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THE DIGNITY OF MARGINALITY NOT WON IN THE PASSAGE OF ONE YEAR

Christian hope does not arise from the fact that things “will get better”, nor by the consensus gathered or the results obtained. It comes from knowing that truth is not measured immediately, but it will be judged in the last time. It is in this fidelity exposed to time and judgment - and not in the success of a season - that one decides whether a life was simply lived or truly treasured as a gift from God; if the talents received have been put to good use, or buried underground.

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At the end of the year the world loves to take stock by measuring results, successes and failures. It's a reassuring exercise, because it allows us to judge life according to visible and immediately verifiable criteria, at least in appearance.

From a Christian perspective, But, not everything that is measurable is true, and what really decides the quality of an existence often does not coincide with what appears successful in the eyes of the world. On the path of faith, not rarely, true fulfillment takes the form of what the world judges to be failure and failure. It is the logic of the cross, which the Apostle Paul neither attenuates nor makes acceptable:

«We instead preach Christ crucified, scandal for the Jews and foolishness for the pagans" (1Color 1,23).

This size it is experienced by those who find themselves progressively pushed to the margins for not having betrayed their conscience or renounced the truth. Not for an ideological choice, nor due to personal incapacity, but due to a growing incompatibility with practice, languages ​​and operating criteria of the ecclesiastical contexts in which they live and operate: systems that reward adaptation, they require appropriate silences and marginalize those who are not functional. In some respects, we could define them like this: the scandalous fools of the cross.

The fools of the cross they generate scandal by refusing to bend language to make an objectively unjust decision acceptable. They refuse to define as "pastoral" what in reality is simple opportunistic management of problems; they reject the anti-evangelical clerical logic of those who confuse fidelity to the Gospel with obedience to apparatus dynamics. They do not lend themselves to covering up protracted omissions over time with ambiguous formulas, nor do they accept that the softness of the clergy is justified by the lack of clergy, with organizational urgency or with the reference to presumed balances not to be disturbed. They do not adapt to irregular situations presented as inevitable, they don't accept being silenced to "not create problems", nor do they become accomplices of consortiums, mutual protections and reassuring narratives constructed to hide the truth.

In these cases, the reduction to marginality it is not the result of personal error, but the side effect of a non-negotiable consistency, almost always read as a defeat, as evidence of inadequacy or relational inability. However, this is not always the case: sometimes it is simply the price you pay for not adapting to a system that does not tolerate what it cannot control or use. This mechanism is neither new nor exclusive to the ecclesial sphere. It is typical of any closed power structure, including mafia organizations, who do not strike first those who break the law, but those who don't make themselves functional: who doesn't bend, who does not enter the circuit of mutual dependencies, those who do not accept the language, the silences and complicities required. In these systems, isolation and marginalization are not accidents, but deliberate instruments of control.

Accepting an unconquered marginality it falls within the wisdom of the foolishness of the cross and is not equivalent to taking refuge in a resentful niche or cultivating a spirituality of failure. Very concretely it means recognizing that not everything that is true finds space in official channels and that not every form of invisibility coincides with a loss. That's what happens, eg, to those who give up roles, positions or visibility in order not to sign official documents in which an unjust decision is presented as a "shared pastoral choice". It happens to those who refuse to hide real responsibilities behind false diplomatic formulas, presented as "holy prudence" but in reality functional to an opportunistic management of problems. It is the condition of those who continue to work seriously without being promoted because they do not belong to influential groups; of those who think and write without being invited because they are not aligned with the dominant narratives; of those who exercise real - training responsibilities, cultural, educational — without official positions or protective memberships, because he does not accept trading freedom of judgment for protection or recognition.

In these cases, invisibility is not the sign of personal failure, but a form of protection: preserves from the logic of appearance, it escapes the blackmail of consensus, prevents them from being used as tools. At times, over time, it even turns out to be a grace, not because it makes life easier, but because it allows us to remain free, intact and non-blackmailable. It is the condition of figures who appear relegated to the margins but not destroyed, believed to be silenced but instead surrendered, for this, more prolific. Scripture knows this dynamic well. Moses is removed from the public scene and taken to the desert of Midian before being called to free the people (cf.. Is 2,15; 3,1); Elijah flees into the desert, desires death, and right there he learns to listen that takes him away from the violence of power and the din of action (cf.. 1Re 19,1-18); John the Baptist was neither born nor operated in the center, but in the desert, away from official religious circuits, and from there prepare the way of the Lord (cf.. Mt 3,1-3; MC 1,2-4; LC 3,1-4). Jesus himself, before every public word and every sign, he is driven by the Spirit into the desert, where he explicitly rejects success, immediate effectiveness and the consensus of the crowds (cf.. Mt 4,1-11; MC 1,12-13; LC 4,1-13).

The desert, in the biblical and evangelical tradition, it is not the place of uselessness, but of purification: it does not produce visibility, but freedom; does not guarantee success, but truth. It is in this space that seemingly irrelevant figures mature, de facto, not blackmailable, generated by a fruitfulness that does not depend on immediate recognition, but from fidelity to the truth, by inner freedom and the ability to stand the test of time without being corrupted by it.

If you look at the Gospel without anxious pietism or devotional filters, it strikes an elementary fact: Jesus shows no anxiety about being at the center. On the contrary, when the center gets crowded, he withdraws from it naturally. Preach to the crowds (cf.. Mt 5–7; MC 6,34), but then he retreats (cf.. MC 1,35; GV 6,15); performs signs (cf.. MC 1,40-45; MC 7,31-37), but recommends silence (cf.. MC 1,44; MC 8,26); attracts disciples, but it does not hold back those who leave (cf.. GV 6,66-67). In current terms, we could say that he doesn't care about his own "positioning". Yet no one, more than him, has made an impact on history.

