Today is the feast of Saint Catherine of Siena, Doctor of the Church, Patron of Europe. Let us pray for Europe, for the unity of Europe, for the unity of the European Union: so that together we can move forward as brothers and sisters.

In the first letter of St. John the Apostle there are many contrasts: between light and darkness, between lie and truth, between sin and innocence. But the Apostle always calls us to concreteness, to the truth, and tells us that we cannot be in communion with Jesus and walk in darkness, because He is light. It's either one thing or the other: grey is even worse, because grey makes you believe that you are walking in the light, because you are not in darkness and this reassures you. Grey is very treacherous. Neither one thing nor the other.

The Apostle goes on to say: "If we say we are sinless, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us", because we have all sinned, we are all sinners. And here there is one thing that can deceive us: to say "we are all sinners", as we say "hello", "good morning", a usual thing, even a social thing, and so we do not have a true consciousness of sin. No: I am a sinner because of this, this and this. Concreteness. The concreteness of the truth: the truth is always concrete; Lies are ethereal, they're like air, you can't catch them. The truth is concrete. And you can't go and confess your sins in an abstract way: "Yes, I ... yes, once I lost patience, another ...", and abstract things. "I am a sinner." concreteness: "I did this. I thought this. That's what I said." Concreteness is what makes me feel like a true sinner and not a sinner in the air.

Jesus says in the Gospel: "I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the little ones." The concreteness of the little ones. It is beautiful to listen to the little ones when they come to confession: they do not say strange things, in the air; they say concrete things, and sometimes too concrete because they have that simplicity that God gives to the little ones. I always remember a child who once came to tell me that he was sad because he had quarrelled with his aunt. But then he went on. I said, "What did you do?" – "Oh well, I was at home, I wanted to go and play football – he was a child. "But the aunt, mum was not there, says, "No, don't go out: you have to do your homework first." And then he said one word after another. And in the end he told her to go where the pepper grows and because he was a child of great geographical culture, he even called her the name of the place to which he wanted his aunt to be sent! They are like this: simple, concrete.

We too must be simple, concrete: concreteness leads you to humility, because humility is concrete. "We are all sinners" is an abstract thing. No: "I am a sinner for this, this and this", and this makes me ashamed to look at Jesus: "Forgive me". The true attitude of the sinner. And if we say we are sinless, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. This abstract attitude is one way of saying that we are sinless : "Yes, we are sinners, yes, I lost patience once ...", but all in the air. I don't realize the reality of my sins. "But, you know, everybody, we all do these things, I'm sorry, I'm sorry ... it gives me pain, I don't want to do it anymore, I don't want to say it anymore, I don't want to think about it anymore." It is important that we, within ourselves, give names to our sins. Concreteness. Because if we keep them in the air, we will end up in darkness. Let's be like the little ones, who say what they feel, what they think: they have not yet learned the art of saying things a little wrapped up so that they are understood without them saying. This is an art of the big people, which so often does us no good.

Yesterday I received a letter from a boy from Caravaggio. His name is Andrea. And he told me things about him: the letters of boys, of children are beautiful, for their concreteness. And he told me that he had heard Mass on television and that he had to "reprove me" for one thing: that I say "Peace be with you", "and you cannot say this because with the pandemic we cannot touch each other". He doesn't see that you do this with your head and don't touch each other. But the freedom to say things as they are.

We too, with the grace of the Lord, have the freedom to say things as they are: "Lord, I am in sin: help me." Like Peter after the first miraculous catch: "Get away from me, Lord, for I am a sinner." To have this wisdom of concreteness. Because the devil wants us to live in tepidly, lukewarm, in the grey: neither good nor bad, nor white nor black: grey. A life doesn't please the Lord. The Lord doesn't like lukewarm people. Concreteness. Not to be a liar. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just forgives us: he forgives us when we are concrete. Spiritual life is so simple, so simple; but we make it complicated with these nuances, and in the end we never arrive.

Let us ask the Lord for the grace of simplicity and for Him to give us this grace that he gives to the simple, the children, the young people who say what they feel, who do not hide what they feel. Even if it's wrong, but they say it. Even with him, saying things: transparency. And don't live a life that's not one thing or the other. The grace of freedom to say these things and also the grace to know well who we are before God.

29.04.20

What does this night still have to say to our lives? Two thousand years after the birth of Jesus, after so many Christmases celebrated among decorations and gifts, after so much consumerism that has veiled the mystery we celebrate, there is a danger: we know many things about Christmas, but we forget its real meaning. So, how can we rediscover the meaning of Christmas? And above all, where can we go to find it? The Gospel of Jesus' birth seems to be written precisely for this: to take us by the hand and bring us back to where God wants us to be. Let us follow the gospel.

In fact, it starts with a situation similar to ours: everyone is busy with an important, the great census, which required a lot of preparation. In this sense, the atmosphere back then was similar to that which surrounds us today at Christmas. But the Gospel account has little to do with that worldly scenario: it soon shifts our gaze to something else, which it considers more important. It focuses on a small, and apparently insignificant detail, which it mentions three times and always in relation to the central figures int the narative: first Mary, who places Jesus "in a manger" (Lk 2:7); then the angels, tell the shepherds about "a child wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger" (v. 12); Then the shepherds, who find "the child lying in the manger" (v. 16). The manger: to rediscover the meaning of Christmas you have to look there. But why is the manger so important? Because it is the sign, and not by chance, of Christ's coming into the world. It is the manifesto with which he presents himself, the way in which God is born in history so that history itself can be reborn. So what does he want to tell us through the manger? He wants to tell us at least three things: closeness, poverty and concreteness.

