Jesus, in today's Gospel, Luke takes us into the heart of the synagogue of Nazareth, where He, the Son of God made man, reveals himself to his fellow townspeople. His words, however, are not welcomed: "No prophet is accepted in his own hometown." It is a moment of tension, an invitation to reflect on how our pride and expectations often close us to divine grace. Jesus, with wisdom and love, recalls two ancient stories to open our eyes: that of the widow of Zarephath in Sidon, helped by the prophet Elijah during the famine, and that of Naaman the Syrian, healed of leprosy by Elisha. At a time when Israel was suffering, God chose to pour out his gifts on strangers, on those outside the Chosen People. What a profound message for us! God does not look at appearances, nor at origins, nor at the labels the world imposes. He distributes his gifts to those who show a sincere and open heart, without discrimination. But He works according to our faith in Him. His people refused Him and He couldn’t do miracles there because of there unbelieve!

in the Gospel of John (4:5-42), Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at Jacob's well. Weary from the journey, he asks her, "Give me a drink." In that simple yet profound dialogue, our truest thirst emerges: not only for physical water, but for eternal life. Jesus reveals to her: "Whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never thirst; rather, the water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." The Samaritan woman, with her life marked by wounds and divisions, recognizes Jesus as the Messiah and runs to announce the Good News to her people. Many believe thanks to her testimony. Dear faithful, during Lent, Jesus awaits us at the well of our ordinary days. He asks us to drink from his Word, to confess our sins, to worship him in spirit and truth. Like the Samaritan woman, let us leave our water jars (this is a symbol of our illusory securities) and run to witness the joy of encountering Him.

Here is the scene: a father with two sons. The younger, restless and thirsty for freedom, asks for his share of the inheritance, a gesture that, ultimately, is like saying: "Father, you are already dead to me." He leaves for a distant land, squanders everything on a dissolute life, and finds himself tending pigs, so hungry that he longs for the carob pods the animals eat. It is the bottom of the abyss, the moment when sin deludes us into thinking we can be free but leaves us alone, empty, far from home. But here is the miracle of grace: "He came to himself." How many times, brothers and sisters, do we too "come to ourselves"? It is that moment of interior conversion, when the heart, weary of illusions, remembers the Father's house. The son decides to return, not as a son, but as a servant: "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son." He prepares a speech of humility, but he does not yet know the greatness of the love that awaits him.

Jesus tells us the parable of the murderous vineyard workers: a landowner plants a vineyard with love and care, entrusts it to farmers, and when he sends his servants to harvest the fruit, he encounters not gratitude, but violence and rejection. Those vineyard workers, blinded by jealousy and the desire to possess what is not theirs, go so far as to kill the heir, thinking they can seize the inheritance. Jesus concludes with the words of the Psalm: "The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone," revealing himself as that Son rejected but exalted by God. This parable, dear friends, is not only a rebuke to the leaders of the people of Israel, but a profound invitation to search our hearts. Jealousy, like a weed in the Lord's vineyard, insidiously insinuates itself into our Christian communities. How often, annoyed by a brother who shines with gifts different from our own, do we seek "elegant" ways to marginalize him, to "get rid of him"? Hostility begins as a small seed - an envious thought, a cutting word, a destructive criticism - and quickly grows into hatred, just as the vineyard workers go from beating their servants to killing their son.

Jesus tells us the parable of the rich man and the poor Lazarus, a profound invitation to look beyond our closed doors. The rich man, immersed in luxury, ignores Lazarus, who lies hungry and suffering at his feet. After death, the roles are reversed: Lazarus is welcomed into Abraham's bosom, while the rich man suffers in torment, begging in vain for a drop of water. This story is not a harsh judgment, but a tender pastoral reminder from the Lord: our riches, whether material, talents, or power, are not meant to accumulate ephemeral treasures, but to be shared with humility. By placing them at the service of the poor, we discover the true joy of giving, the joy that brings out the best in us. And not only that: those we help will become our intercessors with the Father, opening for us the gates of the Kingdom, which belongs to the poor in spirit.