St Paul

Your Eminences,

Your Eminence, Metropolitan Ioannis,

My Brother Bishops and Priests,

Dear Brothers and Sisters

We are celebrating the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles, principal patrons of the Church of Rome: a celebration made all the more joyful by the presence of bishops from throughout the world. A great wealth, which makes us in some sense relive the event of Pentecost. Today, as then, the faith of the Church speaks in every tongue and desire to unite all peoples in one family.

I offer a heartfelt and grateful greeting to the Delegation of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, led by Metropolitan Ioannis. I thank Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomaios I for this renewed gesture of fraternity. I greet the distinguished ambassadors and civil authorities. And in a special way I thank the Choir of the Thomaskirche of Leipzig – Bach’s own church – which is contributing to today’s liturgical celebration and represents an additional ecumenical presence.

I would like to offer three thoughts on the Petrine ministry, guided by the word “confirm”. What has the Bishop of Rome been called to confirm?

1. First, to confirm in faith. The Gospel speaks of the confession of Peter: “You are Christ, the Son of the living God” (Mt 16:16), a confession which does not come from him but from our Father in heaven. Because of this confession, Jesus replies: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church” (v. 18). The role, the ecclesial service of Peter, is founded upon his confession of faith in Jesus, the Son of the living God, made possible by a grace granted from on high. In the second part of today’s Gospel we see the peril of thinking in worldly terms. When Jesus speaks of his death and resurrection, of the path of God which does not correspond to the human path of power, flesh and blood re-emerge in Peter: “He took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him ... This must never happen to you” (16:22). Jesus’ response is harsh: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me” (v. 23). Whenever we let our thoughts, our feelings or the logic of human power prevail, and we do not let ourselves be taught and guided by faith, by God, we become stumbling blocks. Faith in Christ is the light of our life as Christians and as ministers in the Church!

2. To confirm in love. In the second reading we heard the moving words of Saint Paul: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Tm 4:7). But what is this fight? It is not one of those fights fought with human weapons which sadly continue to cause bloodshed throughout the world; rather, it is the fight of martyrdom. Saint Paul has but one weapon: the message of Christ and the gift of his entire life for Christ and for others. It is precisely this readiness to lay himself open, personally, to be consumed for the sake of the Gospel, to make himself all things to all people, unstintingly, that gives him credibility and builds up the Church. The Bishop of Rome is called himself to live and to confirm his brothers and sisters in this love for Christ and for all others, without distinction, limits or barriers. And not only the Bishop of Rome: each of you, new archbishops and bishops, have the same task: to let yourselves be consumed by the Gospel, to become all things to everyone. It is your task to hold nothing back, to go outside of yourselves in the service of the faithful and holy people of God.

3. To confirm in unity. Here I would like to reflect for a moment on the rite which we have carried out. The pallium is a symbol of communion with the Successor of Peter, “the lasting and visible source and foundation of the unity both of faith and of communion” (Lumen Gentium, 18). And your presence today, dear brothers, is the sign that the Church’s communion does not mean uniformity. The Second Vatican Council, in speaking of the hierarchical structure of the Church, states that the Lord “established the apostles as college or permanent assembly, at the head of which he placed Peter, chosen from their number” (ibid., 19). To confirm in unity: the Synod of Bishops, in harmony with the primate. Let us go forward on the path of synodality, and grow in harmony with the service of the primacy. And the Council continues, “this college, in so far as it is composed of many members, is the expression of the variety and universality of the people of God” (ibid., 22). In the Church, variety, which is itself a great treasure, is always grounded in the harmony of unity, like a great mosaic in which every small piece joins with others as part of God’s one great plan. This should inspire us to work always to overcome every conflict which wounds the body of the Church. United in our differences: there is no other Catholic way to be united. This is the Catholic spirit, the Christian spirit: to be united in our differences. This is the way of Jesus! The pallium, while being a sign of communion with the Bishop of Rome and with the universal church, with the Synod of Bishops, also commits each of you to being a servant of communion.

To confess the Lord by letting oneself be taught by God; to be consumed by love for Christ and his Gospel; to be servants of unity. These, dear brother bishops, are the tasks which the holy apostles Peter and Paul entrust to each of us, so that they can be lived by every Christian. May the holy Mother of God guide us and accompany us always with her intercession. Queen of Apostles, pray for us! Amen. 

29.06.13

Dear Brothers and Sisters, Good morning!

From the earliest times the Church of Rome has honoured the Apostles Peter and Paul in a single feast on the same day, 29 June. Faith in Jesus Christ made them brothers and their martyrdom has made them one. St Peter and St Paul, so different from each other on a human level, were personally chosen by the Lord Jesus and they answered the call by offering their entire life. In both of them the grace of Christ accomplished great things, it transformed them. It transformed them, and how! Simon denied Jesus in a dramatic moment of the Passion; Saul harshly persecuted the Christians. But they both welcomed God’s love and allowed themselves to be transformed by his mercy; they thus became friends and apostles of Christ. This is why they continue to speak to the Church and still today they show us the way to salvation. And should we perchance fall into the most serious sins and the darkest of nights, God is always capable of transforming us too, the way he transformed Peter and Paul; transforming the heart and forgiving us for everything, thus transforming the darkness of our sin into a dawn of light. God is like this: he transforms us, he always forgives us, as he did with Peter and as he did with Paul.

The Book of the Acts of the Apostles shows many aspects of their testimony. Peter, for example, teaches us to watch over the poor with the eyes of faith and to give them the most precious thing we have: the power of Jesus’ name. He did this with that paralyzed man: he gave him all he had, that is, Jesus (cf. Acts 3:4-6).

Three times the episode is told of Paul’s call on the road to Damascus, which signals the turning point in his life, clearly marking a before and an after. Before, Paul was a bitter enemy of the Church. Afterwards, he placed his entire existence at the service of the Gospel. Also for us the encounter with the Word of Christ is capable of completely transforming our life. It is impossible to hear this Word and remain unmoved, remain stuck in our old habits. It pushes us to overcome the selfishness in our hearts to resolutely follow that Teacher who gave his life for his friends. But it is He who with his word changes us; it is He who transforms us; it is He who forgives us everything, if we open our heart and ask for forgiveness.

Dear brothers and sisters, this feast engenders great joy in us, because it places us before the work of God’s mercy in the hearts of two men. It is the work of God’s mercy in these two men who were great sinners. And God wishes to fill us too with his grace, as he did with Peter and Paul. May the Virgin Mary help us to receive [his grace] like they did, with an open heart, not to receive it in vain!

May she support us in times of trial, to bear witness to Jesus Christ and to his Gospel. We ask this especially today for the Metropolitan Archbishops appointed this year, who celebrated the Eucharist with me this morning in St Peter’s. Let us greet them all warmly together with their faithful and relatives and let us pray for them!

29.06.14 a

The reading, taken from the Acts of the Apostles, speaks to us of the first Christian community besieged by persecution. A community harshly persecuted by Herod who “laid violent hands upon some who belonged to the Church… proceeded to arrest Peter also… and when he had seized him he put him in prison” (12:1-4).

However, I do not wish to dwell on these atrocious, inhuman and incomprehensible persecutions, sadly still present in many parts of the world today, often under the silent gaze of all. I would like instead to pay homage today to the courage of the Apostles and that of the first Christian community. This courage carried forward the work of evangelisation, free of fear of death and martyrdom, within the social context of a pagan empire; their Christian life is for us, the Christians of today, a powerful call to prayer, to faith and to witness.

A call to prayer: the first community was a Church at prayer: “Peter was kept in prison; but earnest prayer for him was made to God by the Church” (Acts 12:5). And if we think of Rome, the catacombs were not places to escape to from persecution but rather, they were places of prayer, for sanctifying the Lord’s day and for raising up, from the heart of the earth, adoration to God who never forgets his sons and daughters.

The community of Peter and Paul teaches us that the Church at prayer is a Church on her feet, strong, moving forward! Indeed, a Christian who prays is a Christian who is protected, guarded and sustained, and above all, who is never alone.

The first reading continues: “Sentries before the door were guarding the prison; and behold, an angel of the Lord appeared, and a light shone in the cell; and he struck Peter on the side… And the chains fell off his hands” (12:6-7).

Let us think about how many times the Lord has heard our prayer and sent us an angel? An angel who unexpectedly comes to pull us out of a difficult situation? Who comes to snatch us from the hands of death and from the evil one; who points out the wrong path; who rekindles in us the flame of hope; who gives us tender comfort; who consoles our broken hearts; who awakens us from our slumber to the world; or who simply tells us, “You are not alone”.

How many angels he places on our path, and yet when we are overwhelmed by fear, unbelief or even euphoria, we leave them outside the door, just as happened to Peter when he knocked on the door of the house and the “maid named Rhoda came to answer. Recognizing Peter’s voice, in her joy she did not open the door” (12:13-14).

No Christian community can go forward without being supported by persistent prayer! Prayer is the encounter with God, with God who never lets us down; with God who is faithful to his word; with God who does not abandon his children. Jesus asked himself: “And will not God vindicate his elect, who cry to him day and night?” (Lk 18:7). In prayer, believers express their faith and their trust, and God reveals his closeness, also by giving us the angels, his messengers.

A call to faith: in the second reading Saint Paul writes to Timothy: “But the Lord stood by me and gave me strength to proclaim the word fully… So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth. The Lord will rescue me from every evil and save me for his heavenly Kingdom” (2 Tim 4:17-18). God does not take his children out of the world or away from evil but he does grant them strength to prevail. Only the one who believes can truly say: “The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want” (Ps 23:1).

How many forces in the course of history have tried, and still do, to destroy the Church, from without as well as within, but they themselves are destroyed and the Church remains alive and fruitful! She remains inexplicably solid, so that, as Saint Paul says, she may acclaim: “To him be glory for ever and ever” (2 Tim 4:18).

Everything passes, only God remains. Indeed, kingdoms, peoples, cultures, nations, ideologies, powers have passed, but the Church, founded on Christ, notwithstanding the many storms and our many sins, remains ever faithful to the deposit of faith shown in service; for the Church does not belong to Popes, bishops, priests, nor the lay faithful; the Church in every moment belongs solely to Christ. Only the one who lives in Christ promotes and defends the Church by holiness of life, after the example of Peter and Paul.

In the name of Christ, believers have raised the dead; they have healed the sick; they have loved their persecutors; they have shown how there is no power capable of defeating the one who has the power of faith!

A call to witness: Peter and Paul, like all the Apostles of Christ who in their earthly life sowed the seeds of the Church by their blood, drank the Lord’s cup, and became friends of God.

