Gospel according to Saint Luke 21:5-19
While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, Jesus said, “All that you see here— the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”
Then they asked him, “Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?” He answered, “See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’ Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end.” Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky.
“Before all this happens, however, they will seize and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons, and they will have you led before kings and governors because of my name. It will lead to your giving testimony. Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand, for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute. You will even be handed over by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends, and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name, but not a hair on your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives.”
Not a single hair on your head will be lost
Luis CASASUS President of the Idente Missionaries
Rome, November 16, 2025 | XXIII Sunday in Ordinary Time
Mal 3: 19-20a; 2Thess 3: 7-12; Lk 21: 5-19
Today’s Gospel presents a prophetic discourse by Jesus on the destruction of the Temple, the signs of the end, and perseverance in the midst of persecution. The central message is: do not be deceived, do not be afraid, and remain steadfast in the faith.
But those who listened to him perceived, above all, a tragedy that practically meant the end of the world for them, since the Temple represented the privileged, unique place of encounter with God. Then, the Master takes the opportunity to give a deeper interpretation of that disastrous event, which occurred in the year 70, before St. Luke wrote his Gospel. Of course, he did not intend to instill fear, but rather to prepare believers spiritually to face difficulties with faith and hope.
He himself became the cornerstone of the new temple built with living stones, which is a powerful way of expressing what our union with him should be like: something permanent, necessary, and firm.
In practice, how can we persevere in this union, as Jesus tells us at the end of his words today? To do so, each of us has two powerful resources:
* The experience of having been forgiven many times.
I wish you and I were more aware of that reality. I remember a few lines by the priest and writer Martín Descalzo (1930-1991), which went something like this:
I have always had a lot of compassion for those who have to live next to an artistic miracle. For example, for the people who live in front of the cathedral in Burgos or next to the Sagrada Familia temple in Barcelona. They were born in its shadow, they played at its feet; they never raise their eyes to these miracles anymore. They are even amazed by the faces of the astonished tourists who are seeing them for the first time. Because seeing something a million times does not sharpen the eye, but can lead to blindness. I suppose that because of this drain of routine, we lose half of life’s joys. We are, as the Spanish saying goes, like those starlings in the bell tower, who are no longer frightened by the clanging of the clapper, or like pastry chefs, who end up hating the taste of sweets.
We call charity the love we receive from God, characterized above all by mercy, that is, an active form of forgiveness. Although we often do not realize how many times He forgives us during the day, He does so by protecting and preserving that small flame of our little faith, to show that He truly believes in us. He does this by confirming us in our mission, thereby giving us indisputable proof of His trust, especially if I feel that “He is asking too much of me” or that “I am not the most suitable person for that mission.”
Every forgiveness received is living proof that the more sin increased, the more grace abounded (Rom 5:20). And, as Psalm 32 says, Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven. That happiness becomes a source of peace and spiritual joy, not because it generates self-confidence, but because of God’s faithfulness.
Hope appears as the immediate fruit of the awareness of having been forgiven. As Jesus says to Simon the Pharisee, referring to the woman who anointed Christ’s feet: It is because her many sins have been forgiven. As her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little (Lk 7:47). Receiving forgiveness is a source of hope, of new faith, and of charity. In reality, it is the permanent experience of every disciple because, even if he does not vividly remember some recent sin, he is sure of being mediocre, he has the impression that he has surely lost many opportunities to live that constant and ever-new invitation to charity.
Christians cease to judge others harshly because they know they too are in need of grace. This is what the cruel servant (Matthew 18:21-35) refused to recognize, incapable of forgiving, showing a heartlessness that is difficult to explain when one has received so much mercy. That is why Christ ends this parable by saying how that servant earned being tortured until he paid what he owed.
* Keep in mind the victory of Christ and the saints.
The story of Joseph, son of Jacob, recounted in the book of Genesis, chapters 37 to 50, although it belongs to the Old Testament, is a story that illustrates how thinking about our true destiny—better yet, about the experience and promise of Christ—sustains us and makes us persevere on the path.
Joseph was Jacob’s favorite son, which made his brothers jealous. One day, they threw him into a pit and sold him into slavery. He was taken to Egypt, where he went through many trials: he was unjustly accused, imprisoned, and forgotten.
But Joseph had a dream: from a young age, he had received visions that one day he would be given a mission of authority. Although he did not understand how it would be fulfilled, he kept his faith in God.
