of full existence, of totality of profound energy.

The divinely shining people are no longer entangled by fears, manipulations, or hysteria; on the contrary, they bring to the full all their varied potential of love, of outpouring of life.

The 'Son of Man' - a possible reality - is anyone who achieves completeness, the blossoming of the capacity to be, in the extension of relationships. With this, he enters into harmony with the sphere of God the Creator, the Lover of life.

It does so in its varied facets, and merges with Him - becoming One. Creating abundance; not a false identity.

"The 'Son of Man' is the man who behaves on earth as God himself would; in short, who makes the divine present and its power unfolded in history.

So he can afford to replace the gloomy seriousness of the pious and subservient being, or the superficiality of the sophisticated and disembodied, with the wise 'light-heartedness' that makes everything light [because it rhymes with naturalness].

'Son of Man' depicts the ultimate human, the Person par excellence - in its eminent Self, which becomes liberating instead of oppressive.

The consequences are unimaginable, because each one of us in Christ and for our brothers and sisters, no longer has dead, abstract, or other people's paths to tread.

To internalise and live the message:

How does the 'Son of Man' figure speak to you of your own personal thoughts and hopes, and what is the difference or contrast with the thoughts and hopes of the manipulators?

Jesus' prayer in the imminence of death - Lk

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

At our school of prayer last Wednesday I spoke of Jesus’ prayer on the Cross, taken from Psalm 22[21]: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”. I would now like to continue to meditate on the prayer of Jesus on the Cross in the imminence of death. Today, I would like to reflect on the account we find in St Luke’s Gospel. The Evangelist has passed down to us three words spoken by Jesus on the Cross, two of which — the first and the third— are prayers explicitly addressed to the Father. The second, instead, consists of the promise made to the so-called “good thief”, crucified with him; indeed, in response to the thief’s entreaty, Jesus reassures him: “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Lk 23:43).

Thus in Luke’s narrative the two prayers that the dying Jesus addresses to the Father and his openness to the supplication addressed to him by the repentant sinner are evocatively interwoven. Jesus calls on the Father and at the same time listens to the prayer of this man who is often called latro poenitens, “the repentant thief”.

Let us reflect on these three prayers of Jesus. He prays the first one immediately after being nailed to the Cross, while the soldiers are dividing his garments between them as a wretched reward for their service. In a certain sense the process of the Crucifixion ends with this action. St Luke writes: “When they came to the place which is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on the right and one on the left. And Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do’. And they cast lots and to divide his garments” (23:33-34).

The first prayer that Jesus addresses to the Father is a prayer of intercession; he asks for forgiveness for his executioners. By so doing, Jesus is doing in person what he had taught in the Sermon on the Mount when he said: “I say to you that hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you” (Lk 6:27); and he had also promised to those who are able to forgive: “your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High” (v. 35). Now, from the Cross he not only pardons his executioners but he addresses the Father directly, interceding for them.

Jesus’ attitude finds a moving “imitation” in the account of the stoning of St Stephen, the first martyr. Indeed Stephen, now nearing his end, “knelt down and cried with a loud voice, ‘Lord, do not hold this sin against them’. And when he had said this, he fell asleep” (Acts 7:60): these were his last words. The comparison between Jesus’ prayer for forgiveness and that of the protomartyr is significant. St Stephen turns to the Risen Lord and requests that his killing — an action described clearly by the words “this sin” — not be held against those who stoned him.

Jesus on the Cross addresses the Father and not only asks forgiveness for those who crucify him but also offers an interpretation of what is happening. According to what he says, in fact, the men who are crucifying him “know not what they do” (Lk 23:34). He therefore postulates ignorance, “not knowing”, as a reason for his request for the Father’s forgiveness, because it leaves the door open to conversion, as, moreover, happens in the words that the centurion was to speak at Jesus’ death: “Certainly this man was innocent” (v. 47), he was the Son of God. “It remains a source of comfort for all times and for all people that both in the case of those who genuinely did not know (his executioners) and in the case of those who did know (the people who condemned him), the Lord makes ignorance the motive for his plea for forgiveness: he sees it as a door that can open us to conversion” (Jesus of Nazareth, II, [San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2011], p. 208).