Paul writes in a moving way to Timothy: “My son, I am already on the point of being sacrificed; the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. From now on there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing” (2 Tim 4: 6-8).

A Church or a Christian who does not give witness is sterile; like a dead person who thinks they are alive; like a dried up tree that produces no fruit; an empty well that offers no water! The Church has overcome evil thanks to the courageous, concrete and humble witness of her children. She has conquered evil thanks to proclaiming with conviction: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (cf. Mt 16:13-18).

Dear Archbishops who today receive the Pallium, it is a sign which represents the sheep that the shepherd carries on his shoulders as Christ the Good Shepherd does, and it is therefore a symbol of your pastoral mission. The Pallium is “a liturgical sign of communion that unites the See of Peter and his Successor to the Metropolitans, and through them to the other Bishops of the world” (Benedict XVI, Angelus of 29 June 2005).

Today, by these Palliums, I wish to entrust you with this call to prayer, to faith and to witness.

The Church wants you to be men of prayer, masters of prayer; that you may teach the people entrusted to your care that liberation from all forms of imprisonment is uniquely God’s work and the fruit of prayer; that God sends his angel at the opportune time in order to save us from the many forms of slavery and countless chains of worldliness. For those most in need, may you also be angels and messengers of charity!

The Church desires you to be men of faith, masters of faith, who can teach the faithful to not be frightened of the many Herods who inflict on them persecution with every kind of cross. No Herod is able to banish the light of hope, of faith, or of charity in the one who believes in Christ!

The Church wants you to be men of witness. Saint Francis used to tell his brothers: “Preach the Gospel always, and if necessary, use words!” (cf. Franciscan sources, 43). There is no witness without a coherent lifestyle! Today there is no great need for masters, but for courageous witnesses, who are convinced and convincing; witnesses who are not ashamed of the Name of Christ and of His Cross; not before the roaring lions, nor before the powers of this world. And this follows the example of Peter and Paul and so many other witnesses along the course of the Church’s history, witnesses who, yet belonging to different Christian confessions, have contributed to demonstrating and bringing growth to the one Body of Christ. I am pleased to emphasize this, and am always pleased to do so, in the presence of the Delegation of the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople, sent by my beloved brother Bartholomew I.

This is not so straightforward: because the most effective and authentic witness is one that does not contradict, by behaviour and lifestyle, what is preached with the word and taught to others!

Teach prayer by praying, announce the faith by believing; offer witness by living!

29.06.15

“For I am the least of the apostles […] because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain” (1 Cor 15:9-10). This is how the Apostle Paul sums up the significance of his conversion. What happened after that dramatic encounter with the Risen Christ on the Road from Jerusalem to Damascus is not primarily a moral change but a transforming experience by the grace of Christ and, at the same time, the call to a new mission to proclaim to all the same Jesus whom Paul used to persecute by persecuting his disciples. At this moment, in fact, Paul understands that there is a real and transcendent union between the eternally living Christ and his followers: Jesus lives and is present in them and they live in him. The vocation to be an apostle is founded not on the human merits of Paul, who considers himself “unfit” and “unworthy”, but on the infinite goodness of God, who chose him and entrusted the ministry to him.

St Paul also bears witness to a similar understanding of what happened on the road to Damascus in his First Letter to Timothy: “I thank him who has given me strength for this, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful by appointing me to his service, though I formerly blasphemed and persecuted and insulted him; but I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus” (vv. 12-14). The superabundant mercy of God is the sole rationale upon which Paul’s ministry is founded, and it is at the same time what the Apostle must proclaim to all people.

St Paul’s experience is similar to that of the communities to whom the Apostle Peter directs his First Letter. St Peter addresses members of small and fragile communities, exposed to the threat of persecution, and he applies to them the glorious titles attributed to the holy People of God: “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people” (1 Pet 2:9). For those early Christians, as today for all of us baptized, it is a cause for comfort and constant wonder to know that they are chosen to take part in God’s salvific plan, fulfilled in Jesus Christ and in the Church. “Why me, Lord?”; “why us?”. Here we touch upon the mystery of God’s mercy and of his choice: the Father loves everyone and desires to save everyone, and that is why he calls some, “by conquering them” with his grace, so that through them his love may reach everyone. The mission of the entire People of God is to declare the wonderful deeds of the Lord, first among them the Paschal Mystery of Christ, through which we have all moved out of the darkness of sin and death into the splendour of his life, new and eternal (cf. 1 Pet 2:10).

In the light of the Word of God which we have heard, and which has guided us during this Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, we can truly say that all of us believers in Christ are “called to declare the wonderful deeds” (cf. 1 Pet 2:9). Beyond the differences that still divide us, let us recognize with joy that at the origin of Christian life there is always one call whose maker is God himself. Let us move forward on the path to a full and visible communion among Christians not only when we come closer to one another, but above all as we convert to the Lord, who out of grace chooses us and calls us to be his disciples. To convert means to allow the Lord to live and work in us. That is why, when Christians of different Churches listen together to the Word of God and seek to put it into practice, they take important steps toward unity. It is not only the call that unites us; we also share one mission: to declare to all people the wonderful deeds of God. Like St Paul, and like the faithful to whom St Peter writes, we too cannot but proclaim the same merciful love that has conquered and transformed us. As we move towards full communion, we can already develop many forms of collaboration, to go together and collaborate in order to foster the spread of the Gospel. By walking and working together, we realize that we are already united in the name of the Lord. Unity is achieved on the journey.

In this Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy, let us always bear in mind that there cannot be an authentic search for Christian unity without trusting fully in the Father’s mercy. Let us ask first of all for forgiveness for the sin of our divisions, which are an open wound in the Body of Christ. As the Bishop of Rome and the Shepherd of the Catholic Church, I want to ask forgiveness and mercy for any behaviour on the part of Catholics towards Christians of other Churches that did not reflect the values of the Gospel. At the same time, I invite all Catholic brothers and sisters to forgive if, today or in the past, they have suffered offences from other Christians. We cannot erase what is past, nor do we wish to allow the weight of past transgressions to continue to pollute our relationships. The mercy of God will renew our relationships.

In this atmosphere of intense prayer, I greet in a brotherly way: H.E. Metropolitan Gennadios, representative of the Ecumenical Patriarchate; H.G. David Moxon, Personal Representative in Rome of the Archbishop of Canterbury; and all the representatives of the different Churches and ecclesial communities of Rome who have gathered here this evening. With them we walked through the Holy Door of this Basilica, so as to remind ourselves that the only door which leads us to salvation is Jesus Christ our Lord, the merciful face of the Father. I also cordially greet the young Orthodox and Eastern Orthodox students who are here in Rome with the support of the Committee for Cultural Collaboration with the Orthodox Churches working through the Council for Promoting Christian Unity, as well as the students from the Ecumenical Institute of Bossey who are visiting Rome to deepen their knowledge of the Catholic Church.

Dear brothers and sisters, let us join together today with the prayer that Jesus Christ prayed to his Father: “that they may all be one [...] so that the world may believe” (Jn 17:21). Unity is a gift of the mercy of God the Father. Here before the tomb of St Paul, Apostle and Martyr, sheltered in this splendid Basilica, we feel that our humble request is sustained by the intercession of the multitudes of Christian martyrs, past and present. They responded generously to the call of the Lord, they bore faithful witness with their lives to the wonderful deeds that God has done for us, and they already enjoy full communion in the presence of God the Father. Sustained by their example — an example that constitutes the ecumenism of blood — and comforted by their intercession, let us raise our humble prayer to God.

25.01.16

The word of God in today’s liturgy presents a clear central contrast between closing and opening. Together with this image we can consider the symbol of the keys that Jesus promises to Simon Peter so that he can open the entrance to the kingdom of heaven, and not close it before people, like some of the hypocritical scribes and Pharisees whom Jesus reproached (cf. Mt 23:13).

The reading from the Acts of the Apostles (12:1-11) shows us three examples of “closing”: Peter is cast into prison; the community gathers behind closed doors in prayer; and – in the continuation of our reading – Peter knocks at the closed door of the house of Mary, the mother of John called Mark, after being set free.

In these three examples of “closing”, prayer appears as the main way out. It is a way out for the community, which risks closing in on itself out of persecution and fear. It is a way out for Peter who, at the very beginning of the mission given him by the Lord, is cast into prison by Herod and risks execution. And while Peter was in prison, “the church prayed fervently to God for him” (Acts 12:5). The Lord responds to that prayer and sends his angel to liberate Peter, “rescuing him from the hand of Herod” (cf. v. 11). Prayer, as humble entrustment to God and his holy will, is always the way out of our becoming “closed”, as individuals and as a community. It is always the eminent way out of our becoming “closed”.

Paul too, writing to Timothy, speaks of his experience of liberation, of finding a way out of his own impending execution. He tells us that the Lord stood by him and gave him strength to carry out the work of evangelizing the nations (cf. 2 Tim 4:17). But Paul speaks too of a much greater “opening”, towards an infinitely more vast horizon. It is the horizon of eternal life, which awaits him at the end of his earthly “race”. We can see the whole life of the Apostle in terms of “going out” in service to the Gospel. Paul’s life was utterly projected forward, in bringing Christ to those who did not know him, and then in rushing, as it were, into Christ’s arms, to be “saved for his heavenly kingdom” (v. 18).

Let us return to Peter. The Gospel account (Mt 16:13-19) of his confession of faith and the mission entrusted to him by Jesus shows us that the life of Simon, the fishermen of Galilee – like the life of each of us – opens, opens up fully, when it receives from God the Father the grace of faith. Simon sets out on the journey – a long and difficult journey – that will lead him to go out of himself, leaving all his human supports behind, especially his pride tinged with courage and generous selflessness. In this, his process of liberation, the prayer of Jesus is decisive: “I have prayed for you [Simon], that your own faith may not fail” (Lk 22:32). Likewise decisive is the compassionate gaze of the Lord after Peter had denied him three times: a gaze that pierces the heart and brings tears of repentance (cf. Lk 22:61-62). At that moment, Simon Peter was set free from the prison of his selfish pride and of his fear, and overcame the temptation of closing his heart to Jesus’s call to follow him along the way of the cross.