1. Closeness. The manger is used to bring food close to the mouth and to be able to consume it more quickly. In this way it can symbolize an aspect of humanity: our insatiability for consumption. Because, while the animals feed in the stable, men and women in the world, hungry for power and money, also consume their neighbors, their brothers. How many wars! And in how many places, even today, dignity and freedom are trampled underfoot! And always the main victims of human greed are the weak and the vulnerable. This Christmas too, a humanity insatiably striving for money, power and pleasure makes no room, as it was for Jesus (cf. v. 7), for the little ones, for so many unborn, poor, and forgotten. I am thinking above all of children devoured by war, poverty and injustice. But Jesus comes right there, a child in the manger of exclusion and rejection. In him, the child of Bethlehem, there is every child. And there is the invitation to look at life, politics and history through the eyes of children.

In the manger of rejection and inhospitableness, Jesus lies down: he comes there, because there is the problem of humanity, the indifference produced by the voracious rush to possess and consume. Christ is born there and in that manger we discover his closeness. He comes to a feeding trough to become our food. God is not a Father who devours his children, but the Father who in Jesus makes us his children and nourishes us with tenderness. He comes to touch our hearts and tell us that the only force that changes the course of history is love. He does not remain distant, he does not remain powerful, but he becomes close and humble; He, who sat in heaven, allows himself to lie in a manger.

Brothers and sisters, God is close to you tonight because He cares about you. From the manger, as food for your life, he tells you: "If you feel consumed by events, if your guilt and inadequacy devour you, if you hunger for justice, I, God, am with you. I know what you are experiencing, for I experienced it myself in that manger. I know your miseries and your history. I was born to tell you that I am and I will always be close to you". The Christmas manger, the first message of an infant God, tells us that he is with us, loves us, seeks us. Courage, do not let yourself be overcome by fear, resignation, discouragement. God is born in a manger so that you may be reborn where you thought you had hit rock bottom. There is no evil, there is no sin from which Jesus does not want and cannot save you. Christmas means that God is near: may trust be reborn!

2. The manger in Bethlehem, in addition to being close, also speaks to us of poverty. Around a manger, in fact, there is not much: staw and some animals and little else. People were staying warm in the inn, not in the cold stable. But Jesus is born there and the manger reminds us that he had nothing else around him except those who loved him: Mary, Joseph and the shepherds; All poor people, united by affection and amazement, not by riches and great possibilities. The poor manger thus brings out the true riches of life: not money and power, but relationships and people.

And the first person, the first wealth, is Jesus himself. But do we want to stand by his side? Do we draw near to him, do we love his poverty? Or do we prefer to remain comfortable in our interests? Above all, do we visit Him where He is, that is, in the poor mangers of our world? There He is present. And we are called to be a Church that adores the poor Jesus and serves Jesus in the poor. As a holy bishop said: "The Church supports and blesses efforts to transform structures of injustice and sets only one condition: that social, economic and political changes truly benefit the poor" (O.A. Romero, Pastoral Message for the New Year, 1 January 1980). Of course, it is not easy to leave the comfortable warmth of worldliness to embrace the barren beauty of the cave of Bethlehem, but let us remember that it is not truly Christmas without the poor. Without them we can celebrate Christmas, but not that of Jesus. Brothers and sisters, God is poor at Christmas: may charity be reborn!

3. This brings us to the last point: the manger speaks to us of concreteness. In fact, a baby in a manger represents a striking scene, even cruel. It reminds us that God was truly made flesh. And so theories, beautiful thoughts and pious feelings are no longer enough about Him. Jesus, who is born poor, will live poor and die poor, did not make many speeches about poverty, but lived it to the end for us. From the manger to the cross, his love for us was tangible, concrete: from birth to death the carpenter's son embraced the roughness of wood, the roughness of our existence. He didn't love us in words, he loved us with utter seriousness!

And so, he is not satisfied with appearances. He does not only want good intentions, He who became flesh. He who was born in the manger, seeks a concrete faith, made of adoration and charity, not of gossip and appearances. He, who lays himself naked in the manger and lays himself naked on the cross, asks us for truth, to go to the naked reality of things, to put excuses, justifications and hypocrisies at the foot of the manger. He, who was tenderly wrapped in swaddling clothes by Mary, wants us to clothe ourselves in love. God does not want appearance, but concreteness. Let us not let this Christmas, brothers and sisters, pass without doing something good. Since it is his celebration, his birthday, let us give him gifts pleasing to him! At Christmas God is concrete: in his name let us revive a little hope in those who have lost it!

Jesus, we look to You, lying in the manger. We see you so close, close to us forever: thank you, Lord. We see you poor, teaching us that true wealth is not in things, but in people, especially in the poor: sorry, if we have not recognized and served you in them. We see you concrete, because your love for us is concrete: Jesus, help us to give flesh and life to our faith. Amen.

24.12.22