If you take on this evangelical gaze, even the Beatitudes cease to be an edifying repertoire to be proclaimed on solemn occasions and return to being what they are in their Christological reality: a criterion of radical discernment. They do not promise success, nor visibility, nor approval; on the contrary, they describe a form of paradoxical happiness, incompatible with the logic of consensus. And beats, in the Gospel, they are not the ones who “made it”, but those who have not traded the truth for applause (cf.. Mt 5,1-12).

Next to the Beatitudes, however, the Gospel also preserves the other side of the coin with equal clarity: the “trouble”. Rough words, little cited and rarely commented on, perhaps because they disturb an accommodating spirituality. «Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you» (LC 6,26): a warning that does not seem addressed to scandalous sinners, but to respectable people, appreciate, perfectly integrated. It is as if Jesus was warning against a subtle form of failure: that of those who obtain consensus at the price of their own internal freedom.

In the Gospel, consensus is never a value in itself. On the contrary, when it becomes unanimous, often takes on the features of a collective misunderstanding. The crowds cheer, only to then disappear (cf.. GV 6,14-15.66); the disciples applaud, only to then argue about who is the greatest (cf.. MC 9,33-34; LC 22,24); the notables recognize, only to then distance themselves out of fear or convenience (cf.. GV 12,42-43). Jesus goes through all this without ever being imprisoned by it. He does not seek opposition, but he doesn't fear it either; does not despise recognition, but he doesn't chase him. We could say, with a faint smile, who never confuses the approval rating with the measure of truth, because the approval rating is in man, the truth is in God.

It is in this sense that the Gospel exercises irony as discreet as it is implacable. Precisely those who preside over the center - the guarantors of order, correctness specialists, “It's always been done this way” professionals — are often the least equipped to recognize what really happens. While discussing procedures, documents are drawn up and balances not to be disturbed are invoked, faith takes shape elsewhere; while ensuring that nothing leaves the established perimeter, understanding matures offstage; while everything is measured in terms of consensus and opportunity, the truth passes through secondary roads, without asking permission. Not because I love margins as such, but because - as the Gospel shows with a certain obstinacy - the truth cannot be administered. And even fewer allow themselves to be certified by the number of consensuses obtained or by the tranquility of conscience that they manage to preserve.

Accepting an unconquered marginality, At that time, it does not mean cultivating a taste for opposition or taking refuge in a polemical attitude on principle. Means, more simply, stop measuring the value of a life — or a ministry — based on the approval received, to the tasks obtained or the consensus obtained, according to that logic that the century calls, shameless, hypertrophic narcissism. In concrete terms, it means not taking the number of invitations as a decisive criterion, of recognition or certificates of esteem, but the rectitude of the choices made. The Gospel, the rest, he doesn't ask to be applauded, but to be faithful. And this loyalty, not rarely, it is practiced far from the center, where you are less exposed to pressure, freer to look at reality for what it is and less forced to say what is appropriate.

The end of the year is often filled with disproportionate expectations. Final balance sheets are expected, conclusive judgments, words capable of fixing everything once and for all. In reality, for those who live with a minimum of inner honesty, this time is not used to close the accounts, but to stop cheating: not to tell each other comforting stories, not to confuse what was successful with what was right. This is not the time to proclaim goals, but to distinguish what is essential from what is superfluous, what deserves to be cherished from what can be let go without regrets.

There is a particular freedom which was born right here: when you accept that not everything needs to be solved, clarified or recognized. Some events remain open, some unanswered questions, some grave wrongs unredressed. But not everything that remains unfinished is sterile. Sometimes it is simply entrusted to a time that does not coincide with ours. This awareness, far from being a surrender, it is a high form of spiritual realism.

The “sober truth” it is not an internal disposition nor an abstract principle: it is recognized by the price that a person is willing to pay in order not to deny what he has understood as true. It manifests itself when you accept missing opportunities, assignments or protections so as not to resort to linguistic justifications, to accommodating formulas or moral alibis that make what cannot be presentable under any circumstances: pretend that evil is good and use this lie as a shield against those who try to call evil by its name.

In an ecclesial context in an objectively advanced state of decline, which measures people based on visibility, to adaptability and immediate usefulness, this choice has precise consequences, sometimes even devastating. It means continuing to carry out one's ministry or ecclesial service without being the recipient of appointments, of honorific positions or those sops with which power flatters and, together, subjects; without being involved in the decision-making bodies of the diocese or ecclesial institutions; without making ourselves available to government logics that require silence, adaptations or compromises deemed inadmissible, because they were paid at a price that no Christian conscience can accept: the sacrifice of the freedom of the children of God, inscribed from the beginning in the very mystery of the creation of man. Means, at last, accept that one's contribution remains unrewarded and relegated to the margins, not because it is useless, but because it cannot be spent in the circuits that count; and yet destined, in the silence of the desert, to be a seed that bears fruit.

Persevere, in this sense, it is not a form of obstinacy nor an identity attitude built to stand out. It is the decision to remain faithful to what has been recognized as true even when this faithfulness involves silence, loss of role and lack of recognition.

In the transition from one year to the next you are not asked to make consolatory assessments, but to look at what remains when time has worn away illusions, roles and justifications. The choices made remain, the words spoken or unsaid, responsibilities assumed or avoided. And this, and nothing else, the material that passes through time.

The Christian hope It doesn't arise from the fact that things "will get better", nor by the consensus gathered or the results obtained. It comes from knowing that truth is not measured immediately, but it will be judged in the last time. It is in this fidelity exposed to time and judgment - and not in the success of a season - that one decides whether a life was simply lived or truly treasured as a gift from God; if the talents received have been put to good use, or buried underground.

From the island of Patmos, 31 December 2025

.

