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Dear brothers and sisters, pilgrims in faith and representatives of the various religious traditions! Good morning, welcome!

At the centre of today’s reflection, in this General Audience dedicated to interreligious dialogue, I would like to place the Lord Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman: “God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth” (Jn 4:24). In the Gospel, this encounter reveals the essence of authentic religious dialogue: an exchange that is established when people open up to one another with sincerity, attentive listening and mutual enrichment. It is a dialogue that arose from thirst: God’s thirst for the human heart, and the human thirst for God. At the well of Sychar, Jesus overcomes the barriers of culture, gender and religion. He invites the Samaritan woman to a new understanding of worship, which is not limited to a particular place – “neither on the mountain nor in Jerusalem” – but is realized in Spirit and truth. This moment captures the very core of interreligious dialogue itself: the discovery of God’s presence beyond all boundaries and the invitation to seek him together with reverence and humility.

Sixty years ago, on 28 October 1965, Vatican Council II, with the promulgation of the Declaration Nostra Aetate, opened up a new horizon of encounter, respect and spiritual hospitality. This luminous Document teaches us to meet the followers of other religions not as outsiders, but as travelling companions on the path of truth; to honour differences affirming our common humanity; and to discern, in every sincere religious search, a reflection of the one divine Mystery that embraces all creation.

In particular, it should not be forgotten that the first focus of Nostra Aetate was towards the Jewish world, which which Saint John XXIII intended to re-establish the original relationship. For the first time in the history of the Church, a doctrinal treatise on the Jewish roots of Christianity was to take shape, which on a biblical and theological level would represent a point of no return. A “bond … spiritually ties the people of the New Covenant to Abraham’s stock. Thus the Church of Christ acknowledges that, according to God’s saving design, the beginnings of her faith and her election are found already among the Patriarchs, Moses and the prophets” (Nostra Aetate, 4). In this way, the Church, “mindful of the patrimony she shares with the Jews and moved not by political reasons but by the Gospel’s spiritual love, decries hatred, persecutions, displays of anti-Semitism, directed against Jews at any time and by anyone” (ibid.). Since then, all my predecessors have condemned anti-Semitism with clear words. And so I too confirm that the Church does not tolerate anti-Semitism and fights against it, on the basis of the Gospel itself.

Today we can look with gratitude at everything that has been achieved in Jewish-Catholic dialogue during these six decades. This is due not only to human effort, but to the assistance of our God who, according to Christian conviction, is dialogue itself. We cannot deny that there have been misunderstandings, difficulties and conflicts in this period, but these have never prevented the dialogue from continuing. Even today, we must not allow political circumstances and the injustices of some to divert us from friendship, especially since we have achieved so much so far.

The spirit of Nostra Aetate continues to illuminate the path of the Church. She recognizes that all religions can reflect “a ray of that Truth which enlightens all men” (NA, 2) and seek answers to the great mysteries of human existence, so that dialogue must never be solely intellectual, but profoundly spiritual. The Declaration invites all Catholics – bishops, clergy, consecrated persons and lay faithful – to involve themselves sincerely in dialogue and in collaboration with the followers of other religions, recognizing and promoting all that is good, true and holy in their traditions (cf. ibid.). This is necessary today in practically every city where, due to human mobility, our spiritual and cultural differences are called to encounter one another and to live together fraternally. Nostra Aetate reminds us that true dialogue is rooted in love, the only foundation of peace, justice and reconciliation, whereas it firmly rejects every form of discrimination or persecution, affirming the equal dignity of every human being (cf. NA, 5).

Therefore, dear brothers and sisters, sixty years after Nostra Aetate, we can ask ourselves: what can we do together? The answer is simple: we can act together. More than ever, our world needs our unity, our friendship and our collaboration. Each one of our religions can contribute to alleviating human suffering and taking care of our common home, our planet Earth. Our respective traditions teach truth, compassion, reconciliation, justice and peace. We must reaffirm service to humanity, at all times. Together, we must be vigilant against the abuse of the name of God, of religion, and of dialogue itself, as well as against the dangers posed by religious fundamentalism and extremism. We must also face the responsible development of artificial intelligence because, if conceived as an alternative to humans, it can gravely violate their infinite dignity and neutralize their fundamental responsibilities. Our traditions have an immense contribution to make to the humanization of technology and therefore to inspire its regulation, to protect fundamental human rights.

As we all know, our religions teach that peace begins in the human heart. In this regard, religion can play a fundamental role. We must restore hope to our personal lives, our families, our neighbourhoods, our schools, our villages, our countries and our world. This hope is based on our religious convictions, on the conviction that a new world is possible.

Sixty years ago, Nostra Aetate brought hope to the world after the Second World War. Today we are called upon to rekindle that hope in our world, devastated by war and our degraded natural environment. Let us collaborate, because if we are united, everything is possible. Let us ensure that nothing divides us. And in this spirit, I would like to express once more my gratitude for your presence and your friendship. Let us transmit this spirit of friendship and collaboration to the future generation too, because it is the true pillar on which dialogue rests.

And now, let us pause a moment in silent prayer: prayer has the power to transform our attitudes, our thoughts, our words and our actions.

In recent days Jamaica has been struck by Hurricane Melissa, a storm of catastrophic power, causing violent flooding. It is currently sweeping across Cuba with devastating force. Thousands of people have been displaced, while homes, infrastructure and several hospitals have been damaged. I assure everyone of my closeness, praying for those who have lost their lives, for those who are fleeing and for those populations who, awaiting the storm's developments, are experiencing hours of anxiety and concern. I encourage the civil authorities to do everything possible and I thank the Christian communities, together with voluntary organizations, for the relief they are providing.

I extend a warm welcome to all English speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s audience, especially those coming from England, Ireland, Norway, Sweden, Ghana, Kenya, Nigeria, Uganda, Zimbabwe, Australia, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, South Korea, Canada and the United States of America.  

In particular, I wish to express my gratitude for the presence of the leaders and representatives of non-Christian religions. 

May God, who created all men and women, pour into our hearts a spirit of fraternal love that we may recognize the imprint of God’s goodness and beauty in every human being.

Lastly, I greet the sick, the newlyweds and the young people. Yesterday the Liturgy commemorated the Holy Apostles Simon and Jude Thaddeus. May their example encourage you, the sick, to always follow Jesus on the path of trial; may it help you, newly-weds, to make your family the place of encounter with the love of God and of your brothers and sisters; may it sustain you, young people, in your commitment to fidelity to Christ. 

29.10.25

Dear brothers and sisters,

To gather in this place during the Jubilee Year is a gift that we must not take for granted. Above all, it is a gift because to go on a pilgrimage, to pass through the Holy Door, reminds us that life makes sense only when it is lived as a journey, when it knows how to keep moving forward, that is, when it is capable of making the reality of Easter present.

It is good, then, to think how the Church, through celebrating the Jubilee in these months, has been remembering that she constantly needs to undergo conversion and that she must always walk behind Jesus without hesitation and without the temptation to move on ahead of him. Indeed, she is always in need of Easter, that is, of “passing over” from slavery to freedom, from death to life. I hope that all of you experience within yourselves the gift of this hope, and that the Jubilee may be an opportunity through which your lives can begin anew.

Today, I would like to address you who are part of university institutions and all those who, in various ways, dedicate themselves to study, teaching and research. What is the grace that can touch the life of a student, a researcher, a scholar? I would respond in this way: it is the grace of an overarching vision, a perspective capable of grasping the horizon, of looking beyond.

We can see this insight in the Gospel passage just proclaimed (Lk 13:10-17), which presents the picture of a woman who was bent double and, healed by Jesus, can finally receive the grace of a new perspective, a broader vision. This woman’s condition resembles the condition of ignorance, which is often linked to being closed in on ourselves and lacking spiritual and intellectual restlessness. She is bent double, turned in on herself, and thus unable to look beyond herself. When human beings are incapable of seeing beyond themselves, beyond their own experiences, ideas and convictions, beyond their own projects, then they remain imprisoned, enslaved and incapable of forming mature judgements.

Like the bent-over woman of the Gospel, the risk is always that of remaining prisoners of our self-centered perspective. Yet, in reality, many of the things that truly matter in life – we might say, the most fundamental things – do not come from ourselves; we receive them from others. They come to us through our teachers, encounters and life experiences. This is an experience of grace, for it heals us from self-absorption. This is a genuine healing that, just as for the woman in the Gospel, allows us once again to stand upright before life and its reality, and to look at them with a wider perspective. The healed woman receives hope, for she can finally lift her eyes and see something different, can see in a new way. This especially happens when we encounter Christ in our lives, when we open ourselves up to a life-changing truth capable of making us step out of ourselves and freeing us from our self-absorption.

Those who study are “lifted up,” broadening their horizons and perspectives in order to recover a vision that does not look downward, but is capable of looking upward: toward God, others and the mystery of life. Indeed, the grace of being a student, researcher or scholar means accepting a broad vision that can see far into the distance; that does not simplify problems nor fear questions; that overcomes intellectual laziness and, in doing so, also defeats spiritual decay.

Let us always remember that spirituality needs this perspective, to which the study of theology, philosophy and the other disciplines contribute in a particular way. Today, we have become experts in the smallest details of reality, yet we have lost the capability of an overarching vision that integrates things through a deeper and greater meaning. The Christian experience, however, wishes to teach us to look at life and reality with a unified gaze, capable of embracing everything while rejecting merely partial ways of thinking.

I thus urge you, students, researchers and teachers alike, not to forget that the Church needs this unified perspective for both today and tomorrow. We can look to the example of men and women such as Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Teresa of Avila, Edith Stein and many others who knew how to integrate research into their lives and spiritual journey. We likewise are called to advance in our intellectual endeavors and the search for truth without separating them from life. It is important to cultivate this unity so that what happens in university classrooms and educational environments of all kinds does not remain an abstract intellectual exercise. Instead, it becomes capable of transforming life, and helps us to deepen our relationship with Christ, to understand better the mystery of the Church, and makes us bold witnesses of the Gospel in society.

Dearest friends, study, research and teaching bring with them an important educational responsibility, and I wish to encourage universities to embrace this calling with passion and commitment. To educate is similar to the miracle recounted in today’s Gospel, for the activity of the educator is to lift people up, helping them become themselves and able to develop informed consciences and the capacity for critical thinking. Pontifical universities must be able to continue this “activity” of Jesus. This is a true act of love, for it is a form of charity expressed through study, knowledge and the sincere search for what is true and worth living for. To feed the hunger for truth and meaning is an essential task, since without them we would fall into emptiness and even succumb to death.

On this journey, each of us can also rediscover the greatest gift of all, which is to know that we are not alone and that we belong to someone, as the Apostle Paul affirms: “For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption. When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’…” (Rom 8:14-15). Indeed, what we receive while we are searching for the truth and devoting ourselves to study helps us to discover that we are not creatures cast by chance into the world, but that we belong to someone who loves us and who has a plan of love for our lives.

Dear brothers and sisters, together with you I ask the Lord that the experience of study and research during your university years may render you capable of this new perspective. May your academic journey help you to know how to speak, narrate, deepen and proclaim the reasons for the hope that is in us (cf. 1 Pet 3:15). May the university form you to be men and women who are never bent in on themselves but always upright, capable of bringing the joy and consolation of the Gospel wherever you go.

May the Virgin Mary, Seat of Wisdom, accompany and intercede for you.

27.10.25 ec

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

Today’s Gospel (cf. Lk 18:9-14) presents two individuals, a Pharisee and a tax collector, who are praying in the Temple.

The first boasts a long list of merits. He has done many good works, and for this reason he feels superior to others, whom he judges contemptuously. He stands with his head held high. His attitude is clearly presumptuous, denoting a strict observance of the law, but one that is poor in love, made up of “giving” and “taking,” of debts and credits, devoid of mercy.

The tax collector is also praying, but in a very different way. He is in great need of forgiveness: he is a tax collector paid by the Roman Empire, and he works under a contract that allows him to speculate on the proceeds to the detriment of his own countrymen. Yet, at the end of the parable, Jesus tells us that it is the tax collector who returns home “justified,” that is, forgiven and renewed by his encounter with God. Why?

First, the tax collector had the courage and humility to present himself before God. He did not close himself off in his own world or resign himself to the evil he has done. He left the places where he was feared, safe and protected by the power he wielded over others. He went to the Temple alone, without an escort, even at the cost of facing harsh glances and sharp judgments, and he stood before the Lord, at the back, with his head bowed, uttering a few words: “God, be merciful to me a sinner” (v. 13).

Jesus gives us a powerful message: it is not by flaunting our merits that we are saved, nor by hiding our mistakes, but by presenting ourselves honestly, just as we are, before God, ourselves and others, asking for forgiveness and entrusting ourselves to the Lord’s grace.

Commenting on this passage, Saint Augustine compares the Pharisee to a sick man who, out of shame and pride, hides his wounds from the doctor.  The tax collector is compared to another who, with humility and wisdom, lays bare his wounds before the doctor, however unpleasant they may be to look at, and asks for help. The saint concludes: “It is not surprising that it was the tax-collector… who went away cured, since he had not been ashamed of showing where he felt pain” (Sermo 351,1).

Dear brothers and sisters, let us do the same. Let us not be afraid to acknowledge our mistakes, lay them bare, take responsibility for them and entrust them to God’s mercy. That way, his Kingdom — which belongs not to the proud but to the humble and is built through prayer and action, by practicing honesty, forgiveness and gratitude — can grow in us and around us.