I mentioned that, in the continuation of the passage from the Acts of the Apostles, there is a detail worthy of consideration (cf. 12:12-17). When Peter finds himself miraculously freed from Herod’s prison, he goes to the home of the mother of John called Mark. He knocks on the closed door and a servant by the name of Rhoda comes. Recognizing Peter’s voice, in disbelief and joy, instead of opening the door, she runs to tell her mistress. The account, which can seem comical, and which could give rise to the “Rhoda complex”, makes us perceive the climate of fear that led the Christian community to stay behind closed doors, but also closed to God’s surprises. Peter knocks at the door. Behold! There is joy, there is fear… “Do we open, do we not?...”. He is in danger, since the guards can come and take him. But fear paralyzes us, it always paralyzes us; it makes us close in on ourselves, closed to God’s surprises. This detail speaks to us of a constant temptation for the Church, that of closing in on herself in the face of danger. But we also see the small openings through which God can work. Saint Luke tells us that in that house “many had gathered and were praying” (v. 12). Prayer enable grace to open a way out from closure to openness, from fear to courage, from sadness to joy. And we can add: from division to unity. Yes, we say this today with confidence, together with our brothers from the Delegation sent by the beloved Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew to take part in the celebration of the Holy Patrons of Rome. Today is also a celebration of communion for the whole Church, as seen by the presence of the metropolitan archbishops who have come for the blessing of the pallia, which they will receive from my representatives in their respective sees.

May Saints Peter and Paul intercede for us, so that we can joyfully advance on this journey, experience the liberating action of God, and bear witness to it before the world. 

29.06.16

The liturgy today offers us three words essential for the life of an apostle: confession, persecution and prayer.

Confession. Peter makes his confession of faith in the Gospel, when the Lord’s question turns from the general to the specific. At first, Jesus asks: “Who do men say that the Son of man is?” (Mt 16:13). The results of this “survey” show that Jesus is widely considered a prophet. Then the Master puts the decisive question to his disciples: “But you, who do you say that I am?” (v. 15). At this point, Peter alone replies: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (v. 16). To confess the faith means this: to acknowledge in Jesus the long-awaited Messiah, the living God, the Lord of our lives.

Today Jesus puts this crucial question to us, to each of us, and particularly to those of us who are pastors. It is the decisive question. It does not allow for a non-committal answer, because it brings into play our entire life. The question of life demands a response of life. For it counts little to know the articles of faith if we do not confess Jesus as the Lord of our lives. Today he looks straight at us and asks, “Who am I for you?” As if to say: “Am I still the Lord of your life, the longing of your heart, the reason for your hope, the source of your unfailing trust?” Along with Saint Peter, we too renew today our life choice to be Jesus’ disciples and apostles. May we too pass from Jesus’ first question to his second, so as to be “his own” not merely in words, but in our actions and our very lives.

Let us ask ourselves if we are parlour Christians, who love to chat about how things are going in the Church and the world, or apostles on the go, who confess Jesus with their lives because they hold him in their hearts. Those who confess Jesus know that they are not simply to offer opinions but to offer their very lives. They know that they are not to believe half-heartedly but to “be on fire” with love. They know that they cannot just “tread water” or take the easy way out, but have to risk putting out into the deep, daily renewing their self-offering. Those who confess their faith in Jesus do as Peter and Paul did: they follow him to the end – not just part of the way, but to the very end. They also follow the Lord along his way, not our own ways. His way is that of new life, of joy and resurrection; it is also the way that passes through the cross and persecution.

Here, then, is the second word: persecution. Peter and Paul shed their blood for Christ, but the early community as a whole also experienced persecution, as the Book of Acts has reminded us (cf. 12:1). Today too, in various parts of the world, sometimes in silence – often a complicit silence – great numbers of Christians are marginalized, vilified, discriminated against, subjected to violence and even death, not infrequently without due intervention on the part of those who could defend their sacrosanct rights.

Here I would especially emphasize something that the Apostle Paul says before, in his words, “being poured out as a libation” (2 Tim 4:6). For him, to live was Christ (cf. Phil 1:21), Christ crucified (cf. 1 Cor 2:2), who gave his life for him (cf. Gal 2:20). As a faithful disciple, Paul thus followed the Master and offered his own life too. Apart from the cross, there is no Christ, but apart from the cross, there can be no Christian either. For “Christian virtue is not only a matter of doing good, but of tolerating evil as well” (Augustine, Serm. 46,13), even as Jesus did. Tolerating evil does not have to do simply with patience and resignation; it means imitating Jesus, carrying our burden, shouldering it for his sake and that of others. It means accepting the cross, pressing on in the confident knowledge that we are not alone: the crucified and risen Lord is at our side. So, with Paul, we can say that “we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken” (2 Cor 4:8-9).

Tolerating evil means overcoming it with Jesus, and in Jesus’ own way, which is not the way of the world. This is why Paul – as we heard – considered himself a victor about to receive his crown (cf. 2 Tim 4:8). He writes: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (v. 7). The essence of his “good fight” was living for: he lived not for himself, but for Jesus and for others. He spent his life “running the race”, not holding back but giving his all. He tells us that there is only one thing that he “kept”: not his health, but his faith, his confession of Christ. Out of love, he experienced trials, humiliations and suffering, which are never to be sought but always accepted. In the mystery of suffering offered up in love, in this mystery, embodied in our own day by so many of our brothers and sisters who are persecuted, impoverished and infirm, the saving power of Jesus’ cross shines forth.

The third word is prayer. The life of an apostle, which flows from confession and becomes self-offering, is one of constant prayer. Prayer is the water needed to nurture hope and increase fidelity. Prayer makes us feel loved and it enables us to love in turn. It makes us press forward in moments of darkness because it brings God’s light. In the Church, it is prayer that sustains us and helps us to overcome difficulties. We see this too in the first reading: “Peter was kept in prison; but earnest prayer for him was made to God by the Church” (Acts 12:5). A Church that prays is watched over and cared for by the Lord. When we pray, we entrust our lives to him and to his loving care. Prayer is the power and strength that unite and sustain us, the remedy for the isolation and self-sufficiency that lead to spiritual death. The Spirit of life does not breathe unless we pray; without prayer, the interior prisons that hold us captive cannot be unlocked.

May the blessed Apostles obtain for us a heart like theirs, wearied yet at peace, thanks to prayer. Wearied, because constantly asking, knocking and interceding, weighed down by so many people and situations needing to be handed over to the Lord; yet also at peace, because the Holy Spirit brings consolation and strength when we pray. How urgent it is for the Church to have teachers of prayer, but even more so for us to be men and women of prayer, whose entire life is prayer!

The Lord answers our prayers. He is faithful to the love we have professed for him, and he stands beside us at times of trial. He accompanied the journey of the Apostles, and he will do the same for you, dear brother Cardinals, gathered here in the charity of the Apostles who confessed their faith by the shedding of their blood. He will remain close to you too, dear brother Archbishops who, in receiving the pallium, will be strengthened to spend your lives for the flock, imitating the Good Shepherd who bears you on his shoulders. May the same Lord, who longs to see his flock gathered together, also bless and protect the Delegation of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, together with my dear brother Bartholomew, who has sent them here as a sign of our apostolic communion.

29.06.17

The moment of St Paul's conversion marked a change in the course of Salvation History. It exposed the Church’s universality and its openness to pagans, Gentiles, and those who were not Israelites, which the Lord permitted because it was important.

First of all, he was consistent, because he was a man open to God. If he persecuted Christians, it was because he was convinced that God desired it. But how can that be? Never mind how: he was convinced of it. This is the zeal he carried for the purity of the house of God, for the glory of God. A heart open to the voice of the Lord. And he risked all, and charged ahead. Another characteristic of his actions is that he was a docile man – full of docility – and was not hard-headed.

Even though he was stubborn, St. Paul was not hard-hearted. He was open to God’s indications.

He had incarcerated and killed Christians with a fire inside him, but as soon as he heard the voice of the Lord, he became like a child, letting himself be led.

All his convictions stayed silent, waiting for the voice of the Lord: ‘What must I do, Lord?’ And he went to that encounter at Damascus, to meet that other docile man, and let himself be catechized like a child and be baptized like a child. Then he regains his strength, and what does he do? He is silent. He leaves for Arabia to pray, for how long we don’t know. Maybe years, we don’t know. Docility. Openness to the voice of God and docility. His is an example for our life.

There are numerous courageous men and women today who risk their lives to find new paths for the Church.

Let us seek new paths; it will do us all good. As long as they are the paths of the Lord. But charge forward in the depth of prayer, of docility and a heart open to God. This is how true change takes place in the Church, with people who know how to fight in the great and in the small.

The Christian, must have the charism of the great and of the small.

Let us pray for the grace to be docile to the voice of the Lord and for a heart open to the Lord; for the grace not to be afraid to do great things and the sensitivity to pay attention to the small things.

10.05.19

The Apostles Peter and Paul stand before us as witnesses. They never tired of preaching and journeying as missionaries from the land of Jesus to Rome itself. Here they gave their ultimate witness, offering their lives as martyrs. If we go to the heart of that testimony, we can see them as witnesses to life, witnesses to forgiveness and witnesses to Jesus.

Witnesses to life. Their lives, though, were not neat and linear. Both were deeply religious: Peter was one of the very first disciples (cf. Jn 1:41), and Paul was “zealous for the traditions of [his] ancestors” (Gal 1:14). Yet they also made great mistakes: Peter denied the Lord, while Paul persecuted the Church of God. Both were cut to the core by questions asked by Jesus: “Simon son of John, do you love me?” (Jn 21:15); “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (Acts 9:4). Peter was grieved by Jesus’ questions, while Paul was blinded by his words. Jesus called them by name and changed their lives. After all that happened, he put his trust in them, in one who denied him and one who persecuted his followers, in two repentant sinners. We may wonder why the Lord chosen not to give us two witnesses of utter integrity, with clean records and impeccable lives? Why Peter, when there was John? Why Paul, and not Barnabas?

There is a great teaching here: the starting point of the Christian life is not our worthiness; in fact, the Lord was able to accomplish little with those who thought they were good and decent. Whenever we consider ourselves smarter or better than others, that is the beginning of the end. The Lord does not work miracles with those who consider themselves righteous, but with those who know themselves needy. He is not attracted by our goodness; that is not why he loves us. He loves us just as we are; he is looking for people who are not self-sufficient, but ready to open their hearts to him. People who, like Peter and Paul, are transparent before God. Peter immediately told Jesus: “I am a sinful man” (Lk 5:8). Paul wrote that he was “least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle” (1 Cor 15:9). Throughout life, they preserved this humility, to the very end. Peter died crucified upside down, since he did not consider himself worthy to imitate his Lord. Paul was always fond of his name, which means “little”, and left behind his birth name, Saul, the name of the first king of his people. Both understood that holiness does not consist in exalting but rather in humbling oneself. Holiness is not a contest, but a question of entrusting our own poverty each day to the Lord, who does great things for those who are lowly. What was the secret that made them persevere amid weakness? It was the Lord’s forgiveness.

