Comunidad de San Pablo

Friday 28 ^th November 2025

ADVENT: A RESET OF THE HEART

This Sunday we begin the season of Advent, and in the readings we will hear St. Paul telling us, “It is time for you to wake up from your slumber” (Rom 13:11), and Jesus reiterating the same message: “Stay awake!” (Mt 24:42).

With these two similar calls, we enter fully into the spirit of Advent. It is a time, then, to awaken, to be attentive, to scan the horizon and perceive in it the signs of God’s presence, which is coming and will be born to us at Christmas. Advent is also a time to identify the breaches that Jesus mentions in the same passage: cracks through which our good intentions, our desire to be good people and to live according to the Gospel, can slip away.

In these times, in which we live immersed in the digital revolution, perhaps an analogy with technology can help to illustrate what this season of Advent is all about. We know that every now and then we must restart a computer or a phone. We reset them or reboot them. Sometimes we humans also need a reset, and Advent gives us the opportunity to do so.

We restart our computers because something isn’t working properly: some harmful habit persists in the system, an error that has remained, causing problems, and that needs to be fixed. And we also restart our computers to access updates that are now available and that, once installed, will allow everything to work better.

To restart a computer, you have to turn it off. The same goes for us. Every now and then, we need to «shut down the system» in the sense of silencing the many noises that deafen us, that come from all sides and prevent us from thinking clearly. There is a lot of noise in politics, on social media, in television talk shows, and there is also noise that arises from within us in the form of old grudges and open wounds that we haven’t been able to heal. All this noise leads us to accumulate tensions, anxiety, resentments, bewilderment, and anguish.

In Advent, let’s begin by turning off the noise. One of the main characters of this season is John the Baptist, who went to the desert: that is, he distanced himself from the noise. From John, we can learn his choice to refuse to live amidst a whirlwind of activity, constantly absorbing information and noise, without time to process it. In the desert, John will offer a clear and new message because he has known how to distance himself from the noise—to then be able to think, and to understand what God wants from him.

And so, in Advent, after switching off the system, let’s restart it —with a different attitude. We can identify what was wrong within us before: what unhealthy habits were bothering us. Perhaps we had entered a cycle of negativity and pessimism. Perhaps we had started drinking too much or wasting time with other activities that brought us nothing positive. Perhaps we had begun to fuel a conflict with someone, to cultivate hatred, resentment, that kept growing. In Advent, we restart the system, our lives, from scratch, without those harmful habits.

And, in Advent, as we restart—as we awaken—we also seek new updates: we prepare to look at others with fresh eyes, to begin healthier habits. We watch for resources available to us, that until now we had not been using: people we should listen to a little more, readings that could enlighten us, acts of solidarity with the poor, which will strengthen our faith. Advent can be all of this: a true reset of the heart.

Friday 22 ^nd August 2025

THE NARROW DOOR: A GIFT?

Reflection

In this coming Sunday’s Gospel reading (21st Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C), we will hear that Jesus, responding to the question of whether only a few are saved, says the following: «Try to come in through the narrow door. Many, I tell you, will try to enter and be unable» (Luke 13:24).

At first, this sentence may seem like bad news to us. Couldn’t God have designed a much wider gate, one through which we could all pass easily? Indeed, don’t we tire of preaching that God is pure hospitality, that precisely one of the emphases of Jesus’ message was the mercy of the Father, who opens his arms wide to the whole world? How can we reconcile this idea with the image of the narrow door?

It seems to me that here Jesus is underscoring something fundamental, something we should never forget. That the spiritual life requires effort. Is the Gospel good news, and a path to fulfillment and happiness? Absolutely. Does it require sacrifice, deep inner work, and a firm will to overcome our most selfish tendencies and our pride? Yes, that is also true.

The path that Jesus offers is not a playful walk on the beach. It demands discipline and a patient work of self-knowledge, to discover within ourselves both what hinders us (which must be abandoned) and the living presence of the Spirit in the depths of our hearts (which must be welcomed and strengthened). It is a journey of transformation… that everyone can do (this is the good news!) —and that is why Jesus also affirms that all kinds of people, from the East, the West, the North, and the South, will sit at the table in the Kingdom, but that no one is exempt from walking.

I like to think that the narrow door is, in fact, a gift. Because those who arrive at its threshold with a swollen ego cannot cross it; or with suitcases packed to the brim with petulance, or resentment, or vanity, or a desire for prominence, or a lust for power. We must abandon all of that so that, light, simple, and at peace with the exact dimension of our goodness, our achievements, and our failures, we can then happily cross over to the other side. The narrow door is a gift because it reminds us of so many useless things that we carry around with us —things we tend to defend with passion, and yet they serve no purpose. Or they serve no purpose for the only thing that really matters: sitting down to enjoy the banquet in the kingdom.