Let us ask Mary, the model of holiness, to help us grow in these virtues.

I express my heartfelt closeness to the people of eastern Mexico, which in recent days was hit by flooding. I pray for the families and for all who are suffering because of this calamity, and I entrust to the Lord, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, the souls of the deceased.

Our prayer for peace continues unceasingly, particularly through the communal recitation of the Holy Rosary. As we contemplate the mysteries of Christ together with the Virgin Mary, we make our own the suffering and the hope of the children, the mothers, the fathers, and the elderly who are victims of war. And from this heartfelt intercession arise many gestures of evangelical charity, concrete closeness, and solidarity. To all who, each day, carry forward this commitment with trusting perseverance, I say once again: “Blessed are the peacemakers!”

Thank you all! Have a pleasant Sunday!

26.10.25 a

Brothers and Sisters,

As we celebrate the Jubilee of the Synodal Teams and Participatory Bodies, we are invited to contemplate and rediscover the mystery of the Church. She is not merely a religious institution, nor is she simply identified with hierarchies and structures. The Second Vatican Council reminds us that the Church is the visible sign of the union between God and humanity, where God intends to bring us all together into one family of brothers and sisters and make us his people: a people made up of beloved children, all united in the one embrace of his love.

Contemplating the mystery of ecclesial communion, generated and preserved by the Holy Spirit, we can also understand the meaning of synodal teams and participatory bodies. They express what occurs within the Church, where relationships do not respond to the logic of power but to that of love. The former – to recall a constant warning from Pope Francis – is a “worldly” logic.  Conversely, in the Christian community, primacy belongs to the spiritual life, which reveals to us that we are all children of God, brothers and sisters, called to serve one another.

The supreme rule in the Church is love. No one is called to dominate; all are called to serve. No one should impose his or her own ideas; we must all listen to one another. No one is excluded; we are all called to participate. No one possesses the whole truth; we must all humbly seek it and seek it together.

The very word “together” expresses the call to communion in the Church. Pope Francis reminded us of this in his final Message for Lent: “…to journey together. The Church is called to walk together, to be synodal. Christians are called to walk at the side of others, and never as lone travellers. The Holy Spirit impels us not to remain self-absorbed, but to leave ourselves behind and keep walking towards God and our brothers and sisters. Journeying together means consolidating the unity grounded in our common dignity as children of God” (Message for Lent, 25 February 2025).

Walking together: this is apparently what the two characters neglect to do in the parable we have just heard in the Gospel. Both the Pharisee and the tax collector go up to the Temple to pray. We could say that they “go up together” or, at least, they find themselves together in the sacred place. Yet they are divided; and there is no communication between them. Both take the same path, but they do not walk together. Both are in the Temple; but one takes the first place, and the other remains behind. Both pray to the Father, but without being brothers and without having anything in common.

This division depends above all on the Pharisee’s attitude. His prayer, though seemingly addressed to God, is only a mirror in which he looks at, justifies and praises himself. As Saint Augustine writes, he “went up to pray: he had no mind to pray to God, but to laud himself” (Discourse 115, 2). Feeling superior, he judges the other with contempt and looks down on him. The Pharisee is obsessed with his own ego and, in this way, ends up focused on himself without having a relationship with either God or others.

Brothers and sisters, this can also happen in the Christian community. It happens when the ego prevails over the collective, causing an individualism that prevents authentic and fraternal relationships. It also occurs when the claim to be better than others, as the Pharisee does with the tax collector, creates division and turns the community into a judgmental and exclusionary place; and when one leverages one’s role to exert power, rather than to serve.

We should, however, focus our attention on the tax collector. With the same humility that he showed, we too must recognize within the Church that we are all in need of God and of one another, which leads us to practice reciprocal love, listen to each other and enjoy walking together. It is based on the knowledge that Christ belongs to those who are humble, not to those who elevate themselves above the flock (cf. Saint Clement of Rome, Letter to the Corinthians, c. XVI).

The synodal teams and participatory bodies are an image of this Church that lives in communion. Please trust me when I tell you that by listening to the Spirit in dialogue, fraternity and parrhesia, you will help us to understand that, prior to any differences, we are called in the Church to walk together in the pursuit of God. By clothing ourselves with the sentiments of Christ, we expand the ecclesial space so that it becomes collegial and welcoming.

This will enable us to live with confidence and a new spirit amid the tensions that run through the life of the Church: between unity and diversity, tradition and novelty, authority and participation. We must allow the Spirit to transform them, so that they do not become ideological contrapositions and harmful polarizations. It is not a question of resolving them by reducing one to the other, but of allowing them to be purified by the Spirit, so that they may be harmonized and oriented toward a common discernment. As synodal teams and members of participatory bodies, you know that ecclesial discernment requires “interior freedom, humility, prayer, mutual trust, an openness to the new and a surrender to the will of God. It is never just a setting out of one’s own personal or group point of view or a summing up of differing individual opinions” (Final Document, 26 October 2024, 82). Being a synodal Church means recognizing that truth is not possessed, but sought together, allowing ourselves to be guided by a restless heart in love with Love.

Dear friends, we must dream of and build a more humble Church; a Church that does not stand upright like the Pharisee, triumphant and inflated with pride, but bends down to wash the feet of humanity; a Church that does not judge as the Pharisee does the tax collector, but becomes a welcoming place for all; a Church that does not close in on itself, but remains attentive to God so that it can similarly listen to everyone. Let us commit ourselves to building a Church that is entirely synodal, ministerial and attracted to Christ and therefore committed to serving the world.

Upon all of us, and the Church spread throughout the world, I invoke the intercession of the Virgin Mary with the words of the Servant of God Don Tonino Bello: “Holy Mary, woman of conviviality, nourish in our Churches the desire for communion ... Help them to overcome internal divisions. Intervene when the demon of discord creeps into their midst. Extinguish the fires of factionalism.  Reconcile mutual disputes. Defuse their rivalries. Stop them when they decide to go their own way, neglecting convergence on common projects” (Maria, Donna dei Nostri Giorni, 99).

May the Lord grant us this grace: to be rooted in God’s love so that we may live in communion with one another and be, as a Church, witnesses of unity and love.

26.10.25 m

 Dear brothers and sisters, good morning! And welcome to you all!

The resurrection of Jesus Christ is an event that one never finishes contemplating and meditating on, and the more one explores it, the more one is filled with wonder, drawn in as if by an overwhelming yet fascinating light. It was an explosion of life and joy that changed the meaning of reality itself, from negative to positive; yet it did not happen in a striking way, much less a violent one, but gently, hidden, one might say humbly.

Today we will reflect on how Christ’s resurrection can heal one of the malaises of our time: sadness. Intrusive and widespread, sadness accompanies the days of many people. It is a feeling of precariousness, at times profound desperation, which invades one’s inner space and seems to prevail over any impetus to joy.

Sadness robs life of meaning and vigour, turning it into a directionless and meaningless journey. This very current experience reminds us of the famous account in the Gospel of Luke (24: 13-29) of the two disciples of Emmaus. Disappointed and discouraged, they leave Jerusalem, leaving behind the hopes they held in Jesus, who has been crucified and entombed. In the opening lines, this episode presents a paradigm of human sadness: the end of the objective to which so much energy has been invested, the destruction of what seemed to be the essence of their lives. Their hope is dashed; desolation has taken hold of their hearts. Everything has imploded in a very short space of time, between Friday and Saturday, in a dramatic sequence of events.

The paradox is truly emblematic: this sad journey of defeat and return to ordinary life occurs on the same day as the victory of light, of the Pasch that has been fully consummated. The two men turn their backs on Golgotha, on the terrible scene of the cross, still imprinted on their eyes and their hearts. It seems that all is lost. They must return to their former lives, keeping a low profile and hoping not to be recognized.

At a certain point, a traveller joins the two disciples, perhaps one of the many pilgrims who have been to Jerusalem for Easter. It is the risen Jesus, but they do not recognize him. Sadness clouds their gaze, erasing the promise that the Master had made several times: that he would be killed and that on the third day he would rise again. The stranger approaches and shows interest in what they are saying. The text says that the two “stood still, looking sad” (Lk 24:17). The Greek adjective used describes an all-encompassing sadness: the paralysis of the soul is apparent on their faces.

Jesus listens to them, allowing them to unburden their disappointment. Then, with great frankness, he rebukes them for being “foolish … and slow of heart to believe that all the prophets have declared!” (v. 25), and through the Scriptures he shows that Christ had to suffer, die and rise again. The warmth of hope is rekindled in the hearts of the two disciples, and then, when night falls and they arrive at their destination, they invite their mysterious travelling companion to stay with them.

Jesus accepts, and takes his seat at the table with them. Then he takes the bread, breaks it and offers it. At that moment, the two disciples recognize him… but he immediately disappears from their view (vv. 30-31). The gesture of the breaking of the bread reopens the eyes of the heart, illuminating once again the vision clouded by despair. And then everything becomes clear: the shared journey, the tender and powerful word, the light of truth... Immediately, joy is rekindled, energy flows back into their weary limbs, and gratitude returns to their memory. And the two hurry back to Jerusalem to tell the others everything.

“The Lord has risen indeed” (cf. v. 34). In this adverb, indeed, the certain outcome of our history as human beings is fulfilled. It is no coincidence that this is the greeting Christians exchange on Easter Day. Jesus did not rise in words, but in deeds, with his body bearing the marks of his passion, a perennial seal of his love for us. The victory of life is not an empty word, but a real, tangible fact.

May the unexpected joy of the disciples of Emmaus be a gentle reminder to us when the going gets tough. It is the Risen One who radically changes our perspective, instilling the hope that fills the void of sadness. On the paths of the heart, the Risen One walks with us and for us. He bears witness to the defeat of death and affirms the victory of life, despite the darkness of Calvary. History still has much goodness to hope for.

To recognize the Resurrection means to change one’s outlook on the world: to return to the light to recognize the Truth that has saved us, and that saves us. Sisters and brothers, let us remain watchful every day in the wonder of the Pasch of the risen Jesus. He alone makes the impossible possible!

I extend a warm welcome to the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, especially those coming from England, Scotland, Denmark, Finland, the Netherlands, Burundi, Ghana, Nigeria, Uganda, Australia, Bahrain, India, Indonesia, Japan, Malaysia, Pakistan, the Philippines, Taiwan, Thailand, Saudi Arabia, Vietnam, Antigua and Barbuda, Canada and the United States of America. In particular, I greet and thank the group “Friends of the Holy Father” from Great Britain who donated the portable studio for the use of Vatican News Services. It is my hope that the Jubilee will continue to be for all of you a season of spiritual renewal and growth in the joy of the Gospel. Upon you and your families I gladly invoke God’s blessings of wisdom, strength and peace.

Lastly, I greet the sick, the newlyweds and the young people. Dear friends, the month of October invites us to renew our active cooperation in the Church's mission. With the power of prayer, with the potential of married life and with the fresh energies of youth, may you know how to be missionaries of the Gospel, offering your concrete support to those who dedicate their lives to the evangelization of peoples.

My blessing to you all!

22.10.25

Dear brothers and sisters,

I extend my heartfelt greetings to all of you who have taken part in this celebration, which has been a great feast of holiness!

I thank the Cardinals, Patriarchs and Bishops who are present. I also greet with gratitude the President of the Italian Republic, the President of Lebanon and the distinguished official delegations, in particular those from Armenia and Venezuela.

I joyfully welcome the spiritual daughters of the Foundresses who have been canonized today and the various communities and associations inspired by the charisms of the new Saints. Thank you all for your devout participation!

I extend my greetings to the other pilgrims present, in particular to the Hermandad del Señor de los Milagros, which celebrated the traditional procession.

Today is World Mission Day. While the whole Church is missionary, today we pray especially for those men and women who have left everything to bring the Gospel to those who do not know it. They are missionaries of hope among all peoples. May the Lord bless them!

The news from Myanmar is sadly distressing: there are reports of ongoing armed clashes and aerial bombardments, including the targeting of civilians and civilian infrastructure. I am spiritually close to those who are suffering as a result of the violence, insecurity and many hardships. I renew my heartfelt appeal for an immediate and effective ceasefire. May the instruments of war give way to those of peace, through inclusive and constructive dialogue.

Let us entrust to the intercession of the Virgin Mary and the new Saints our constant prayer for peace in the Holy Land, Ukraine and other places affected by war. May God grant all their leaders the wisdom and perseverance to advance in the search for a just and lasting peace.

19.10.25 a

Holy Mass and canonisation of the Blessed:

- Ignazio Choukrallah Maloyan
- Peter To Rot
- Vincenza Maria Poloni
- Maria del Monte Carmelo Rendiles Martínez
- Maria Troncatti
- José Gregorio Hernández Cisneros
- Bartolo Longo

Dear brothers and sisters,

Let us begin our reflection with the question that concludes the Gospel just proclaimed: “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (Lk 18:8). This question reveals to us what is most precious in the Lord’s eyes: faith, namely, the bond of love between God and man. Today we have before us seven witnesses, the new Saints, who, with God’s grace, kept the lamp of faith burning. Indeed, they themselves became lamps capable of spreading the light of Christ.