Let us think about them too as witnesses to forgiveness. In their failings, they encountered the powerful mercy of the Lord, who gave them rebirth. In his forgiveness, they encountered irrepressible peace and joy. Thinking back to their failures, they might have experienced feelings of guilt. How many times might Peter have thought back to his denial! How many scruples might Paul have felt at having hurt so many innocent people! Humanly, they had failed. Yet they encountered a love greater than their failures, a forgiveness strong enough to heal even their feelings of guilt. Only when we experience God’s forgiveness do we truly experience rebirth. From there we start over, from forgiveness; there we rediscover who we really are: in the confession of our sins.

Witnesses to life and witnesses to forgiveness, Peter and Paul are ultimately witnesses to Jesus. In today’s Gospel, the Lord asks: “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” The answers evoke figures of the past: “John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah or one of the prophets”. Remarkable people, but all of them dead. Peter instead replies: “You are the Christ” (Mt 16:13-14.16). The Christ, that is, the Messiah. A word that points not to the past, but to the future: the Messiah is the one who is awaited, he is newness, the one who brings God’s anointing to the world. Jesus is not the past, but the present and the future. He is not a distant personage to be remembered, but the one to whom Peter can speak intimately: You are the Christ. For those who are his witnesses, Jesus is more than a historical personage; he is a living person: he is newness, not things we have already seen, the newness of the future and not a memory from the past. The witness, then, is not someone who knows the story of Jesus, but someone who has experienced a love story with Jesus. The witness, in the end, proclaims only this: that Jesus is alive and that he is the secret of life. Indeed, Peter, after saying: “You are the Christ”, then goes on to say: “the Son of the living God” (v. 16). Witness arises from an encounter with the living Jesus. At the centre of Paul’s life too, we find that same word that rises up from Peter’s heart: Christ. Paul repeats this name constantly, almost four hundred times in his letters! For him, Christ is not only a model, an example, a point of reference: he is life itself. Paul writes: “For me to live is Christ” (Phil 1:21). Jesus is Paul’s present and his future, so much so that he considers the past as refuse in comparison to the surpassing knowledge of Christ (cf. Phil 3:7-8).

Brothers and sisters, in the presence of these witnesses, let us ask: “Do I renew daily my own encounter with Jesus?” We may be curious about Jesus, or interested in Church matters or religious news. We may open computer sites and the papers, and talk about holy things. But this is to remain at the level of what are people saying? Jesus does not care about polls, past history or statistics. He is not looking for religion editors, much less “front page” or “statistical” Christians. He is looking for witnesses who say to him each day: “Lord, you are my life”.

Having met Jesus and experienced his forgiveness, the Apostles bore witness to him by living a new life: they no longer held back, but gave themselves over completely. They were no longer content with half-measures, but embraced the only measure possible for those who follow Jesus: that of boundless love. They were “poured out as a libation” (cf. 2 Tim 4:6). Let us ask for the grace not to be lukewarm Christians living by half measures, allowing our love to grow cold. Let us rediscover who we truly are through a daily relationship with Jesus and through the power of his forgiveness. Just as he asked Peter, Jesus is now asking us: “Who do you say that I am?”, “Do you love me?” Let us allow these words to penetrate our hearts and inspire us not to remain content with a minimum, but to aim for the heights, so that we too can become living witnesses to Jesus.

Today we bless the pallia for the Metropolitan Archbishops named in the past year. The pallium recalls the sheep that the shepherd is called to bear on his shoulders. It is a sign that the shepherds do not live for themselves but for the sheep. It is a sign that, in order to possess life, we have to lose it, give it away. Today our joy is shared, in accordance with a fine tradition, by a Delegation from the Ecumenical Patriarchate, whose members I greet with affection. Your presence, dear brothers, reminds us that we can spare no effort also in the journey towards full unity among believers, in communion at every level. For together, reconciled to God and having forgiven one another, we are called to bear witness to Jesus by our lives. 

29.06.19 m

Dear Brothers and Sisters, good morning!

Saints Peter and Paul, whom we celebrate today, are sometimes depicted in icons in the act of holding up the Church. This reminds us of the words of today's Gospel, where Jesus tells Peter: "you are Peter and on this rock I will build my church" (Mt 16.18). This is the first time that Jesus pronounces the word "Church", but more than thinking about the noun I would like to invite you to think of the adjective, which is a possessive, "my": my church. Jesus does not speak of the Church as an external reality, but expresses the great love he has for her: my church. He is in love with the Church, with us. St. Paul wrote: "Christ loved the Church and gave himself up for her" (Eph 5.25), that is, the Apostle explains, Jesus loves the Church as his bride. For the Lord we are not a group of believers or a religious organization, we are his bride. He looks tenderly on the Church, He loves her with absolute fidelity, in spite of our failures and betrayals. Just as He did that day Peter, so today He says to each of us: "my church, you are my church."

And we can repeat it ourselves: my church. We do not say it with a sense of exclusive belonging, but with an inclusive love. Not to differentiate ourselves from others, but to learn the beauty of being with others, because Jesus wants us to be united and open. The Church is not "mine" because it responds to what I want, my cravings, but so that I might pour out my love on her. It is mine so that I might care for her, so that, as the icon of the Apostles, I might also hold it up. And how? With fraternal love. With our fraternal love we can say: my Church.

In another icon Saints Peter and Paul are depicted while exchanging an embrace. There was a lot of diversity between them. A fisherman and a Pharisee with their own life experiences, their characters, ways of doing things and sensitivities were completely different. Conflicting opinions and frank debates were not lacking between them (cf. Gal 2.11 ff.). But that which united them was infinitely greater: Jesus was the Lord of both, together they said "my Lord" to the one who says "my church". Brothers in the faith, invite us to rediscover the joy of being brothers and sisters in the Church. On this feast, which unites two very different Apostles, it would be beautiful for each of us to say, "thank you, Lord, for that person who is different from me: he, she is a gift for my church." We are different but this enriches us, and it is brotherhood. It would be good to appreciate the qualities of others, to recognize the gifts of others without malice and without envy. Envy! Envy causes bitterness inside, it is vinegar poured out on the heart. Those who are envious have a real sour outlook. Many times, when one finds a jealous person, they might wan to ask, but what did you have for breakfast today, was it with milk or with vinegar? Because is bitter. Envy makes life sour. How beautiful instead it is to know that we belong to each other, because we share the same faith, the same love, the same hope, the same Lord. We belong to each other and this is the splendid mystery of being able to say: our Church! Brotherhood.

At the end of the Gospel Jesus said to Peter, "feed my sheep" (Jn 21.17). He speaks of us and says "my sheep" with the same tenderness with which he said my church. With how much love, with how much tenderness Jesus loves us! We feel like we are His. This is the affection that builds the Church. Today through the intercession of the Apostles, let us ask the grace to love our Church. Let us ask for eyes that know how to see in it brothers and sisters, a heart that knows how to welcome others with the tender love that Jesus has for us. And let us ask for the strength to pray for those who do not think like us – this persons thinks differently, I pray for that person – prayer and love, which is different from talking down about , perhaps behind their backs. Never talk down about people, prayer and love. May the Madonna, who brought harmony among the Apostles and prayed for them (cf. At 1.14), guard us as brothers and sisters in the Church.

29.06.19 a

Dear Brothers and Sisters, good morning!

Starting with the episode of Stephen's stoning, a figure appears, that, next to Peter's, is the most present and incisive in the Acts of the Apostles: that of "a young man, called Saul"(Acts 7:58). He is described at the beginning as one who approves of Stephen's death and wants to destroy the Church (cf. Acts 8:,3); but then he becomes the instrument chosen by God to proclaim the gospel to the people (see Acts 9:15; 22.21; 26.17).

With the authorisation of the high priest, Saul hunts down Christians and captures them. Some of you, who have come from peoples that have been persecuted by dictatorships, you understand well what it means to hunt people down and capture them. So did Saul. And this he does thinking that he is serving the Lord's Law. Luke says that Saul breathed threats and massacres against the disciples of the Lord(Acts 9:1): in him there was a breath that tasted of death, not of life.

The young Saul is portrayed as an intransigent man, that is, one who shows intolerance towards those who think differently from him, he absolutizes his own political and religious identity and reduces the other to a potential enemy to fight. He is an ideologue. In Saul, religion had become an ideology: religious ideology, social ideology, political ideology. Only after being transformed by Christ, does he begin to teach that the real battle "is not against the flesh and blood, but against [...] the rulers of this dark world, against the spirits of evil"(Eph 6:12). He would teach that you must not fight people, but the evil that inspires their actions.

The angry condition – because Saul was angry – and Saul's conflict invites each one to ask: how do I live my life of faith? Do I go to meet others or am I against others? Do I belong to the universal Church (good and bad, all) or do I have a selective ideology? Do I love God or do I love dogmatic formulations? What's my religious life like? Does the faith in God I profess make me friendly or hostile to those who are different from me?

Luke recounts that while Saul is all intent on eradicating the Christian community, the Lord is on his trail to touch his heart and convert him to himself. It is the Lord's method: he touches the heart. The Risen takes the initiative and manifests himself to Saul on the way to Damascus, an event that is narrated three times in the Book of Acts (cf. Acts 9:3-19; 22:3-21; 26:4-23). Through the combination of "light" and "voice", typical of theophasy, the Risen One appears to Saul and asks him to account for his fratricidal fury: "Saul, Saul, why do you pursue me?" (Acts 9:4). Here the Risen One manifests his being one single thing to those who believe in him: to strike a member of the Church is to strike Christ himself! Also those who are ideologues because they want the "purity" – in quotation marks – of the Church, strike Christ.

The voice of Jesus says to Saul, "Get up and go into the city and you will be told what you must do"(Acts 9:6). Once standing, however, Saul sees nothing, he has become blind, and from a strong man, authoritative and independent he becomes weak, needy and dependent on others, because he cannot see. The light of Christ dazzled him and blinded him: "Also on his exterior appears what his inner reality is, his blindness towards the truth, the light that is Christ" (Blessed XVI, General Audience, 3 September 2008).

From this "face-to-face" between Saul and the Risen One a transformation begins that shows the "personal easter" of Saul, his transition from death to life: what used to be "gains" becomes "rubbish" to be rejected in order to acquire the true gain that is Christ and life in Him (cf. Phil 3:7-8).