Over the years, Joseph did not allow himself to be overcome by bitterness or suffering. In every situation, he acted with integrity, knowing that his life had a greater purpose. Finally, he was elevated to governor of Egypt, and from that position he saved many people from starvation, including his own brothers.
Remembering how the saints have always found a way to give reason for their hope (1 Peter 3:15) confirms us in our path, knowing that they were neither stronger nor weaker than we are. But they certainly opened their hearts, minds, and hands to what Providence presented to them at every moment.
—ooOoo—
The immediate interpretation of the wars, revolutions, earthquakes, famines, epidemics, and celestial signs that Jesus mentions today refers to the end of times, but, however real (…even current, many would say) these signs may be, the most important thing is the meaning of what will happen before all this, of what is happening right now: that many will come “in his name,” proclaiming that the end is near. He urges us not to follow them or be deceived by false signs. Of course, he is not only referring to the extravagant and lunatics who continually announce catastrophes. What is of permanent importance to us is spiritual discernment in times of confusion.
Christ’s advice regarding messianic spokespeople and snake oil salesmen is clear: Do not follow them. We must be prudent (not timid or self-conscious) in the face of two types of people: those who present promising ideas or idols and those who are openly our enemies, our persecutors. After today’s text, Saint Luke records this statement by Jesus: When all this begins to happen, stand up and lift up your heads, for your redemption is drawing near (Lk 21:28).
That is the true meaning of the word “Apocalypse”: Revelation, that is, the authentic and profound meaning of painful events. These should not be viewed simply as pure suffering, but as a sign of the fulfillment of divine plans, which is why it is necessary to “lift up our heads” and not limit ourselves to what seems obvious: nothing changes, evil has always triumphed, the corrupt will get away with it again… In particular, the thousand forms of persecution (mockery, torture, marginalization, defamation…) are an opportunity to give a witness that we cannot offer when everything is peaceful and harmonious.
The eighth Beatitude declares blessed those who are persecuted because they seek to do what is right, what God desires. It is an opportunity to offer mercy, a compassionate gaze to those who hurt us, to those who would not expect our forgiveness, to those who seem unaware of the scope of their actions.
Such forgiveness is not only renouncing retaliation, but seeking peace for the aggressor, as the martyr Saint Stephen did when he was stoned: Lord, do not hold this sin against them (Acts 7:60). This is not an attack on the offenders, but on their logic of hatred, which is thus destroyed. Thus, the cycle of resentment is broken, even if there is no immediate repentance.
A counterattack can be renounced for many reasons that are not essentially Christian: out of fear, pride (“it’s not worth lowering myself”), calculation (“wait for a better moment”), or simple apathy.
One of the most powerful and visible examples of Christian forgiveness in the 20th century is that of St. John Paul II and Mehmet Ali Ağca.
On May 13, 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot and seriously wounded in St. Peter’s Square by Mehmet Ali Ağca.
While in the hospital, recovering from injuries that nearly cost him his life, the Pope did what many would consider the ultimate act of forgiveness: he publicly declared that he “sincerely forgave” the man who had tried to assassinate him.
If the story ended there, it would already be an extraordinary example of magnanimity. The Pope renounced all hatred, all desire for personal revenge, all counterattack.
For most of the world, forgiveness was already complete. But for active Christian forgiveness, the most essential part was missing. Two years later, in 1983, the image that defined this event took place. John Paul II did something the world did not expect: he went to Rebibbia prison in Rome and entered his attacker’s cell.
For twenty minutes, he sat next to Mehmet Ali Ağca. Iconic photos show the Pope leaning toward him, speaking softly, with one hand on the prisoner’s knee.
It was an act of encounter. The Pope did not go there to say, “I forgive you,” he had already done that, but to say, “I care about you.” He did not go to visit a criminal, but a man named Mehmet.
With that gesture, John Paul II not only renounced revenge, but actively sought the good and humanity of his offender. He did not see him as an enemy to be neutralized, but as a lost soul to whom redemption had to be offered. He did not seek to erase the past, but actively sought to heal his attacker’s present.
That is the forgiveness that Christians receive and should give. It is not the absence of revenge; it is the active presence of grace, which seeks to restore the dignity of the sinner, even at great personal cost.
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In the Sacred Hearts of Jesus, Mary and Joseph,
Luis CASASUS
President