The second word spoken by Jesus on the Cross recorded by St Luke is a word of hope, it is his answer to the prayer of one of the two men crucified with him. The good thief comes to his senses before Jesus and repents, he realizes he is facing the Son of God who makes the very Face of God visible, and begs him; “Jesus, remember me when you come in your kingly power” (v. 42). The Lord’s answer to this prayer goes far beyond the request: in fact he says: “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (v. 43). Jesus knows that he is entering into direct communion with the Father and reopening to man the way to God’s paradise. Thus, with this response, he gives the firm hope that God’s goodness can also touch us, even at the very last moment of life, and that sincere prayer, even after a wrong life, encounters the open arms of the good Father who awaits the return of his son.

However, let us consider the last words of Jesus dying. The Evangelists tells us: “it was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!’. And having said this he breathed his last” (vv. 44-46).

Certain aspects of this narrative differ from the scene as described in Mark and in Matthew. The three hours of darkness in Mark are not described, whereas in Matthew they are linked with a series of different apocalyptic events such as the quaking of the earth, the opening of the tombs, the dead who are raised (cf. Mt 27:51-53). In Luke, the hours of darkness are caused by the eclipse of the sun, but the veil of the temple is torn at that moment. In this way Luke’s account presents two signs, in a certain way parallel, in the heavens and in the temple. The heavens lose their light, the earth sinks while in the temple, a place of God’s presence, the curtain that protects the sanctuary is rent in two. Jesus’ death is characterized explicitly as a cosmic and a liturgical event; in particular, it marks the beginning of a new form of worship, in a temple not built by men because it is the very Body of Jesus who died and rose which gathers peoples together and unites them in the sacrament of his Body and his Blood.

At this moment of suffering Jesus’ prayer, “Father into your hands I commit my spirit”, is a loud cry of supreme and total entrustment to God. This prayer expresses the full awareness that he had not been abandoned. The initial invocation — “Father” — recalls his first declaration as a 12-year-old boy. At that time he had stayed for three days in the Temple of Jerusalem, whose veil was now torn in two. And when his parents had told him of their anxiety, he had answered: “How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (Lk 2:49).

From the beginning to the end, what fully determines Jesus’ feelings, words and actions, is his unique relationship with the Father. On the Cross he lives to the full, in love, this filial relationship he has with God which gives life to his prayer.

The words spoken by Jesus after his invocation, “Father”, borrow a sentence from Psalm 31[30]: “into your hand I commit my spirit” (Ps 31[30]:6). Yet these words are not a mere citation but rather express a firm decision: Jesus “delivers” himself to the Father in an act of total abandonment. These words are a prayer of “entrustment” total trust in God’s love. Jesus’ prayer as he faces death is dramatic as it is for every human being but, at the same time, it is imbued with that deep calmness that is born from trust in the Father and from the desire to commend oneself totally to him.

In Gethsemane, when he had begun his final struggle and his most intense prayer and was about to be “delivered into the hands of men” (Lk 9:44), his sweat had become “like great drops of blood falling down upon the ground” (Lk 22:44). Nevertheless his heart was fully obedient to the Father’s will, and because of this “an angel from heaven” came to strengthen him (cf. Lk 22:42-43). Now, in his last moments, Jesus turns to the Father, telling him into whose hands he really commits his whole life.

Before starting out on his journey towards Jerusalem, Jesus had insisted to his disciples: “Let these words sink into your ears; for the Son of man is to be delivered into the hands of men” (Lk 9:44).

Now that life is about to depart from him, he seals his last decision in prayer: Jesus let himself be delivered “into the hands of men”, but it is into the hands of the Father that he places his spirit; thus — as the Evangelist John affirms — all was finished, the supreme act of love was carried to the end, to the limit and beyond the limit.

Dear brothers and sisters, the words of Jesus on the Cross at the last moments of his earthly life offer us demanding instructions for our prayers, but they also open us to serene trust and firm hope. Jesus, who asks the Father to forgive those who are crucifying him, invites us to take the difficult step of also praying for those who wrong us, who have injured us, ever able to forgive, so that God’s light may illuminate their hearts; and he invites us to live in our prayers the same attitude of mercy and love with which God treats us; “forgive us our trespasses and forgive those who trespass against us”, we say every day in the Lord’s prayer.