Paul receives Baptism through a member of the Christian community in Damascus, Ananias. Baptism thus marks for Saul, as for each of us, the beginning of a new life, and is accompanied by a new look at God, for himself and for others, who from enemies become brothers and sisters in Christ.

Let us ask the Father to make us, as in Saul, experience the impact of His love that can only make a heart of stone a heart of flesh (cf. Ez 11:19), capable of accepting in itself "the same feelings of Christ Jesus"(Phil 2:5). 

09.10.19

Dear Brothers and Sisters, good morning!

The book of the Acts of the Apostles, in the final part, tells us that the Gospel continues its journey not only by land but by sea, on a ship that leads Paul, who is a prisoner, from Caesarea to Rome (cf. Acts 27:1 –28:16), in the heart of the Empire, so that the word of the Risen One may be realized: "You will be my witnesses [...] to the ends of the earth"(Acts 1:8). Read the Book of Acts of the Apostles and you will see how the Gospel, with the strength of the Holy Spirit, reaches all peoples, is universal. Take it. Read it.

Navigation encounters unfavourable conditions from the outset. The journey gets dangerous. And they are forced to disembark at Myra and board another ship and skirt the southern side of the island of Crete. Paul advises not to continue sailing, but the centurion does not give him credit and relies on the pilot and the owner. The journey continues and a wind is so furious that the crew loses control and lets the ship drift.

When death seems near and despair pervades everyone, Paul intervenes he is the man of faith and knows that even the danger of death will not separate him from the Lord, by the love of Christ and the commission that he has received. He reassures his companions by saying what we have heard: "Last night an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I serve stood by me said: "Don't be afraid, Paul; you are destined to appear before Caesar, and behold, for your sake, God has granted safety to all who are sailing with you "(Acts 27:23-24). Even in the trial, Paul never ceases to be the guardian of the lives of others and an animator of their hope.

 Luke thus shows us that the design that guides Paul to Rome saves not only the Apostle, but also his fellow travellers, and the shipwreck, from a situation of misfortune, changes into a providential opportunity for the proclamation of the Gospel. It is an immersion in the waters that recalls the baptismal experience, the death and resurrection and that makes ones experience of Gods care and powerful salvation. 

The shipwreck is followed by a landing on the island of Malta, whose inhabitants show a thoughtful welcome. Maltese are good, they are mild, they are welcoming since that time. It's raining and cold and they light a bonfire to give the castaways some warmth and relief. Here, too, Paul, as a true disciple of Christ, sets out to fuel the fire with some branches. During these operations he is bitten by a viper but does not suffer any damage: people, looking at this, say: "But this must be a great evildoer because he saves himself from a shipwreck and ends up bitten by a viper!" They waited for him to fall dead, but he did not suffer any damage and they were even mistaking him for a deity – instead of an evildoer . In fact, that benefit comes from the Risen Lord who assists him, according to the promise he made before he ascended to heaven and addressed to believers: "They will take snakes in their hands and, if they drink some poison, it will not harm them; they will lay the hands on the sick and they will be healed"(Mark 16:18). History has been told that since then there have been no vipers in Malta: this is God's blessing for the welcome of this good people.

In fact, the stay in Malta becomes a good opportunity for Paul to give "meat" to the word that he announces and thus exercise a ministry of compassion in the healing of the sick. And this is a law of the Gospel: when a believer experiences salvation, he does not hold it back for himself, but puts it into his blood stream. "The good always tends to communicate. Every experience of truth and beauty seeks for itself its expansion, and every person who experiences a profound liberation acquires greater sensitivity before the needs of others" (Exorsive. Ap. Evangelii gaudium, 9). A Christian who has been tried can certainly become closer to those who suffer because he knows what suffering is, and make his heart open and sensitive to solidarity with others.

Paul teaches us to live out our trials by clinging to Christ, to mature the conviction that God can act under any circumstances, even in the midst of apparent failures and the "certainty that those who offer and give themselves to God for love will surely be fruitful"(ibid.. . 279). Love is always fruitful, love to God is always fruitful, and if you allow yourself to take it from the Lord and you receive the Lord's gifts, it will allow you to give them to others. It always goes beyond love to God.

Today let us ask the Lord to help us live every trial sustained by the energy of faith; and to be sensitive to the many castaways of history who arrive exhausted on our shores, because we too know how to welcome them with that fraternal love that comes from the encounter with Jesus. This is what saves us from the frost of indifference and inhumanity.

08.01.20

Dear Brothers and Sisters!

Today we conclude the catechesis on the Acts of the Apostles, with the last missionary stage of St. Paul: that is, Rome (cf. Acts 28:14).

Paul's journey, which was one with that of the Gospel, is proof that the routes of men, if lived in faith, can become a transit space of God's salvation, through the Word of faith which is an active ferment in history , capable of transforming situations and opening new paths.

With the arrival of Paul in the heart of the Empire ends the account of the Acts of the Apostles, which does not end with the martyrdom of Paul, but with the abundant sowing of the Word. The end of Luke's story, centred on the journey of the Gospel in the world, contains and summarizes all the dynamism of the Word of God, an unstoppable word that wants to run to communicate salvation to all.

In Rome, Paul first meets his brothers in Christ, who welcome him and give him courage (cf. Acts 28:15) and whose warm hospitality suggests how much he was expected and desired for his arrival. He is then allowed to live on his own in military custody, that is, with a soldier guarding him, he was under house arrest. Despite his status as a prisoner, Paul can meet with the notable Jews to explain why he was forced to appeal to Caesar and to speak to them about the kingdom of God. He tries to convince them about Jesus, starting from the scriptures and showing the continuity between the newness of Christ and the "hope of Israel"(Acts 28:20). Paul recognizes himself deeply Jewish and sees in the Gospel that he preaches, that is, in the proclamation of Christ dead and risen, the fulfilment of the promises made to the chosen people.

After this first informal meeting that finds the Jews willing, a more official one follows during which, for a whole day, Paul announces the kingdom of God and tries to open his interlocutors to the faith in Jesus, starting "from the law of Moses and the Prophets"(Acts 28:23). Since not everyone is convinced, he denounces the hardening of the heart of God's people, the cause of his condemnation (cf. Is 6:9-10), and passionately celebrates the salvation of nations that are instead sensitive to God and capable of listening to the Word of the Gospel of life (cf. Acts 28:28).

At this point in the narrative, Luke concludes his work by showing us not the death of Paul but the dynamism of his sermon, of a Word that "is not chained" (2Tim 2:9) – Paul does not have the freedom to move but is free to speak because the Word is not chained - it is a Word ready to let itself be sown in full by the Apostle. Paul does so "with all frankness and without impediment"(Acts 28:31), in a house where he welcomes those who want to receive the proclamation of the kingdom of God and know Christ. This house open to all hearts in search is the image of the Church, which, although persecuted, misunderstood and chained, never tires of welcoming with a maternal heart every man and woman to announce to them the love of the Father who has made himself visible in Jesus.

Dear brothers and sisters, at the end of this journey, lived together following the course of the Gospel in the world, the Spirit revives in each of us the call to be courageous and joyful evangelizers. Let us, like Paul, be able to imbue our houses with the Gospel and make them upper rooms of fraternity, where we welcome the living Christ, who "comes to meet us in every man and at all times" (cf. I I Preface of Advent).

15.01.20

Three different groups were on board the ship that brought Saint Paul to Rome as a prisoner. The most powerful group was made up of soldiers under a centurion. Then there were the sailors, upon whom naturally everyone on board depended during the long voyage. Finally, there were the weakest and most vulnerable: the prisoners.

When the ship ran aground off the coast of Malta, after having been at the mercy of a storm for several days, the soldiers planned to kill the prisoners to ensure that no one would escape, but they were stopped by the centurion who wanted to save Paul. Although he was among the most vulnerable, Paul offered something important to his traveling companions. While everyone was losing all hope of survival, the Apostle brought an unexpected message of hope. An angel had reassured him, saying to him: “Do not be afraid, Paul; God has granted safety to all those who sail with you” (Acts 27:24). Paul’s trust proved to be well founded, and in the end all the travellers were saved. Once they landed at Malta, they experienced the hospitality, kindness and humanity of the island’s inhabitants. This important detail provided the theme of the Week of Prayer that concludes today.

Dear brothers and sisters: this account from the Acts of the Apostles also speaks to our ecumenical journey towards that unity which God ardently desires. In the first place, it tells us that those who are weak and vulnerable, those who have little to offer materially but find their wealth in God, can present valuable messages for the good of all. Let us think of Christian communities: even the smallest and least significant in the eyes of the world, if they experience the Holy Spirit, if they are animated by love for God and neighbour, have a message to offer to the whole Christian family. Let us think of marginalized and persecuted Christian communities. As in the account of Paul’s shipwreck, it is often the weakest who bring the most important message of salvation. This was what pleased God: to save us not with the power of this world, but with the weakness of the cross (cf. 1 Cor 1:20-25). As disciples of Jesus, we must be careful not to be attracted by worldly logic, but rather to listen to the small and the weak, because God loves to send his messages through those who most resemble his Son made man.

The account in Acts reminds us of a second aspect: God’s priority is the salvation of all. As the angel said to Paul: “God has granted safety to all those who sail with you”. Paul insists on this point. We too need to repeat it: it is our duty to put into effect the paramount desire of God who, as Paul himself writes, “desires everyone to be saved” (1 Tim 2:4). This is an invitation not to devote ourselves exclusively to our own communities, but to open ourselves to the good of all, to the universal gaze of God who took flesh in order to embrace the whole human race and who died and rose for the salvation of all. If we, with his grace, can assimilate his way of seeing things, we can overcome our divisions. In Paul’s shipwreck, each person contributed to the salvation of all: the centurion made important decisions, the sailors put to use their knowledge and abilities, the Apostle encouraged those without hope. Among Christians as well, each community has a gift to offer to the others. The more we look beyond partisan interests and overcome the legacies of the past in the desire to move forward towards a common landing place, the more readily we will recognize, welcome and share these gifts.

We thus arrive at a third aspect that was at the centre of this Week of Prayer: hospitality. In the last chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, Saint Luke says, with regard to the inhabitants of Malta, “The natives showed us unusual kindness” (v. 2). The fire kindled on the shore to warm the shipwrecked travellers is a fine symbol of the human warmth that unexpectedly surrounded them. Even the governor of the island showed himself welcoming and hospitable to Paul, who repaid him by healing his father and later many other sick people (cf. vv. 7-9). Finally, when the Apostle and those with him departed for Italy, the Maltese generously resupplied them with provisions (v. 10). 