THE DIGNITY OF UNCONQUERED MARGINALITY IN THE PASSAGE FROM ONE YEAR TO ANOTHER

Christian hope does not arise from the fact that things “will get better”, nor from the consensus gathered or the results obtained. It arises from knowing that truth is not measured by the immediate, but will be judged in the ultimate time. It is in this fidelity exposed to time and to judgement — and not in the success of a season — that it is decided whether a life has been merely lived or truly safeguarded as a gift of God; whether the talents received have been made fruitful, or buried in the ground.

— Ecclesial actuality—

.

At the end of the year the world likes to take stock by measuring results, successes and failures. It is a reassuring exercise, because it allows life to be judged according to visible and immediately verifiable criteria — at least in appearance.

From a Christian perspective, however, not everything that can be measured is true, and what truly decides the quality of an existence often does not coincide with what appears successful in the eyes of the world. In the journey of faith, more often than not, genuine fulfilment takes the form of what the world judges to be failure and defeat. This is the logic of the cross, which the Apostle Paul neither softens nor renders acceptable:

“We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (1 Color 1:23).

This dimension is lived by those who find themselves progressively pushed to the margins because they have not betrayed their conscience nor renounced the truth. Not out of ideological choice, nor because of personal inadequacy, but because of a growing incompatibility with the practices, language and operational criteria of the ecclesial contexts in which they live and work: systems that reward adaptation, demand convenient silences, and marginalise anyone who does not make himself functional. In some respects, we might define them thus: the scandalous fools of the cross.

The fools of the cross generate scandal by refusing to bend language so as to render acceptable a decision that is objectively unjust. They refuse to define as “pastoral” what is in reality nothing more than opportunistic management of problems; they reject anti-evangelical clerical logics that confuse fidelity to the Gospel with obedience to apparatus dynamics. They do not lend themselves to covering up omissions prolonged over time with ambiguous formulas, nor do they accept that clerical flaccidity be justified by a shortage of clergy, by organisational urgency, or by appeals to alleged balances that must not be disturbed. They do not adapt to irregular situations presented as inevitable; they do not accept being silenced “so as not to create problems”; nor do they make themselves accomplices of factions, mutual protections and reassuring narratives constructed to conceal the truth.

In such cases, reduction to marginality is not the result of personal error, but the collateral effect of a non-negotiable coherence, almost always read as defeat, as a sign of inadequacy or relational incapacity. Yet this is not always so: at times it is simply the price to be paid for not having adapted to a system that does not tolerate what it cannot control or exploit. This mechanism is neither new nor exclusive to the ecclesial sphere. It is typical of every closed power structure, including criminal organisations, which do not strike first those who break the law, but those who do not make themselves functional: those who do not bend, who do not enter the circuit of mutual dependencies, who do not accept the required language, silences and complicities. In such systems, isolation and marginalisation are not accidents, but deliberate instruments of control.

Accepting an unconquered marginality belongs to the wisdom of the foolishness of the cross and does not amount to retreating into a resentful niche or cultivating a spirituality of failure. Very concretely, it means recognising that not everything that is true finds space within official channels, and that not every form of invisibility coincides with loss. This is what happens, for example, to those who renounce roles, appointments or visibility rather than sign official documents in which an unjust decision is presented as a “shared pastoral choice”. It happens to those who refuse to mask real responsibilities behind false diplomatic formulas, presented as “holy prudence” but in fact functional to opportunistic management of problems. It is the condition of those who continue to work seriously without being promoted because they do not belong to influential factions; of those who think and write without being invited because they are not aligned with dominant narratives; of those who exercise real responsibilities — formative, cultural, educational — without official appointments or protective affiliations, because they refuse to barter freedom of judgement for protection or recognition.

In these cases, invisibility is not the sign of personal failure, but a form of protection: it preserves one from the logic of appearances, removes one from the blackmail of consensus, prevents one from being used as a tool. At times, over the long term, it even proves to be a grace—not because it makes life easier, but because it allows one to remain free, intact and not subject to blackmail. It is the condition of figures who appear relegated to the margins yet not destroyed, believed to be silenced and instead rendered, precisely for this reason, more prolific. Scripture knows this dynamic well. Moses is removed from the public stage and led into the desert of Midian before being called to liberate the people (cf. Exod 2:15; 3:1); Elijah flees into the desert, desires death, and precisely there learns a listening that removes him from the violence of power and the din of action (cf. 1 Kgs 19:1–18); John the Baptist is neither born nor operates at the centre, but in the desert, far from official religious circuits, and from there prepares the way of the Lord (cf. Matt 3:1–3; Mark 1:2–4; Luke 3:1–4). Jesus himself, before any public word or sign, is driven by the Spirit into the desert, where he explicitly rejects success, immediate effectiveness and the consensus of the crowds (cf. Matt 4:1–11; Mark 1:12–13; Luke 4:1–13).

The desert, in biblical and evangelical tradition, is not the place of uselessness, but of purification: it does not produce visibility, but freedom; it does not guarantee success, but truth. It is in this space that figures mature who are apparently irrelevant yet in fact not subject to blackmail, generated by a fruitfulness that does not depend on immediate recognition, but on fidelity to the truth, interior freedom and the capacity to endure time without being corrupted by it.

If one looks at the Gospel without anxious pieties or devotional filters, one elementary fact stands out: Jesus shows no anxiety about being at the centre. On the contrary, when the centre becomes crowded, he withdraws from it with ease. He preaches to the crowds (cf. Matt 5–7; Mark 6:34), but then he withdraws (cf. Mark 1:35; John 6:15); he performs signs (cf. Mark 1:40–45; Mark 7:31–37), but recommends silence (cf. Mark 1:44; Mark 8:26); he attracts disciples, but does not hold back those who leave (cf. John 6:66–67). In contemporary terms, one might say that he does not tend to his own “positioning”. And yet no one more than he has left a mark on history.