When we consider the great material, cultural, scientific and artistic treasures, faith shines not because these goods are to be undervalued, but because without faith they lose their meaning. Our relationship with God is of the utmost importance because at the beginning of time he created all things out of nothing and, at the end of time, he will save mortal beings from nothingness. A world without faith, then, would be populated by children living without a Father, that is, by creatures without salvation.

For this reason, Jesus, the Son of God made man, asks about faith: if it disappeared from the world, what would happen? Heaven and earth would remain as before, but there would no longer be hope in our hearts; everyone’s freedom would be defeated by death; our desire for life would fade into nothingness. Without faith in God, we cannot hope for salvation. Jesus’ question can disturb us, but only if we forget that it is Jesus himself who poses it. The Lord’s words, in fact, are always the “Gospel,” the joyful proclamation of salvation. This salvation is the gift of eternal life that we receive from the Father, through the Son, in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Dear friends, this is precisely why Christ speaks to his disciples of the “need to pray always, and not to lose heart” (Lk 18:1). Just as we never grow weary of breathing, so let us never grow weary of praying! Just as breathing sustains the life of the body, so prayer sustains the life of the soul: faith, in fact, is expressed in prayer, and authentic prayer lives on faith.

Jesus shows us this connection with a parable: a judge remains deaf to the pressing requests of a widow, whose perseverance finally leads him to act. At a glance, such tenacity becomes for us a beautiful example of hope, especially in times of trial and tribulation. Nevertheless, the woman’s perseverance and the judge, who acts reluctantly, set the stage for a provocative question from Jesus: Will not God, the good Father, “grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night?” (Lk 18:7).

Let us allow these words to resonate in our hearts: the Lord is asking us whether we believe that God is a just judge towards all. The Son asks us if we believe that the Father always wants our good and the salvation of every person. In this regard, two temptations test our faith: the first draws strength from the scandal of evil, leading us to think that God does not hear the cries of the oppressed and has no pity for the innocent who suffer. The second temptation is the claim that God must act as we want him to: prayer then gives way to a command to God, to teach him how to be just and effective.

Jesus, the perfect witness of filial trust, frees us from both temptations. He is the innocent one who, especially during his Passion, prays thus: “Father, your will be done” (cf. Lk 22:42). The Master gives us these same words in the Our Father. Let us remember that whatever happens to us, Jesus entrusted himself as Son to the Father. We are, therefore, brothers and sisters in his name, so we can proclaim: “It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation, always and everywhere to give you thanks, Lord, holy Father, almighty and eternal God, through Christ our Lord” (Eucharistic Prayer II, Preface).

The Church’s prayer reminds us that God grants justice to all, giving his life for all. Thus, when we cry out to the Lord, “Where are you?”, let us transform this invocation into a prayer, and then we we will recognize that God is present where the innocent suffer. The cross of Christ reveals God’s justice, and God’s justice is forgiveness. He sees evil and redeems it by taking it upon himself. When we are “crucified” by pain and violence, by hatred and war, Christ is already there, on the cross for us and with us. There is no cry that God does not console; there is no tear that is far from his heart. The Lord listens to us, embraces us as we are, and transforms us as he is. Those who reject God’s mercy, however, remain incapable of mercy towards their neighbor. Those who do not welcome peace as a gift will not know how to give peace.

Dear friends, we now understand that Jesus’ questions are a powerful invitation to hope and action: when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith in God’s providence? Indeed, it is this faith that sustains our commitment to justice, precisely because we believe that God saves the world out of love, freeing us from fatalism. When we hear the cries of those in difficulty, let us ask ourselves, are we witnesses to the Father’s love, as Christ was to all? He is the humble one who calls the arrogant to conversion, the just one who makes us just. We see all this in the lives of the new Saints: they are not heroes or champions of some ideal, but authentic men and women.

These faithful friends of Christ are martyrs for their faith, like Bishop Ignazio Choukrallah Maloyan and catechist Peter To Rot; they are evangelizers and missionaries, like Sister Maria Troncatti; they are charismatic founders, like Sister Vincenza Maria Poloni and Sister Maria del Monte Carmelo Rendiles Martínez; with their hearts burning with devotion, they are benefactors of humanity, like Bartolo Longo and José Gregorio Hernández Cisneros. May their intercession assist us in our trials and their example inspire us in our shared vocation to holiness. As we journey towards this goal, let us pray  without ceasing, and continue in what we have  learned and firmly believe (cf. 2 Tim 3:14). Faith on earth thus sustains the hope for heaven.

19.10.25 m

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!

In the Jubilee Year catecheses, until now, we have retraced the life of Jesus, following the Gospels, from his birth to his death and resurrection. In so doing, our pilgrimage of hope has found is solid foundation, its sure way. Now, in the last part of the journey, we will allow the mystery of Christ, which culminates in the Resurrection, to radiate its light of salvation in contact with the current human and historical reality, with its questions and challenges.

Our lives are marked by countless events, full of different nuances and experiences. At times we feel joyful, other times sad, other times fulfilled or stressed, gratified or demotivated. We live busy lives, we concentrate on achieving results, and we even attain lofty, prestigious goals. Conversely, we remain suspended, precarious, awaiting success and recognition that are delayed or do not arrive at all. In short, we find ourselves experiencing a paradoxical situation: we would like to be happy, and yet it is very difficult to be happy in a continuous way, without any shadows. We come to terms with our limitations and, at the same time, with the irrepressible urge to try to overcome them. We feel deep down that we are always missing something.

In truth, we were not created for lack, but for fullness, to rejoice in life, and life in abundance, according to Jesus’ expression in the Gospel of John (cf. 10:10).

This deep desire in our hearts can find its ultimate answer not in roles, not in power, not in having, but in the certainty that there is someone who guarantees this constitutive impulse of our humanity; in the awareness that this expectation will not be disappointed or thwarted. This certainty coincides with hope. This does not mean thinking in an optimistic way: often optimism lets us down, causing our expectations to implode, whereas hope promises and fulfils.

Sisters and brothers, the Risen Jesus is the guarantee of this deliverance! He is the wellspring that satisfies our thirst, the infinite thirst for fullness that the Holy Spirit imbues into our hearts. Indeed, the Resurrection of Christ is not a simple event of human history, but the event that transformed it from within.

Let us think about a source of water. What are its characteristics? It quenches thirst and refreshes creatures, irrigates the land, renders fertile and living what would otherwise remain barren. It gives refreshment to the weary traveller, offering him the joy of an oasis of freshness. A wellspring appears as a freely-given gift for nature, for creatures, for human beings. Without water it is not possible to live.

The Risen One is the living wellspring that does not dry up and does not change. It always stays pure and ready for anyone who is thirsty. And the more we taste the mystery of God, the more we are attracted to it, without ever becoming completely satiated. Saint Augustine, in the tenth Book of the Confessions, captures exactly this inexhaustible longing of our hearts and expresses it in his famous Hymn to Beauty: “You exhaled odours, and I drew in my breath and do pant after you. I tasted, and do hunger and thirst. You touched me, and I burned for your peace” (X, 27, 38).

Jesus, with his Resurrection, has guaranteed for us a permanent source of life: he is the living one (cf. Rev 1:18), the lover of life, the victor over all death. Therefore, he is able to offer us refreshment in our earthly journey and assure us of perfect peace in eternity. Only Jesus, who died and rose again, responds to the deepest questions of our heart: is there really a destination for us? Does our existence have any meaning? And the suffering of so many innocents, how can it be redeemed?

The Risen Jesus does not bestow upon us an answer “from above”, but becomes our companion on this often arduous, painful and mysterious journey. Only He can fill our empty flask when our thirst becomes unbearable.

And he is also the destination of our journey. Without his love, the voyage of life would become wandering without a goal, a tragic mistake with a missed destination. We are fragile creatures. Mistakes are part of our humanity; it is the wound of sin that makes us fall, give up, despair. To rise again instead means to get up and stand on our feet. The Risen One guarantees our arrival, leading us home, where we are awaited, loved, saved. To journey with him means to experience being sustained despite everything, to have our thirst quenched and to be refreshed in the hardships and struggles that, like heavy stones, threaten to block or divert our history.

Dear friends, from Christ’s Resurrection springs the hope that gives us a foretaste, despite the fatigue of living, of a deep and joyful calm: that peace the only he can give us in the end, without end.

I am happy to welcome this morning the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors, especially those from England, Wales, Ireland, Malta, Norway, Uganda, Australia, New Zealand, China, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Taiwan, Canada, and the United States of America. With prayerful good wishes that the present Jubilee of Hope may be for you and your families a time of grace and spiritual renewal, I invoke upon all of you the joy and the peace of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

15.10.25

Dear brothers and sisters, before concluding the celebration, I would like to extend my warm greetings to all of you who have gathered here to pray in this great “cenacle” together with Mary, the Mother of Jesus. You represent the wide range of associations, movements and communities that are inspired by Marian devotion, which is proper to every Christian. I thank you and urge you always to base your spirituality on Sacred Scripture and the Tradition of the Church.

I greet all the groups of pilgrims, in particular the Augustinian laity of Italy and the Secular Order of Discalced Carmelites.

In recent days, the agreement to begin the peace process has given a spark of hope in the Holy Land. I encourage the parties involved to continue courageously on the path they have chosen, towards a just and lasting peace that respects the legitimate aspirations of the Israeli and Palestinian peoples. Two years of conflict have caused death and destruction throughout the land, especially in the hearts of those who have brutally lost their children, parents, friends and possessions. With the entire Church, I am close to your immense pain. The gentle touch of the Lord is directed especially toward you today, in the certainty that even amidst the deepest darkness, he always remains with us: “Dilexi te, I have loved you.” We ask God, who is the true Peace of humanity, to heal all wounds and to help us with his grace to accomplish what now seems humanly impossible: to remember that the other is not an enemy, but a brother or sister to be seen, forgiven and offered the hope of reconciliation.

With sorrow, I have followed the news of the recent violent attacks that struck several cities and civilian infrastructure in Ukraine, causing the death of innocent people, including children, and leaving many families without electricity and heating. My heart goes out to those who suffer, who have been living in anguish and deprivation for years. I renew my appeal to put an end to violence, to stop destruction, to open up to dialogue and peace!

I am close to the dear people of Peru at this time of political transition. I pray that Peru may continue on the path of reconciliation, dialogue and national unity.

Today in Italy, we remember the victims of workplace accidents: let us pray for them and for the safety of all workers.

And now let us turn to Mary with filial trust.

12.10.25 a

Dear sisters and brothers,

The Apostle Paul exhorts each of us today, as he did to Timothy: “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David” (2 Tim 2:8).  Marian spirituality, which nourishes our faith, has Jesus as its center.  It is like Sunday, which opens each new week in the radiance of his Resurrection from the dead.  “Remember Jesus Christ”: this alone matters; this is what distinguishes human spiritualities from the way of God.  “Chained like a criminal,” (v. 9) Paul urges us not to lose sight of what is essential, and not to strip the name of Jesus of its history and of its cross.  What we consider inordinate and crucify, God raises up because “he cannot deny himself” (v. 13).  Jesus is God’s faithfulness, God’s faithfulness to himself.  The celebration of Sunday, therefore, should make us Christians.  It should fill our thoughts and feelings with the burning memory of Jesus and change the way we live together and the way we inhabit the earth.  Every Christian spirituality flows from this fire and helps to keep it alive.

The reading from the Second Book of Kings (5:14-17) recounts the healing of Naaman, the Syrian.  Jesus himself referred to this passage when he was in the synagogue in Nazareth (cf. Lk 4:27), and his interpretation had a disconcerting effect on the people of his hometown.  To say that God had saved a foreigner suffering from leprosy rather than the many lepers in Israel turned them against him: “When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage.  They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff” (Lk 4:28-29).  The Evangelist makes no mention of the presence of Mary.  She may have been present to witness what the elderly Simeon had announced to her when she brought the newborn Jesus to the Temple: “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed — and a sword will pierce your own soul too’” (Lk 2:34-35).

Yes, dear friends, “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart” ( Heb 4:12).   Pope Francis found the story of Naaman the Syrian to be a relevant and penetrating message for the life of the Church.  Speaking to the Roman Curia, he said: “Naaman was forced to live with a tragic situation: he had leprosy.  His armor, that had won him renown, in reality covered a frail, wounded and diseased humanity. We often find this contradiction in our lives: sometimes great gifts are the armor that covers great frailties. [...]If Naaman had continued only to accumulate medals to decorate his armor, in the end he would have been devoured by his leprosy: appearing to be alive, yet enclosed and isolated in his disease.” [1]  Jesus frees us from this danger.  He does not wear armor; instead he is born and dies naked.  He offers his gift without forcing the healed lepers to acknowledge him: only a Samaritan in the Gospel seems to realize that he had been saved (cf. Lk 17:11-19).  Perhaps the fewer titles we have to boast of, the clearer it is that love is free.  God is pure gift and sheer grace.  Yet how many voices and convictions can separate us even today from this stark and revolutionary truth!