At the same time, Jesus, who at the supreme moment of death entrusts himself totally to the hands of God the Father, communicates to us the certainty that, however harsh the trial, however difficult the problems, however acute the suffering may be, we shall never fall from God’s hands, those hands that created us, that sustain us and that accompany us on our way through life, because they are guided by an infinite and faithful love.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 15 February 2012]

1. Jesus Christ, Son of Man and God: this is the culminating theme of our catechesis on the identity of the Messiah. It is the fundamental truth of Christian revelation and faith: the humanity and divinity of Christ on which we shall have to reflect more fully later. For now, we would like to complete our analysis of the messianic titles already present in some way in the Old Testament and see in what sense Jesus attributes them to himself.

As for the title "Son of Man", it is significant that Jesus used it frequently when speaking of himself, while it is the others who call him "Son of God", as we shall see in the next catechesis. Instead, he called himself "Son of Man", whereas no one else called him that, except the deacon Stephen before the stoning (Acts 7:56) and the author of the Apocalypse in two texts (Acts 1:13; 14:14).

2. The title "Son of Man" comes from the Old Testament from the Book of the Prophet Daniel. Here is the text describing a night vision of the prophet: "Looking again in the night visions, behold, there appeared in the clouds of heaven one like a son of man; he came and was presented to him, who gave him power and glory and a kingdom; all peoples, nations and languages served him; his power is an everlasting power, which never fades, and his kingdom is such that it will never be destroyed" (Dan 7:13-14).

And when the prophet asks for an explanation of this vision, he receives the following answer: "The saints of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess it for ever and ever . . . then the kingdom and the power and the greatness of all the kingdoms that are under heaven shall be given to the people of the saints of the Most High" (Dan 7:18, 27). The text of Daniel is about an individual person and the people. We note immediately that what refers to the person of the Son of Man is found in the words of the angel in the annunciation to Mary: "he will reign forever . . . and his kingdom will have no end" (Lk 1:33).

3. When Jesus calls himself 'Son of Man' he uses an expression from the canonical tradition of the Old Testament and also found in the Jewish apocrypha. It should be noted, however, that the expression "Son of Man" (ben-adam) had become in the Aramaic of Jesus' time an expression simply indicating "man" ("bar-enas"). Jesus, therefore, by calling himself "son of man", almost succeeded in hiding behind the veil of common meaning the messianic significance the word had in prophetic teaching. It is no coincidence, however, that if utterances about the "Son of Man" appear especially in the context of Christ's earthly life and passion, there is also no lack of them in reference to his eschatological elevation.

4. In the context of the earthly life of Jesus of Nazareth, we find texts such as: "The foxes have their dens and the birds of the air their nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head" (Matthew 8: 20); or also: "The Son of Man has come, who eats and drinks, and they say, Behold, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of publicans and sinners" (Matthew 11: 19). At other times the word of Jesus takes on a value more strongly indicative of his power. Thus when he says: 'The Son of Man is lord even of the Sabbath' (Mk 2:28). On the occasion of the healing of the paralytic lowered through an opening in the roof he states in an almost defiant tone: 'Now, so that you may know that the Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins, I command you,' he said to the paralytic, 'get up, take up your bed and go home' (Mk 2:10-11). Elsewhere Jesus declares: "For as Jonah was a sign to those in Nineveh, so also will the Son of Man be to this generation" (Lk 11:30). On another occasion it is a vision shrouded in mystery: "A time will come when you will long to see even one of the days of the Son of Man, but you will not see him" (Lk 17:22).

5. Some theologians note an interesting parallelism between the prophecy of Ezekiel and the utterances of Jesus. The prophet writes: "(God) said to me: 'Son of man, I am sending you to the Israelites . . . who have turned against me . . Thou shalt say to them, 'Says the Lord God'" (Ez 2:3-4). "Son of man, you dwell among a race of rebels, who have eyes to see and do not see, have ears to hear and do not hear . . ." (Ez 12:2) "You, son of man . . . keep your eyes fixed on it (Jerusalem) which will be besieged . . . and you will prophesy against it" (Ez 4:1-7). "Son of man, prophesy a riddle telling a parable to the Israelites" (Ez 17:2).

Echoing the words of the prophet, Jesus teaches: "For the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost" (Lk 19:10). "For the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mk 10:45; cf. also Mt 20:28). The "Son of Man" . . . "when he comes in the glory of the Father", will be ashamed of those who were ashamed of him and his words before men (cf. Mk 8:38).

6. The identity of the Son of Man appears in the dual aspect of representative of God, herald of the kingdom of God, prophet calling to conversion. On the other hand, he is the "representative" of men, whose earthly condition and sufferings he shares in order to redeem and save them according to the Father's plan. As he himself says in his conversation with Nicodemus: "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lifted up that whoever believes in him may have eternal life" (Jn 3:14-15).