Thursday 19 ^th June 2025

PENTECOST IN THE LIGHT OF SHAVUOT

Reflection

If Catholics knew more about Judaism—its culture, feasts, and rituals—we would understand Jesus of the Gospels far more deeply, as He was born and died a Jew. The feast of Pentecost, which we have just celebrated, serves as a striking example. Pentecost was already one of the most important festivals in the Jewish calendar: the feast of Shavuot—which the Greek of the New Testament rendered as Pentecost, just meaning “fifty days later.”

The festival of Shavuot is one of the three major Jewish feasts, alongside Pesach (Passover) and Sukkot (the Feast of Tabernacles), during which pilgrims journeyed to the Temple in Jerusalem. This helps us understand why so many people from different regions of Israel and the Jewish diaspora could “hear” and comprehend the disciples who had just received the Spirit: "Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea, and Cappadocia; people from Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt, and the parts of Libya bordering Cyrene; visitors from Rome, both Jews and converts; Cretans and Arabs—we hear them speaking in our own tongues of the mighty works of God!" (Acts 2:9-11).

Shavuot was originally a festival celebrating the first fruits of the harvest, the Bikkurim, but above all, it commemorates the moment when God gave the Law to Moses and, by extension, to the people journeying through the wilderness. For the Jewish people, it marks the giving of the Law, whereas for us Christians—God’s pilgrim people—it marks the giving of the Spirit. To embrace this reality (Law-Spirit) not as a contradiction or establishing a superiority, but as a creative tension, would be truly fruitful.

Another way in which understanding Shavuot can illuminate Christian Pentecost is that Shavuot not only recalls the historical event but also invites the Jewish people to renew their commitment to the Torah and a life guided by divine wisdom. Similarly, Christians commemorate the historical event of Pentecost, but it also holds a petition: that the Holy Spirit of Jesus, the Spirit of God, may continue to be poured out upon us and our communities. We ought to be individuals and communities in a permanent state of Pentecost.

In Shavuot, the first fruits—bikkurim—of the harvest were offered in the Temple. Saint Paul takes up this image when he speaks of the "first fruits of the Spirit": "And not only that, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies" (Romans 8:23). Just as Shavuot marked the offering of the earth's first fruits, Pentecost grants us the first fruits of the Spirit—a foretaste of future fulfillment and the promise of the coming Kingdom of God.

The Holy Spirit, poured out at Pentecost, is not merely a gift of the past but an active presence that transforms Christian life into fertile ground. Much like the bikkurim, which were a sign of hope and gratitude—a tangible assurance that the harvest was on its way, but already initiated—the first fruits of the Spirit place us in another beautiful tension: we have already received, and yet, we still await.

This experience is translated into concrete fruits: love that forgives, peace amid chaos, fidelity that defies time. Hope against all evidence. Each of these fruits, though invisible and real, is part of that initial harvest that prefigures the fullness of the Kingdom. It is no coincidence that Saint Paul also speaks of the "fruit of the Spirit" (Galatians 5:22): what began as an agricultural image becomes an embodied spiritual reality.

Pentecost is not merely the remembrance of a received gift but the thrust of an entrusted mission. Just as the first fruits were joyfully brought to the Temple as a sign of gratitude and hope, now the Church—animated by the first fruits of the Spirit—becomes a living offering for the world. Each disciple, filled with the Spirit, is sent forth as a sower of new life: where there is division, we bring communion; where there is darkness, we kindle hope; where there is death, we proclaim the Resurrection.

Christian life, then, is a journey of mission—proclaiming the arrival of a Kingdom that not only is coming but is already fermenting among us. We are a Church in exodus, moving forward, called to leaven history with the yeast of the Kingdom—not passively awaiting its future fulfillment, but anticipating, announcing, and embodying it.

Sunday 20 ^th April 2025

EASTER: LET’S BE FIRE, WATER AND BREAD

Reflection

Happy Easter!

After having experienced the celebrations of Holy Thursday and Good Friday, with their various liturgical expressions (the washing of the feet, the Stations of the Cross, the adoration of the cross) and having accompanied Jesus through the reading of the Gospel stories, finally yesterday, Saturday, after sunset we celebrated the victory of life over death: the stone was rolled away, and the tomb was empty! «Why do you look for the one who lives among the dead? He is not here. He has risen!»

With the Resurrection, at dawn on Sunday, we reached the center of our faith, the joyful celebration that history did not end in the dark dampness of a hopeless tomb.

At the Easter Vigil, so rich liturgically, we use three fundamental signs to speak of Jesus’ resurrection: first, fire; then, water; and finally, the bread and wine with which we celebrate the Eucharist.

There is an implicit invitation in the use of these signs: the invitation to be fire, water, and broken bread for others.

At times we walk in the dark, in the midst of very cold nights: the icy, shadowy night of loneliness, discouragement, hopelessness, fear, and the prison in which our selfishness imprisons us.