Brothers and sisters, Marian spirituality is at the service of the Gospel: it reveals its simplicity.  Our affection for Mary of Nazareth leads us to join her in becoming disciples of Jesus.  It teaches us to return to him and to meditate and ponder the events of our lives in which the Risen One still comes to us and calls us. Marian spirituality immerses us in the history upon which heaven opened.  It helps us to see the proud being scattered in their conceit, the mighty being cast down from their thrones and the rich being sent away empty-handed.  It impels us to fill the hungry with good things, to lift up the lowly, to remember God’s mercy and to trust in the power of his arm (cf. Lk 1:51-54).  Jesus invites us to be part of his Kingdom, just as he asked Mary for her “yes,” which, once given, was renewed every day.

The lepers in the Gospel who do not return to give thanks remind us that God’s grace can touch us and find no response.  It can heal us, yet we can still fail to accept it.  Let us take care therefore not to go up to the temple in such a way that does not lead us to follow Jesus.  Some forms of worship do not foster communion with others and can numb our hearts.  In these cases, we fail to encounter the people God has placed in our lives.  We fail to contribute, as Mary did, to changing the world, and to share in the joy of the Magnificat.  Let us take care to avoid any exploitation of the faith that could lead to labelling those who are different — often the poor — as enemies, “lepers” to be avoided and rejected.

Mary’s path follows that of Jesus, which leads us to encounter every human being, especially the poor, the wounded and sinners.  Because of this, authentic Marian spirituality brings God’s tenderness, his way of “being a mother,” to light in the Church.  As we read in the Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, “whenever we look to Mary, we come to believe once again in the revolutionary nature of love and tenderness.  In her, we see that humility and tenderness are not virtues of the weak but of the strong who need not treat others poorly in order to feel important themselves.  Contemplating Mary, we realize that she who praised God for ‘bringing down the mighty from their thrones’ and ‘sending the rich away empty’ (Lk 1:52-53) is also the one who brings a homely warmth to our pursuit of justice” (no. 288).

Dear friends, in a world seeking justice and peace, let us revive Christian spirituality and popular devotion to the events and places blessed by God that have changed the face of the earth forever.  Let us use them as a driving force for renewal and transformation.  Indeed, the Jubilee we are celebrating calls for a time of conversion and restitution, of reflection and liberation.  May Mary Most Holy, our hope, intercede for us and continue to lead us to Jesus, the crucified Lord.  In him, there is salvation for all.

[1]  Address to the Roman Curia, 23 December 2021.

12.10.25 m

APOSTOLIC EXHORTATION

DILEXI TE

(I HAVE LOVED YOU)

 OF THE HOLY FATHER 

LEO XIV

TO ALL CHRISTIANS

 ON LOVE FOR THE POOR

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on  DILEXI TE above

1. “I HAVE LOVED YOU” (Rev 3:9). The Lord speaks these words to a Christian community that, unlike some others, had no influence or resources, and was treated instead with violence and contempt: “You have but little power… I will make them come and bow down before your feet” (Rev 3:8-9). This text reminds us of the words of the canticle of Mary: “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty” (Lk 1:52-53).

2. This declaration of love, taken from the Book of Revelation, reflects the inexhaustible mystery that Pope Francis reflected upon in the Encyclical Dilexit Nos on the human and divine love of the heart of Jesus Christ. There we saw how Jesus identified himself “with the lowest ranks of society” and how, with his love poured out to the end, he confirms the dignity of every human being, especially when “they are weak, scorned, or suffering.”  As we contemplate Christ’s love, “we too are inspired to be more attentive to the sufferings and needs of others, and confirmed in our efforts to share in his work of liberation as instruments for the spread of his love.” 

3. For this reason, in continuity with the Encyclical Dilexit Nos, Pope Francis was preparing in the last months of his life an Apostolic Exhortation on the Church’s care for the poor, to which he gave the title Dilexi Te, as if Christ speaks those words to each of them, saying: “You have but little power,” yet “I have loved you” ( Rev 3:9). I am happy to make this document my own — adding some reflections — and to issue it at the beginning of my own pontificate, since I share the desire of my beloved predecessor that all Christians come to appreciate the close connection between Christ’s love and his summons to care for the poor. I too consider it essential to insist on this path to holiness, for “in this call to recognize him in the poor and the suffering, we see revealed the very heart of Christ, his deepest feelings and choices, which every saint seeks to imitate.” 

09.10.25

“Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you” (Lk 11:9). With these words, Jesus invites us to turn with trust to the Father for all our needs.

These are also the words we listen to as you gather from all over the world to celebrate the Jubilee of Consecrated Life. As men and women religious, monks, nuns and contemplatives, members of secular institutes and of the Ordo virginum, hermits, and those belonging to “new institutes,” you have come to Rome to undertake the Jubilee Pilgrimage together. You have come to entrust your lives to the same mercy to which, through your religious profession, you once committed yourselves to bear witness, because living out your vows means abandoning yourselves like children into the arms of the Father.

“To ask,” “to seek” and “to knock.” These expressions of prayer, mentioned by the evangelist Luke, are attitudes that are familiar to you. Through living out the evangelical counsels, you are accustomed to asking without demanding, always docile to God’s action. It is no coincidence that the Second Vatican Council speaks of vows as a useful means of “deriving more abundant fruit from baptismal grace” (Lumen Gentium, 44). “To ask,” in fact, is to recognize, through poverty, that everything is a gift from the Lord and to give thanks for it. “To seek” is to open oneself, through obedience, to discovering each day the path we must take on the journey towards holiness, following God’s plans. “To knock” is to ask for and to offer the gifts we have received to our brothers and sisters with a chaste heart, striving to love everyone with respect and generosity.

We could read the words that God addresses to the prophet Malachi in the first reading in the same light. He refers to the inhabitants of Jerusalem as “my special possession” (Mal 3:17) and tells the prophet: “I will spare them as parents spare their children” (ibid.). These expressions remind us of the love with which the Lord has first loved us in calling us. It is an opportunity, especially for you, to reflect on the free gift of your vocation from the origins of your congregation to the present day and from the first steps of your personal journey to this moment. First and foremost, we are all here because God has willed it, and has chosen us from the very beginning.

“To ask,” “to seek,” and “to knock” also means reflecting on our own lives, bringing to mind and heart what the Lord has achieved over the years by multiplying talents, strengthening and purifying faith, and fostering generosity and freedom in charity. Sometimes this has been achieved in joyful circumstances, and at other times in ways that are more difficult to understand, perhaps even through the mysterious crucible of suffering. At all times, however, we find ourselves in the embrace of that paternal goodness that characterizes what he does in us and through us, for the good of the Church (cf. Lumen Gentium, 43).

This brings us to a second reflection: God as the fullness and meaning of our lives. For you — for us — the Lord is everything. He is everything in different ways: as Creator and the source of existence, as love that calls and challenges, as the strength that impels and inspires us to give. Without him, nothing exists, nothing makes sense, nothing is worthwhile. Your “asking,” “seeking,” and “knocking,” both in prayer and in life, has much to do with this truth. In this regard, Saint Augustine describes God’s presence in his own life using beautiful imagery. He speaks of a light not bound by space, a voice that never fades, food that is not lessened by eating, and a hunger which is never satisfied, and he concludes: “This is what I love when I love my God” (Saint Augustine, Confessions, 10.6.8). These are the words of a mystic, yet they resonate with our own experience. They reveal the longing for infinity that dwells in the hearts of all man and woman. For this reason, the Church entrusts you with the task of being living witnesses to God’s primacy in your lives. By stripping yourselves of everything, you help the brothers and sisters you meet to cultivate this friendship themselves.

After all, history teaches us that an authentic experience of God always gives rise to generous outpourings of charity. This was the case in the lives of your founders and foundresses, men and women who were in love with the Lord and therefore ready to become “all things to all people” (1 Cor 9:22), without distinction, in the most varied ways and situations.

It is true that today, as in the time of Malachi, some say, “It is vain to serve God” (Mal 3:14). This way of thinking leads to a genuine paralysis of the soul. We end up settling for a life made up of fleeting moments, superficial and intermittent relationships, and passing fads — things that leave a void in our hearts. This is not what we need in order to be truly happy. Instead, we need consistent, lasting and healthy experiences of love. Through the example of your consecrated life, you can be likened to the flourishing trees we sang about in the responsorial psalm (cf. Ps 1:3), spreading the “fresh air” of authentic love throughout the world.

I would like to consider one final aspect of your mission. We heard the Lord say to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, “The sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings,” (Mal 4:2) inviting them to hope for a fulfillment of their destiny beyond the present moment. This is a reference to the eschatological dimension of Christian life, which calls us to be engaged in the world, while at the same time constantly striving towards eternity. It is an invitation for you to prolong the “asking,” “seeking,” and “knocking” of your lives through prayer to the eternal horizon that transcends the realities of this world. To orient them toward that Sunday without sunset when “all humanity will enter into... [God’s] rest” (Roman Missal [Italian edition], Preface for Sundays in Ordinary Time X). In this regard, the Second Vatican Council entrusts you with a specific task when it says that consecrated persons are called in a special way to bear witness to “future goods” (cf. Lumen Gentium, 44).

Dear brothers and sisters, the Lord, to whom you have given everything, has rewarded you with such beauty and richness, and I would like to urge you to treasure and cultivate what you have received. Finally, let us recall the words of Saint Paul VI: “Keep,” he wrote to religious, “the simplicity of the ‘least ones’ of the Gospel. May you succeed in discovering this anew in an interior and closer relationship with Christ and in your direct contact with your brethren. You will then experience through the action of the Holy Spirit the joyful exultation of those who are introduced into the secrets of the kingdom. Do not seek to be numbered among the ‘learned and clever’... Such secrets are hidden from these. Be truly poor, meek, eager for holiness, merciful and pure of heart. Be among those who will bring to the world the peace of God” (Saint Paul VI, Apostolic Exhortation Evangelica Testificatio, 29 June 1971, 54).

09.10.25

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!

Today I would like to invite you to reflect on a surprising aspect of Christ's Resurrection: his humility. If we think back to the Gospel accounts, we realize that the risen Lord does nothing spectacular to impose himself on the faith of his disciples. He does not appear surrounded by hosts of angels, he does not perform spectacular feats, he does not deliver solemn speeches to reveal the secrets of the universe. On the contrary, he approaches discreetly, like any other wayfarer, like a hungry man asking to share some bread (cf. Lk 24:15, 41).

Mary Magdalene mistakes him for a gardener (cf. Jn 20:15). The disciples of Emmaus believe him to be a stranger (cf. Lk 24:18). Peter and the other fishermen think he is just a passer-by (cf. Jn 21:4). We would have expected special effects, signs of power, overwhelming evidence. But the Lord does not seek this: he prefers the language of proximity, of normality, of sharing a meal.

Brothers and sisters, there is a valuable message in this: the Resurrection is not a theatrical coup; it is a silent transformation that fills every human gesture with meaning. The risen Jesus eats a piece of fish in front of his disciples: this is not a marginal detail, it is confirmation that our body, our history, our relationships are not a shell to be thrown away. They are destined for the fullness of life. Resurrection does not mean becoming evanescent spirits, but entering into a deeper communion with God and with our brothers and sisters, in a humanity transfigured by love.

In the Pasch of Christ, everything can become grace. Even the most ordinary things: eating, working, waiting, taking care of the house, supporting a friend. The Resurrection does not remove life from time and effort, but changes its meaning and “flavour”. Every gesture performed in gratitude and communion anticipates the Kingdom of God.

However, there is an obstacle that often prevents us from recognizing Christ’s presence in our daily lives: the assumption that joy must be free from suffering. The disciples of Emmaus walk sadly because they hoped for a different ending, for a Messiah who did not know the cross. Although they have heard that the tomb is empty, they cannot smile. But Jesus walks alongside them and patiently helps them understand that pain is not the denial of the promise, but the way through which God has manifested the measure of his love (cf. Lk 24:13-27).

When they are finally seated at the table with him and break bread, their eyes are opened. They realize that their hearts were already burning, even though they did not know it (cf. Lk 24:28-32). This is the greatest surprise: to discover that beneath the ashes of disenchantment and weariness there is always a living ember, waiting only to be rekindled.

Brothers and sisters, Christ’s resurrection teaches us that no history is so marked by disappointment or sin that it cannot be visited by hope. No fall is definitive, no night is eternal, no wound is destined to remain open forever. However distant, lost or unworthy we may feel, there is no distance that can extinguish the unfailing power of God’s love.

Sometimes we think that the Lord comes to visit us only in moments of contemplation or spiritual fervour, when we feel worthy, when our lives appear orderly and bright. Instead, the Risen One is close to us precisely in the darkest places: in our failures, in our frayed relationships, in the daily struggles that weigh on our shoulders, in the doubts that discourage us. Nothing that we are, no fragment of our existence, is foreign to him.

Today, the risen Lord walks alongside each of us, as we travel our paths – those of work and commitment, but also those of suffering and loneliness – and with infinite delicacy asks us to let him warm our hearts. He does not impose himself loudly; he does not demand to be recognized immediately. He waits patiently for the moment when our eyes will open to see his friendly face, capable of transforming disappointment into hopeful expectation, sadness into gratitude, resignation into hope.

The Risen One desires only to manifest his presence, to become our companion on the road and to kindle in us the certainty that his life is stronger than any death. Let us then ask for the grace to recognize his humble and discreet presence, not to expect a life without trials, to discover that every pain, if inhabited by love, can become a place of communion.

And so, like the disciples of Emmaus, we too return to our homes with hearts burning with joy. A simple joy that does not erase wounds, but illuminates them. A joy that comes from the certainty that the Lord is alive, walks with us, and gives us the possibility to start again at every moment.

