FAITHFUL DEPARTED
November 2
TEACH US, O LORD, TO COUNT OUR DAYS
Introduction
We leave the maternal womb and enter this world; after childhood, we enter adolescence; we leave adolescence for youth; youth to mature age and old age. Finally, the time comes to leave this world to which we have grown fond of, perhaps to the point of deeming it to be the final abode and not wanting anymore to leave it. Yet on this earth, our aspiration to the fullness of joy and life is continually frustrated.
When, with disenchantment, we consider the reality, we check everywhere for signs of death: diseases, ignorance, loneliness, frailty, fatigue, pain, betrayals—and our conclusion is: no, this cannot be the ideal world; it is too narrow, too marked by evil. Then the desire to roam beyond the narrow horizon wherein we move emerges in us; we even dream of being abducted to other planets where maybe we are freed from any form of death. In the universe we know, the world to which we long for does not exist. To satisfy the need for the infinite that God has put in our hearts, it is necessary to leave this land and embark on a new exodus. We are asked for a new exit, the last—death—and this frightens us.
Even the three disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration heard Jesus who spoke of his exodus from this world to the Father (Lk 9:31) were seized by fear: "They fell with their faces to the ground and were so afraid. But Jesus came and touched them, and said, arise and be not afraid” (Mt 17:6-7). From the third century, there appears in the catacombs the figure of the shepherd with the sheep on his shoulder. It is Christ who takes by hand and cradles in his arms the person who is afraid to cross alone the dark valley of death. With him, the Risen One, the disciples serenely abandon this life, confident that the shepherd to whom they have entrusted their life will lead them towards lush meadows and quiet streams (Ps 23:2) where they will find refreshment after a long tiring journey in the desert of this dry and dusty earth.
If death is the moment of encounter with Christ and an entry into the wedding banquet hall, it cannot be a dreaded event. It is something we expect. The exclamation of Paul: “For me, dying is a gain. I desire greatly to leave this life and to be with Christ” (Phil 1:21,23) should be uttered by every believer.
“Teach us, O Lord, to count our days.”
FIRST OPTION
First Reading: Job 19:1,23-27a
Sin upsets the internal balance of man by putting him in conflict with his most intimate aspirations. It breaks the relationship with God, who is no longer considered a friend, but an intruder, a despot to free oneself from. It breaks the harmony with the brethren: not love and mutual aid, but enslavement. It destroys the bond of life with creation: turning man from a gardener into a poacher and a predator. If these are the disharmonies introduced by sin, Job is immune to it.
The book that bears his name introduces him thus: "Job, a blameless and upright man who feared God and shunned evil, once lived in the land of Uz" (Job 1:1). Blameless means no cracks, not dissociated, opposed to any compromise with the consciousness; right, that is in harmony with others, incorruptible and above reproach; God-fearing and avoiding evil means at peace with himself, with heaven and earth. The result of a life guided by these moral principles can only be joy and in fact, Job is completely happy. He deserves it because he has remained faithful to the Lord. Yet despite his integrity, then one day, misfortune hits him.
For Israel’s traditional theology—which interprets suffering as the result of a perverse act, as a punishment for sin—what happens to Job is an inexplicable mystery. How can God punish an honest, generous person and well-liked by everyone? There is no possible explanation if not this: Job has committed some secret sin. It is what his friends think, and they try to convince him to admit his mistakes. His response is almost blasphemous. He throws a challenge to God: he declares his willingness to confront him in court, sure to have the best and to be able to prove his innocence.
Today’s passage reports the words he dictates as his will, aware that he has now reached the end of his days. With a pen of iron—he asks his friends—write my story in a book, nay more, carve it on the rock, like the great kings of the East who carved their businesses on the stems. Let it remain imprinted for future reference. Death does not erase the memory of my integrity! (vv. 23-24). It is not enough for him. He is not content that his name is engraved on the rock; at the height of despair, he appeals to an ‘Avenger’ (v. 25). Who is this character, and how will he put it into effect? The text does not explain it, only saying that "lastly he will stand upon the dust."
The most immediate interpretation is as follows: losing all hopes of surviving his immense pain, Job entrusts his defense to an ‘Advocate’ who, during the trial in front of the false god, vehemently defended by his friends, will stand up to plead his cause and support his right. He will be the last one to talk; he will have the last word and force everyone to acknowledge his innocence. At this point in the process—Job is sure of it—the true God will enter the scene (vv. 26-27) and, after death, when his skin is destroyed, will see the Lord; he will contemplate him, with his eyes, and not as a stranger. It will not be the god of his friends, the executioner god who comes dangerously close to the satanic conception, the god who is just according to human criteria and is always ready to punish. It will be the true God, the one in whom Job has always firmly believed.
Lacking the light of Easter, he could not even imagine the ultimate destiny of man. However, the hope that death will not have the last word emerges in him. One day he will read the events in which he has been involved with different eyes, and even the unfathomable mystery of the innocent suffering will be unveiled to him. This wisdom passage is a call to recognize the finiteness of our intelligence and to give up the pretense of wanting to understand everything. On this land, it is necessary to live with the enigma of evil and pain. It cannot be understood; it can only be accepted. It is easier for us than Job because God came among us: not to give us explanations but to live our human condition without discounts or privileges and teach us to love it.
Second Reading: Rom 5:5-11
The prospect of death is frightening. What we have built, the good done, the joys that we have enjoyed and endured pains, acts of love that we traded will they one day be totally zeroed? This is the question that everyone—even those who profess no religion—put to themselves when they pause to reflect on the meaning of their existence, at least for a moment. No less disturbing is the second question that affects only the believer, not the atheist: What will my fate be after this life, since there is a God who is waiting for me to evaluate it?
The seer of Revelation assures that human history will end with a wedding feast. He speaks of a new heaven and a new earth, of God who will pass to wipe away the tears from the eyes of each of his sons and daughters and of a world where "there shall be no more death, or mourning, crying out or pain, for the world that has passed away" (Rev 21:4). These are fascinating images; they depict the wonderful reality that "eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it dawned on the mind what God has prepared for those who love him" (1 Cor 2:9).
The question that emerges now in the believer is: Will I also be there among the guests of the eternal banquet, or will the Lord and the righteous celebrate the feast without me? If our behavior conditions the entry into the house of the Father, the risk of exclusion is high for everyone. Who can live in peace with this distressing question mark in the heart? The stupendous page of the letter to the Romans presented to us reassures all that for those who put their trust in Christ, nothing should undermine their joy. Their hope will not be disappointed because it is not based on their faithfulness and good works but on God's unconditional and unfailing love (v. 6).
