Coherence: The Privileged Path to Charity

A passage from the Gospel of Luke, 11:37-41, recounts how Jesus, on his way to Jerusalem, accepts an invitation to dine with a Pharisee. We witness a dialogue that represents a confrontation between two visions of religiosity: the formal one, centered on rules about rituals, and the one of the heart, proposed by Jesus.

Message of the Rector Major Fr. Fabio Attard, SDB

In response to the question put to Jesus about why he doesn’t observe the traditional ritual actions, the Pharisee is invited to go beyond outward actions and to verify whether the outward appearance truly corresponds to what is in his heart.

Jesus accepts the invitation without conditions.

Like the Pharisee, we too can invite Jesus to our table. His response is astonishing: Jesus always accepts, without imposing any conditions. He doesn’t demand that our house be in order, nor does he require any guarantee that we’re coherent. “He went and sat down at the table.” With this disarming simplicity, Jesus enters the life of the Pharisee, already knowing what he’ll find, aware of the contradictions, the shadows, and the duplicity.

This is the first liberating message in this passage. Jesus doesn’t wait for us to “have it all together” before coming to us; he comes to help us put things in place. We don’t have to hide who we truly are to be worthy of his presence; on the contrary, it is precisely our incompleteness that causes us to need an encounter with him.

A presence that brings clarity

But beware: while Jesus accepts without imposing conditions, his presence is never neutral or “innocuous.” Jesus enters and brings light. The Pharisee perhaps expected an obliging guest, someone to show off, to present to his acquaintances: “Look! Jesus is coming to my house.” Instead, he finds himself exposed, yet without being humiliated or embarrassed. Jesus’ presence casts light on the contradictions, bringing into the open what we’d prefer to keep hidden.

It’s not an attack; it’s more like turning on a light in a room: the light doesn’t create the dust that’s there, but it makes it visible. Similarly, Jesus doesn’t reveal our defects, but gently and gradually helps us to see them for what they are. In short, his presence is an invitation to bring clarity to our lives: to examine with honesty where we’re authentic and where we hide behind masks, where there’s coherence and where there’s a disconnect between what we appear to be and who we truly are.

Beyond appearances: the call to personal coherence

“You Pharisees clean the outside of the cup and the plate, but inside you’re full of greed and wickedness.” Jesus doesn’t condemn outward practices in themselves – the ablutions, the public prayers, the observance of rituals – but he sheds light on that subtle and terrible division between the external and the internal, the duplicity of those who care for their image while neglecting their heart.

It's a temptation that spans all time. How much energy we spend building a flattering image on social media and in professional life! Even in our most intimate relationships, we filter, we select, we show only what makes us look good. Instead, Jesus calls for coherence at a very personal level, even before the public level. It’s not about what others see, but about who we truly are when no one’s looking. It’s there, in the intimacy of the heart, that our authenticity is put on the line.

A vision without shadows

“Fools! Didn’t the one who made the outside also make the inside?” There’s a profound human and spiritual insight here: the human being is one. We’re not divided into airtight compartments – the public and private spheres, the body and the spirit, the exterior and the interior. We can’t keep areas of our lives hidden in the shadows, thinking that they won’t contaminate the rest.

Jesus' invitation is to see clearly, without shadows, a life in which there are no hidden corners where we cultivate vices, selfishness, or duplicity. It’s about inner transparency, where everything is brought into the light of the conscience and of grace. This doesn’t mean instant perfection, but radical honesty: recognizing our weaknesses, calling them by name, and neither justifying nor hiding them. This is the first step towards healing.

Almsgiving as a gift of oneself

“Give what’s inside as alms, and behold, everything will be clean for you.” Here lies the culmination of Jesus’ message. True purification doesn’t come from external rituals, but from giving what’s within. Coherence has the power to be a bearer of goodness. The word “alms” in Greek has its roots in the words “mercy” and “compassion.” It’s not just a matter of giving money, but of giving ourselves, our time, our attention, our presence, our vulnerability.

When we live this inner unity, when there’s no longer a division between who we are and who we appear to be, then from this unity emanates true charity and authentic mercy; it’s a genuine gift, not calculated, not a means to a personal end. We don’t give to appear generous, but because generosity has become who we are.

Young people’s thirst for adults who are authentic and coherent.

This message resonates particularly strongly today, especially for the younger generations. Young people live immersed in a culture where everything has a price and everything’s calculated in terms of return and utility. Identities are fragmented among a thousand profiles, masks, and social roles; relationships are mediated, filtered, and often anonymous or superficial.

In this context, young people have a desperate thirst for authentic adults: people who practice what they preach, who don’t have one face for the public and another for their private life, and who don’t lie for convenience’s sake.

We must never forget that young people don't look for adults who claim to be perfect; they reject them as fake. They look for adults who are authentic: capable of acknowledging their own weaknesses, of being consistent in the small things of everyday life, of keeping their promises, and of having an inner life that’s visible. The greatest service we can render to the new generations is not to give them moral advice or rules of conduct, but to bear witness to an authentic life.

The timeless invitation

The Pharisee invited Jesus once. But the text reveals to us that Jesus is always available to be invited, even today, as he was two thousand years ago.

The question for each of us is: are we willing to welcome him, knowing that his presence will confront us with the truth about ourselves? Are we ready to let him shed light on our shadow areas? And then, after having welcomed this light, are we willing to live authentically, taking off our masks, and giving to others not what turns to our benefit, but rather “what’s within us”?

In a world thirsting for truth, being authentic is not a spiritual luxury; it is the first act of charity that we can perform. Especially toward those, like young people, who have the right to see that it’s possible to live without duplicity, that integrity isn’t a utopia, and that coherence between the inner and the outer self is the path to true freedom.