It is a clear proclamation of the passion, which Jesus repeats: "And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer greatly, and be reproved by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and then be killed, and after three days rise again" (Mk 8:31). Three times in Mark's Gospel (cf. Mk 9:31; 10:33-34) and in each of them Jesus speaks of himself as the "Son of Man".

7. By the same appellation Jesus defines himself before the tribunal of Caiaphas, when to the question: "Are you the Christ, the blessed Son of God?" he replies: "I am! And you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming with the clouds of heaven" (Mk 14:62). In these few words echoes Daniel's prophecy about the "Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven" (Dan 7:13) and Psalm 110 that sees the Lord seated at the right hand of God (cf. Ps 110:1).

8. Repeatedly Jesus speaks of the elevation of the "Son of Man", but he does not hide from his listeners that it includes the humiliation of the cross. To the objections and incredulity of the people and disciples, who well understood the magic of his allusions and yet asked him: "How then do you say that the Son of Man must be elevated? Who is this Son of Man?" (Jn 12:34), Jesus asserts: "When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am and do nothing of myself, but as the Father has taught me" (Jn 8:28). Jesus states that his "elevation" by the cross will constitute his glorification. Shortly afterwards he will add: "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified" (John 12: 23). It is significant that at Judas' departure from the Upper Room, Jesus says "now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God also has been glorified in him" (Jn 13:31).

9. This constitutes the content of life, passion, death and glory of which the prophet Daniel had offered a pale sketch. Jesus does not hesitate to also apply to himself the character of an eternal and everlasting kingdom that Daniel had assigned to the work of the Son of Man, when he proclaims to the world: "Then they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory" (Mk 13:26; cf. Mt 24:30). It is in this eschatological perspective that the Church's work of evangelisation must take place. He warns: "You will not have finished going through the city of Israel before the Son of Man comes" (Mt 10:23). And he asks: "But will the Son of Man, when he comes, find faith on earth?" (Lk 18:8).

10. If, as the "Son of Man", Jesus realised by his life, passion, death and resurrection, the messianic plan outlined in the Old Testament, at the same time he assumes by that same name his place among men as a true man, as the son of a woman, Mary of Nazareth. Through this woman, his Mother, he, the 'Son of God', is at the same time the 'Son of man', a true man, as the Letter to the Hebrews attests: 'He became truly one of us, in all things like us except sin' (Heb 4:5; cf. Gaudium et Spes, 22).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 29 April 1987]

Making "the sign of the cross" distractedly and flaunting "the symbol of Christians" as if it were "the badge of a team" or "an ornament", perhaps with "precious stones, jewels and gold", has nothing to do with "the mystery" of Christ. So much so that Pope Francis suggested an examination of conscience precisely on the cross, to verify how each of us carries the only true "instrument of salvation" in our daily lives. Here are the lines of reflection that the Pontiff proposed in the Mass celebrated Tuesday morning, 4 April, at Santa Marta.

"It attracts attention," he immediately pointed out, referring to the passage from the evangelist John (8, 21-30), "that in this brief passage of the Gospel three times Jesus says to the doctors of the law, to the scribes, to some Pharisees: 'You will die in your sins'". He repeats this "three times". And "he says this," he added, "because they did not understand the mystery of Jesus, because their hearts were closed and they were not able to open a little, to try to understand that mystery that was the Lord". In fact, the Pope explained, 'to die in one's sin is an ugly thing: it means that everything ends there, in the filth of sin'.

But then "this dialogue - in which three times Jesus repeats 'you will die in your sins' - continues and, at the end, Jesus looks back at the history of salvation and reminds them of something: 'When you have raised up the son of man, then you will know that I am and that I do nothing of myself'". The Lord says precisely: "when you have lifted up the son of man".

With these words - said the Pontiff, referring to the passage from the book of Numbers (21, 4-9) - "Jesus brings to mind what happened in the desert and what we heard in the first reading". It is the moment when "the bored people, the people who cannot endure the journey, turn away from the Lord, spit on Moses and the Lord, and find those snakes that bite and cause death". Then "the Lord tells Moses to make a bronze serpent and raise it up, and the person who suffers a wound from the serpent, and who looks at the bronze one, will be healed".