When the Lord takes the initiative to save his people, he is not discouraged by encountering obstacles. He does not stop halfway, nor breaks down, in front of the infidelity of people. He always and everywhere brings his work to completion. People—it is true—can also be obstinate in their sin, but God who loves infinitely does not resign to failure. He does not need suggestions on freeing all, even the most stubborn, from their attachment to evil.
The love of God—ensures Paul—is not weak, fickle as that of people. They love only their friends and may, rarely, even come to give their lives for those they love. God goes beyond the horizon: he loves everyone, even his enemies. Just as the people were away from him, he showed his great love by offering his own Son the most valuable treasure he had. If God loved us when we were his enemies, the more he will love us now that we have been made righteous. It is not possible that our sins be stronger than his love. Even if we abandon him, he does not abandon us, "If we are unfaithful, he remains faithful for he cannot deny himself" (2 Tim 2:13).
Gospel: John 6:37-40
What is a person’s value? Does he count only for what he produces, for his efficiency, for the money that he accumulates? For some, a human being is less worthy than a sheep—said Jesus (Mt 12:12). He comes from dust (Sir 33:10), he can’t boast of anything before the Lord (1 Cor 1:29), but he is always the image of God. Filled with surprise in front of the wonders of creation, a pious Israelite with the heart of a poet has handed his reflection in a psalm: "When I observe the heavens, the work of your hands, the moon and the stars you set in their place—what is man that you be mindful of him; the son of man that you should care for him? Yet you made him a little lower than the angels; you crowned him with glory and honor" (Ps 8:4-6).
We define man from the bottom: reasonable animal, a step above the animals; the psalmist sees him a step below God. It is in this biblical perspective that man and his destiny are evaluated. How does man appear before God? In what regard does he hold him? Here's the answer that he directs to everyone: "You are precious in my sight, and important—for I have loved you" (Is 43:4). From this statement, we may understand what God has planned for his wonderful creature, man. In today's Gospel passage, his plan, his design of love is called by Jesus the will of the Father, and he will insist on this will, recalling it four times. Which is it? To trust the whole of humanity to him, to his care. This will draw close to him as the flock turns to its own shepherd: each sheep knows his voice, trusts him, and feels called by name. Jesus does not lay down conditions to obtain salvation; he only ascertains a fact: the fate of the entire human community is to go to him. To go to him means accepting his word, to trust his proposal of life. None of those who will rely on him will be rejected (v. 37).
This is the dream that God has had in mind since the creation of the world. The question spontaneously arises: will it be realized, or will there be someone that will be directed toward Jesus and some other instead—the majority judging from what has occurred so far in the world—who will reject Christ and his word and will move away permanently from him?
The answer is contained in the second part of the passage: "And the will of him who sent me is that I lose nothing of what he has given me, but instead that I raise it up on the last day" (v. 39). In God's plan, defections or failures are not contemplated. His program will take place infallibly because it is unthinkable that Christ cannot bring it to fruition. Without doing violence to man's freedom, he will draw all people to himself, in a compelling way; he will raise everyone on the last day. This expression has been mistakenly understood as a reference to the end of the world.
In John's Gospel, the last day is one in which Jesus, on the cross, bowed his head, giving to humanity his Spirit (Jn 19:30). That is the last day to which the entire plan of God aimed, an unending day, day in which the seed of new life, the very life of God, entered the world. With a final appeal to the Father’s will (v. 40), Jesus explains that God's plan is realized in three stages.
It is necessary, above all, to see the Son. The memory of the encounter with Jesus of Nazareth remained indelible in the mind, heart, and also in the eyes of John, as it transpires from the first words of the letter that he writes to the Christians of his communities of Asia Minor: "What we have heard and have seen with our own eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, I mean the Word who is Life…The Life was made known, we have seen Eternal Life and we bear witness, and we are telling you of it. It was with the Father and made himself known to us. So we tell you what we have seen and heard" (1 Jn 1:1-3).
This visual experience of the man Jesus is no longer possible; it is realized in a unique moment of the world’s history. But letting our eyes be opened by his word and acknowledging in him the Son, the God who made himself present in the world, who came to bring us the bread of life, is the first step to enable us to accept his gift. After this recognition, personal adhesion follows. It is not enough to know Jesus, having seen him. Many have met him along the roads of Palestine, yet not everyone got drawn by his proposal.
The second step is to believe. Only one who, after knowing him on the testimony of those who saw and heard him, and giving him one’s adhesion, really sees Jesus. The culmination of the path to salvation is the communication by the Father of the divine life to those who believe in Christ. Gathered in community, today we do not remember the dead—for a Christian the dead do not exist because those who believe in Jesus do not die (Jn 11:26) —but the living, all the brethren who, having ended their gestation in this world, entered in the light, being born to the definitive life from which every form of darkness and death is excluded.
In this world, many of them might have struggled to ‘see’ in Jesus the Son of God and to ‘believe’ in him. Some have committed to him at the last moment; others did not want to ‘see him’ or welcome him for all their lives. What will be their fate, and how can we be close to them and show them our love? At the time of their birth to new life, all were certainly welcomed by the Father with the only words that he addresses to every person who, though a sinner, is his son or daughter: "Since you are precious in my sight, and important—for I have loved you" (Is 43:4). Our prayer, love, and even forgiveness help them complete the journey that they did not finish in this life towards the definitive embrace with the Father. The joyful message that the first mass readings give us is that Jesus will not leave incomplete his mission as Savior for no one.
SECOND OPTION
First Reading: Isaiah 25:6-9
Long before Christ, a wise and elderly person, reflecting on the fleeting nature of life, concludes that people are like grass, "in the morning they blossom, but the flower fades and withers in the evening" (Ps 90:6). His bitter and disconsolate conclusion: What to do then? If life is short, we should "enjoy all the good things: let us use creation with the zest of youth, making the most of choicest wines and perfumes, and not passing by any flower of spring. Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they fade” (Wis 2:6-9). "There is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink and provide themselves with good things from their toil"(Ecl 2:24).
Such proposals do not seduce the wise psalmist and, against the inevitable event of death, he directs to the Lord the passionate invocation: "So make us know the shortness of our life, that we may gain wisdom of heart" (Ps 90:12). It is not wise to remove thoughts of death from our minds or try to avoid using the word. We often prefer to use euphemisms when speaking of death, such as departure, disappearance, passing away, and grief. Death, however, is our life’s companion. Pain, illusion, betrayal, disease, and the various calamities we are subject to, are all learning of life and remind us of the precarious state of our existence in this world; they remind us too that all earthly things are transitory.