If one adopts this evangelical gaze, even the Beatitudes cease to be an edifying repertory to be proclaimed on solemn occasions and return to being what they are in their Christological reality: a radical criterion of discernment. They promise neither success, nor visibility, nor approval; on the contrary, they describe a paradoxical form of happiness, incompatible with the logic of consensus. In the Gospel, the blessed are not those who “have made it”, but those who have not bartered the truth for applause (cf. Matt 5:1–12).

Alongside the Beatitudes, however, the Gospel preserves with equal clarity the other side of the coin: the “woes”. Harsh words, little cited and rarely commented upon, perhaps because they disturb an accommodating spirituality. “Woe to you when all speak well of you” (Luke 6:26): a warning that does not seem addressed to scandalous sinners, but to respectable, appreciated, perfectly integrated people. It is as if Jesus were warning against a subtle form of failure: that of those who obtain consensus at the price of their own interior freedom.

In the Gospel, consensus is never a value in itself. Indeed, when it becomes unanimous, it often takes on the traits of a collective misunderstanding. The crowds acclaim, only to disappear (cf. John 6:14–15, 66); the disciples applaud, only to argue about who is the greatest (cf. Mark 9:33–34; Luke 22:24); the notables acknowledge, only to distance themselves out of fear or convenience (cf. John 12:42–43). Jesus passes through all of this without ever allowing himself to be imprisoned by it. He does not seek opposition, but neither does he fear it; he does not despise recognition, but he does not pursue it. One might say, with a faintly sketched smile, that he never confuses approval ratings with the measure of truth, because approval ratings are in human beings, whereas truth is in God.

It is in this sense that the Gospel exercises an irony that is as discreet as it is relentless. Precisely those who guard the centre — the guarantors of order, the specialists in correctness, the professionals of “this is how it has always been done” — often prove the least equipped to recognise what is actually taking place. While procedures are discussed, documents drafted and balances invoked that must not be disturbed, faith takes shape elsewhere; while vigilance ensures that nothing escapes the established perimeter, understanding matures offstage; while everything is measured in terms of consensus and opportunity, truth passes along secondary paths, without asking permission. Not because it loves the margins as such, but because — as the Gospel shows with a certain obstinacy — truth does not allow itself to be administered. Still less does it allow itself to be certified by the number of consents obtained or by the tranquillity of consciences it manages to preserve.

To accept an unconquered marginality, then, does not mean cultivating a taste for opposition or retreating into a polemical stance by principle. It means, more simply, ceasing to measure the value of a life — or of a ministry — by the approval received, the appointments obtained or the consensus gathered, according to that logic which the age, without embarrassment, calls hypertrophic narcissism. In concrete terms, it means not adopting as a decisive criterion the number of invitations, recognitions or attestations of esteem, but the rectitude of the choices made. The Gospel, after all, does not ask to be applauded, but to be faithful. And this fidelity is often exercised far from the centre, where one is less exposed to pressure, freer to look at reality for what it is, and less compelled to say what is convenient.

The end of the year is often burdened with disproportionate expectations. Definitive balances are demanded, conclusive judgements, words capable of putting everything in order once and for all. In reality, for anyone who lives with a minimum of interior honesty, this time serves not to close accounts, but to stop cheating: to cease telling oneself consoling stories, to stop confusing what has been successful with what has been just. It is not the moment to proclaim milestones, but to distinguish what is essential from what is superfluous, what deserves to be safeguarded from what can be let go without regret.

There is a particular freedom that is born precisely here: when one accepts that not everything must be resolved, clarified or recognised. Some events remain open, some questions unanswered, some grave wrongs unrepaired. Yet not everything that remains unfinished is sterile. At times it is simply entrusted to a time that does not coincide with our own. This awareness, far from being a surrender, is a high form of spiritual realism.

“Sober truth” is not an interior disposition nor an abstract principle: it is recognised by the price a person is willing to pay in order not to contradict what he has understood to be true. It manifests itself when one accepts the loss of opportunities, appointments or protections rather than resort to linguistic justifications, accommodating formulas or moral alibis that make presentable what can never be so in any case: pretending that evil is good and using this lie as a shield against those who attempt to call evil by its name.

In an ecclesial context in an objectively advanced state of decay, which measures people according to visibility, adaptability and immediate utility, this choice has precise, at times even devastating, consequences. It means continuing to exercise one’s ministry or ecclesial service without being the recipient of appointments, honorary offices or those petty concessions with which power both flatters and subjugates; without being involved in the decision-making bodies of the diocese or ecclesial institutions; without making oneself available to forms of governance that demand silences, adaptations or compromises deemed inadmissible because they are paid for at a price that no Christian conscience can accept: the sacrifice of the freedom of the children of God, inscribed from the beginning in the very mystery of the creation of the human being. It means, finally, accepting that one’s contribution remains without gratification and relegated to the margins, not because it is useless, but because it is not expendable in the circuits that count; and yet destined, in the silence of the desert, to be seed that bears fruit.

Persevering, in this sense, is not a form of obstinacy nor an identity posture constructed to distinguish oneself. It is the decision to remain faithful to what has been recognised as true even when this fidelity entails silence, loss of role and absence of recognition.

In the passage from one year to another, one is not asked to draw consoling balances, but to look at what remains when time has consumed illusions, roles and justifications. What remain are the choices made, the words spoken or left unsaid, the responsibilities assumed or avoided. This, and nothing else, is the material that passes through time.

Christian hope does not arise from the fact that things “will get better”, nor from the consensus gathered or the results obtained. It arises from knowing that truth is not measured by the immediate, but will be judged in the ultimate time. It is in this fidelity exposed to time and to judgement — and not in the success of a season — that it is decided whether a life has been merely lived or truly safeguarded as a gift of God; whether the talents received have been made fruitful, or buried in the ground.

From the Island of Patmos, 31 December 2025

.