I extend a warm welcome to the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, especially those coming from Australia, Denmark, England, India, Indonesia, Ireland, Japan, Malaysia, Nigeria, Northern Ireland, Norway, the Philippines, Saudi Arabia, Scotland, South Africa, South Korea, Sweden, Vietnam, Wales and the United States of America. In greeting with particular affection the religious and consecrated who are participating in the Jubilee of Consecrated Life, I encourage you to look to the Blessed Virgin Mary who is “the sublime model of consecration to the Father, union with the Son and openness to the Spirit” (Vita consecrata, 28). God bless you all!

Lastly, my thoughts turn to the young people, the sick and the newlyweds. I invite everyone to turn our thoughts to Mary, invoked in this month of October as Queen of the Holy Rosary; look to her and be ready to respond to the plan of love that God has for each one of you. My blessing to you all!

08.10.25

Dear brothers and sisters,

Before praying the Angelus together, I would like to greet and thank all of you who have taken part in this Jubilee celebration dedicated to missionaries and migrants.  You are good missionaries because you came even in the rain!  Thank you.  The Church is entirely missionary and is one great people journeying towards the Kingdom of God.  Today, our missionary and migrant brothers and sisters remind us of this.  But no one should be forced to flee, nor exploited or mistreated because of their situation as foreigners or people in need!  Human dignity must always come first.

I greet all the pilgrims present, especially those from the Diocese of Pavia, led by their Bishop, as well as the faithful, including some young people from Bethlehem, who are carrying the statue of Our Lady of Revelation.

On the evening of Tuesday, 30 September, a strong earthquake struck the central region of the Philippines, particularly the province of Cebu and its neighboring provinces.  I express my closeness to the dear Filipino people, and in particular I pray for those who are most severely affected by the consequences of the earthquake.  Faced with any danger, let us remain united and supportive in our trust in God and in the intercession of our Blessed Mother.

I express my concern about the rise of antisemitic hatred in the world, as unfortunately we saw with the terrorist attack in Manchester a few days ago.  I continue to be saddened by the immense suffering of the Palestinian people in Gaza.

In recent hours, in the dramatic situation in the Middle East, some significant steps forward have been taken in peace negotiations, which I hope will achieve the desired results as soon as possible.  I ask all those in positions of responsibility to commit themselves to this path, to bring about a ceasefire and to release the hostages.  At the same time, I urge everyone to remain united in prayer, so that the ongoing efforts may put an end to the war and lead us towards a just and lasting peace.

Let us join ourselves spiritually with those gathered at the Shrine in Pompeii for the Supplication to the Virgin of the Holy Rosary.  In this month of October, as we contemplate with Mary the mysteries of Christ our Savior, let us deepen our prayer for peace: a prayer that becomes concrete solidarity with those people tormented by war.  Thank you to the many children around the world who have committed themselves to praying the Rosary for this intention.  You have our heartfelt thanks!

05.10.25 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

Today we celebrate the Jubilee of the Missions and of Migrants.  This is a wonderful opportunity to rekindle in ourselves the awareness of our missionary vocation, which arises from the desire to bring the joy and consolation of the Gospel to everyone, especially those who are experiencing difficult and painful situations.  In particular, I think of our migrant brothers and sisters, who have had to depart their homelands, often leaving their loved ones behind, enduring nights of fear and loneliness, experiencing discrimination and violence firsthand.

We are here because, at the tomb of the Apostle Peter, each one of us should be able to say with joy: the entire Church is missionary, and it is urgent – as Pope Francis affirmed – that we “go forth and preach the Gospel to all: to all places, on all occasions, without hesitation, reluctance or fear” (Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, 23).

The Spirit sends us to continue the work of Christ in the world’s peripheries, marked at times by war, injustice and suffering.  Faced with these menacing situations, the cry that so often in history has been raised up to God has re-emerged: Lord, why do you not intervene?  Why do you seem absent? This cry of sorrow is a form of prayer that pervades all of Scripture and, this morning, we heard it from the prophet Habakkuk: “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? … Why do you make me see wrongs and look upon trouble?” (Hab 1:2-3).

Pope Benedict XVI, who had reflected on these questions during his historic visit to Auschwitz, returned to the theme in a catechesis, affirming: “God is silent and this silence pierces the soul of the person praying, who ceaselessly calls but receives no answer … God seems so distant, so forgetful, so absent” (Catechesis, 14 September 2011).

The response of the Lord, however, opens us to hope.  If the prophet denounces the inescapable force of evil that seems to prevail, the Lord, for his part, announces to him that all of this will end, will cease, because salvation will come and it will not delay: “Look at the proud!  Their spirit is not right in them, but the righteous live by their faith” (Hab 2:4).

Therefore, there is life, a new possibility of life and salvation that comes from faith, because it not only helps us to resist evil and to persevere in doing good, but it transforms our lives so as to make of them an instrument of the salvation that even today God wishes to bring about in the world.  And, as Jesus says in the Gospel, this is about a lowly strength, for faith does not impose itself by means of power and in extraordinary ways.  Indeed, it is enough to have faith the size of a mustard seed in order to do unimaginable things (cf. Lk 17:6), because it carries within it the strength of God’s love that opens the way to salvation.

This is a salvation that is fulfilled when we take responsibility and, with the compassion of the Gospel, care for the suffering of others; it is a salvation that leads the way, silently and apparently without success, in daily words and actions, which become precisely like the tiny seed of which Jesus speaks; it is a salvation that slowly grows when we become “unworthy servants”, namely when we place ourselves at the service of the Gospel and of our brothers and sisters, not seeking our own interests but only bringing God’s love to the world.

Trusting in this, we are called to renew in ourselves the fire of our missionary vocation.  As Saint Paul VI affirmed, “it is our responsibility to proclaim the Gospel in this extraordinary period of human history, a time truly without precedent, in which, at the heights of progress never before reached, there are also accompanying depths of perplexity and desperation equally without precedent” (Message for World Mission Day, 25 June 1971).

Brothers and sisters, today a new missionary age opens up in the history of the Church.

If for a long time we have associated with mission the word “depart”, the going out to distant lands that did not know the Gospel or were experiencing poverty, today the frontiers of the missions are no longer geographical, because poverty, suffering and the desire for a greater hope have made their way to us.  The story of so many of our migrant brothers and sisters bears witnesses to this: the tragedy of their flight from violence, the suffering which accompanies it, the fear of not succeeding, the perilous risk of traveling along the coastline, their cry of sorrow and desperation.  Brothers and sisters, those boats which hope to catch sight of a safe port, and those eyes filled with anguish and hope seeking to reach the shore, cannot and must not find the coldness of indifference or the stigma of discrimination!

Mission is not so much about “departing”, but instead “remaining” in order to proclaim Christ through hospitality and welcome, compassion and solidarity.  We are to remain without fleeing to the comforts of our individualism; to remain so as to look upon those who arrive from lands that are distant and violent; to remain and open our arms and hearts to them, welcoming them as brothers and sisters, and being for them a presence of consolation and hope.

There are many missionary men and women, but also believers and people of good will, who work in the service of migrants, and promote a new culture of fraternity on the theme of migration, beyond stereotypes and prejudices.  But this precious service involves each one of us, within the limits of our own means.  As Pope Francis affirmed, this is the time for all of us to let ourselves be “permanently in a state of mission” (Evangelii Guadium, 25).

This entails at least two important missionary tasks: missionary cooperation and missionary vocation.

First of all, I ask you to promote a renewed missionary cooperation among the Churches.  In the communities of ancient Christian tradition, such as those of the West, the presence of many brothers and sisters from the world’s South should be welcomed as an opportunity, through an exchange that renews the face of the Church and sustains a Christianity that is more open, more alive and more dynamic.  At the same time, all missionaries that depart for other lands are called to live with respect within the culture they encounter, directing to the good all that is found true and worthy, and bringing there the prophetic message of the Gospel.

I would like to recall the beauty and importance of missionary vocations.  I refer in particular to the Church in Europe: today there is a need for a new missionary effort by laity, religious and priests who will offer their service in missionary lands.  We need new ideas and vocational experiences capable of sustaining this desire, especially in young people.

Beloved friends, I willingly give my blessing to the local clergy of the particular Churches, to missionaries and those discerning a vocation.  Whereas, to migrants I say: know that you are always welcome!  The seas and deserts that you have crossed, Scripture calls “places of salvation”, in which God makes himself present to save his people.  I hope that you find this face of God in the missionaries that you encounter.

I entrust all of you to the intercession of Mary, the first of her Son’s missionaries, who went in haste to the hill country of Judea, carrying Jesus in her womb and putting herself at the service of Elizabeth.  May Mary sustain us, so that each of us can become co-workers for the Kingdom of Christ, the Kingdom of love, justice and peace.

05.10.25 m

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!

The centre of our faith and the heart of our hope are firmly rooted in the resurrection of Christ. When we read the Gospels carefully, we realize that this mystery is surprising not only because a man – the Son of God – rose from the dead, but also because of the way he decided to do so. Indeed, Jesus’ resurrection is not a bombastic triumph, nor is it revenge or retaliation against his enemies. It is a wonderful testimony to how love is capable of rising again after a great defeat in order to continue its unstoppable journey.

When we get up again after a trauma caused by others, often the first reaction is anger, the desire to make someone pay for what we have suffered. The Risen One does not react in this way. When he emerges from the underworld of death, Jesus does not take revenge. He does not return with gestures of power, but rather with meekness he manifests the joy of a love greater than any wound and stronger than any betrayal.

The Risen One does not feel any need to reiterate or affirm his own superiority. He appears to his friends – the disciples – and he does so with extreme discretion, without forcing the pace of their capacity for acceptance. His only desire is to return to communion with them, helping them to overcome the sense of guilt. We see this very well in the Upper Room, where the Lord appears to his friends who are enclosed in fear. It is a moment that expresses extraordinary power: Jesus, after descending into the abysses of death to liberate those who were imprisoned there, enters the closed room of those who are paralyzed by fear, bringing them a gift that no-one would have dared to hope for: peace.

His greeting is simple, almost ordinary: “Peace be with you!” (Jn 20:19). But it is accompanied by a gesture so beautiful that it is almost disconcerting: Jesus shows the disciples his hands and his side, with the marks of the passion. Why show his wounds to those who, in those dramatic hours, had denied and abandoned him? Why not hide those signs of pain and avoid reopening the wound of shame?

Yet, the Gospel says that, seeing the Lord, the disciples rejoiced (cf. Jn 20:20). The reason is profound: Jesus is now fully reconciled with everything he has suffered. There is not a shadow of resentment. The wounds serve not to reproach, but to confirm a love stronger than any infidelity. They are the proof that, even in the moment of our failure, God did not retreat. He did not give up on us.

In this way, the Lord shows himself to be naked and defenceless. He does not demand, he does not hold us to ransom. His is a love that does not humiliate; it is the peace of one who has suffered for love and can now finally affirm that it was worthwhile.

Instead, we often mask our wounds out of pride, or for fear of appearing weak. We say, “it doesn’t matter”, “it is all in the past”, but we are not truly at peace with the betrayals that have wounded us. At times we prefer to hide our effort to forgive so as not to appear vulnerable and to risk suffering again. Jesus does not. He offers his wounds as a guarantee of forgiveness. And he shows that the Resurrection is not the erasure of the past, but its transfiguration into a hope of mercy.

Then, the Lord repeats: “Peace be with you!”. And he adds, “As the Father has sent me, even so I send you” (v. 21). With these words, he entrusts the apostles with a task that is not so much a power as a responsibility: to be instruments of reconciliation in the world. As if he said: “Who will be able to proclaim the merciful face of the Father, if not you, who have experienced failure and forgiveness?”.

Jesus breathes on them and gives them the Holy Spirit (v. 22). It is the same Spirit who sustained him in obedience to the Father and in love even to the cross. From that moment, the apostles will no longer be able to remain silent about what they have seen and heard: that God forgives, lifts up, and restores trust.

This is the heart of the mission of the Church: not to administer power over others, but to communicate the joy of those who are loved precisely when they did not deserve it. It is the strength that gave rise to the Christian communities and made them grow: men and women who discovered the beauty of returning to life to be able to give it to others.

Dear brothers and sisters, we too are sent. The Lord shows us his wounds and says: Peace be with you. Do not be afraid to show your wounds healed by mercy. Do not be afraid to draw close to those who are trapped in fear or guilt. May the breath of the Spirit make us, too, witnesses of this peace and this love that is stronger than any defeat.

I am saddened by the news coming from Madagascar, about the violent clashes between the police and young demonstrators, which have caused the death of some of them and a hundred injured. Let us pray to the Lord that every form of violence may always be avoided, and that the constant search for social harmony through the promotion of justice and the common good may be fostered.

I greet the English speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s audience, in particular the groups from England, Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Denmark, the Netherlands, Norway, Australia, New Zealand, Cambodia, Hong Kong, India, Indonesia, Japan, Lebanon, Malaysia, the Philippines, Taiwan, Tanzania, Vietnam, Canada and the United States of America. 

My special greeting goes to the Seminarians from the Pontifical Irish College, who are beginning their studies, and to the diaconate class of the Pontifical North American College, together with their families and friends. 