Today’s liturgy brings us the memory of all the faithful departed, not to frighten us, but to lead us to the ‘wisdom of the heart’ to lead us to discover the true meaning of life and to remind us of the joyful truth on which our faith is founded: the resurrection. One of the great Church Fathers of the first Christian century, Tertullian, said: ‘Christian hope rests on the resurrection from the dead; we are what we are because we believe in the resurrection.’It is, therefore, joy, not fear and anguish, that the word of God wants to communicate to us. It is the joy of one who has received, from above, the light of Easter that shines on all tombs.
The reading begins with a cheerful piece of news: God has decided to prepare a sumptuous feast; he will host a lavish party on Mount Zion. Who will be the invited ones? God is an unparalleled sovereign unmatched for his wealth and power. He will not only convene some notables but will gather around the same table all peoples of the earth excluding none; they will rejoice together even those who before coming hated each other, those who committed violence, who snatched from each other money land or goods.
They will witness extraordinary events; unprecedented events will happen: "On this mountain the Lord will destroy the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations” (v. 7), and everyone can behold him, sitting at the table next to them; then God"will destroy death forever ... and wipe away the tears from all faces..." (v. 8).
Why has he prepared this sumptuous feast? For God, the Lord of life and joy has routed all his enemies. He also defeated even death, the last, the most terrible and frightening of all enemies. The prophet was not so naive as to think that one day biological death will disappear; he heralded the demise of what is defeat and death to mortals: life without ideals and meaning, the shame of failure and pain, hunger, disease, marginalization. Anything that is ‘not life’ will be removed, "for Yahweh has spoken" (8). Nowhere in the Old Testament are found such extraordinary promises. The banquet will be enlivened with music, songs and dances.
The reading closes with the words of a hymn. It seems to have been composed to be recited in unison by the participants: "This is our God. We have waited for him to save us, let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation. For on this mountain the hand of the Lord rests" (vv. 9-10). The Prophet alluded to the messianic times but could not imagine the extent of the promises that, in God's name, he was doing. He could not guess that one day the Lord will destroy death itself forever. Nevertheless, Paul will understand it. Enlightened by the events of Easter, he will write to the Corinthians: "When our perishable being put on imperishable life when our mortal beings put on immortality, the word of Scripture will be fulfilled: Death has been swallowed up by victory. Death, where is your victory? Death, where is your sting?(1 Cor 15:54-55).
The seer of the book of Revelation will understand it. At the breaking of the new heavens and the new earth, he will contemplate God in the act of wiping away every tear from their eyes (Rev 21:4) as Isaiah promised.
Second Reading: Romans 8:14-23
Knowing the history of his people, Paul remembers that, led by Moses, the Israelites went from slavery in Egypt to the promised land. Becoming a disciple of Christ, the apostle has understood that the journey of Israel in the wilderness was only a pale image of the real exodus, which introduced all humanity into the land of freedom.
At the beginning of the reading (v. 14), the Spirit is indicated, the guide in charge of leading the children of God to the house of the Father. Moses has given Israel the law of God, the precious gift that points to the people the way of life, but it had a limit. It did not communicate the strength to practice the precepts contained in the law itself. It was like the signage for the marathoner: it shows him the way to go, but does not help, push and lead him to the goal.
The Spirit is not a law that from the outside traces the route to go. It is a force that guides and illuminates the heart. It is an inner drive that points out the goal and communicates the strength to reach it. The goal is the condition of being God's children. Those who allow themselves to enter by the Spirit in this new reality become a free people. Anyone who is not guided by the Spirit, even though he deems himself a free man is actually a servant of his own whims, mania to possess, dominate, and appear. He is not the one who manages his own life, but the instincts that become his masters.
Liberated by the Spirit that has been given to him, guided by a new heart, the Christian—Paul assures—can go to God and call him Father, indeed, Abba (v. 15). In Jesus' times, the people refused to call God ‘Father.’ This term, used in daily familiar conversation, was considered too humble and irreverent. Surprising, therefore, that in the mouth of Jesus, it becomes the usual definition of God. But there's more. To address God, Jesus has introduced an even more familiar expression. He has taught to call God Abba, a word that belonged to a language used by children up to age 12 or 13 years. Then it was abandoned. It was used again by the adult children when they wanted their father, already decrepit, to experience again the tenderness that they had shown him during childhood.
Adopting the term Abba, Jesus wanted his disciples to assimilate a new way of conceiving God, a loving and straightforward way to relate to him. To express the intimacy and trust found in this word, we should not translate it as Father but as a dad or, better yet,as ‘daddy’ as the kids scream when they run to the arms of their parents to be caressed.
To us, ‘daddy’ sounds a little undignified. It seems like an expression of familiarity, too brash to address a deity. We, therefore, prefer ‘Father,’ which is more serious. However, we lose the dimension of tenderness that Jesus wants to instill in us. God is not the Lord who distances himself, demands respect and adoration, and establishes rules and prohibitions, but someone who stays affectionately close to us. If you discover that God is ‘Abba’—Paul concludes— you cannot relapse in fear: from an ‘Abba,’ one would expect caresses.
None of the loved ones who have left us was alien to sin. Maybe we remember some very serious ones of some, so serious as to make us fear that God has rejected them. Those who still cultivate these foolish thoughts forget that God is ‘Abba,’ not a vigilante. Paul feels the need to clarify the difference between the filiation of the only Son, Christ, and ours (vv. 16-17). He does so using the image of ‘adoptive filiation,’ an unknown institution in Israel. However, it was prevalent in the Greco-Roman world, where the adopted one enjoyed the same rights as the natural children, including participation in the family inheritance. Similarly, even more, included—Paul declares—is the person introduced by God in his ‘family’: he is offered full sonship and the same ‘inheritance,’ the same bliss enjoyed by the only begotten of the Father.
The condition of God’s sonship is wonderful; however, as John reminds us in his letter: "We are God's children and what we shall be not yet been shown. Yet when he appears in his glory, we know that we shall be like him, for then we shall see him as he is" (1 Jn 3:2). We now live in a state where we experience much suffering, however as Paul reminds us, "they cannot be compared with the glory that will be revealed and given to us" (v. 18). Suffering arises from the situation of a creation that has been subjected to expiration, slavery and corruption, so it screams in pain (vv. 12-22).