"The serpent," the Pope continued, "is the symbol of the evil one, it is the symbol of the devil: it was the most cunning of animals in the earthly paradise. Because "the serpent is the one who is capable of seducing with lies", he is "the father of lies: this is the mystery". But then "must we look to the devil to save us? The serpent is the father of sin, the one who made mankind sin". In reality, "Jesus says: 'When I am lifted up on high, all will come to me'. Obviously this is the mystery of the cross".

"The bronze serpent healed," Francis said, "but the bronze serpent was a sign of two things: of the sin made by the serpent, of the serpent's seduction, of the serpent's cunning; and also it was a sign of the cross of Christ, it was a prophecy. And "for this reason the Lord says to them: 'When you have lifted up the son of man, then you will know that I am'". So we can say, said the Pope, that "Jesus 'became a serpent', Jesus 'became sin' and took upon himself the filth all of humanity, the filth all of sin. And he "became sin", he made himself lifted up so that all people could look upon him, people wounded by sin, us. This is the mystery of the cross and Paul says it: 'He became sin' and took on the appearance of the father of sin, the cunning serpent'.

"Whoever did not look upon the bronze serpent after being wounded by a serpent in the desert," the Pontiff explained, "died in sin, the sin of murmuring against God and against Moses". In the same way, 'whoever does not recognise in that uplifted man, like the serpent, the power of God who became sin in order to heal us, will die in his own sin'. Because 'salvation comes only from the cross, but from this cross that is God made flesh: there is no salvation in ideas, there is no salvation in good will, in the desire to be good'. In reality, the Pope insisted, "the only salvation is in Christ crucified, because only he, as the bronze serpent meant, was able to take all the poison of sin and healed us there".

"But what is the cross for us?" is the question posed by Francis. "Yes, it is the sign of Christians, it is the symbol of Christians, and we make the sign of the cross but we don't always do it well, sometimes we do it like this... because we don't have this faith to the cross," the Pope pointed out. The cross, then, he said, "for some people is a badge of belonging: 'Yes, I wear the cross to show that I am a Christian'". And 'it looks good', however, 'not only as a badge, as if it were a team, the badge of a team'; but, Francis said, 'as the memory of the one who became sin, who became the devil, the serpent, for us; he lowered himself to the point of total annihilation'.Moreover, it is true, 'others carry the cross as an ornament, they carry crosses with precious stones, to be seen'. But, the Pontiff pointed out, "God said to Moses: 'He who looks at the serpent will be healed'; Jesus says to his enemies: 'When you have lifted up the son of man, then you will know'". In essence, he explained, 'those who do not look upon the cross, thus, in faith, die in their sins, will not receive that salvation'.

"Today," the Pope relaunched, "the Church proposes to us a dialogue with this mystery of the cross, with this God who became sin, out of love for me". And "each of us can say: 'out of love for me'". So, he continued, it is appropriate to ask ourselves: 'How do I carry the cross: as a reminder? When I make the sign of the cross, am I aware of what I am doing? How do I carry the cross: only as a symbol of belonging to a religious group? How do I carry the cross: as an ornament, like a jewel with many golden precious stones?". Or "have I learnt to carry it on my shoulders, where it hurts?".

"Each one of us today," the Pontiff suggested at the conclusion of his meditation, "look at the crucifix, look at this God who became sin so that we might not die in our sins, and answer these questions that I have suggested to you.

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 4 April 2017]

Where and which Messiah? In the dilemma, the solution

(Lk 9:18-22)

People of God are no longer in the closed of a womb that protects and guarantees the believer, and sometimes we feel incapable of fielding the Risen One in our limits.

Indeed, the dream of a person who solves problems from the outside (like a shortcut) is still ingrained.

Chimaera fuelled by the bewilderment and anguish we feel in the face of a world marked by contradictions - today even by the bitter consequences of the global crisis.

The wish of a Messiah is kept alive by our trembling... in the waiting for intervention of Someone able to be [instead] inside ourselves and things.

That is why God does not turn to a valiant captain, not to a powerful ruler, not to a hero, but to those who offer love. And each of us could be, though our works seem sloppy in themselves, or far inferior to desires.

But Christ himself pours into them.

He is the humble Son, yet he does not play in defense: authentic Liberator.

Divine Glory has an unexpected figure. The Eternal is not a controller, nor a promoter of models that defend order, or [old or fashionable] beliefs, nor fine manners.