Today we are invited to be fire: a fire that brightens the world and a fire that warms it up. A fire that lights the way and disperses the shadows, a fire that comforts us and restores life when our bodies and souls have already grown numb, anaesthetized by the cold.

At times we are a parched, cracked, sterile land, a desert where nothing grows, a barren wasteland where others cannot find even a green breeze of joy.

Today we are invited to be water. Fresh water that renews and cleanses, that gives life, that with its fruitful course transforms deserts into gardens.

At times we are hungry. We feel weak, lacking every kind of nourishment: we lack bread, strong friendships, purpose, hope.

Today we are invited to be bread and wine for others: to nourish those who are spiritually anemic with our solidarity and our affection, also to seek nourishment in the witness and example of others, and in Jesus of Nazareth, conqueror of death.

Let us celebrate Easter: let us be fire, water, and food for our brothers and sisters!

Friday 18 ^th April 2025

GOOD FRIDAY: "HE OPPOSES WHAT WE DO"

Reflection

Jesus was not crucified because he preached that we should love one another more or because he told us to pray more. However, for many Christians, the practice of Christianity may have turned into something like that, reducing the ethical message of Jesus to just being a good person with good moral character. Not killing, not coveting what belongs to others, helping whenever possible. While commendable, this ethic is not Jesus's. It’s not the behavior that led to Jesus's execution—a punishment not only aimed at killing him but at annihilating his very existence. The goal was to obliterate any trace of reconstruction from those who followed him.

So, if it wasn’t for urging his fellow beings to love one another more, what actually led Christ to the cross? What we know is that different groups had different motivations, and only by understanding the convergence of so many interests from so many groups can one comprehend how the most innocent man in History could be so cruelly and publicly executed. Jesus and His message were (and are) a threat to the powerful—and it’s not hard to understand the motivation of the Roman occupying government or the Jewish upper class, the Sadducees, or the way in which the crowds were manipulated.

Perhaps the most interesting motivation is that of the Pharisees and their scribes. The demonization with which they are often preached about might cause us to overlook the nuance. We cannot oversimplify the complicated relationship between Jesus and the Pharisees. From a similar social class and close to the people just like Jesus, the Pharisees were meant to find common ground with him. What led the Pharisees to demand Jesus's crucifixion? It’s evident that Jesus criticized their hypocrisy and legalism: to be in communion with God, one had to follow an extensive number of laws. Moreover, one of Jesus's criticisms is that many of these laws were not part of the Torah but rather tradition disguised as commandments.

What’s fascinating is that the condemnation of the Pharisees was already prophesied in the Old Testament. There’s a section in the Book of Wisdom, proclaimed on the Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent, that foretells the Pharisees' reasoning: " Let us beset the just one, because he is obnoxious to us; he sets himself against our doings, Reproaches us for transgressions of the law and charges us with violations of our training. He professes to have knowledge of God and styles himself a child of the LORD. To us he is the censure of our thoughts; merely to see him is a hardship for us, Because his life is not like that of others, and different are his ways. He judges us debased;
he holds aloof from our paths as from things impure. He calls blest the destiny of the just
and boasts that God is his Father." (Wisdom 2:12–16). Therefore, "With revilement and torture let us put him to the test that we may have proof of his gentleness and try his patience. Let us condemn him to a shameful death; for according to his own words, God will take care of him."" (Wisdom 2:19–20).

It’s remarkable to remember that this text, accurately predicting the Pharisees’ motivations, was written no fewer than 130 years before Jesus's birth. Jesus upset those who had set themselves as interpreters and editors of the Torah; those who most quoted the Law were criticized by him for how little they applied it to themselves. Jesus challenged the principles upon which the Pharisees' entire worldview and way of life were based—it is total self-giving and service that will lead us to communion with God, not the strict observance of the letter of the law.

This citation also provided the charge that would serve in the two legal systems that judged Jesus: the claim of "knowing" God, proclaiming himself his Son, and uniting himself with divinity. This is the charge that ultimately led Jesus to the cross, as it constituted blasphemy for religious sensibilities and insurrection under Roman law, for only their representative, Governor Pilate, could impose the death penalty—a right the Romans had taken away from the Sanhedrin around the year 6.

It’s one of the lessons of the cross as we update Good Friday to our current world. It won’t be the minor sins, bad words, or small legal infringements that keep Christ on the cross—although for many, that’s all Christian ethics seem to offer. But no, Jesus's ethics go much further. As the Book of Wisdom prophesied, Jesus opposes what the powerful, the unjust, the inhumane do. Two thousand years later, the Lord's disciples are also called to oppose any abuse, any injustice, any affront to human dignity.

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Blog archives

ADVENT: A RESET OF THE HEART

THE NARROW DOOR: A GIFT?

PENTECOST IN THE LIGHT OF SHAVUOT

EASTER: LET’S BE FIRE, WATER AND BREAD

GOOD FRIDAY: "HE OPPOSES WHAT WE DO"

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