25.01.20  1/3

Dear brothers and sisters, with these thoughts I offer my cordial and fraternal greetings to His Eminence Metropolitan Gennadios, the representative of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, to His Grace Ian Ernest, the personal representative in Rome of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and to all the representatives of the different Churches and Ecclesial Communities gathered here to conclude together the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. I greet the students of the Ecumenical Institute of Bossey, who are visiting Rome to deepen their knowledge of the Catholic Church. I welcome too the young people of the Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox Churches who are studying on a scholarship from the Committee for Cultural Cooperation with the Orthodox Churches, under the auspices of the Pontifical Council for the Promotion of Christian Unity, to whose members I extend my greetings and gratitude. Together, without ever tiring, let us continue to pray and to beg from God the gift of full unity among ourselves. 

25.01.20  3/3

On the feast of the two Apostles of this City, I would like to share with you two key words: unity and prophecy.

Unity. We celebrate together two very different individuals: Peter, a fisherman who spent his days amid boats and nets, and Paul, a learned Pharisee who taught in synagogues. When they went forth on mission, Peter spoke to Jews, and Paul to pagans. And when their paths crossed, they could argue heatedly, as Paul is unashamed to admit in one of his letters (cf. Gal 2:11). In short, they were two very different people, yet they saw one another as brothers, as happens in close-knit families where there may be frequent arguments but unfailing love. Yet the closeness that joined Peter and Paul did not come from natural inclinations, but from the Lord. He did not command us to like one another, but to love one another. He is the one who unites us, without making us all alike. He unites us in our differences.

Today’s first reading brings us to the source of this unity. It relates how the newly born Church was experiencing a moment of crisis: Herod was furious, a violent persecution had broken out, and the Apostle James had been killed. And now Peter had been arrested. The community seemed headless, everyone fearing for his life. Yet at that tragic moment no one ran away, no one thought about saving his own skin, no one abandoned the others, but all joined in prayer. From prayer they drew strength, from prayer came a unity more powerful than any threat. The text says that, “while Peter was kept in prison, the Church prayed fervently to God for him” (Acts 12:5). Unity is the fruit of prayer, for prayer allows the Holy Spirit to intervene, opening our hearts to hope, shortening distances and holding us together at times of difficulty.

Let us notice something else: at that dramatic moment, no one complained about Herod’s evil and his persecution. No one abused Herod – and we are so accustomed to abuse those who are in charge. It is pointless, even tedious, for Christians to waste their time complaining about the world, about society, about everything that is not right. Complaints change nothing. Let us remember that complaining is the second door that closes us off from the Holy Spirit, as I said on Pentecost Sunday. The first is narcissism, the second discouragement, the third pessimism. Narcissism makes you look at yourself constantly in a mirror; discouragement leads to complaining and pessimism to thinking everything is dark and bleak. These three attitudes close the door to the Holy Spirit. Those Christians did not cast blame; rather, they prayed. In that community, no one said: “If Peter had been more careful, we would not be in this situation”. No one. Humanly speaking, there were reasons to criticize Peter, but no one criticized him. They did not complain about Peter; they prayed for him. They did not talk about Peter behind his back; they talked to God. We today can ask: “Are we protecting our unity, our unity in the Church, with prayer? Are we praying for one another?” What would happen if we prayed more and complained less, if we had a more tranquil tongue? The same thing that happened to Peter in prison: now as then, so many closed doors would be opened, so many chains that bind would be broken. We would be amazed, like the maid who saw Peter at the gate and did not open it, but ran inside, astonished by the joy of seeing Peter (cf. Acts 12:10-17). Let us ask for the grace to be able to pray for one another. Saint Paul urged Christians to pray for everyone, especially those who govern (cf. 1 Tim 2:1-3). “But this governor is…”, and there are many adjectives. I will not mention them, because this is neither the time nor the place to mention adjectives that we hear directed against those who govern. Let God judge them; let us pray for those who govern! Let us pray: for they need prayer. This is a task that the Lord has entrusted to us. Are we carrying it out? Or do we simply talk, abuse and do nothing? God expects that when we pray we will also be mindful of those who do not think as we do, those who have slammed the door in our face, those whom we find it hard to forgive. Only prayer unlocks chains, as it did for Peter; only prayer paves the way to unity.

Today we bless the pallia to be bestowed on the Dean of the College of Cardinals and the Metropolitan Archbishops named in the last year. The pallium is a sign of the unity between the sheep and the Shepherd who, like Jesus, carries the sheep on his shoulders, so as never to be separated from it. Today too, in accordance with a fine tradition, we are united in a particular way with the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople. Peter and Andrew were brothers, and, whenever possible, we exchange fraternal visits on our respective feast days. We do so not only out of courtesy, but as a means of journeying together towards the goal that the Lord points out to us: that of full unity. We could not do so today because of the difficulty of travel due to the coronavirus, but when I went to venerate the remains of Peter, in my heart I felt my beloved brother Bartholomew. They are here, with us.

The second word is prophecy. Unity and prophecy. The Apostles were challenged by Jesus. Peter heard Jesus’ question: “Who do you say I am?” (cf. Mt 16:15). At that moment he realized that the Lord was not interested in what others thought, but in Peter’s personal decision to follow him. Paul’s life changed after a similar challenge from Jesus: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (Acts 9:4). The Lord shook Paul to the core: more than just knocking him to the ground on the road to Damascus, he shattered Paul’s illusion of being respectably religious. As a result, the proud Saul turned into Paul, a name that means “small”. These challenges and reversals are followed by prophecies: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church” (Mt 16:18); and, for Paul: “He is a chosen instrument of mine to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and the sons of Israel” (Acts 9:15). Prophecy is born whenever we allow ourselves to be challenged by God, not when we are concerned to keep everything quiet and under control. Prophecy is not born from my thoughts, from my closed heart. It is born if we allow ourselves to be challenged by God. When the Gospel overturns certainties, prophecy arises. Only someone who is open to God’s surprises can become a prophet. And there they are: Peter and Paul, prophets who look to the future. Peter is the first to proclaim that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Mt 16:16). Paul, who considers his impending death: “From now on there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord will award to me” (2 Tim 4:8).

Today we need prophecy, but real prophecy: not fast talkers who promise the impossible, but testimonies that the Gospel is possible. What is needed are not miraculous shows. It makes me sad when I hear someone say, “We want a prophetic Church”. All right. But what are you doing, so that the Church can be prophetic? We need lives that show the miracle of God’s love. Not forcefulness, but forthrightness. Not palaver, but prayer. Not speeches, but service. Do you want a prophetic Church? Then start serving and be quiet. Not theory, but testimony. We are not to become rich, but rather to love the poor. We are not to save up for ourselves, but to spend ourselves for others. To seek not the approval of this world, of being comfortable with everyone - here we say: “being comfortable with God and the devil”, being comfortable with everyone -; no, this is not prophecy. We need the joy of the world to come. Not better pastoral plans that seem to have their own self-contained efficiency, as if they were sacraments; efficient pastoral plans, no. We need pastors who offer their lives: lovers of God. That is how Peter and Paul preached Jesus, as men in love with God. At his crucifixion, Peter did not think about himself but about his Lord, and, considering himself unworthy of dying like Jesus, asked to be crucified upside down. Before his beheading, Paul thought only of offering his life; he wrote that he wanted to be “poured out like a libation” (2 Tim 4:6). That was prophecy. Not words. That was prophecy, the prophecy that changed history.

Dear brothers and sisters, Jesus prophesied to Peter: “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church”. There is a similar prophecy for us too. It is found in the last book of the Bible, where Jesus promises his faithful witnesses “a white stone, on which a new name is written” (Rev 2:17). Just as the Lord turned Simon into Peter, so he is calling each one of us, in order to make us living stones with which to build a renewed Church and a renewed humanity. There are always those who destroy unity and stifle prophecy, yet the Lord believes in us and he asks you: “Do you want to be a builder of unity? Do you want to be a prophet of my heaven on earth?” Brothers and sisters, let us be challenged by Jesus, and find the courage to say to him: “Yes, I do!”

29.06.20

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!

Today we celebrate the patron saints of Rome, the Apostles Peter and Paul. And it is a gift to find ourselves praying here, near the place where Peter died a martyr and is buried. However, today's liturgy recalls an entirely different episode: it tells us that several years earlier Peter was freed from death. He had been arrested, he was in prison, and the Church, fearing for his life, prayed incessantly for him. Then an angel came down to free him from prison (cf. Acts 12:1-11). But years later, too, when Peter was a prisoner in Rome, the Church would certainly have prayed. On that occasion, however, his life was not spared. How come he was first spared the trial, and then not?

Because there is a journey in Peter's life that can illuminate the path of our own. The Lord granted him many graces and freed him from evil: He does this with us too. Indeed, often we go to Him only in moments of need, to ask for help. But God sees further and invites us to go further, to seek not only His gifts, but to look for Him, the Lord of all gifts; to entrust to Him not only our problems, but to entrust to Him our life. In this way He can finally give us the greatest grace, that of giving life. Yes, giving life. The most important thing in life is to make life a gift. And this is true for everyone: for parents towards their children and for children towards their elderly parents. And here many elderly people come to mind, who have been left alone by their family, as if - I dare say - as if they were discarded material. And this is a tragedy of our times: the solitude of the elderly. The life of children and grandchildren is not given as a gift to the elderly. Giving ourselves for those who are married and for those who are consecrated; it is true everywhere, at home and at work, and towards everyone close to us. God desires making us grow in giving: only in this way can we become great. We grow if we give ourselves to others. Look at Saint Peter: he did not become a hero because he was freed from prison, but because he gave his life here. His gift transformed a place of execution into the beautiful place of hope in which we find ourselves.

Here is what to ask of God: not only the grace of the moment, but the grace of life. Today’s Gospel shows us the very dialogue that changes Peter’s life. He hears Jesus ask him: “Who do you say I am?”. And he answers, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God”. And Jesus continues, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah” (Mt 16: 16-17). Jesus says “blessed”, that is, literally, happy. You are happy for having said this. Take note: Jesus says You are blessed to Peter, who had said to Him, “You are the living God”. What is the secret of a blessed life, then, what is the secret of a happy life? Recognising Jesus, but Jesus as the living God, not like a statue. Because it is not important to know that Jesus was great in history, it is not so important to appreciate what He said or did; what matters is the place I give Him in my life, the place I give to Jesus in my heart. It is at this point that Simon hears Jesus say: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church” (v. 18). He was not called “Peter”, “rock”, because he was a solid and trustworthy man. No, he will make many mistakes afterwards, he was not so reliable, he will make many mistakes; he will even reach the point of denying the Master. But he chose to build his life on Jesus, the rock; not - as the text says - “on flesh and blood”, that is, on himself, on his capacities, but on Jesus (cf. v. 17), who is rock. And Jesus is the rock on which Simon became stone. We can say the same of the Apostle Paul, who gave himself totally to the Gospel, considering all the rest to be worthless, so as to earn Christ.