The secluded place (v.18) is paraphrases of our risk of misunderstanding.

Even at that time everyone was waiting for the coming of the Anointed of the Lord, but each sect or school of thought in its own way.

Some awaited a sovereign, others a priest, or warrior commander; a judge, a prophet...

All "masters", clinging to some social privilege. No servant, intimate to ourselves: full understanding escaped.

Jesus explicitly imposes messianic silence (v.21) because he does not follow expectations, hopes, intentions by the norm - all external.

In fact, he replaces the perspective of «”the” Messiah» ["that" awaited Messiah] with «the Son of Man» (vv.20-22): the true and full development of divine Plan for humanity.

«"The" Christ» according to the common mentality was a predictable figure, hard, too normal, fixed over time - who had no respect for personal processes - and overflowing with claims.

«Son of Man» is a Person without exaggeration: more intimate, true and profound; without too much method, nor typologies. Person who for this reason does not cease to grow.

In Lk all the important events of the story of Jesus are inserted in a moment of prayer.

It was not easy even for Him to be in tune with the idea that divine Glory could manifest itself in a totally unfavorable situation - only here and there pulsating of light.

And what do you say (cf. v.20)? To the great riddle, only God-man Crucified [the Different, and without reputation] is Judgment, and the Answer that frees from insecurity.

With our inner Friend who embraces, nourishes us and acts like a magnet, we will give everything to the Present - the better part. Closeness of Infinity and our eternal side.

[Friday 25th wk. in O.T.  September 25, 2026]

Lk 9:18-22 (18-25)

Judging question. In the dilemma, the solution

(Lk 9:18-22)

The people of God no longer find themselves in the enclosure of a womb that protects and guarantees the believer, and sometimes we feel as if we are incapable of bringing the Risen One into our limitation.

Indeed, the dream of a person who solves problems from outside (as a shortcut) is still rooted.

Chimera fuelled by the bewilderment and anguish we feel in the face of a world marked by contradictions - today even by the bitter consequences of the global crisis.

The wish for a Messiah is kept alive by our trepidation... waiting for the intervention of Someone capable of standing (instead) within ourselves and things.

We look for the One who can give life a shot in the arm, changing it immediately and radically. Only then can we give it substance - not from the outside.

We continue to wait for a Saviour even today, even though the conventionalist environment only offers less and less meaningful choices [even useless carousels] while impatience provokes resignation or insulting fanaticism.

That is why God turns not to a valiant captain, not to a powerful ruler, not to a hero, but to one who offers love. And each one of us could be one, although our works seem sloppy in themselves, or far inferior to our desires.

But it is Christ himself who pours himself into them.

He is the resigned Son, and yet He does not play defence: He is the authentic Deliverer.

Divine glory has an unexpected figure. The Eternal One is not a controller, nor a promoter of models defending order, or convictions [whether ancient or fashionable], nor fine manners.

The secluded place (v.18) is a paraphrase of our risk of equivocation.

At that time, too, all awaited the coming of the Lord's Anointed, but each sect or school of thought in its own way.

Some awaited a ruler, others a priest, or warrior commander; a judge, a vate....

All 'masters', grasping at some social privilege. No servant, intimate to ourselves: full understanding eluded us.

None had understood the Father's plan.

Not even the kings or prophets had understood it.

Each had set their own dreams of fame against God's plan. At best, they had justified intentions of purification, but also of the rectification of ancient practices; as well as greatness. For some, summary, provisional, unpleasantly exhibitionist.

From the Most High they only wanted a little help to reach their goals, not the Dream of God.

In this way Jesus explicitly imposes the messianic silence (v.21) precisely because it does not match (really nothing to match) the expectations, the hopes, the goals, the intentions in the norm - all external.

Indeed, it replaces the perspective of ""the" Messiah" ["that" expected Messiah] with "the Son of Man" (vv.20-22): the true and full development of the divine plan on humanity.

""The" Christ" according to common mentality was a predictable, harsh, too normal figure, fixed in time - who had no respect for personal processes - and overflowing with claims.

"The Son of Man" is Person without exaggeration: more intimate, true and profound; without too much method or typology. Person who for this reason does not cease to grow.

In Lk all the important events of Jesus' life are set in a moment of prayer.

It was not easy even for Him to be in tune with the idea that divine glory could be manifested in a totally unfavourable situation - only here and there pulsating light.