THE DIGNITY OF UNEXCITED MARGINALITY IN THE PASSAGE FROM ONE YEAR TO ANOTHER

Christian hope is not born from the fact that things will “get better”, nor of the consensus reached or the results obtained. It is born from knowing that the truth is not measured by the immediate, but will be judged in the end time. It is in this faithfulness exposed to time and judgment — and not to the success of a season — that it is decided whether a life has been simply lived or truly appreciated as a gift from God.; if the talents received have been made to bear fruit, or buried underground.

- Ecclesial news -

.

At the end of the year the world loves to take stock by measuring results, successes and failures. It is a calming exercise, because it allows life to be judged according to visible and immediately verifiable criteria, at least in appearance.

From a Christian perspective, however, not everything that is measurable is true, and what really decides the quality of an existence often does not coincide with what seems successful in the eyes of the world.. On the path of faith, Not infrequently, true fulfillment takes the form of what the world judges as a failure or failure.. It is the logic of the cross, which the apostle Paul does not mitigate or make acceptable:

"US, instead, we preach Christ crucified, scandal to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles." (1 Color 1,23).

This dimension is experienced who are progressively pushed to the margins for not having betrayed their own conscience, nor having renounced the truth. Not by ideological choice, nor due to personal incapacity, but due to a growing incompatibility with practices, the languages ​​and operating criteria of the ecclesial contexts in which they live and operate: systems that reward adaptation, They demand appropriate silences and make those who do not become functional marginal.. Under certain aspects, we could define them like this: the scandalous fools of the cross.

The fools of the cross generate scandal by refusing to twist language to make an objectively unjust decision acceptable. They refuse to define as “pastoral” what is in reality a simple opportunistic management of problems; They reject the anti-evangelical clerical logic of those who confuse fidelity to the Gospel with obedience to the dynamics of the apparatus.. They do not lend themselves to covering long-term omissions with ambiguous formulas, nor do they accept that the softness of the clerics is justified by the shortage of clergy, with organizational urgency or with the appeal to supposed balances that should not be disturbed. They do not adapt to irregular situations presented as inevitable. They do not accept being silenced “so as not to create problems”, nor do they become accomplices of consortiums, mutual protections and reassuring narratives constructed to hide the truth.

In these cases, the reduction to marginality is not the result of a personal error, but the collateral effect of a non-negotiable coherence, almost always read as defeat, as proof of inadequacy or relational incapacity. However, It's not always like that: Sometimes it is simply the price you pay for not having adapted to a system that does not tolerate what you cannot control or use.. This mechanism is neither new nor exclusive to the ecclesiastical sphere.. It is typical of every closed power structure, including mafia organizations, who do not hit those who break the law first, but to those who do not become functional: who does not bend, to those who do not enter the circuit of reciprocal dependencies, who does not accept the language, the silences and complicities required. In these systems, Isolation and marginalization are not accidents, but deliberate instruments of control.

Accept a marginality undefeated is part of the wisdom of the foolishness of the cross and is not equivalent to taking refuge in a resentful niche or cultivating a spirituality of failure.. Very specifically, It means recognizing that not everything that is true finds space in official channels and that not every form of invisibility coincides with a loss.. It's what happens, For example, to those who resign from positions, assignments or visibility as long as they do not sign official documents in which an unjust decision is presented as a “shared pastoral option”. It happens to those who refuse to mask real responsibilities behind false diplomatic formulas, presented as “holy prudence” but in reality functional to opportunistic management of problems. It is the condition of those who continue to work seriously without being promoted because they do not belong to influential cliques.; of those who think and write without being invited because they are not aligned with the dominant narratives; of those who exercise real responsibilities—training, cultural, educational—without official positions or protective memberships, because it does not accept to exchange freedom of judgment for protections or recognitions.

In these cases, invisibility is not the sign of personal failure, but a form of protection: preserves the logic of appearance, escapes the blackmail of consensus, prevents them from being used as instruments. Sometimes, with the passage of time, it is even revealed as a grace, not because it makes life easier, but because it allows us to remain free, integrity and not blackmailable. It is the condition of figures that seem relegated to the margins but not destroyed., considered silenced and yet, precisely for this reason, made more fertile. Scripture knows this dynamic well.. Moses is removed from the public scene and taken to the desert of Midian before being called to free the people (cf. Ex 2,15; 3,1); Elijah flees to the desert, wishes death, and precisely there he learns listening that distances him from the violence of power and the noise of action (cf. 1 Re 19,1-18); John the Baptist is not born nor does he act in the center, but in the desert, far from the official religious circuits, and from there prepare the way of the Lord (cf. Mt 3,1-3; MC 1,2-4; LC 3,1-4). Jesus himself, before every public word and every sign, is driven by the Spirit into the desert, where he explicitly rejects success, immediate effectiveness and crowd consensus (cf. Mt 4,1-11; MC 1,12-13; LC 4,1-13).

The desert, in the biblical and evangelical tradition, It is not the place of uselessness, but of purification: does not produce visibility, but freedom; does not guarantee success, but truth. It is in this space where apparently irrelevant but, who are not really blackmailable, engendered by a fertility that does not depend on immediate recognition, but of fidelity to the truth, of inner freedom and the ability to sustain time without allowing oneself to be corrupted by it.

If you look at the Gospel without anxious pietisms or devotional filters, an elementary fact draws attention: Jesus shows no anxiety to be in the center. On the contrary, when the center is full of people, it escapes from him naturally. Preach to the crowds (cf. Mt 5–7; MC 6,34), but then he leaves (cf. MC 1,35; Jn 6,15); make signs (cf. MC 1,40-45; MC 7,31-37), but recommends silence (cf. MC 1,44; MC 8,26); attracts disciples, but it does not retain those who leave (cf. Jn 6,66-67). In current terms, We could say that he does not care about his own “positioning”. However, no one but him has had an impact on history.