Today, before the Apostles, we can ask ourselves: “And I, how do I arrange my life? Do I think only of the needs of the moment or do I believe that my real need is Jesus, who makes me a gift? And how do I build life, on my capacities or on the living God?". May Our Lady, who entrusted everything to God, help us to put Him at the base of every day, and may she intercede for us so that, with the grace of God, we may make a gift of our life.

29.06.20 a

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!

After the long itinerary dedicated to prayer, today we begin a new cycle of catechesis. I hope that with this itinerary of prayer we have succeeded in praying a little better, praying a little more. Today I would like to reflect on some themes proposed by the Apostle Paul in his Letter to the Galatians. It is a very important Letter, I would even say decisive, not only for getting to know the Apostle better, but above all in considering some topics that he addresses in depth, showing the beauty of the Gospel. In this Letter, Paul makes many biographical references that allow us to understand his conversion and his decision to place his life at the service of Jesus Christ. He also deals with some very important themes for the faith, such as freedom, grace and the Christian way of life, which are extremely topical since they touch on many aspects of the life of the Church today. This letter is very topical. It seems to be written for our times.

The first feature that emerges from this Letter is the great work of evangelisation carried out by the Apostle, who had visited the communities of Galatia at least twice during his missionary journeys. Paul addresses the Christians of that territory. We do not know exactly which geographical area he is referring to, nor can we state with certainty the date on which he wrote this Letter. We do know that the Galatians were an ancient Celtic population who, after many vicissitudes, had settled in the extensive region of Anatolia that had as its capital the city of Ancyra, today Ankara, the capital of Turkey. Paul relates only that, due to illness, he was obliged to stay in that region (cf. Gal 4:13). Saint Luke, in the Acts of the Apostles, finds instead a more spiritual motivation. He says that “they went through the region of Phry’gia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the Word in Asia” (16:6).

The two facts are not contradictory: rather, they indicate that the path of evangelisation does not always depend on our will and plans, but requires a willingness to allow ourselves to be shaped and to follow other paths that were not foreseen. Among you there is a family who greeted me: they say that they have to learn Latvian, and I don’t know what other language, because they will go as missionaries to that land. The Spirit continues today to bring many missionaries to leave their homeland and to go to another country to carry out their mission. What we do see, however, is that in his indefatigable work of evangelisation, the Apostle succeeded in founding several small communities scattered throughout the region of Galatia. Paul, when he arrived in a city, in a region, did not construct a great cathedral immediately, no. He created small communities that are the leaven of our Christian culture today. He began by making small communities. And these small communities grew, they grew and they went forward. Today, too, this pastoral method is used in every missionary region. I received a letter last week, from a missionary in Papua New Guinea, telling me that he is preaching the Gospel in the forest, to people who do not even know who Jesus Christ was. It is beautiful! One begins by forming small communities. Even today this method of evangelisation is that of the first evangelisation.

What we ought to note is Paul's pastoral concern, which is all aflame. After founding these Churches, he became aware of a great danger to their growth in faith - the pastor is like a father or a mother who immediately aware of dangers to their children. They grow, and dangers present themselves. As someone said, “The vultures come to wreak havoc in the community”. Indeed, some Christians who had come from Judaism had infiltrated these churches, and began to sow theories contrary to the Apostle’s teaching, even going so far as to denigrate him. They began with doctrine - “No to this, yes to that”, and then they denigrated the Apostle. It is the usual method: undermining the authority of the Apostle. As we can see, it is an ancient practice to present oneself at times as the sole possessor of the truth, the pure, and to aim at belittling the work of others, even with slander. These opponents of Paul argued that even the Gentiles had to be circumcised and live according to the rules of the Mosaic Law. They went back to the previous observances, those that had been superseded by the Gospel. The Galatians, therefore, would have had to renounce their cultural identity in order to submit to the norms, prescriptions and customs typical of the Jews. Not only that, those adversaries argued that Paul was not a true apostle and therefore had no authority to preach the Gospel. Let us think of some Christian communities or some dioceses: first they begin with stories, and then they end by discrediting the priest or the bishop. It is precisely the way of the evil one, of these people who divide, who do not know how to build. And in this Letter to the Galatians we see this process.

The Galatians found themselves in a situation of crisis. What were they to do? To listen and follow what Paul had preached to them, or to listen to the new preachers who accused him? It is easy to imagine the state of uncertainty that that filled their hearts. For them, having come to know Jesus and believed in the work of salvation accomplished by His death and resurrection, was truly the beginning of a new life, a life of freedom. They had embarked on a path that allowed them to be free at last, despite the fact that their history was interwoven with many forms of violent slavery, not least that which had subjected them to the emperor of Rome. Therefore, faced with criticism from the new preachers, they felt lost and they felt uncertain about how to behave: “But who is right? This Paul, or these people who now come teaching other things? Who should I listen to?” In short, there was a lot at stake!

This situation is not far removed from the experience of many Christians today. Indeed, today too there is no shortage of preachers who, especially through the new means of communication, can disturb communities. They present themselves not primarily to announce the Gospel of God who loves man in Jesus, Crucified and Risen, but to insist, as true “keepers of the truth” - so they call themselves - on the best way to be Christians. And they strongly affirm that the true Christianity is the one they adhere to, often identified with certain forms of the past, and that the solution to the crises of today is to go back so as not to lose the genuineness of the faith. Today too, as then, there is a temptation to close oneself up in some of the certainties acquired in past traditions. But how can we recognise these people? For example, one of the characteristics of this way of proceeding is inflexibility. Faced with the preaching of the Gospel that makes us free, that makes us joyful, these people are rigid. Always rigidity: you must do this, you must do that... Inflexibility is typical of these people. Following the teaching of the Apostle Paul in his Letter to the Galatians will help us to understand which path to follow. The path indicated by the Apostle is the liberating and ever-new path of Jesus, Crucified and Risen; it is the path of proclamation, which is achieved through humility and fraternity - the new preachers do not know what humility is, what fraternity is. It is the path of meek and obedient trust - the new preachers know neither meekness nor obedience. And this meek and obedient way leads forward in the certainty that the Holy Spirit works in the Church in every age. Ultimately, faith in the Holy Spirit present in the Church carries us forward and will save us. 

23.06.21

Two great Apostles of the Gospel and two pillars of the Church: Peter and Paul. Today we celebrate their memory. Let us take a closer look at these two witnesses of faith. At the heart of their story is not their own gifts and abilities; at the centre is the encounter with Christ that changed their lives. They experienced a love that healed them and set them free. They then became apostles and ministers of freedom for others.

Peter and Paul were free because they were set free. Let us reflect on this central point.

Peter, the fisherman from Galilee, was set free above all from his sense of inadequacy and his bitter experience of failure, thanks to the unconditional love of Jesus. Although a skilled fisher, many times, in the heart of the night, he tasted the bitterness of frustration at having caught nothing (cf. Lk 5:5; Jn 21:5) and, seeing his empty nets, was tempted to pull up his oars. Though strong and impetuous, Peter often yielded to fear (cf. Mt 14: 30). Albeit a fervent disciple of the Lord, he continued to think by worldly standards, and thus failed to understand and accept the meaning of Christ’s cross (cf. Mt 16:22). Even after saying that he was ready to give his life for Jesus, the mere suspicion that he was one of Christ’s disciples led him in fright to deny the Master (cf. Mk 14: 66-72).

Jesus nonetheless loved Peter and was willing to take a risk on him. He encouraged Peter not to give up, to lower his nets once more, to walk on water, to find the strength to accept his own frailty, to follow him on the way of the cross, to give his life for his brothers and sisters, to shepherd his flock. In this way, Jesus set Peter free from fear, from calculations based solely on worldly concerns. He gave him the courage to risk everything and the joy of becoming a fisher of men. It was Peter whom Jesus called to strengthen his brothers in faith (cf. Lk 22:32). He gave him – as we heard in the Gospel – the keys to open the doors leading to an encounter with the Lord and the power to bind and loose: to bind his brothers and sisters to Christ and to loosen the knots and chains in their lives (cf. Mt 16:19).

All that was possible only because – as we heard in the first reading – Peter himself had been set free. The chains that held him prisoner were shattered and, as on the night when the Israelites were set free from bondage in Egypt, he was told to arise in haste, fasten his belt and put on his sandals in order to go forth. The Lord then opened the doors before him (cf. Acts 12: 7-10). Here we see a new history of opening, liberation, broken chains, exodus from the house of bondage. Peter had a Passover experience: the Lord set him free.

The Apostle Paul also experienced the freedom brought by Christ. He was set free from the most oppressive form of slavery, which is slavery to self. From Saul, the name of the first king of Israel, he became Paul, which means “small”. He was also set free from the religious fervour that had made him a zealous defender of his ancestral traditions (cf. Gal 1:14) and a cruel persecutor of Christians. Set free. Formal religious observance and the intransigent defence of tradition, rather than making him open to the love of God and of his brothers and sisters, had hardened him: he was a fundamentalist. God set him free from this, yet he did not spare him the frailties and hardships that rendered his mission of evangelization more fruitful: the strain of the apostolate, physical infirmity (cf. Gal 4:13-14); violence and persecution, shipwreck, hunger and thirst, and, as he himself tells us, a painful thorn in the flesh (cf. 2 Cor 12:7-10).

Paul thus came to realize that “God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong” (1 Cor 1:27), that we can do all things through him who strengthens us (cf. Phil 4:13), and that nothing can ever separate us from his love (cf. Rom 8:35-39). For this reason, at the end of his life – as we heard in the second reading – Paul was able to say: “the Lord stood by me” and “he will rescue me from every evil attack” (2 Tim 4: 17). Paul had a Passover experience: the Lord set him free.