Man has been involved in an absurd project, opposed to that for which he left the hands of God. Man has corrupted it and now faces the consequences of his horrors fearfully. It threatens the soil’s fertility, cleanliness of the air, water’s potability; he notes the provoked ddamages to plants and animals, is conscious of having filled the seabed of toxic wastes and bombs. This creation expects to be redeemed, redirected to the plan of God who, in the beginning, had looked with satisfaction on everything he had created because everything“was very good" (Gen 1:31). Paul encourages us not to despair and not interpret the creation’s cry of pain as that of a dying person, but rather like that of the mother who is giving birth to a new child.
Gospel: Matthew 25:31-46
A God who ruthlessly condemns is, for a Christian, quite embarrassing. We cannot understand how the terrible threats referred to in verses 41-46 can be regarded as ‘gospel,’ that is, as ‘good news,’ as ‘message of salvation.’ There is an even more significant challenge: how can the severe God who appears in today’s passage be reconciled with the Father the whole Gospel speaks about? He who “makes his sun rise on both the wicked and the good and he gives rain to both the just and the unjust,” demanding that his children not distinguish between good and evil (Mt 5:43-48). How can we make a distinction that tells us not to do anything up to a certain point? If we are required to condemn our enemies to eternal fire, we cannot be required to love our enemies (Mt 19:10). Jesus, who came “to seek and to save the lost” (Lk 19:10) and boasts of being “a friend of tax collectors and sinners” (Lk7:34), will not be able to stand against us.
The ‘justice’ of such a God leaves much to be desired: could the sin of a person (frail, limited, finite creature) be punished with an infinite, ‘everlasting’ punishment? There is no proportionate relationship between punishment and failure. If, on the other hand, the person remains free—of which we have certainty—for all eternity, why should wrongdoers persist in their error? What could make them so stubborn? What of their encounter with God? These are some of the many questions that are raised against this passage of the Gospel. These are serious questions, but they might have originated from a spurious interpretation of the text.
The question arises when we consider the context in which this description of the ‘trial ’ is couched. It is enough to read what follows. After the great scene in which the Son of Man deploys all his power, here is what happens: “In two days’ time it will be Passover and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified” (Mt 26:2). It is like being left speechless when a most ignoble defeat follows a celebration of triumph. They look like two opposing, irreconcilable situations, yet these are two glorious moments of a single victory, the victory of love. The Christ who ‘judges’ also delivers himself into the hands of those he loves, and justly ‘inasmuch as a victim of love’ he becomes a judge. He is the ‘ideal man,’ second only to God, the true man, with whom all must be compared to understand whether they are building a life or laying the groundwork of failure. We will return to the argument. Now let us examine the text.
In Palestine, at sunset, shepherds tend to separate the sheep from the goats. The latter are more sensitive to cold and are placed under shelter. With their covering of wool, the sheep like the cool of the night and have no problem spending it in the open. Jesus uses this image, taken from everyday life, to convey his message. To understand it, we must pay attention, first, to the literary genre. A hasty, superficial reading, perhaps a bit naïve, of the Gospel, risks drawing theological conclusions that may appear unfounded and even deviant in light of a more attentive and careful study.
The language is typical of the preachers of that time. They tended to use stunning images to stir their listeners, speak of tremendous punishments like unquenchable fire and eternal penalties. It was said, for example: ‘As the human race trembles, the beasts are happy because it goes well with them that humans need not wait for any judgment.’ Listen carefully, though: when rabbis spoke of the ‘fire of Gehenna.’ They did not refer to hell, but the fire that constantly burned in the valley surrounding Jerusalem that served as the city dump. The adjective ‘eternal’ did not have the philosophical connotations it has today, but it was popularly used to mean, in general terms, a ‘long,’ ‘undefined’ period.
This Gospel passage is generally regarded as a parable, but this is not accurate. It belongs to the judgment scene genre, found both in the Bible (cf. Dn 7) and in rabbinic literature. The structured schema is always the same: there is a presentation by the judge, accompanied by angels who serve as assistants and security guards, then the convocation of all people, the separation of groups, sentencing, and finally the righteous are rewarded and the wicked punished.
This literary genre aims not to inform about what will happen at the end of the world but to teach how to behave today. As an example, let us look at a judgment scene from rabbinic literature showing an impressive analogy with our text: In the future world, who is judged will be asked: What are your works? If he answers: ‘I fed who was hungry,’ he will be told: ‘This is the Lord’s gate, enter through it’ (Ps 118:20). If he answers: ‘I have given drink to the thirsty,’ he will be told: ‘This is the gate of the Lord come through it;’ if he answers: ‘I have clothed the naked,’ he will be told, ‘This is the gate of the Lord, go through it.’ The same will apply to anyone who has taken care of the orphan, who has given alms, who has performed works of love (Midrash of Psalm 118:17). Referring to the dialogue, it is clear that the rabbis did not intend to reveal the words that God will deliver at the end of the world. They, instead, wanted to instill values that will serve as a solid foundation for life in this world.
Let us now examine the structure of the passage in Matthew. It is easy to define. It begins with an introduction (vv. 31-33) followed by two dialogues (vv. 34-40; 41-46) that develop in a parallel and identical way: the king pronounces the sentence (acquittal in one case and conviction in the other) and explains why. Both cases raise an objection to both of which the judge responds.
It is also easy to see the message Jesus wants to convey: the years of a person’s life are precious, a treasure to be managed well. No one can go wrong because life is one: Jesus suggests how they must live. The rabbis said: this world is like a dry land; the future world is like the ocean; if a person does not prepare food on dry land, what will they eat on the sea? This world is like a cultivated land, the future world as a wilderness; if a person does not prepare food on cultivated land, what will they eat in the desert? They will grind their teeth and bite their flesh; desperate, they will tear their clothes and riff out their hair.
For Jesus, human life is more important than for the rabbis, so he reveals to the disciples the values that will provide a secure basis for this human life. What values? It is not hard to spot them because they occupy half of the story and are so important that Jesus repeated them four times, at the risk of appearing monotonous: it is the six works of mercy.
The list of people to help—the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned (vv. 35-36,42-43) was known throughout the Middle East (cf. Isaiah 58:6-7). Chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead is famous. In Egypt, since the second millennium B.C., the text was placed with the deceased at the time of burial. This was what he had to testify to before the court of Osiris: ‘I have practiced what gladdens the gods. I have given bread to the hungry; I gave water to the thirsty; I have clothed the naked; I offered to ferry those who had no boat.’ The only novelty added by Jesus is that he identifies with these people: what is done to one of these little ones is done to him.
The values he suggests are not like those for which most people go overboard, but they are what really counts in the eyes of God. What is the ideal successful person in our society? The one who holds power, the wealthy, who can afford to satisfy their every whim, is wanted by the T.V. cameras. ‘Successful people’ are athletes driving stirring the delirium of the stadium,T.V. stars, or anyone who has managed to become a personality either through notoriety or a successful career.