If this evangelical view is assumed, The Beatitudes also cease to be an edifying repertoire that is proclaimed on solemn occasions and return to being what they are in their Christological reality.: a criterion of radical discernment. They do not promise success, no visibility, no approval; on the contrary, describe a form of paradoxical happiness, incompatible with the logic of consensus. The blessed, in the Gospel, They are not the ones who “have made it”, but those who have not changed the truth with applause (cf. Mt 5,1-12).

But along with the Beatitudes, the Gospel preserves with equal clarity the other side of the coin: los “ayes”. harsh words, little cited and rarely commented, perhaps because they disturb an accommodative spirituality. «Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you!» (LC 6,26): a warning that does not seem aimed at scandalous sinners, but to respectable people, appreciated, perfectly integrated. It's as if Jesus was warning against a subtle form of failure.: that of those who obtain consensus at the price of their own inner freedom.

In the Gospel consensus is never a value in itself. Even more, when it becomes unanimous, usually assumes the features of a collective misunderstanding. The crowds cheer, and then disappear (cf. Jn 6,14-15.66); the disciples applaud, and then argue about who is the greatest (cf. MC 9,33-34; LC 22,24); notables recognize, and then distance yourself out of fear or convenience (cf. Jn 12,42-43). Jesus goes through all this without ever letting himself be imprisoned by it.. Does not seek opposition, but he doesn't fear her either; does not despise recognition, but it doesn't chase him. we could say, with a barely visible smile, who never confuses the approval rating with the measure of truth, because the approval rating is in the man, the truth is in God.

It is in this sense how the Gospel exercises an irony as discreet as it is implacable. Precisely those who guard the center — the guarantors of order, correction specialists, “It's always been done this way” professionals—are often the least qualified to recognize what is really happening.. While procedures are discussed, documents are drawn up and balances are invoked that must not be disturbed, faith takes shape elsewhere; while ensuring that nothing leaves the established perimeter, understanding matures off stage; while everything is measured in terms of consensus and opportunity, the truth passes through secondary roads, without asking permission. Not because I love the margins as such, but because — as the Gospel shows with a certain obstinacy — the truth does not allow itself to be administered. And even less can it be certified by the number of consensuses obtained or by the peace of mind that it manages to preserve..

Accept an unconquered marginality, then it does not mean cultivating a taste for the opposition, nor take refuge in a polemical attitude on principle. Means, more simply, stop measuring the value of a life — or a ministry — according to the approval received, the positions obtained or the consensus gathered, according to that logic that the century calls, without shame, hypertrophied narcissism. In concrete terms, means not assuming the number of invitations as a decisive criterion, of recognition or signs of esteem, but the rightness of the decisions made. The Gospel, otherwise, does not ask to be applauded, but be faithful. And this fidelity, not infrequently, is exercised far from the center, where you are less exposed to pressure, freer to look at reality as it is and less obliged to say what is appropriate.

The end of the year often burdened with disproportionate expectations. Final balance sheets are required, conclusive judgments, words capable of fixing everything once and for all. Actually, for those who live with a minimum of inner honesty, this time is not useful to close accounts, but to stop deceiving yourself: not to tell comforting stories, so as not to confuse what has been successful with what has been fair. This is not the time to proclaim goals achieved, but to distinguish the essential from the superfluous, what deserves to be guarded from what can be let go without regrets.

There is a particular freedom that is born precisely here: when it is accepted that not everything must be resolved, clarified or recognized. Some vicissitudes remain open, some unanswered questions, some serious injustices without reparation. But not everything that remains unfinished is sterile.. Sometimes it is simply entrusted to a time that does not coincide with ours. This awareness, far from being a surrender, It is a high form of spiritual realism.

The “sober truth” It is not an internal disposition nor an abstract principle: It is recognized by the price that a person is willing to pay in order not to deny what they have understood to be true.. It manifests itself when you accept losing opportunities, charges or protections as long as they do not resort to linguistic justifications, to accommodating formulas or moral alibis that make presentable what in no case can be presentable: pretend that evil is good and use this lie as a shield against those who try to call evil by its name.

In an ecclesial context in an objectively advanced state of decay, that measures people based on visibility, adaptability and immediate usefulness, This choice has precise consequences, sometimes even devastating. It means continuing to exercise one's own ministry or ecclesial service without being the recipient of appointments., honorary positions or those small concessions with which power flatters and, at the same time, only; without being involved in the decision-making bodies of the diocese or ecclesial institutions; without making oneself available to government logic that requires silence, adaptations or compromises considered inadmissible, because they are paid at a price that no Christian conscience can accept: the sacrifice of the freedom of the children of God, inscribed from the beginning in the same mystery of the creation of man. Means, Finally, accept that one's own contribution remains unrewarded and relegated to the margins, not because it's useless, but because it is not usable in the circuits that have; and, however, intended, in the silence of the desert, to be a seed that bears fruit.

Persevere, in this sense, It is not a form of obstinacy nor an identity posture built to distinguish oneself.. It is the decision to remain faithful to what has been recognized as true even when this fidelity entails silence., loss of role and lack of recognition.

in the step from one year to the next it is not asked to make consoling balances, but to look at what remains when time has consumed illusions, roles and justifications. The decisions remain, the words said or silent, responsibilities assumed or avoided. This, and nothing more, It is the material that passes through time.

Christian hope It is not born from the fact that things “will get better.”, nor of the consensus reached or the results obtained. It is born from knowing that the truth is not measured by the immediate, but will be judged in the end time. It is in this faithfulness exposed to time and judgment — and not in the success of a season — that it is decided whether a life has been simply lived or truly appreciated as a gift from God.; if the talents received have been made to bear fruit, or buried underground.

From the Island of Patmos, 31 December 2025

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THE DIGNITY OF UNOVERCOME MARGINALITY IN THE TRANSITION FROM ONE YEAR TO ANOTHER

Christian hope does not come from expectation, that things will “get better”, nor the consensus gathered or the results achieved. It comes from knowledge, that truth is not measured by the immediate, but will be judged in the final judgment. It is in this loyalty exposed to the passage of time and the court - and not in the success of a season - that the decision is made, whether a life was merely lived or truly preserved as a gift from God; whether the talents received were made fruitful or buried in the earth.