Well, the response to our shaky experience, so that it can leap from the ashes, is linked not to being recognised and liked by all, but to states of persecution, or disturbance and discomfort.

In fact, the soul speaks with wisdom: thus, it binds growth to a different mindset - not induced by others or conventional ways of being in the world.

They impose caesuras of purpose - if all formal, tame, socially condescending: real ruptures with goals that do not respect vocational instincts. Where we are ourselves, in the Calling by Name and in character.

For the Master and Lord, the only opportune mortifications concern painful cuts and separations from the conformism of roles: detachments that make us free and ready in the current moment.

They usher in an unpredictable and fruitful Vison, opposite to the conformistically dreamt of recovery. However archaic (even if à la page), because it would lose the activating nature proper to the development of life.

Problems are often like concrete figures, and contacts, that force us to other solutions, preventing us from re-entering the world of the habitual past or of even fashionable patterns - those that do not realise our innermost goals.

In short: it is not possible to 'believe' without speaking out in person, now.

And what do you say (cf. v.20)? To the great enigma, only God-man crucified [the different, and without reputation] is Judgement, and answer that frees from insecurities.

With our inner Friend who embraces, nourishes us and acts as a magnet, we give everything to the Present - best side - nearness of Infinity and our eternal side.

Reputation: crossroads of the Truth of Faith

(Lk 9:22-25)

Yesterday we pointed out how the worm of vanity in the pursuit of others' esteem drives one to hypocrisy and ostentation.

Today too, the Word - a solemn and pressing call to a decisive choice - invites to totality; to live Lent with uprightness, not exhibiting too much external ceremony.

We ask ourselves: What makes one intimate with the Father? Carrying the Cross (in the sense of being a devoted and obedient son)? Is it necessary to renounce living, accepting the various evils?

No, communion with God follows from a freely made commitment. That scaffold is not a requirement of the Father who would like to be at least compensated by someone.

And no fatalism: it is not a matter of enduring life's inevitable setbacks. It is not this that unites, it is not coping that binds the people of God who recognise themselves in the Crucified One.

There are not many paths to choose from, but only two: victory and revenge, or perception and gift - every moment is decision time. Models are no longer needed.

Man's authenticity is not his greatness, but fidelity in love that realises - and can place us on paths of persecution and mockery, instead of accommodating or blatant results (on the safe and immediate).

True humanity no longer needs to ascend to transcend the limits of matter (dualist mysticism).

Nor do we need to identify ourselves - almost sacramentally - with the forces of deep but depersonalising cosmic processes (mystery religions).

We are not called to perfect ourselves through the observance of a law or traditions down to the minutiae (Phariseeism).

Nor is our vocation to escape religiously from the abyss of the world's misery, in the hope of an approaching goal to solve everything (apocalypticism).

The Lord's Anointed was awaited as sovereign, priest, thaumaturge, warrior, judge, prophet... Jesus ascending Calvary is quite another paradigm: a different way of being and an entirely different Way.

To the title of Messiah, Luke prefers that of "Son of Man" (v.22): an expression with which the Master actually designated himself.

The Son of Man - the true and full development of the divine plan on humanity - is not hindered by the habitués of the sacred precincts.

In the Gospels, the growth and humanisation of the people is not thwarted by sinners, but by those who would have the ministry of making the Face of God known to all.

Therefore, the character of the apostle is not identified with celebrities and social figures, but with the life of Jesus of Nazareth - the public rebel against official authorities, and condemned.

Here, pushing down, we meet God.

That of the cross was in fact the torture imposed on marginalised criminals. In this lies the 'denial of self' (v.23), which unfortunately in the history of spirituality has suffered bad interpretations.

The believer is not recognised by heroic and magnificent deeds, or asceticism; nor by excellence and visibility of office, charisma and credit, weight and prestige - but by social choice, which brings discredit to one's reputation.

The missionary is not singled out because of extraordinary qualities, but because of smallness.

He who only appreciates great things - even astounding and blatant from a 'spiritual' point of view - loves strength and does not build the new kingdom.

A comparison of the parallel texts in the Greek language (e.g.) of Mk 8:34; Mt 10:38; Lk 9:23 and 14:27 (Jn 12:26) gives insight into the meaning of "taking up" or "lifting up the cross" for a disciple who relives Christ and expands Him in human history.

God does not give any cross, nor are children called to "bear" (or even "offer") it! The Cross is to be actively taken up, for the friend of Jesus stakes his honour on it.