As we begin the month dedicated to the holy Rosary, I invite you to pray it daily for peace in our world. May the peace of the risen Christ be with you all! God bless you.

Lastly, my thoughts turn to the young people, the sick and the newlyweds. Today we remember Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Doctor of the Church and patroness of the missions. May her example encourage each one to follow Jesus on the journey of life, bearing joyful witness to the Gospel everywhere.

My blessing to you all!

01.10.25

Dear brothers and sisters,

I send warm greetings to all those who have participated in this Jubilee celebration dedicated to catechists, especially those who have been instituted today for this ministry. Together with you, I extend my good wishes for a fruitful service to all catechists in the Church throughout the world! Thank you for your service to the Church. Let us pray for them, especially for those who work in difficult conditions. God bless you all!

In recent days, a very powerful typhoon has struck several Asian territories, in particular the Philippines, the island of Taiwan, the city of Hong Kong, the Guangdong region and Vietnam. I assure the affected populations, especially the poorest, of my closeness and of my prayers for the victims, the missing, the many displaced families, the countless people who have suffered hardship, as well as the rescue workers and civil authorities. I invite everyone to put their trust in God and to show solidarity with others. May the Lord give strength and courage to overcome every adversity.

I am pleased to announce that on November 1, during the Jubilee of the World of Education, I will confer the title of Doctor of the Church on Saint John Henry Newman, who contributed decisively to the renewal of theology and to the understanding of the development of Christian doctrine.

Let us now entrust ourselves to the intercession of the Virgin Mary. May she, who was the mother and first disciple of Jesus, sustain the Church’s commitment to proclaim the faith today.

28.09.25 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

The words of Jesus convey to us how God sees the world, at every moment and in every place.  We heard in the Gospel (Lk 16:19-31) that his eyes observe a poor man and a rich man: seeing one dying of hunger and the other gorging himself in front of him, the elegant clothes of one and the sores of the other licked by dogs (cf. Lk 16:19-21).  But the Lord looks into the hearts of people, and through his eyes, we can also recognize one who is in need and one who is indifferent.  Lazarus is forgotten by the one right there before him, just beyond the doorway of his house, and yet God is close to him and remembers his name.  On the other hand, the man who lives in abundance is nameless, because he has lost himself by forgetting his neighbor.  He is lost in the thoughts of his heart: full of things and empty of love.  His possessions do not make him a good person.

The story that Christ tells us is, unfortunately, very relevant today.  At the doorstep of today’s opulence stands the misery of entire peoples, ravaged by war and exploitation.  Through the centuries, nothing seems to have changed: how many Lazaruses die before the greed that forgets justice, before profits that trample on charity, and before riches that are blind to the pain of the poor!  Yet the Gospel assures us that Lazarus’ sufferings will come to an end.  His pains end just as the rich man’s revelry ends, and God does justice to both: “The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side.  The rich man also died and was buried” (v. 22).  The Church tirelessly proclaims this word of the Lord, so that it may convert our hearts.

Dear friends, by a remarkable coincidence, this same Gospel passage was also proclaimed during the Jubilee of Catechists in the Holy Year of Mercy.  Addressing pilgrims who had come to Rome for the occasion, Pope Francis emphasized that God redeems the world from all evil by giving his life for our salvation.  God’s saving work is the beginning of our mission because it invites us to give of ourselves for the good of all.  The Pope said to the catechists: this is the center by “which everything revolves, this beating heart which gives life to everything is the Paschal proclamation, the first proclamation: the Lord Jesus is risen, the Lord Jesus loves you, and he has given his life for you; risen and alive, he is close to you and waits for you every day” (Homily, 25 September 2016).  These words help us to reflect on the dialogue in the Gospel between the rich man and Abraham.  The rich man’s plea to save his brothers becomes a call to action for us.

Speaking with Abraham, the rich man exclaims: “If someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent” (Lk 16:30).  Abraham replies: “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead” (v. 31).  Well, one has risen from the dead: Jesus Christ.  The words of Scripture, therefore, do not seek to disappoint or discourage us, but to awaken our conscience.  Listening to Moses and the Prophets means remembering God’s commandments and promises, whose providence never abandons anyone.  The Gospel announces to us that everyone’s life can change because Christ rose from the dead.  This event is the truth that saves us; therefore, it must be known and proclaimed.  But that is not enough; it must be loved.  It is love that leads us to understand the Gospel, for love transforms us by opening our hearts to the word of God and to the face of our neighbor.

In this regard, as catechists you are those disciples of Jesus who become his witnesses.  The name of your ministry comes from the Greek verb katēchein, which means “to teach aloud, to make resound.”  This means that the catechist is a person of the word – a word that he or she pronounces with his or her own life.  Thus, our first catechists are our parents: those who first spoke to us and taught us to speak.  Just as we learned our mother tongue, so too the proclamation of the faith cannot be delegated to someone else; it happens where we live, above of all in our homes, around the family table.  When there is a voice, a gesture, a face that leads to Christ, the family experiences the beauty of the Gospel.

We have all been taught to believe through the witness of those who believed before us.  From childhood, adolescence, youth, adulthood, and even old age, catechists accompany us in our faith, sharing in this lifelong journey, similar to what you have done in these days on this Jubilee pilgrimage.  This dynamic involves the whole Church.  As the People of God brings men and women to faith, “the understanding of the realities and the words which have been handed down [grows]. This happens through the contemplation and study made by believers, who treasure these things in their hearts (see Luke, 2:19, 51) through a penetrating understanding of the spiritual realities which they experience, and through the preaching of those who have received through Episcopal succession the sure gift of truth” (Dei Verbum, 18 November 1965, 8).  In this communion, the Catechism is the “travel guidebook” that protects us from individualism and discord, because it attests to the faith of the entire Catholic Church.  Every believer cooperates in her pastoral work by listening to questions, sharing in struggles, and serving the desire for justice and truth that dwells in the human conscience.

This is how catechists teach – literally in Italian, by “leaving a mark.”  When we teach the faith, we do not merely give instructions, but we place the word of life in hearts, so that it may bear the fruits of a good life.  To Deacon Deogratias, who asked him how to be a good catechist, Saint Augustine replied: “Explain everything in such a way that the one who listens to you, by listening may believe; by believing may hope; and by hoping may love” (Instructing Beginners in Faith, 4, 8).

Dear brothers and sisters, let us take this invitation to heart!  Let us remember that no one can give what they do not have.  If the rich man in the Gospel had shown charity to Lazarus, he would have done good not only for the poor man but also for himself.  If that nameless man had faith, God would have saved him from all torment. But his attachment to worldly riches robbed him of the hope for the true and eternal good.  When we too are tempted by greed and indifference, the many “Lazaruses” of today remind us of Jesus’ words.  They serve as an effective catechesis for us, especially during this Jubilee, which is for all a time of conversion and forgiveness, of commitment to justice, and of sincere search for peace.

28.09.25 m

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!

Today, again, we will look at the mystery of Holy Saturday. It is the day of the Paschal Mystery in which everything seems immobile and silent, while in reality an invisible action of salvation is being fulfilled: Christ descends into the realm of the dead to bring the news of the Resurrection to all those who were in the darkness and in the shadow of death.

This event, which the liturgy and tradition have handed down to us, represents the most profound and radical gesture of God’s love for humanity. Indeed, it is not enough to say or to believe that Jesus died for us: it is necessary to recognize that the fidelity of his love sought us out where we ourselves were lost, where only the power of a light capable of penetrating the realm of darkness can reach.

The underworld, in the biblical conception, is not so much a place as an existential condition: that condition in which life is depleted, and pain, solitude, guilt and separation from God and others reign. Christ reaches us even in this abyss, passing through the gates of this realm of darkness. He enters, so to speak, in the very house of death, to empty it, to free its inhabitants, taking them by the hand one by one. It is the humility of a God who does not stop in front of our sin, who is not afraid when faced with the human being’s extreme rejection.

The apostle Peter, in the brief passage from his first Letter that we have just heard, tells us that Jesus, made alive in the Holy Spirit, went to take the news of salvation even “to the spirits in prison” (1Pt 3:19). It is one of the most moving images, which is expressed not in the canonical Gospels, but in an apocryphal text entitled the Gospel of Nicodemus. According to this tradition, the Son of God entered the deepest darkness to reach even the last of his brothers and sisters, to bring his light down there too. In this gesture there is all the strength and tenderness of the Paschal message: death is never the last word.

Dear friends, this descent of Christ does not relate only to the past, but touches the life of every one of us. The underworld is not only the condition of the dead, but also of those who live death as a result of evil and sin. It is also the daily hell of loneliness, shame, abandonment, and the struggle of life. Christ enters into all these dark realities to bear witness to the love of the Father. Not to judge, but to set free. Not to blame, but to save. He does so quietly, on tiptoe, like one who enters a hospital room to offer comfort and help.

The Fathers of the Church, in pages of extraordinary beauty, described this moment as a meeting: that between Christ and Adam. An encounter that is the symbol of all the possible encounters between God and man. The Lord descends where man has hidden out of fear, and calls him by name, takes him by the hand, raises him up, and brings him back to the light. He does so with full authority, but also with infinite gentleness, like a father with the son who fears that he is no longer loved.

In the eastern icons of the Resurrection, Christ is depicted breaking down the doors of the underworld, stretching out his arms and grasping Adam and Eve by the wrists. He does not save only himself; he does not return to life alone, but carries all of humanity with him. This is the true glory of the Risen One: it is the power of love, it is solidarity with a God who does not want to save himself without us, but only with us. A God who does not rise again unless he embraces our miseries and lifts us up to a new life.

Holy Saturday, then, is the day in which heaven visits earth most deeply. It is the time in which every corner of human history is touched by the light of Easter. And if Christ was able to descend all the way own there, nothing can be excluded from his redemption. Not even our nights, not even our oldest faults, not even our broken bonds. There is no past so ruined, no history so compromised that it cannot be touched by mercy.

Dear brothers and sisters, to descend, for God, is not a defeat, but the fulfilment of his love. It is not a failure, but the way by which he shows that no place is too far away, no heart is too closed, no tomb too tightly sealed for his love. This consoles us, this sustains us. And if at times we seem to have hit rock bottom, let us remember: that is the place from which God is able to begin a new creation. A creation made of people lifted up, hearts forgiven, tears dried. Holy Saturday is the silent embrace with which Christ presents all creation to the Father to restore it to his plan of salvation.

Dear brothers and sisters, the month of October is now approaching, and in the Church it is dedicated in a special way to the Holy Rosary. Therefore, I invite everyone, every day of the coming month, to pray the Rosary for peace: personally, in the family, in the community.

In particular, the evening of Saturday 11 October, at 18.00, we will pray it together here in Saint Peter’s Square, during the vigil for the Jubilee of Marian Spirituality, also commemorating the anniversary of the opening of Vatican Council II.

I am happy to welcome this morning the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors, especially those from England, Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Denmark, South Africa, Uganda, Australia, New Zealand, Bangladesh, India, Indonesia, Malaysia, Qatar, the Philippines, Vietnam, Canada, and the United States of America. With prayerful good wishes that the present Jubilee of Hope may be for you and your families a time of grace and spiritual renewal, I invoke upon you all the joy and the peace of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Lastly, my thoughts turn to the young people, the sick and the newlyweds. May friendship with Jesus be a source of joy for you, an inspiring motive for every choice, a comfort in moments of suffering and trial. My blessing to you all!

24.09.25

Dear brothers and sisters, Happy Sunday!

The parable that we hear in today’s Gospel (Lk 16:1-13) makes us reflect on our use of material goods and, in general, how we administer the most precious good of all, our very life.

In the story we see a steward summoned by the rich man for “an accounting” of his management. Here we are presented with an image that conveys something important: we are not the masters of our lives or of the goods we enjoy; everything has been given to us as a gift by the Lord, who has entrusted this to our care, our freedom, and our responsibility. One day we will be called to give an account of how we have managed ourselves, our possessions and the earth’s resources – before both God and humankind, before society, and especially before those who will come after us.

The steward in this parable had, up to this point, sought only his own profit. When the day comes for him to give an account and the position is taken away from him, he has to consider what to do to secure his future. In this difficult situation, he realizes that the accumulation of material goods is not the highest value, for the riches of this world are passing. Then he has a brilliant idea: he calls the debtors and “cuts” their debts, renouncing the portion that would have gone to him. In this way, he loses material wealth but gains friends who will be ready to help and support him.

Taking his cue from the story, Jesus exhorts us: “Make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes” (v. 9).

Indeed, the steward in the parable, even while managing the dishonest wealth of this world, succeeds in finding a way to make friends, leaving behind the solitude of his own selfishness.  How much more, then, must we, who are disciples living in the light of the Gospel, use the goods of this world and our very lives with a view to the true wealth, which is friendship with the Lord and with our brothers and sisters.

Dear friends, the parable invites us to ask ourselves: how are we managing the material goods, the resources of the earth and our very lives that God has entrusted to us? We can follow the way of selfishness, placing wealth above all else and thinking only of ourselves. But this isolates us from others and spreads the poison of competition, which often fuels conflict. Instead, we can recognize everything we have as a gift from God, to be managed and used as an instrument for sharing – to create networks of friendship and solidarity, to work for the common good, and to build a world that is more just, equitable and fraternal.

Let us pray to the Virgin Mary, that she may intercede for us and help us manage well, with justice and responsibility, what the Lord has entrusted to us.