What is the thought of God? After every person's story on earth, when each is alone with themselves and with God, only love will be precious. The life of each one will be considered success or failure according to their commitment to six dictums of suffering and poverty: hunger, thirst, exile, nakedness, sickness and imprisonment.
One detail is carefully highlighted in the story: none of those who have done these works of mercy is aware of having done them to Christ. Love is true only if it is disinterested, even if it is free of any suspicion of complacency; those who act because of the reward, even that of heaven, do not yet love genuinely.
And the sentence? The rabbis used to repeat their teachings twice better to imprint them in the minds of their disciples. Often, they presented the message positively first and then negatively. They resorted to the familiar ‘antithetical parallelism,’ also used by Jesus (cf. Lk 6:20-26; Mt 7:24-27; Mk 16:16).
Our passage is an example of this: the second part (vv. 41-45) adds absolutely nothing to the first; it is a stylistic record to highlight what has already been expressed. Jesus is on about not to terrorize his listeners, stirring the fear of hell in them, but to stress the profoundly severe danger of wasting life. Spending life well is what really counts. He does not claim to announce what will happen at the end of the world but to encourage people to think, open their eyes, and show how God will judge the decisions we take each day.
A simple example may help us understand what was said better. Two necklaces are on display in a jewelry shop, one of pure gold but a little worn by time, the other of burnished brass but highly polished. An inexperienced buyer enters and is attracted and fascinated by the brilliance of the brass necklace. Fortunately, an expert appears and warns him: Beware—he says—don’t waste your money on this bauble or trifle!
This judgment saves the inexperienced buyer. Even if the knowledgeable person usesharsh and threatening expressions, their judgment is always the judgment of salvation. Believing that the judgment scene described by Jesus refers to the condemnation of sinners to the torments of hell is, at best, risky. Hell exists but is not a place created by God to punish those who have misbehaved at the end of life. It is a condition of unhappiness and despair resulting from sin. However, we can get out of hell, away from sin through Christ: our liberation comes from Christ and his judgment of salvation.
But, in the end, will God not punish the wicked? A judge seems just to us when, after evaluating the crime, he punishes with equity. But this is not the justice of God. He is not a just God because he rewards or punishes according to our standards and expectations—if this were the case, there would be no hope for anyone, and all would end up being convicted—but because he can make the wicked righteous (cf. Rom 3:21-26).
The question, therefore, is not who will be counted as sheep and who will be counted as goats at the end of the world, but on what occasions do we behave as sheep or goats today. We are sheep when we love our brother or sister; we are goats when we neglect them. What will happen at the end? It is truly hard to believe that the good shepherd—from whom no one will be able to snatch even one of his sheep (cf. Jn 10:28)—after leaving us to spring around like young kids, will not find a way to turn us all into his lambs.
THIRD OPTION
First Reading: Wisdom 3:1-9
Alexandria, the prosperous city of the Ptolemies, evokes many memories: its founder Alexander the Great, the lighthouse that was one of the seven wonders of the world, the famous library that attracted scholars and writers from around the world and, not least, the political vicissitudes and love life of Cleopatra. It is precisely at the time of this queen that the author of the Book of Wisdom lives. This book is the last in the order of time of the books of the Old Testament. In this city, many Jews have settled for over three centuries. They have their synagogues where they read the Greek translation of the Holy Scriptures. They retain their cultural identity and their traditions but also suffer the irresistible allure of the Hellenistic culture. Many, especially the young, are seduced by the temptations of idolatry and moral customs of the heathens.
Concerned about the danger of apostasy that hangs over his co-religionists, the author exposes, in a passionate discourse, put on the mouth of the wicked, the proposals for a pleasurable life from which every pious Jew must be on guard: “Led by mistaken reasons they think, life is short and sad and there is no cure for death. It was never heard that anyone came back from the netherworld. By chance, we were born; it will be as if we never existed when life is over. Come then and enjoy all the good things; let us use creation with the zest of youth, making the most of the choicest wines and perfumes and not passing by any flower of spring. Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they fade. Let us oppress the upright man who is poor, and have no thought for the widow, or respect for the white hair of old age. Let our strength be our right since it is proved that weakness is useless" (Wis 2:1-11).
Those who are inspired by these principles cannot endure for long just living alongside them. Their moral integrity is for them a tacit reproach that, if they fail to involve them in their corrupt life and make them deviate from their righteousness, they must eliminate them. That's, in fact, the resolution with which the wicked conclude their speech: "Let us set a trap for the righteous, for he annoys us and opposes our way of life; he reproaches us…we condemn his to a shameful death" (Wis 2:12-20).
The passage reported by our reading begins at this point. Will the plans of the wicked succeed? Removing him from the among them, will they have finally closed the accounts with the righteous? The author has already anticipated his judgment: led by wrong reasons (Wis 2:1). Their calculations are flawed because they think that, with the descent of the righteous in the tomb, the dispute is closed forever; it is not so: "The righteous are in God's hands." The senseless people believed that they had died, that their passage was a disaster and their departure an annihilation. Instead, they are in peace (v. 1).
For centuries the wise people of Israel sought an answer to the scandal of the pain of the innocent. Faced with this enigma, even the wise Ecclesiastes was groping in the dark and was bitterly forced to admit: "I have seen everything during my lifetime of futility; there is a righteous man who perishes in his righteousness and there is a wicked man who prolongs his life in his wickedness" (Ecl 7:15); and the Psalmist: "For I was envious of the arrogant, when I saw the wicked prosper" (Ps 73:3). To those who argued that God repaid with justice the good done and the evil committed, Job—who did not believe in another life—answered mockingly: "Why do the wicked live, increase in age and in power? Their descendants flourish in their sight… live out their days and go down to Sheol" (Job 21:7-13).
In this disturbing debate, the author of the Book of Wisdom finally introduces a new and enlightening revelation: with death, all is not over; there is an afterlife. The death of the righteous is not a defeat, an annihilation, but the arrival time at the destination: happiness with God. "People thought they would suffer punishments. Instead, they waited for immortality." It is the first time that this term appears in the Bible, in the sense of everlasting life (v. 4). In the light of immortality, it is possible to grasp the meaning of the suffering that the righteous have had to endure. They were not punishment but tests through which they could demonstrate their devotion to God and his law. They have borne them with courage; for this, the Lord "found them worthy to be with him and has accepted them as a holocaust” (vv. 5-6). At the moment of reckoning, their righteousness will shine in front of everyone, and their righteousness will be recognized (v. 7). They will be with God in the new world, and they shall reign forever with him (vv. 8-9).
