Liturgy&Music

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time/A

Massimo Palombella

Achille Mazzotti, Jesus Among the Scribes and the Pharisees, 1844 (Accademia Nazionale di San Luca, Roma)

In today’s Gospel (Mt 22:34–40), Jesus brings together three fundamental dimensions of our lives: love of God, love of our neighbour, and love of ourselves. The Greek text is particularly significant: Jesus uses the same verb twice, ἀγαπήσεις (agapéseis), “you shall love”, and, when speaking of love of neighbour, adds ὡς σεαυτόν (hōs seautón), “as yourself”. We are not dealing with three commandments, but with two commandments embracing three inseparable dimensions of our existence. Indeed, Jesus declares that the second commandment is ὁμοία αὐτῇ (homoía autēi), “like the first”: love of neighbour is not something merely added to love of God, but constitutes an essential dimension of it.

For if the God I profess to love, in whom I place my trust, does not gradually lead me to face the truth about myself, to make concrete choices in accordance with what is genuinely “good” for me – and, consequently, to love those around me authentically – then perhaps the God I have fashioned for myself is no God at all. He is an illusion, a kind of “anaesthetic” that allows me to evade reality rather than confront it.

To love oneself, in the sense indicated by Jesus, is to embark upon a gradual journey towards the truth of who I am: learning to accept myself, to transform my weaknesses into resources, to forgive, and to dismantle those inner attitudes whose sole purpose is to keep me at a distance from reality, silently allowing fear to become the only criterion by which I make my choices. And the more capable I become of recognising and managing my fears (the fear of failure, of what others may think, of encountering difficulties, of being left alone, of how I am perceived…), the more capable I become of truly loving my children, my husband, my wife, those entrusted to my care… my neighbour. For I cannot genuinely love another person if my relationship with myself is continually conditioned by fear, by the need to defend myself, and by the desire to be recognised and approved of.

In our inner and spiritual lives, no less than in our professional lives, unless we are prepared to be “extravagant” in our commitment, we very quickly lapse into mediocrity. It is striking that, when speaking of love of God, Jesus repeats the Greek expression ἐν ὅλῃ (en hólēi), “with all”, three times: with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. It is the whole person who is called to respond, without reservations, without comfortable places of refuge in which to escape the demands and struggles of living. Love, when it is authentic, cannot be mediocre. It cannot confine itself to what does not disturb me, does not challenge me, or does not compel me to change.

There is, therefore, a “virtuous circle” between God, myself, and my neighbour: a profound and life-giving relationship of mutual interconnectedness which, nevertheless, we are often tempted to break, because “reality” is painful, touches upon my deepest fears, and backs me into a corner… It is no coincidence that Jesus concludes by saying that upon these two commandments κρέμαται (krématai), “depends” – literally, “hangs” – the whole Law and the Prophets. This is a radical affirmation: the quality of my relationship with God cannot be separated from the truth of my own life or from the quality of my relationships with others.

And so, in order to avoid the pain of confronting reality, we prefer to take refuge in a kind of facile “niceness”, in the superficial sentiment of “let us all love one another”, of “being on good terms with everyone”, of “not going too far”… all at the expense of truth, of genuine growth, of necessary and responsible processes of education and formation, of fundamental ethical principles, and of professional excellence…

Perhaps, then, today’s Gospel confronts us with precisely this question: how much of what I call “love” is truly love, and how much is merely an elegant way of avoiding reality, of refusing to assume my responsibilities, and of resisting the need to change?

The Entrance Antiphon, or Introit, of today’s celebration is taken from Psalm 104 (Ps 104:3–4), with the following text:

Laetetur cor quaerentium Dominum.
Quaerite Dominum et confirmamini; quaerite faciem eius semper.

(Let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.
Seek the Lord and be strengthened; seek his face always).

The accompanying Gregorian chant is taken from the Graduale Triplex, published at Solesmes in 1979. The performance is by the Nova Schola Gregoriana, under the direction of Alberto Turco.

A blessed Sunday and heartfelt greetings.