Homily

"Love is the fulfilment of the law," writes Paul to the Romans, those of yesterday and today. It is a statement that goes well beyond the legalistic logic that the Pharisees had imposed on the people. The apostle, summing up synthetically the doctrine of the Gospel, invites us to distance ourselves from rigid and narrow moralistic attitudes and to take broader and more joyous perspectives. And Saint Augustine, tying this Pauline idea to Christian freedom, writes the noted phrase: "Love and do what you will." But take heed, this affirmation of the Christian total freedom does not mean absence of obligations. Paul in fact immediately adds: "Owe no one anything except mutual love." There is therefore a debt Christians have; and it is the only one: loving each other. Thus there remain for us, who are freed from every other bond, these obligations that bind us to each other. One could say, in other words, that our neighbour has a right that regards each one of us - precisely that of love, the right to be loved. This resolute affirmation of Paul clashes with our obstinate egoistic mentality.
This Sunday’s liturgy catches many of us at the moment when we begin ordinary life again after the break of the summer rest. We again immerse ourselves in our personal itineraries, ready to passionately embrace our outlooks and projects. And what about our neighbours? And the debt of love we have towards them, where have we placed it? We often are content to think that we hold no feelings of marked hostility towards others. But for the most part, this means for the most part that our lives run parallel to the lives of those who are near to us when they do not clash, as we have often had to realize in regards to the weakest, especially when they are not of our circle. In a way, it seems that in our society the sense of respect for others is growing; however, in another sense, distances, indifference, and violence are increasing. Certainly, there are unpleasant ways of being interested in others, such as criticizing behind one’s back, gossip, ill will, and so forth - so much so that respect is at times an achievement. But the Gospel says that such respect is not enough, because there is that right the other has to our love. This affirmation, among the clearest in the Gospel, renders flawed our solitary outlooks and our parallel destinies.
Matthew’s Gospel (18:15-20), which we have heard this Sunday, reminds us of Jesus’ words on fraternal correction and forgiveness. These are exactly in line with love for one’s neighbour. There is, in fact, a way of saying things which is not respect; rather, it is even indifference; and yet another way of saying them exists, which, on the contrary, is a sincere interest and a dutiful responsibility towards others. Every believer has the duty to correct his own brother or sister when he or she errs, as each one has the right to be forgiven. Unfortunately, we live in a society that increasingly does not know forgiveness, precisely because it does not know the debt of love. The Word of God this Sunday questions us deeply. In an ever more inter-dependent and competitive world, we need to learn that in order to be truly free and to build a truly civil society, we should once again make ourselves slaves of love for one another. The utopia of universal respect for the rights of every man and woman must come about as the result of everyone assuming one essential duty: to respect the other’s right to be loved. This right is interwoven with the establishment of a humane way of living together, which is freed from so many external and internal threats.
The perfect image of this living together is that of the unity of the disciples who pray together. "Truly I tell you: if two of you agree when you ask for something, my Father who is in heaven will grant it to you." These, too, are very demanding words. The agreement of the disciples when they ask for the same thing - whatever it is - binds God himself to grant it. God gives to humans who are united in one will an immense power. And if this does not happen or is apparent, we should ask ourselves about our way of praying, which might be corrupted at its root by individualism and indifference running parallel. The Sunday liturgy itself is at times experienced in an individualistic way: each one comes here on his own account and for his/her own interests. But the holy liturgy is, on the contrary, the privileged moment in which to build harmony when we pray and petition. If our prayer seems not to be answered, it is also because we have not questioned ourselves enough about our neighbour, about the one in need, about the one who waits for someone to remember her. The miracle of peace also depends upon this agreement in prayer.