We usually imagine the Spirit as something invisible, intangible, quite the opposite of what we see, hear, smell or touch, but this is not the biblical understanding. The Spirit is real, is breath, strong breath. God is Spirit, an overwhelming and uncontrollable force, asthe strong wind. The human dream is to be made a ??partaker in this Spirit.
Peter recommends to “serve one another with the gifts each of you received thus becoming good managers of the varied graces of God” (1 P 4:10). Our current communities are called to confront themselves with this ministerial Church, “whose cornerstone is Christ and whose foundations are the apostles” (Ephesians 2:20). “Let not the gifts that you have given swell us with pride, but the will to serve the brethren.”
The Lord promises to assume the office of shepherd personally, to gather the scattered flock, to lead it to the pasture and announces: “Over them I will put one shepherd, my servant David who will tend them and be a true shepherd among them” (Ezk 34:23-24). The prophecy is fulfilled in Jesus.
The women turn their faces toward the ground, looking at the tomb for he who is alive (Lk 24:5). They are the living portrait of the community that can no longer notice ‘the beloved of her heart.’ With him, every night was transformed into light, the sunset a prelude to dawn, the pain of the announcement of birth, tears in the blossoming of a smile.
%20(1).jpg)
It is a day of joy because, as at Easter and over the “eight days later” (John 20:19,26), the Risen Lord becomes present again during the gathered disciples. He warms their hearts, opening them to understanding the Scriptures and ‘the breaking of the bread.’ He opens their eyes and makes himself known (Lev 24:31-32).
The words with which John begins his letter are moving: “What we have heard and what we have seen with our own eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, I mean the Word who is Life … we proclaim also to you” (1 Jn 1:1-3). His is an enviable experience but unrepeatable. However, to become ‘witnesses’ of Christ, it is not necessary to have walked with Jesus of Nazareth on the roads of Palestine.
The dramatic agony on the cross has often led the preachers of the past to dwell excessively on the gory aspects of Jesus’ passion. From this preaching, images, popular representations, and devotions that aggravate the violence of the blows, the scourging, the falling under the weight of the cross, the sadism of the exasperated soldiers, are derived.
Among the many names by which the Eucharist was called, the one that best expresses the meaning and richness of the sacrament is the breaking of the bread. The disciples of Emmaus recognized the Lord “in the breaking of the bread” (Lk 24:35); the community of Jerusalem diligently participates in the catechesis of the apostles and to “the breaking of bread;” at Troas they met “on the first day of the week to break bread”
Today’s version of the passion is that of Matthew. In our comment, we will highlight only the distinctive aspects. The first and most important is that Matthew punctuates the whole story with repeated references to the fulfillment of the Scriptures. When it was evening, Jesus sat at table with the Twelve. While they were eating, Jesus utters a phrase, the key to understanding everything that will happen as a result: “The Son of man is going as it is written of him”.
Like Mary and Martha, we also do not understand why he ‘let two days go by.’ As a sign of affection for the friend, we would have expected him to intervene immediately. The veiled complaint made by the two sisters could also be ours: “If you had been here, Lord, our brother would not have died”.
It was in the Middle Ages—when the sobriety of the Marian cult that had characterized the first centuries gave way to devotional emphases—that today’s feast became that of Mary, the Annunciation. After the Second Vatican Council, it regained its original meaning and is back to being the Solemnity of the Annunciation.
In today’s passage, John is inspired by an episode in the life of Jesus. He uses it to develop the central theme of the Christian message: the salvation given by Christ. He uses a biblical language: the dark–light contrast. In the Bible, darkness always has a negative connotation. It is the symbol of the dark power of evil, death, and destruction. Light represents an orientation towards God, the choice of good and life.
The heartfelt words of the prophet who calls his people to conversion—“Come here all of you who are thirsty, come to the water!” (Is 55:1)—are the prelude to those spoken by Jesus in the Temple Mount: “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and let the one who believes in me drink” (Jn 7:38). He is the source of pure water that quenches all thirst.
When God calls a person or chooses a people, He entrusts them with a mission to make them carriers of his blessings intended for all. So Abraham has to become “a blessing to all the families of the earth.” Israel, the servant of the Lord, is charged to “bring justice to the nations” (Is 42:1), and Paul is a “chosen instrument to carry the name of Christ before the Gentiles and kings and the sons of Israel” (Acts 9:15). The vocations of God do not confer any privilege. They do not offer any reason to feel superior or better than others. They are a request for availability to serve, to become mediators of salvation.
The Bible invites us to consider temptation in an original perspective: as a moment of verification of the soundness of man's choices, as an opportunity for growth. Inherent in temptation is also the risk of making mistakes, but this danger is inevitable if one wishes to mature, to become "experts," "experts". These terms in fact mean nothing other than 'tempted', 'subjected to a test, an examination'.
Lent is a privileged time to return to ourselves, nourish, and let the divine grow within us. It is a time to listen to God’s Word. It is not a superficial, distracted listening, almost fearful that the message will penetrate too deeply into the mind and heart, causing a disturbance, but a more profound listening that requires radical changes of direction in our lives.
‘Lord, I am not worthy’—we repeat before receiving communion, aware that the union with Christ in the Eucharist involves the sharing of his chosen lifestyle. For this we say with all sincerity: ‘I am not worthy,’ that is, I know I can’t become bread broken, bloodshed without reserve like you, for the brethren. I know that I will not have the strength to let myself ‘be consumed’ by them. ‘I just come to beg your Spirit.’
The Torah revealed to Moses on Mount Sinai, however, was not the final Word of God. On the Mount of the Beatitudes, Jesus has recognized its validity, but, considering only one phase, he indicated a new goal, a more distant and boundless horizon: the perfection of the Father who is in heaven. The one who does not practice the new justice, vastly superior to that of the scribes and Pharisees, stops halfway and does not enter into the Kingdom of God.
‘Today, there is no more faith. Once there was so much.’ How do you measure faith? Referring to statistics, do you simply count the number of those who participate in Sunday Mass, receive the sacraments, marry in the Church, or send their children to catechism? The imposing crowds can perhaps assess it at ecclesial gatherings. How do we know when it increases or decreases?
Forty days have passed since Christmas, and it may be that the Star of Bethlehem that “we have seen in its rising” has been a bit blurred. It does not fascinate us more as then or is no longer the only one to get our attention. Perhaps we’ve let ourselves be enchanted by other more striking and concrete stars, by other stars that better reflect our dreams and our expectations.