I warmly greet all of you present in Saint Peter’s Square and those connected through the media.

I address, first of all, the representatives of various Catholic associations engaged in works of solidarity with the people of the Gaza Strip. Dear friends, I appreciate your initiative and many others throughout the Church that express closeness to our brothers and sisters who are suffering in that tormented land. Together with you and with the Pastors of the Churches in the Holy Land, I repeat: there is no future based on violence, forced exile, or revenge. The people need peace; those who truly love them work for peace.

I also offer a special remembrance for people suffering from Alzheimer’s and ataxia.

Thank you all, and I wish everyone a blessed Sunday!

21.09.25 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

In our journey of catechesis on Jesus our hope, today we will contemplate the mystery of Holy Saturday. The Son of God lies in the tomb. But this “absence” of his is not emptiness: it is expectation, a restrained fullness, a promise kept in the dark. It is the day of the great silence, in which the sky seems mute and the earth immobile, but it is precisely there that the deepest mystery of the Christian faith is fulfilled.  It is a silence laden with meaning, like the womb of a mother who carries her unborn but already living child.

The body of Jesus, taken down from the cross, is carefully wrapped, as one does with something precious. John the Evangelist tells us that he was buried in a garden, inside “a new tomb where no one had ever been laid” (Jn 19:41). Nothing is left to chance. That garden recalls the lost Eden, the place where God and man were united. And that tomb, never used, speaks of something that has still to happen: it is a threshold, not an end. At the beginning of creation, God planted a garden; now the new creation also begins in a garden: with a closed tomb that will soon be opened. 

Holy Saturday is also a day of rest. According to the Jewish Law, no work is to be done on the seventh day: indeed, after the six days of creation, God rests (cf. Gen 2:2). Now, the Son too, after completing his work of salvation, rests. Not because he is tired, but because he loved up to the very end. There is nothing left to add. This rest is the seal on the completed task; it is the confirmation that what should have been done has truly been accomplished. It is a repose filled with the hidden presence of the Lord.

We struggle to stop and rest. We live as if life were never enough. We rush to produce, to prove ourselves, to keep up. But the Gospel teaches us that knowing how to stop is an act of trust that we must learn to perform. Holy Saturday invites us to discover that life does not always depend on what we do, but also on how we know how to take leave of what we have been able to do.

In the tomb, Jesus, the living Word of the Father, is silent. But it is precisely in that silence that the new life begins to ferment. Like a seed in the ground, like the darkness before dawn. God is not afraid of the passing time, because he is also the God of waiting. Thus, even our “useless” time, that of pauses, emptiness, barren moments, can become the womb of resurrection. Every silence that is welcomed can be the premise of a new Word. Every suspended time can become a time of grace, if we offer it to God.

Jesus, buried in the ground, is the meek face of a God who does not occupy all space. He is the God who lets things be done, who waits, who withdraws to leave us freedom. He is the God who trusts, even when everything seems to be over. And we, on that suspended Sabbath, learn that we do not have to be in a hurry to rise again; first we must stay and welcome the silence, let ourselves be embraced by limitation. At times we seek quick answers, immediate solutions. But God works in depth, in the slow time of trust. The Sabbath of the burial thus becomes the womb from which the strength of an invincible light, that of Easter, can spring forth.

Dear friends, Christian hope is not born in noise, but in the silence of an expectation filled with love. It is not the offspring of euphoria, but of trustful abandonment. The Virgin Mary teaches us this: she embodies this expectation, this trust, this hope. When it seems to us that everything is at a standstill, that life is a blocked road, let us remember Holy Saturday. Even in the tomb, God was preparing the greatest surprise of all. And if we know how to welcome with gratitude what has been, we will discover that, precisely in smallness and silence, God loves to transfigure reality, making all things new with the fidelity of his love. True joy is born of indwelt expectation, of patient faith, of the hope that what has been lived in love will surely rise to eternal life.Dear brothers and sisters,

In our journey of catechesis on Jesus our hope, today we will contemplate the mystery of Holy Saturday. The Son of God lies in the tomb. But this “absence” of his is not emptiness: it is expectation, a restrained fullness, a promise kept in the dark. It is the day of the great silence, in which the sky seems mute and the earth immobile, but it is precisely there that the deepest mystery of the Christian faith is fulfilled.  It is a silence laden with meaning, like the womb of a mother who carries her unborn but already living child.

The body of Jesus, taken down from the cross, is carefully wrapped, as one does with something precious. John the Evangelist tells us that he was buried in a garden, inside “a new tomb where no one had ever been laid” (Jn 19:41). Nothing is left to chance. That garden recalls the lost Eden, the place where God and man were united. And that tomb, never used, speaks of something that has still to happen: it is a threshold, not an end. At the beginning of creation, God planted a garden; now the new creation also begins in a garden: with a closed tomb that will soon be opened. 

Holy Saturday is also a day of rest. According to the Jewish Law, no work is to be done on the seventh day: indeed, after the six days of creation, God rests (cf. Gen 2:2). Now, the Son too, after completing his work of salvation, rests. Not because he is tired, but because he loved up to the very end. There is nothing left to add. This rest is the seal on the completed task; it is the confirmation that what should have been done has truly been accomplished. It is a repose filled with the hidden presence of the Lord.

We struggle to stop and rest. We live as if life were never enough. We rush to produce, to prove ourselves, to keep up. But the Gospel teaches us that knowing how to stop is an act of trust that we must learn to perform. Holy Saturday invites us to discover that life does not always depend on what we do, but also on how we know how to take leave of what we have been able to do.

In the tomb, Jesus, the living Word of the Father, is silent. But it is precisely in that silence that the new life begins to ferment. Like a seed in the ground, like the darkness before dawn. God is not afraid of the passing time, because he is also the God of waiting. Thus, even our “useless” time, that of pauses, emptiness, barren moments, can become the womb of resurrection. Every silence that is welcomed can be the premise of a new Word. Every suspended time can become a time of grace, if we offer it to God.

Jesus, buried in the ground, is the meek face of a God who does not occupy all space. He is the God who lets things be done, who waits, who withdraws to leave us freedom. He is the God who trusts, even when everything seems to be over. And we, on that suspended Sabbath, learn that we do not have to be in a hurry to rise again; first we must stay and welcome the silence, let ourselves be embraced by limitation. At times we seek quick answers, immediate solutions. But God works in depth, in the slow time of trust. The Sabbath of the burial thus becomes the womb from which the strength of an invincible light, that of Easter, can spring forth.

Dear friends, Christian hope is not born in noise, but in the silence of an expectation filled with love. It is not the offspring of euphoria, but of trustful abandonment. The Virgin Mary teaches us this: she embodies this expectation, this trust, this hope. When it seems to us that everything is at a standstill, that life is a blocked road, let us remember Holy Saturday. Even in the tomb, God was preparing the greatest surprise of all. And if we know how to welcome with gratitude what has been, we will discover that, precisely in smallness and silence, God loves to transfigure reality, making all things new with the fidelity of his love. True joy is born of indwelt expectation, of patient faith, of the hope that what has been lived in love will surely rise to eternal life.

I express my profound closeness to the Palestinian people in Gaza, who continue to live in fear and to survive in unacceptable conditions, forcibly displaced – once again – from their own lands.

Before God Almighty, who commanded “Thou shalt not kill”, and in the sight of all of human history, every person always has an inviolable dignity, to be respected and upheld.

I renew my appeal for a ceasefire, the release of hostages, and a negotiated diplomatic solution, fully respecting international humanitarian law.

I invite you all to join in my heartfelt prayer that a dawn of peace and justice may soon arise.

I greet all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, particularly the groups from England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, the Netherlands, Ghana, Kenya, Australia, India, Indonesia, Japan, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, Taiwan, Vietnam, Canada and the United States of America. With fervent prayers that the present Jubilee of Hope be a time of grace and spiritual renewal for you and your families, I invoke upon all of you the joy and peace of the Lord Jesus.

Lastly, my thoughts turn to the young people, the sick and the newlyweds. Always be faithful to the Gospel ideal, and put it into practice in your daily activities.

And, before concluding, I would like to thank all of you for the good wishes you have expressed on this day of my name day. Thank you very much!

My blessing to you all!

17.09.25

Dear brothers and sisters, Happy Sunday!

Today the Church celebrates the Feast of the Exultation of the Holy Cross, commemorating the discovery of the Cross by Saint Helen in Jerusalem in the fourth century, and the return of the precious relic to the Holy City by the Emperor Heraclius.

But what does celebrating this feast mean for us today? The Gospel reading that the liturgy places before us (cf. Jn 3:13-17) helps us to understand it. The scene unfolds at night: Nicodemus, one of the leaders of the Jews, a righteous and open-minded person (cf. Jn 7:50-51), comes to meet Jesus. He needs light and guidance: he seeks God and asks the Teacher of Nazareth for help because he recognizes him as a prophet, a man who performs extraordinary signs.

The Lord welcomes him, listens to him, and eventually reveals to him that the Son of Man must be lifted up, “so that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (Jn 3:15), adding: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life” (v. 16). Nicodemus, who perhaps does not fully comprehend the meaning of these words in the moment, will certainly do so when he helps to bury the Savior’s body after the crucifixion (cf. Jn 19:39). It is then that he will understand that God, in order to redeem humanity, became man and died on the cross. 

Jesus speaks of this to Nicodemus, recalling an episode in the Old Testament, when the Israelites were bitten by venomous snakes in the desert and were healed by looking upon the bronze serpent that Moses had fashioned and mounted on a pole in obedience to God’s command (cf. Num 21:4-9).

God saves us by showing himself to us, offering himself as our companion, teacher, doctor, friend, to the point of becoming bread broken for us in the Eucharist. In order to accomplish this task, he used one of the cruelest instruments that human beings have ever invented: the cross.

That is why today we celebrate the “exultation”: for the immense love with which God has transformed the means to death into an instrument of life, embracing it for our salvation, teaching us that nothing can separate us from him (cf. Rom 8:35-39) and that his love is greater than our own sin (cf. Francis, Catechesis, 30 March 2016).

Let us then ask, through the intercession of Mary, the Mother who was present at Calvary near her Son, that the saving love of her Son may take root in us and grow, and that we too may know how to give ourselves to each other, as he gave himself completely to all.

Dear brothers and sisters!

Tomorrow marks the 60th anniversary of the establishment of the Synod of Bishops, a prophetic intuition desired by Saint Paul VI so that Bishops might increase and improve their exercise of communion with the Successor of Peter. It is my hope that this anniversary will inspire a renewed commitment to the unity and mission of the Church. *synodality

Dear friends, it seems that you know that today I turn seventy years old. I give thanks to the Lord and to my parents; and I thank all those who have remembered me in their prayers. Many thanks to everyone! Thank you! Have a good Sunday!

14.09.25 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

Good morning, and thank you for your presence: a beautiful witness!

Today we will contemplate the culmination of Jesus’ life in this world: his death on the cross. The Gospels attest to a very precious detail, which is worthy of contemplation with the intelligence of faith. On the cross, Jesus does not die in silence. He does not fade away gradually, like a light that burns out, but rather he leaves life with a cry: “Jesus uttered a loud cry, and breathed his last” (Mk 15:37). That cry contains everything: pain, abandonment, faith, offering. It is not only the voice of a body giving way, but the final sign of a life being surrendered.

The cry of Jesus is preceded by a question, one of the most heart-rending that could be uttered: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”. It is the first verse of Psalm 22, but on Jesus’ lips it assumes a singular weight. The Son, who always lived in intimate communion with the Father, now experiences silence, absence, the abyss. It is not a crisis of faith, but the final stage of a love that is given up to the very end. Jesus’ cry is not desperation, but sincerity, truth taken to the limit, trust that endures even when all is silent.

At that moment, the sky darkens and the veil of the temple is torn (cf. Mk 15:33,38). As is as if creation itself was participating in that pain, and at the same time revealing something new. God no longer dwells behind a veil – his face is now fully visible in the Crucified One. It is there, in that broken man, that the greatest love manifests itself. It is there that we can recognize a God who does not remain distant, but who traverses our pain to the very end.

The centurion, a pagan, understands this. Not because he has listened to a speech, but because he saw Jesus die in that way: “Truly this man was the Son of God!” (Mk 15:39). It is the first confession of faith after the death of Jesus. It is the fruit of a cry that did not vanish in the wind, but touched a heart. At times, what we are unable to say in words, we express with the voice. When the heart is full, it cries. And this is not always a sign of weakness; it can be a profound act of humanity.

We are accustomed to thinking of crying out as something disorderly, to be repressed. The Gospel confers an immense value to our cry, reminding us that it can be an invocation, a protest, a desire, a surrender. It can even be the extreme form of prayer, when there are no words left. In that cry, Jesus gave all that he had left: all his love, all his hope.

Yes, because there is this too, in crying out: a hope that is not resigned. One cries out when one believes that someone can still hear. One cries not out of desperation, but out of desire. Jesus did not cry out against the Father, but to him. Even in silence, he was convinced that the Father was there. And, in this way, he showed us that our hope can cry out, even when all seems lost.

To cry out therefore becomes a spiritual gesture. It is not only the first act of our birth, when we come into the world crying: it is also a way of staying alive. One cries when one suffers, but also when one loves, one calls, one invokes. To cry out is saying who we are, that we do not want to fade away in silence, that we still have something to offer.

