March 13, 2026
III Friday of Lent
Fr. Alberto Pari
A dear greeting from Jerusalem, I am Fr. Alberto Joan Pari, Secretary of the Custody of the Holy Land and responsible for interreligious dialogue.
I would like to entitle this meditation of ours, "You are not far from the Kingdom of God".
There is a question that runs through the centuries. A simple question. Essential. "Which is the first of all the commandments?". We are in Jerusalem. It is the first century. The Temple dominates the city. The white stones shine in the sun. Among the courtyards the Scriptures are discussed, sacrifices are offered, answers are sought. A scribe, a man of the Law, a scholar of the Torah, approaches Jesus. He is not a provocateur. He is a seeker.
In the Jewish world of the first century there were counted 613 precepts. But every teacher sought the heart, the center, the root. Jesus answers with words that every Jew knew by heart, recited every morning and every evening, "Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God, the Lord is one, you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength". With all. Not a part. Not the free time. Not the leftovers. All. And then he adds, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself".
Two sentences. One single movement. Loving God. Loving the brother. Like one single breath. The scribe understands. He senses that this love is worth more than sacrifices, more than burnt offerings, more than rites. And Jesus says to him one of the most delicate phrases of the Gospel, "You are not far from the Kingdom of God". Not far.
Perhaps this is the word for our Lent. Not far. But not yet fully inside. Lent is the time to shorten that distance.
And now I propose that we move forward some centuries. From Jerusalem to Nagasaki, where I had the grace to be last year at this very time. From the destroyed Temple to the city devastated by the atomic bomb. There is a man, a radiologist physician, Takashi Nagai. On August 9, 1945 he survives the explosion. He loses his wife. He loses his home. His health is already compromised by leukemia. Yet he chooses to remain. To heal. To console. To rebuild. For him a phrase from the Gospel becomes a program of life, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself". Not as a feeling. As a decision. From his small hut, he called it Nyokodō, "dwelling of love for others", he wrote that love is the only force capable of transforming tragedy into offering. In the midst of ruins, he chooses love. In the midst of death, he chooses charity. In the midst of hatred, he chooses forgiveness. Here is a man who is not far from the Kingdom.
Perhaps we too live among ruins. Not of stone, but of relationships. Not of bombs, but of indifference. Not of fire, but of loneliness. And we return to the initial question, which is the first commandment? Perhaps the answer is simpler than we think. To unify the heart. To stop living divided. To love God in the concreteness of love for the brother.
This Lent could be this, to reduce the distance. To pass from "not far" to "inside". Inside the Kingdom. Inside a life that smells of the Gospel.
Let us ask for an undivided heart. A whole heart. A heart capable of saying every day, Lord, teach me to love you with all. And to love those whom you place beside me.
Because there is no greater commandment. And there is no truer path to enter your Kingdom.