— Church topicality —

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At the end of the year the world tends to, to take stock, by getting results, Measures successes and failures. It's a calming exercise, because it allows, to judge life according to visible and seemingly immediately verifiable criteria.

From a Christian perspective However, not everything is, what is measurable, true, and that, what actually determines the quality of an existence, often does not coincide with this, what appears to be successful in the eyes of the world. On the path of faith, true fulfillment often takes the form of this, what the world judges as failure and failure. This is the logic of the cross, which the apostle Paul neither weakens nor makes acceptable:

“We, on the other hand, proclaim Christ crucified, a nuisance for Jews, foolishness to Gentiles.” (1 Kor 1,23).

This dimension is lived by those, who are gradually finding themselves marginalized, because they have not betrayed their conscience and have not renounced the truth. Not because of an ideological decision, not because of personal incompetence, but due to an increasing incompatibility with practices, Language forms and functional criteria of church contexts, in which they live and work: systems, reward adaptation, demand opportune silence and marginalize those, that cannot be functionalized. From a certain point of view you could call them that: the scandalous gates of the cross.

The gates of the cross cause offense, by refusing, to bend the language, to make an objectively unfair decision appear acceptable. They refuse it, to be described as “pastoral”., which in reality is nothing other than opportunistic problem management; they reject anti-evangelical clerical logics, who confuse fidelity to the gospel with obedience to apparatus dynamics. They don't get involved, to cover up long-standing failures with ambiguous formulas, nor accept them, that the laxity of clergy with a shortage of priests, organizational urgency or with reference to alleged balances, which should not be disturbed. They do not adapt to irregular situations that are presented as inevitable, they cannot be silenced “so as not to cause problems”, nor do they make themselves accomplices of cliques, mutual protection mechanisms and reassuring stories, that serve this purpose, to hide the truth.

In such cases the reduction to marginality is not the result of a personal mistake, but the side effect of non-negotiable coherence, which is almost always a defeat, is read as a sign of inadequacy or relational incompetence. But that's not always the case: Sometimes it's simply the price, not having adapted to a system, that is not tolerated, what it can neither control nor utilize. This mechanism is neither new nor limited to the church sector. It is typical of any closed power structure, including criminal organizations, who don't meet those first, who break the law, but those, that cannot be made functional: those, who do not bow, that do not enter into the cycle of mutual dependencies, the language, Do not accept silence and required complicity. In such systems, isolation and marginalization are not accidents, but conscious instruments of control.

A marginality that has not been overcome to accept belongs to the wisdom of the folly of the cross and means neither, to retreat into a resentful niche, nor to cultivate a spirituality of failure. In concrete terms, this means recognizing, that not everything that is true finds a place in the official channels and that not every form of invisibility can be equated with loss. This is evident, for example, with those, the ones on wheels, To forego office or visibility, not to sign any official documents, in which an unjust decision is presented as a “shared pastoral option”.. It shows with them, who refuse, to hide real responsibilities behind false diplomatic formulas, which are passed off as “holy wisdom”., In reality, however, they serve to manage problems opportunistically. It is the situation of those, who continue to work seriously, without being promoted, because they do not belong to any influential clique; that one, who think and write, without being invited, because they do not conform to the dominant narratives; that one, bear real responsibility — in education, Culture and education — without official positions or protective affiliations, because they are not ready, to exchange freedom of judgment for protection or recognition.

In these cases Invisibility is not a sign of personal failure, but a form of protection: It protects us from the logic of appearances, removes the blackmail pressure of consensus and prevents it, to be instrumentalized. Sometimes over time it even turns out to be a mercy - not because it makes life easier, but because it allows, frei, to remain with integrity and not subject to blackmail. It is the situation of figures, who appear marginalized, without being destroyed, are considered to be silenced and become more fruitful as a result. Scripture knows this dynamic well. Moses is removed from the public stage and led into the desert of Midian, before he is called, to liberate the people (cf. Ex 2,15; 3,1); Elijah flees into the desert, wishes death, and it is precisely there that he learns to listen, that removes him from the violence of power and the noise of action (cf. 1 Gender 19,1–18); John the Baptist is neither born nor active in the center, but in the desert, far from official religious circles, and from there he prepares the way of the Lord (cf. Mt 3,1–3; Mk 1,2–4; Lk 3,1–4). Jesus himself will, even before every public word and every sign, driven into the desert by the spirit, where he expressly succeeds, immediate effectiveness and the applause of the crowd (cf. Mt 4,1–11; Mk 1,12–13; Lk 4,1–13).

The desert is not the place of uselessness in the biblical and evangelical tradition, but of cleaning: It does not create visibility, but freedom; it does not guarantee success, but truth. In this space, figures mature, that appear irrelevant on the outside, actually cannot be blackmailed, produced by a fertility, which does not depend on immediate recognition, but from loyalty to the truth, of inner freedom and ability, to stand the test of time, without being corrupted by it.

Looking at the gospel without anxious pietism and without a devotional filter, an elementary finding stands out: Jesus shows no fear, to be in the center. On the contrary: When the center fills up, he withdraws from it as a matter of course. He preaches to the crowds (cf. Mt 5–7; Mk 6,34), but then withdraws (cf. Mk 1,35; Joh 6,15); he works signs (cf. Mk 1,40–45; Mk 7,31–37), however, recommends silence (cf. Mk 1,44; Mk 8,26); he attracts disciples, but doesn't hold on to it, who go away (cf. Joh 6,66–67). In today's language you could say, he doesn’t care about his own “positioning”. And yet no one has shaped history more than him.