The eminent and crystal-clear source of intimate life enables one to achieve total self-giving even in terms of public consideration.

After the court sentence, the condemned man had to carry the horizontal arm of the gallows on his shoulders.

It was the most harrowing moment, because it was one of utmost loneliness and perceived failure.

The wretched and already shamed man proceeded to the place of execution passing between two wings of the crowd who, out of religious duty, mocked and battered the wretch (deemed cursed by God).

Jesus does not propose the Cross in the corny sense of a necessary endurance of life's inevitable contrarieties, which then through asceticism chisels out souls more capable of being resilient.... (today we say: resilient).Compared to the usual tirades on healthy discipline - exterior and interior - the same for everyone (and useful only to keep the situation good, of privilege) Lk is on the contrary suggesting a much more radical behaviour.

The Lord proposes an asceticism totally different from that of the religions - even inverted.

The believer renounces reputation. This is the essential, diriment cue of the character of the Faith.

He who is tied to his good reputation, to the roles, to the character (to be played), to the task, to the level he has acquired, will never resemble the Lord - and neither will he who does not dilute the tribal dimension of the 'family' interest.

From the earliest times, the proclamation of the authentic Messiah created divisions: the sword of his Person separated each person's affair from the world of values of the clan to which he belonged or from the idea of respectability, even national respectability.

Today, the same thing happens where someone proclaims the Gospel as it is, and attempts to renew the jammed mechanisms of the habitual, outdated and faux-blue-blooded institution on the ground. Carrying the cross of consequent mockery.

A clean break and cut with the criteria of greatness and success, for the new unity: the unity that is the crossroads of Truth without duplicity. Try it to believe.

It sounds like a meaningless dream, but this is what unites the Church to its Lord: a crucifying path, where one gains what one loses - first and foremost in consideration.

To internalise and live the message:

What changes do you feel as your Calling? Does reputation and opinion in the community favour or block you? For what reason? Is your 'family' closed in on itself or does it facilitate the opening of horizons?

On this Sunday when the Gospel asks us about the true identity of Jesus, we find ourselves transported with the disciples to the road leading to the villages around Caesarea Philippi. Jesus asks them: “Who do you say that I am?” (Mk 8:29). The moment he chose to ask this question is not insignificant. Jesus was facing a decisive turning-point in his life. He was going up to Jerusalem, to the place where the central events of our salvation would take place: his crucifixion and resurrection. In Jerusalem too, following these events, the Church would be born. And at this decisive moment, Jesus first asks his disciples: “Who do men say that I am?” (Mk 8:27). They give very different answers: John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets! Today, as down the centuries, those who encounter Jesus along their own way give their own answers. These are approaches which can be helpful in finding the way to truth. But while not necessarily false, they remain insufficient, for they do not go to the heart of who Jesus is. Only those willing to follow him on his path, to live in fellowship with him in the community of his disciples, can truly know who he is. Finally, Peter, who had dwelt with Jesus for some time, gives his answer: “You are the Christ” (Mk 8:29). It is the right answer, of course, but it is still not enough, since Jesus feels the need to clarify it. He realizes that people could use this answer to advance agendas which are not his, to raise false temporal hopes in his regard. He does not let himself be confined to the attributes of the human saviour which many were expecting.

By telling his disciples that he must suffer and be put to death, and then rise again, Jesus wants to make them understand his true identity. He is a Messiah who suffers, a Messiah who serves, and not some triumphant political saviour. He is the Servant who obeys his Father’s will, even to giving up his life. This had already been foretold by the prophet Isaiah in today’s first reading. Jesus thus contradicts the expectations of many. What he says is shocking and disturbing. We can understand the reaction of Peter who rebukes him, refusing to accept that his Master should suffer and die! Jesus is stern with Peter; he makes him realize that anyone who would be his disciple must become a servant, just as he became Servant.

Following Jesus means taking up one’s cross and walking in his footsteps, along a difficult path which leads not to earthly power or glory but, if necessary, to self-abandonment, to losing one’s life for Christ and the Gospel in order to save it. We are assured that this is the way to the resurrection, to true and definitive life with God. Choosing to walk in the footsteps of Jesus Christ, who made himself the Servant of all, requires drawing ever closer to him, attentively listening to his word and drawing from it the inspiration for all that we do.

[Pope Benedict, homily in Beirut, 16 September 2012]