Second Reading: Revelation 21:1-5a,6b-7
In the Bible the term ‘new’ is often used—347 times in the Old Testament and 44 in the New Testament—and this adjective means a radical change compared to what existed before. The new work of God is something unexpected, unimaginable, amazing. When, for example, he promises a ‘new law’ (Jer 31:31-34), it does not refer to a new set of requirements, to an ‘update’ of the Decalogue, but the gift of a radically different law, the inner dynamism leading to the fulfillment of God’s will, the impulse that moves the heart to choose the good.
In the Old Testament are announced many new realities that the Lord will implement: a new alliance, a new spirit, a new heart and a new creation: "I now create new heavens and a new earth, and the former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind again. Be glad forever and rejoice in what I create; for I create Jerusalem to be a joy and its people to be a delight" (Is 65:17-18).
The first creation was good. All that God had done “was very good” (Gen 1:31), but man, in his freedom, introduced sin; he used creatures for evil and has oriented them to corruption. The consequences of his choices are there for all to see: wars, violence, oppression, injustices.... Is God’s plan, therefore, a hopeless failure? Has his creation got out of the Lord of the universe’s hand? No—the seer of Revelation replied. God has in hand the world's destiny; no event gets him by surprise; he is making all things new (v. 5). He does not destroy the first creation, but he is preparing a new heaven and a new earth. Only the sea—a symbol of all that is contrary to life (Rev 13:1)—will be made to disappear forever; it will evaporate to the last drop (v. 1).
The vision continues: "I saw the new Jerusalem, the holy city coming down from God, out of heaven, adorned as a bride prepared for her husband" (v. 2). At no time in her life, the woman is as fascinating as on the wedding day. Her gait with graceful movements, her face without spots or wrinkles are cause for admiration and the object of flattering comments from the participants at the party. The reality of the world that we can see is the opposite; the outlook is bleak, and nothing preludes to such a startling transformation. It takes a lot of faith to believe that a new world can be born from such a corrupt reality. Even one who observes a caterpillar is not misled into thinking that a butterfly is about to appear.
The Seer of Revelation describes the conclusion of the world’s history as a dream: God will dwell forever with people, "and he will wipe every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the world that was has passed away" (vv. 3-4).It is the message of joy and hope that John addresses to the Christians of his community, tempted to fall at the apparent and relentless triumph of evil. In the end—he assures—we will realize that, against all appearances to the contrary, the events of history had never escaped the Lord's hand.
Gospel: Matthew 5:1-12a
A human being has always cultivated a desire to meet God, question him, know his thoughts, and discover his plans. How to find him? Where can we meet him? In ancient times, it was believed that the ideal place would be on the peaks of the mountains. All nations had their sacred mountains—meeting places between heaven and earth, the abode of the gods and goal of human ascent—for the Greeks, Olympus; for the inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Ararat; for the Ugarits, the Tzaphon.
Israel also shared this belief. Abraham, Moses, and Elijah had their strongest spiritual experiences on the mountains of Moria, Horeb, and Mount Carmel. Matthew places the first discourse of Jesus on the mountain. Christian devotion has identified this place as the hill overlooking Capernaum.
The nuns who guard it have turned it into an oasis of peace, meditation, and prayer. Strolling under the majestic trees, greeted by the rustle of leaves blowing in the breeze coming down from the snowy peaks of Lebanon, contemplating from above the lake that Jesus and his disciples crossed so many times, naturally prompts the eyes to lift up to the sky and think of God. No matter how impressive this experience is, the mountain referred to by Matthew should not be understood in a geographical sense but its theological significance. More than a real place, ‘the mountain’ in the Bible refers to any place or time when we dispose of ourselves to meet the Lord and to accept his word.
We can visualize the scene. Jesus detaches himself from the plain, a symbol of the society where—in the words of the Ecclesiastes—“all that is done, all that succeeds, results from rivalry with the neighbor: all is meaningless and chasing the wind” (Ecl 4:4). He climbs the mountain where the judging criteria and proposed models of life are radically different: those of God.
The value scale established on the plains is, in broad terms, as follows: first health, then family, professional success, flush bank account, and good friends. Even God and the saints—of course—are ranked, but nearer the bottom, as helpful supports of more immediate values that are really at heart.
Will the person who lives his own life according to these ideals be successful? What does God think of it? To avoid the risk of focusing on disappointing goals and wasting our existence, it is necessary to confront his judgment. Which scale of values is proposed on the mountain? Today’s liturgy invites us to reflect on the proposals of blessedness made by Jesus. They are those that the saints in heaven have put into practice and that the saints of earth, encouraged by their example, are recommended to follow.
Blessed are the poor in spirit
It is hard to say in how many ways this beatitude has been interpreted. Someone referred to the miserable, the beggars; the exploited as if they were the kind of people God is pleased with and therefore should be left in their wretched state. Indeed, it should be ensured that all become like them! This is, of course, an absurd, deviant interpretation. The humanity dreamed by God does not include his poor children, but one in which “no one is poor” (Acts 4:34).
Others believe that the ‘poor in spirit’ are those who, while maintaining the possession of their property, are detached from them and generous in bestowing offerings on the less fortunate. But alms—even recommended in some (rare) biblical texts—do not introduce into the world the ‘new justice’; they do not solve the root problem of the equitable division of assets because the concept presumes the existence of the rich and poor on earth.
The principle of ‘to each his own’ that establishes our justice seems wise and sensible. But it too stems from a false premise and is derived from the assumption that something belongs to a person, while, in fact, everything is of God: "The Lord's is the earth and its fullness, the universe and its inhabitants" (Ps 24:1). A person is only an administrator of goods, and they will be called to render an account of this administration.
The evil instincts of possessing, accumulating, and using goods only for self come from the misguided relationship with this world's goods. All the evil: wars, violence, disagreements, and jealousy ensue from there (1 Timothy 6:10). Therefore, the whole of creation is "groaning in pain and begs to be renewed and redeemed" (Rom 8:19-25).
All possessive adjectives that we use express an erroneous conception of reality: if all is God, it makes no sense to talk about mine or yours, or even of ours, because everything is of the creator. The biblical image of the world is that of the banquet hall where the Lord calls each of his children from the moment he calls them into life. The person is a table companion who rejoices with the brothers/sisters for the gifts that the Father freely makes available to all. Whoever manages them as their property commits theft? Life itself does not belong to the human being; it is of God and is a gift that must be offered for love.