If you take this evangelical one Take a look, the beatitudes also stop, to be an uplifting repertoire for celebratory occasions, and will do that again, what they are in their Christological reality: a radical criterion of distinction. They promise neither success, visibility nor approval; rather, they describe a paradoxical form of happiness, which is incompatible with the logic of consensus. The blessed in the Gospel are not those, who “made it”, but those, who have not exchanged the truth for applause (cf. Mt 5,1–12).

In addition to the Beatitudes However, the Gospel also preserves the other side of the coin with the same clarity: the “woeful cries”. Harsh words, little quoted and rarely commented on, perhaps because they disrupt a comfortable spirituality. “Woe to you, when all people praise you.” (Page 6,26): a reminder, which does not seem to be aimed at scandalous sinners, but to respectable ones, estimated, fully integrated people. It is, as if Jesus was warning about a subtle form of failure: that one, in which consensus is bought at the price of one's own inner freedom.

In the gospel Consensus is never a value in itself. More than that: When he becomes unanimous, it often takes on the characteristics of a collective misunderstanding. The crowds cheer, and then disappear (cf. Joh 6,14–15.66); the disciples applaud, and then argue about it, who is the greatest (cf. Mk 9,33–34; Page 22,24); the notables recognize, only to distance themselves out of fear or expediency (cf. Joh 12,42–43). Jesus goes through all of this, without ever letting yourself be captured by it. He doesn't seek opposition, But don't be afraid of them either; he does not despise recognition, but don't chase after her. You could say with barely a hint of a smile, that he never confuses approval ratings with the measure of truth, because approval values ​​lie in people, the truth lies in God.

The gospel practices in this sense an irony that is as discreet as it is relentless. Just those, who occupy the center - the guarantors of order, the specialists of correctness, the “we’ve always done it this way” pros — often turn out to be the least capable, to recognize what is actually happening. While discussing procedures, Writes documents and conjures balances, which must not be disturbed, faith takes shape elsewhere; while paying attention, that nothing leaves the established framework, understanding matures outside the stage; while everything is measured in categories of consensus and opportunity, the truth takes byways, without asking permission. Not because she loves the edges as such, but because - as the Gospel shows with a certain persistence - the truth cannot be managed. And even less can it be certified by the number of approvals achieved or by the peace of conscience, that can be preserved.

A marginality that has not been overcome So accepting doesn't mean, to cultivate a preference for opposition or to take refuge in a polemical stance out of principle. Rather, it means, to stop, the value of a life — or a service — after the consent received, the positions achieved or the consensus gathered, according to that logic, which the age unashamedly calls hypertrophic narcissism. That means specifically, not the number of invitations, to make recognition or appreciation the decisive criterion, but the honesty of the decisions made. After all, the gospel doesn’t require it, to be cheered, but to be faithful. And this loyalty is often lived far from the center, where you are exposed to less pressure, can see reality more freely than that, what she is, and is less forced, to say that, whatever seems appropriate.

The turn of the year often comes with disproportionate ones Expectations charged. Definitive balance sheets are required, final judgments, words, who are supposed to sort everything out once and for all. In reality, this time is for the, who lives with a minimum of inner honesty, not to that, to close invoices, but to stop cheating: to no longer tell each other comforting stories, not to be confused, which was successful, with the, which was fair. It's not the moment, to declare stage victories, but to distinguish the essential from the superfluous, what is to be preserved from that, what can be let go without regret.

A special freedom arises here: if you accept, that not everything is solved, needs to be clarified or acknowledged. Some processes remain open, some questions unanswered, some serious acts of injustice without reparation. But not everything unfinished is sterile. Sometimes it is simply entrusted to a time, which does not coincide with ours. This awareness is far from it, to be a surrender; it is a high form of spiritual realism.

The “sober truth” is neither an internal disposition nor an abstract principle: You can recognize them by the price, that a person is willing to pay, not to contradict that, what he knew to be true. She shows herself, when you are ready, Opportunities, Losing offices or protection, instead of linguistic justifications, to resort to appeasing formulas or moral alibis, that make something presentable, which it cannot be under any circumstances: to do so, as if evil were good, and to use this lie as a shield against them, who try, to call evil by its name.

In a church context, which is objectively in an advanced state of decay and people are craving visibility, adaptability and immediate usefulness, has this decision concrete, sometimes even devastating consequences. She means, to continue carrying out one’s own church ministry or mission, without recipients of appointments, Honorary positions or those small concessions, with which power flatters and subdues at the same time; without being involved in the decision-making bodies of the diocese or church institutions; without making themselves available to government logic, the silence, Require adjustment or compromise, that are deemed inadmissible, because they are bought at a price, which no Christian conscience can accept: the sacrifice of the freedom of God's children, which is inscribed from the beginning in the mystery of man's creation. She means after all, to accept, that one's own contribution remains without rewards and is pushed to the margins, not because it is useless, but because it cannot be used in the relevant cycles; and yet destined to do so, to be a seed in the silence of the desert, who bears fruit.

In that sense Staying put is neither a form of stubbornness nor an identity pose, which was constructed for demarcation. It's the decision, to stay true to that, what you know to be true, even if this loyalty is silent, Loss of role and lack of recognition.

In transition from one year to the next is not required, to draw comforting conclusions, but to look at it, what remains, when time illusions, Roles and justifications have been consumed. The decisions made remain, the words spoken or left silent, the responsibilities assumed or avoided. This is - and nothing else - the material, that traverses time.

Christian hope does not come from expectation, that things will “get better”, nor the consensus gathered or the results achieved. It comes from knowledge, that truth is not measured by the immediate, but will be judged in the final judgment. It is in this loyalty exposed to the passage of time and the court - and not in the success of a season - that the decision is made, whether a life was merely lived or truly preserved as a gift from God; whether the talents received were made fruitful or buried in the earth.

From the island of Patmos, 31. December 2025

 

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