In the journey of life, there are moments in which keeping something inside can slowly consume us. Jesus teaches us not to be afraid to cry out, as long as it is sincere, humble, addressed to the Father. A cry is never pointless, if it is born of love. And it is never ignored, if it is delivered to God. It is a way to not give in to cynicism, to continue to believe that another world is possible.

Dear brothers and sisters, let us learn this too from the Lord Jesus: let us learn the cry of hope when the hour of extreme trial comes. Not to hurt, but to entrust ourselves. Not to shout at someone, but to open our hearts. If our cry is genuine, it can be the threshold of a new light, of a new birth. As with Jesus: when everything seemed to be over, in reality salvation was about to begin. If it is made manifest with the trust and freedom of the children of God, the suffering voice of our humanity, united with the voice of Christ, can become a source of hope for us and for those around us.

I am happy to welcome, this morning, the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors, especially those from England, Ireland, Scotland, Denmark, Malta, Norway, Uganda, India, Indonesia, Israel, Malaysia, Singapore, Canada, Dominica and the United States of America. With prayerful good wishes that the present Jubilee of Hope may be for you and your families a time of grace and spiritual renewal, I invoke upon you all the joy and the peace of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Lastly, my thoughts turn to the young people, the sick and the newlyweds. I assure each one of you of my prayers: for you young people I ask the Lord for the gift of an ever more mature faith; for you sick, an ever stronger faith and for you newlyweds an ever deeper faith. My blessing to you all!

10.09.25

Dear brothers and sisters,

Before concluding this long-awaited celebration, I would like to greet and thank all of you who have come in such large numbers to celebrate these two new Saints!  I cordially greet the bishops and priests.  I respectfully welcome the official Delegations and distinguished civil Authorities.

In this atmosphere, it is marvellous to recall that yesterday the Church was also enriched by two new Blesseds.  In Tallinn, the capital of Estonia, Jesuit Archbishop Edoardo Profittlich was beatified.  He was killed in 1942 during the Soviet regime’s persecution of the Church.  In Verszprém, Hungary, the young laywoman Maria Maddalena Bódi was beatified.  She was killed in 1945 for resisting soldiers who intended to assault her.  Let us praise the Lord for these two martyrs, courageous witnesses to the beauty of the Gospel!

To the intercession of the Saints and the Virgin Mary, we entrust our unceasing prayer for peace, especially in the Holy Land and Ukraine, and in every other land blood-stained by war.  To those in power, I repeat: listen to the voice of conscience!  The apparent victories achieved with weapons, which sow death and destruction, are in reality defeats and never bring peace or security!  God does not want war, he wants peace, and he strengthens those who are committed to leaving behind the spiral of hatred and taking the path of dialogue.

07.09.25 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

In the first reading, we heard a question: [Lord,] “who has learned your counsel, unless you have given wisdom and sent your holy spirit from on high?” (Wis 9:17).  This question comes after two young Blesseds, Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis, were proclaimed saints, and this is providential because in the Book of Wisdom, this question is attributed to a young man like them: King Solomon.  Upon the death of his father David, he realized that he had many things: power, wealth, health, youth, beauty, and the entire kingdom.  It was precisely this great abundance of resources that raised a question in his heart: “What must I do so that nothing is lost?”  Solomon understood that the only way to find an answer was to ask God for an even greater gift, that of his wisdom, so that he might know God’s plans and follow them faithfully.  He realized, in fact, that only in this way would everything find its place in the Lord’s great plan.  Yes, because the greatest risk in life is to waste it outside of God’s plan.

Jesus, too, in the Gospel, speaks to us of a plan to which we must commit wholeheartedly.  He says: “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Lk 14:27); and again: “none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions” (v. 33).  He calls us to abandon ourselves without hesitation to the adventure that he offers us, with the intelligence and strength that comes from his Spirit, that we can receive to the extent that we empty ourselves of the things and ideas to which we are attached, in order to listen to his word.

Many young people, over the centuries, have had to face this crossroad in their lives.  Think of Saint Francis of Assisi, like Solomon, he too was young and rich, thirsty for glory and fame.  That is why he went to war, hoping to be knighted and adorned with honors.  But Jesus appeared to him along the way and asked him to reflect on what he was doing.  Coming to his senses, he asked God a simple question: “Lord, what do you want me to do?” (Legend of the Three Companions, cap. II: Fonti Francescane, 1401). From there, he changed his life and began to write a different story: the wonderful story of holiness that we all know, stripping himself of everything to follow the Lord (cf. Lk 14:33), living in poverty and preferring the love of his brothers and sisters, especially the weakest and smallest, to his father’s gold, silver and precious fabrics.

How many similar saints we could recall!  Sometimes we portray them as great figures, forgetting that for them it all began when, while still young, they said “yes” to God and gave themselves to him completely, keeping nothing for themselves.  Saint Augustine recounts that, in the “tortuous and tangled knot” of his life, a voice deep within him said: “I want you” (Confessions, II, 10,18). God gave him a new direction, a new path, a new reason, in which nothing of his life was lost.

In this setting, today we look to Saint Pier Giorgio Frassati and Saint Carlo Acutis: a young man from the early 20th century and a teenager from our own day, both in love with Jesus and ready to give everything for him.

Pier Giorgio encountered the Lord through school and church groups — Catholic Action, the Conferences of Saint Vincent, the FUCI (Italian Catholic University Federation), the Dominican Third Order — and he bore witness to God with his joy of living and of being a Christian in prayer, friendship and charity.  This was so evident that seeing him walking the streets of Turin with carts full of supplies for the poor, his friends renamed him “Frassati Impresa Trasporti” (Frassati Transport Company)! Even today, Pier Giorgio’s life is a beacon for lay spirituality.  For him, faith was not a private devotion, but it was driven by the power of the Gospel and his membership in ecclesial associations.  He was also generously committed to society, contributed to political life and devoted himself ardently to the service of the poor.

Carlo, for his part, encountered Jesus in his family, thanks to his parents, Andrea and Antonia — who are here today with his two siblings, Francesca and Michele — and then at school, and above all in the sacraments celebrated in the parish community.  He grew up naturally integrating prayer, sport, study and charity into his days as a child and young man.

Both Pier Giorgio and Carlo cultivated their love for God and for their brothers and sisters through simple acts, available to everyone: daily Mass, prayer, and especially Eucharistic Adoration.  Carlo used to say: “In front of the sun, you get a tan. In front of the Eucharist, you become a saint!”  And again: “Sadness is looking at yourself; happiness is looking at God.  Conversion is nothing more than shifting your gaze from below to above; a simple movement of the eyes is enough.”  Another essential practice for them was frequent Confession.  Carlo wrote: “The only thing we really have to fear is sin;” and he marveled because — in his own words — “people are so concerned with the beauty of their bodies and do not care about the beauty of their souls.” Finally, both had a great devotion to the saints and to the Virgin Mary, and they practiced charity generously.  Pier Giorgio said: “Around the poor and the sick, I see a light that we do not have” (Nicola Gori, Al prezzo della vita: L’Osservatore romano, 11 February 2021).  He called charity “the foundation of our religion” and, like Carlo, he practiced it above all through small, concrete gestures, often hidden, living what Pope Francis called “a holiness found in our next-door neighbors” (Apostolic Exhortation Gaudete et Exsultate, 7).

Even when illness struck them and cut short their young lives, not even this stopped them nor prevented them from loving, offering themselves to God, blessing him and praying to him for themselves and for everyone.  One day Pier Giorgio said: “The day of my death will be the most beautiful day of my life” (Irene Funghi, I giovani assieme a Frassati: un compagno nei nostri cammini tortuosi: Avvenire, 2 agosto 2025).  In his last photo, which shows him climbing a mountain in the Val di Lanzo, with his face turned towards his goal, he wrote: “Upwards” (Ibid).  Moreover, Carlo, who was even younger than Pier Giorgio, loved to say that heaven has always been waiting for us, and that to love tomorrow is to give the best of our fruit today.

Dear friends, Saints Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis are an invitation to all of us, especially young people, not to squander our lives, but to direct them upwards and make them masterpieces.  They encourage us with their words: “Not I, but God,” as Carlo used to say. And Pier Giorgio: “If you have God at the center of all your actions, then you will reach the end.”  This is the simple but winning formula of their holiness.  It is also the type of witness we are called to follow, in order to enjoy life to the full and meet the Lord in the feast of heaven.

07.09.25 m

Dear brothers and sisters,

At the heart of the account of the Passion, in the most luminous and at the same time darkest moment of Jesus’ life, the Gospel of John gives us two words that contain an immense mystery: “I thirst” (19:28), and immediately afterwards: “It is finished” (19:30). These are his last words, but they are filled with a whole lifetime, revealing the meaning of the entire existence of the Son of God. On the cross, Jesus does not appear as a victorious hero, but as a supplicant for love. He does not proclaim, condemn or defend himself. He humbly asks for what he, alone, cannot give to himself in any way.

The thirst of the Crucified Lord is not only the physiological need of a tortured body. It is also, and above all, the expression of a profound desire: that of love, of relationship, of communion. It is the silent cry of a God who, having wished to share everything of our human condition, also lets himself be overcome by this thirst. A God who is not ashamed to beg for a sip, because in that gesture he tells us that love, in order to be true, must also learn to ask and not only to give.

I thirst, says Jesus, and in this way he manifests his humanity and also ours. None of us can be self-sufficient. No-one can save themselves. Life is “fulfilled” not when we are strong, but when we learn how to receive. It is precisely at that moment, after receiving from unknown hands a sponge soaked in vinegar, that Jesus proclaims: It is finished. Love has made itself needy, and precisely for this reason it has accomplished its work.

This is the Christian paradox: God saves not by doing, but by letting himself do. Not by defeating evil with force, but by accepting the weakness of love to the very end. On the cross, Jesus teaches us that man does not realize himself in power, but in trustful openness to others, even when they are hostile and enemies. Salvation is not found in autonomy, but in humbly recognizing one’s own need and in being able to express it freely.

The fulfilment of our humanity in God’s plan is not an act of strength, but a gesture of trust. Jesus does not save with a dramatic twist, but by asking for something that he cannot give himself. And it is here that the door to true hope opens: if even the Son of God chose not to be self-sufficient, then our thirst too – for love, for meaning, for justice – is a sign not of failure, but of truth.

This truth, seemingly so simple, is difficult to accept. We live in a time that rewards self-sufficiency, efficiency, performance. And yet the Gospel shows us that the measure of our humanity is not given by what we can achieve, but by our ability to let ourselves be loved and, when necessary, even helped.

Jesus saves us by showing us that asking is not unworthy, but liberating. It is the way out of the hiddenness of sin, so as to re-enter the space of communion. Ever since the beginning, sin has begotten shame. But forgiveness – real forgiveness – is born when we can face up to our need and no longer fear rejection.

Jesus’ thirst on the cross is therefore ours too. It is the cry of a wounded humanity that seeks living water. And this thirst does not lead us away from God, but rather unites us with him. If we have the courage to acknowledge it, we can discover that even our fragility is a bridge towards heaven. It is precisely in asking – not in possessing – that a way of freedom opens up, because we cease to pretend to be self-sufficient.

In fraternity, in the simple life, in the art of asking without shame and offering without ulterior motives, a joy is born that the world does not know. A joy that restores us to the original truth of our being: we are creatures made to give and receive love.

Dear brothers and sisters, in Christ’s thirst we can recognize all of our own thirst. And to learn that there is nothing more human, nothing more divine, than being able to say: I need. Let us not be afraid to ask, especially when it seems to us that we do not deserve. Let us not be ashamed to reach out our hand. It is right there, in that humble gesture, that salvation hides.

Dramatic news is coming from Sudan, in particular from Darfur. In El Fasher, many civilians have been trapped in the city, victims of famine and violence. In Tarasin, a devastating mudslide has claimed many lives, leaving pain and desperation in its wake. And, as if that were not enough, the spread of cholera is threatening hundreds of thousands of already stricken people. I am closer than ever to the Sudanese population, in particular families, children and the displaced. I pray for all the victims. I make a heartfelt appeal to leaders and to the international community to guarantee humanitarian corridors and implement a coordinated response to stop this humanitarian catastrophe. It is time to initiate a serious, sincere and inclusive dialogue between the parties to end the conflict and restore hope, dignity and peace to the people of Sudan.

I greet all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, particularly the groups from England, Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Austria, Denmark, Malta, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Cameroon, Australia, Hong Kong, Indonesia, Japan, the Philippines, Vietnam and the United States of America. 

I ask all of you to join me in praying for those affected by the recent mudslides in the Marra Mountains of Sudan.  Let us ask the Almighty to grant eternal peace to all who have died, as well as solace and strength to their loved ones.  Even in the midst of such tragedies may we never lose hope in God’s love for us.

Upon all of you and upon your families, I invoke the blessings of Almighty God.

Lastly, my thoughts turn to the young people, the sick and the newlyweds. Today we celebrate the liturgical memorial of St Gregory the Great, whose body rests in St Peter's Basilica. This Pope is called "the great" for his exceptional activity as pastor and teacher of faith in very difficult times for society and the Church: a "greatness" that drew strength from trust in Christ. I hope that each one of you will recognize in the Lord the only true force of existence.

My blessing to you all!

03.09.25