In respect of goods, Jesus never assumed the attitude of contempt that characterized the cynical philosophers. For them, ‘dishonest wealth’ also becomes good when distributed to the poor (Lk 16:19). However, although Jesus never condemned it, he regarded it as a threat, “an obstacle—insurmountable for many—to enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 19:23). The more a person is favored, the more goods they have, the more they are tempted to tie their heart to them, keep them for themselves and employ them selfishly.
From those who want to follow him—from those who want to be holy—Jesus asks for total detachment. "None of you may become my disciple if he/she doesn't give up everything he/she has" (Lk 14:33). In the context of this essential requirement to share all that is available to us from God, the beatitude should be read.
Jesus does not exalt poverty as such. By adding the ‘in spirit,’ he clarifies that not all the poor are blessed. By free choice, only those who strip themselves of all and manage their assets according to God’s plan are blessed. The poor in spirit decide not to possess anything for themselves and make available to others all that they receive. Mind you: the poor, according to the Gospel, are not those who have nothing, but those who do not keep anything for themselves.
Whoever has more is considered wealthy, but not if they become haughty, humiliate the less gifted, or use their assets to oppress others. Whoever spends themselves for others and puts themselves at the service of those who need is truly poor in spirit. Someone miserable need not be ‘poor in spirit.’ They are not if they curse themselves and others; attempt to improve their condition with violence or deceit; think only of themselves and lose interest in others, or cultivate the dream of rising to the prestigious position of the rich.
Voluntary poverty is for all. The renunciation of the selfish use of all property is not optional, not a counsel reserved to some who want to be heroes or more perfect. This is what distinguishes a saint, every Christian.
The promise that accompanies the beatitude does not refer to a distant future. It does not guarantee entry into heaven after death but announces an immediate joy: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. From the moment we choose to become and remain poor, we enter the ‘kingdom of heaven’ and belong to the saints' family.
This beatitude is not a message of resignation. Still, of hope: no one will be in need when all become ‘poor in spirit,’ when they put the gifts they have received from God at the service of others, as does God, ‘the Holy One’ who, while possessing everything, is infinitely poor: he holds nothing back, gives everything, even his Son.
Blessed are those who suffer
For centuries in the Church, an asceticism that exalted pain as a means of uniting ourselves more closely to the suffering of Christ was preached. It attracted legions of saints and awakened precious spiritual energies, but it has also spread the mistaken belief that suffering is pleasing to God. It is not. Suffering dehumanizes, and the Lord cannot be pleased with an offer that disfigures the face of his children. Jesus—quoting the prophet Hosea—said that God desires love, not sacrifice (Mt 9:13).
What does he mean then when he proclaims, blessed are the ‘afflicted?’ The term he uses is well known to those familiar with the Bible. The ‘afflicted’ spoken of in the book of the prophet Isaiah are those who do not have a house to live in, no fields to cultivate because strangers have usurped the legacy of their fathers. They are those who have to put themselves at the service of unscrupulous landowners; suffer injustice, abuse of power, embezzlement and humiliation (Is 61:7).
To these brokenhearted, who sit on ashes, wearing mourning garments (Is 61:3), the prophet addresses a message of hope. God—he assures—is about to intervene, he will reverse the situation and eliminate the causes of mourning: “cheer up those who mourn in Zion, give them a garland instead of ashes, oil of gladness instead of mourning, and festal clothes instead of despair” (Is 61:3).
In the synagogue at Nazareth, Jesus applied this oracle to himself. He proclaimed that he had come to fulfill this promise of God (Lk 4:21). The ‘afflicted’ that heaven regards as blessed are attentive and sensitive to the big cry of pain that rises from the world. “They weep with those who weep” (Rom 12:15) but do not resign themselves in the face of evil and suffering. They expect salvation from God and his word.
They will be comforted in the Kingdom of God—of which Jesus, the Holy One, has laid the foundation and that the saints have worked together to build. There, all the situations of pain and tears will be erased.
Blessed are the meek
The adjective ‘meek’ evokes the idea of a resigned person who does not react to provocation and passively accepts injustice without complaint. Is this the person who shuns every conflict (revealing a weak personality) who is beatified? The term ‘meek’ used by Jesus is taken from the Old Testament and, more precisely, from (Ps 37, where those deprived of their rights and liberty are called ‘the meek ones.’ They are poor because the powerful have stolen their fields, houses, and even sons and daughters. They are forced to suffer injustice without protest.
They do not give up, but they refuse to resort to violence to restore justice. They do not let themselves be guided by anger; they do not feed the resentment and the desire for revenge. They trust in God and await the coming of his Kingdom. However, theirs is not passive waiting as that of those waiting for the bus; it is active; it translates into concrete commitment.
Jesus is the model of true meekness (Mt 11:29; 21:5). He certainly was not a weak, timid, or shy person. He experienced dramatic conflict but confronted it with the characteristics of the heart that describe the ‘meek ones.’ He repudiated violence, loved those who opposed it—by being patient, tolerant, and becoming the servant of all.
Holy are those who cultivate the dreams of God on earth and, with Jesus—the Holy One—undertake to achieve them, giving evidence against those who oppose them, with the same ‘meekness’ of the Master. The Promise: they will inherit the earth. They will receive from God a new land; they will build with him a new world, genuinely human.
A dream? Yes, but God and the saints do not allow themselves to be persuaded by the evil one who tries to convince them that God's promises will never come true. They do not resign themselves to the often-bleak reality in which they are called to operate and maintain firmly that hope which Paul qualifies with the Greek term hupomoné, the characteristic of semi-precious stones that resist any pressure (1 Thessalonians 1:3).
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness
Hunger and thirst are the most basic biological needs. With the same passion—Jesus recommends—his disciples should hunger for ‘justice.’ What is justice? Human justice states that all people are treated according to what they deserve: the good people are rewarded; the guilty are punished and the innocent released. ‘Executing justice’ is synonymous with sending someone to the gallows.
Is this the justice for which we must hunger and thirst? The adjective ‘just’ can be applied to God, but with great caution, because it runs the risk of transforming the Lord into a judge and guarantor of morality with promises of reward and the threat of punishment. The Bible often speaks of God’s justice, but always and only as a synonym of kindness, never in the sense of our distributive justice. God is just, not because he compensates according to merit, but because, with his love, he makes righteous those who are evil. He is just because “he desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4).
For us, ‘justice is done’ means that the culprit is punished. For God, justice is done when he manages to make the wicked righteous or when he saves a sinner from the abyss of guilt. Nobody has longed a much for this justice to be established in the world as Jesus has. To the disciples who invited him to eat, he replied: “My food is to bring to completion the work of him who sent me” (Jn 4:34). Only the righteousness of God could satisfy his hunger. He announced the word that made people just, and there were so many people who needed to hear it that he had no time even to eat (Mk 6:31). Saints are those who share with Jesus his hunger and thirst for the salvation of his brothers and sisters.
The promise: they shall be filled. They will experience—already here on earth—the joy of God and of the angels of heaven who have more joy over one sinner that is made just over ninety-nine who do not need repentance (Lk 15:7).
Blessed are those who do works of mercy
This beatitude seems to fit within the conflict between patience and the desire to punish the culprit. It appears to be an invitation to let compassion and forgiveness prevail always. This is undoubtedly one of the aspects of ‘mercy’ and sits well with the recommendation of Jesus: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Judge not lest you be judged: condemn not, and you will not be condemned: forgive, and you shall be forgiven” (Lk 6:36-37). But this does not exhaust the richness of the biblical term.
In the Bible, ‘mercy,’ rather than a feeling of pity, is an action favoring those who need help. The clearest example is that of the Samaritan—the Greek text says—he has made mercy towards the man attacked by bandits (Lk 10:37).
The rabbis of Jesus’ time taught that God is merciful because he does works of mercy, and they specify: “God clothed the naked—when he covered Adam and Eve with leaves”;(Gen 3:21)—so you must clothe the naked. He visited the sick: In fact, he visited Abraham when he was suffering after his circumcision and visited the barren Sarah (Gen 18:1)—so you must visit the sick. He comforted those who were grieving—when he comforted Isaac after his father's death (Gen 25:11)—so you must comfort those who are suffering. He buried the dead—he was the one who buried Moses (Deut 34:6)—so you must bury the dead. Merciful are the saints who, faced with the needs of a person, feel the emotion of the heart of God and intervene, performing works of mercy, as God did.
The Promise: they will find mercy. In the new world, in the Kingdom of God, they too, when they need help, will meet brothers/sisters always willing to reach out to them, indeed, to give their lives to help them.
Blessed are the pure in heart
Purity was one of the most marked characteristics of the Jewish religion. Any contact with pagan cults, with something that might recall death and was unclean, had to be avoided. From this requirement of purity, there arose prohibitions, the detailed provisions of the rabbis obliging them to stay away from what was perceived as contrary to the holiness of God. Since transgressions were inevitable, it was necessary to obsessively resort to purification rites, ablutions, and sacrifices (Mk 7:3-4).
Jesus is not interested in these practices. He demands purity of heart. There is nothing external that makes a person unclean. Only what comes from the heart can make one unclean (Mt 15:17-20). The pure in heart are those who have an undivided heart and do not love both God and idols. A person, who serves two masters, whose conduct does not agree with the faith they profess, who loves God, but keeps resentment toward a brother or sister in their heart, who never commits a wrong action, but is adulterous in his heart, has an impure heart (Mt 5:28).
The promise: they shall see God. To them is given the blessed experience of trusting abandonment in the arms of God.
Blessed are those who are committed to peace
Among the works of mercy recommended by the rabbis of Jesus’ time, bringing peace and reconstructing harmony among persons was the most respected. Every action that aims at restoring peace—it was said—attracts the blessings of God. Blessed is undoubtedly the one who, without resorting to violence, commits all their energy to put an end to war and conflict. Blessed are those who come between the contenders and try to convince them to dialogue, find harmony and establish peace.
But in the Bible, the word ‘peace’ (shalom) is not just the absence of war. It indicates total well-being, implies harmony with God, with others and with themselves, prosperity, justice, health, and joy. ‘Peacemakers’ are all those who are committed to making this life as suitable as possible for every person.
The most beautiful of the promises are given to these saints: God considers them his children.
Blessed are the persecuted for righteousness
Some disasters strike unexpectedly: fatality, illness, or misfortune can happen to anyone. Another suffering is the result of foolish or unethical behavior, and we tend to look for these! There is a third kind of tribulation: those we do not want. Still, we must consider—because they are an inevitable price to pay—if we choose to follow Christ.
Jesus did not delude his disciples; he has not promised honor or achievement, has not assured them of people's approval and consent, and insistently and repeated that adhesion to him entails persecution: "If the head of the family has been called Beelzebub, how much more the members of the family" (Mt 10:25). And again: "They will lay their hands on you and persecute you; you will be delivered to the synagogues and put in prison, and for my sake, you will be brought before kings and governors" (Lk 21:12). "When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next" (Mt 10:23). The wisdom of God says: "I will send prophets and apostles and these people will kill and persecute some of them. But the present generation will have to answer for the blood of all the prophets that has been shed since the foundation of the world" (Lk 11:49-50).
Persecution is the uniform that distinguishes the disciple. Paul is explicit: “All who want to serve God in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Tim 3:12). How come? We would expect that a Christian—a messenger of peace and hope—is to be welcomed with open arms, joyand gratitude. Instead, the proclamation of the Gospel creates conflict. The reason is that the old-world order is incompatible with the Kingdom of God and does not give up peacefully. It reacts by attacking those it wants to have disappeared.
Christ paid with his life for being loyal to his mission, and his disciples must not expect any different treatment: “A servant is not greater than his master. If they persecuted me, they will persecute you, too” (Jn 15:20). The persecution of the righteous is often spoken of in the Old Testament. In the psalms, the righteous ask God: "Deliver me from the grip of my persecutors" (Ps 7:2); "When will you judge my persecutors? When they persecute me, help me" (Ps 119:84,86). Jeremiah is opposed, slandered, and imprisoned in a cistern.
In the Old Testament, however, persecution is considered bad, and the person who suffers it cannot be happy until God intervenes to end it. In the New Testament, the perspective changes. He who suffers for his fidelity to the Lord is proclaimed blessed by the very fact of being persecuted.
Persecution is not a sign of failure but success. It is a cause of joy because it is the proof of pursuing the right choice, according to the ‘wisdom of God.’ Inevitably, those who propose in a society based on the principles taught ‘on the mountain’ are persecuted. They introduce into the world the antibodies of service that attack the viruses of power. They do not give a chance to these viruses, although camouflaged or hidden under religious trappings, to survive.
Whoever feels their position and prestige is threatened by the coming of the Kingdom of God reacts with violence, if necessary. The saints never had an easy life: their fate was sealed when they agreed to act as lambs.
Subjected to persecution, they have not succumbed to the temptation to behave like wolves. They have not strayed from the behavior suggested by the Master: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Mt 5:44) and by Paul: “Bless those who persecute you” (Rom 12:14).