Dear brothers and sisters, the Church looks to these two giants of faith and sees two Apostles who set free the power of the Gospel in our world, only because first they themselves had been set free by their encounter with Christ. Jesus did not judge them or humiliate them. Instead, he shared their life with affection and closeness. He supported them by his prayer, and even at times reproached them to make them change. To Peter, Jesus gently says: “I have prayed for you that your own faith may not fail” (Lk 22:32). And to Paul: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (Acts 9:4). He does the same with us: he assures us of his closeness by praying and interceding for us before the Father, and gently reproaching us whenever we go astray, so that we can find the strength to arise and resume the journey.

We too have been touched by the Lord; we too have been set free. Yet we need to be set free time and time again, for only a free Church is a credible Church. Like Peter, we are called to be set free from a sense of failure before our occasionally disastrous fishing. To be set free from the fear that paralyzes us, makes us seek refuge in our own securities, and robs us of the courage of prophecy. Like Paul, we are called to be set free from hypocritical outward show, free from the temptation to present ourselves with worldly power rather than with the weakness that makes space for God, free from a religiosity that makes us rigid and inflexible; free from dubious associations with power and from the fear of being misunderstood and attacked.

Peter and Paul bequeath to us the image of a Church entrusted to our hands, yet guided by the Lord with fidelity and tender love, for it is he who guides the Church. A Church that is weak, yet finds strength in the presence of God. The image of a Church set free and capable of offering the world the freedom that the world by itself cannot give: freedom from sin and death, from resignation, and from the sense of injustice and the loss of hope that dehumanizes the lives of the women and men of our time.

Let us ask, today in this celebration but afterwards as well: to what extent do our cities, our societies and our world need freedom? How many chains must be shattered and how many doors long shut must be opened! We can help bring this freedom, but only if we first let ourselves be set free by the newness of Jesus, and walk in the freedom of the Holy Spirit.

Today our brother Archbishops receive the pallium. This sign of unity with Peter recalls the mission of the shepherd who gives his life for the flock. It is in giving his life that the shepherd, himself set free, becomes a means of bringing freedom to his brothers and sisters. Today, too, we are joined by a Delegation from the Ecumenical Patriarchate, sent for this occasion by our dear brother Bartholomew. Your welcome presence is a precious sign of unity on our journey of freedom from the distances that scandalously separate believers in Christ. Thank you for your presence.

We pray for you, for all Pastors, for the Church and for all of us: that, set free by Christ, we may be apostles of freedom throughout the world. 

29.06.21

Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!

At the heart of today's Gospel (Mt 16:13-19) the Lord asks the disciples a decisive question: “Who do you say that I am?” (v. 15). It is the crucial question that Jesus repeats to us today: “Who am I to you?”. Who am I to you, who have accepted faith but are still afraid to set sail on my Word? Who am I to you, who have been a Christian for such a long time but, worn out by habit, have lost your first love? Who am I to you, who are going through a difficult time and need to rouse yourself in order to begin again? Jesus asks: Who am I to you? Let us give Him an answer today, but an answer that comes from the heart. All of us, let us give Him an answer that comes from the heart.

Prior to this question, Jesus asked the disciples another one: “Who do people say that I am?” (cf. v. 13). It was a test to find out opinions about Him and the fame He enjoyed, but notoriety does not interest Jesus, it was not that kind of test. So, why did He ask the question? To underline a difference, which is the fundamental difference of Christian life. There are those who stop at the first question, opinions, and talk about Jesus; and there are those who, instead, talk to Jesus, bringing their life to Him, entering into a relationship with Him, making the decisive step. This is what interests the Lord: to be at the centre of our thoughts, to become the reference point of our affections; to be, in short, the love of our lives. Not the opinions we have of Him; that does not interest Him. He is interested in our love, whether He is in our heart.

The Saints we celebrate today took that step and became witnesses. The step from opinion to having Jesus in their heart: witnesses. They were not admirers, but imitators of Jesus. They were not spectators, but rather protagonists of the Gospel. They believed not in words, but in deeds. Peter did not speak about mission, he lived the mission, he was a fisher of men; Paul did not write learned books, but letters of what he lived as he travelled and bore witness. Both spent their lives for the Lord and for their brothers. And they provoke us, because we run the risk of stalling at the first question: of giving views and opinions, of having grand ideas and saying beautiful words, but never putting them into action. And Jesus wants us to put ourselves on the line. How often, for example, we say that we would like a Church that is more faithful to the Gospel, closer to the people, more prophetic and missionary, but then, in practice, we do nothing! It is sad to see that many speak, comment and debate, but few bear witness. Witnesses do not lose themselves in words, but rather they bear fruit. Witnesses do not complain about others and the world, but they start with themselves. They remind us that God is not to be demonstrated, but shown, by one’s own witness; not announced with proclamations but shown by example. This is called “putting your life on the line”.

However, looking at the lives of Peter and Paul, an objection might arise: they were both witnesses, but they were not always exemplary - they were sinners! Peter denied Jesus and Paul persecuted the Christians. But - here is the point - they also bore witness to their failures. Saint Peter, for example, could have said to the Evangelists: “Do not write down the mistakes I have made”, make a Gospel for fun. But no, his story comes out naked, it comes out raw in the Gospels, with all its miseries. Saint Paul does the same, recounting mistakes and weaknesses in his letters. This is where his witness begins: with the truth about himself, with the fight against his own duplicity and falsehood. The Lord can do great things through us when we are not careful to defend our image, but are transparent with Him and with others. Today, dear brothers and sisters, the Lord is questioning us. And His question is the same one - Who am I to you? It delves into us. Through His witnesses Peter and Paul He urges us to take off our masks, to renounce half-measures, the excuses that make us lukewarm and mediocre. May Our Lady, Queen of the Apostles, help us in this. May she enkindle in us the desire to bear witness to Jesus. 

29.06.21 a

Brothers and sisters, good morning!

Let us enter into the Letter to the Galatians a little at a time. We have seen that these Christians find themselves in conflict on how to live the faith. The apostle Paul begins to write his Letter reminding them of their past relationship, his unease at being far from them, and the unchanging love he retains for each one of them. However, he does not fail to point out his concern that the Galatians should follow the correct path: it is the concern of a father, who has generated the communities in the faith. His intention is very clear: it is necessary to reiterate the novelty of the Gospel, which the Galatians have received through his preaching, to build the true identity on which to base their existence. And this is the principle: to reaffirm the newness of the Gospel, of that which the Galatians received from him.

We immediately discover that Paul has a profound knowledge of the mystery of Christ. From the beginning of his Letter he does not follow the low arguments used by his detractors. The Apostle “flies high” and shows us, too, how to behave when conflicts arise within the community. Only towards the end of the Letter, in fact, is it made explicit that at the heart of the diatribe is the question of circumcision, hence of the main Jewish tradition. Paul chooses to go deeper, because what is at stake is the truth of the Gospel and the freedom of Christians, which is an integral part of it. He does not stop at the surface of the problems, of conflicts, as we are often tempted to do in order to find an immediate solution that deludes us into thinking that we can all agree with a compromise. Paul loves Jesus and knows that Jesus is not a man, a God of compromises. This is not how the Gospel works, and the Apostle chose to take the more challenging route. He writes: “Am I now seeking human approval, or God’s approval?” He does not try to make peace with everyone. And he continues: “Or am I trying to please people? If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant of Christ” (Gal 1:10).

Firstly, Paul feels his duty to remind the Galatians that he is a true apostle not by his own merit, but by God’s calling. He recounts the story of his vocation and conversion, which coincided with the apparition of the Risen Christ during the journey to Damascus (cf. Acts 9:1-9). It is interesting to observe what he affirms of his life prior to that event. And this is what he says, about his “former” life: “I was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. I advanced in Judaism beyond many among my people of the same age, for I was far more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors” (Gal 1:13-14). Paul dared to affirm that in Judaism he surpassed all others, he was a truly zealous Pharisee, “as for righteousness based on the law, faultless” (Phil 3:6). Twice he emphasises that he was a defender of the “traditions of the fathers” and a “staunch upholder of the law”. This is the story of Paul.

On the one hand, he insists in underlining that he had fiercely persecuted the Church and that he had been a “blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence” (1 Tim 1:13). He spares no adjectives: he himself describes himself in this way. On the other hand, he highlights God’s mercy towards him, which led him to experience a radical transformation, well know to all. He writes: “I was still unknown by sight to the churches of Judea that are in Christ; they only heard it said, ‘The one who formerly was persecuting us is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy’” (Gal 1, 22-23). He converted, he changed, he changed his heart. Paul thus highlights the truth of his vocation through the striking contrast that had been created in his life: from being a persecutor of Christians who did not observe traditions and the law, he was called to become an apostle to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ. But we see that Paul is free: he is free to proclaim the Gospel and he is also free to confess his sins. “I was like that”: it is the truth that gives freedom to the heart, and it is the freedom of God.

Thinking back on this story, Paul is full of wonder and gratitude. It is as if he wanted to tell the Galatians that he could have been anything but an apostle. He had been brought up as a boy to be a blameless observer of the Mosaic Law, and circumstances had led him to fight the disciples of Christ. However, something unexpected had happened: God, by His grace, had revealed to him His Son who had died and rose again, so that he could become a herald among the Gentiles (cf. Gal 1:15-6).

How inscrutable are the ways of the Lord! We experience this every day, but especially if we think back to the times when the Lord called us. We must never forget the time and the way in which God entered our lives: let us keep fixed in our hearts and minds that encounter with grace, when God changed our existence. How often, in the face of the Lord’s great works, does the question arise: but how is it possible that God uses a sinner, a frail and weak person, to do His will? And yet, none of this happens by chance, because everything has been prepared in God's plan. He weaves our history, the story of each one of us: He weaves our history and, if we correspond with trust to His plan of salvation, we realise it. The calling always implies a mission to which we are destined; that is why we are asked to prepare ourselves seriously, knowing that it is God Himself who sends us, it is God Himself who supports us with His grace. Brothers and sisters, let us allow ourselves to be led by this awareness: the primacy of grace transforms existence and makes it worthy of being placed at the service of the Gospel. The primacy of grace covers all sins, changes hearts, changes lives, and makes us see new paths. Let us not forget this. Thank you.

30.06.21

Brothers and sisters, good morning!

When it comes to the Gospel and the mission to evangelise, Paul is enthusiastic, he comes out of himself. He seems to see nothing other than this mission that the Lord has entrusted to him. Everything in him is dedicated to this proclamation, and he has no interest other than the Gospel. It is Paul’s love, Paul’s interest, Paul’s profession: to proclaim. He even goes so far as to say: 'Christ did not send me to baptise, but to preach the Gospel' (1 Cor 1:17). Paul interprets his whole existence as a call to evangelise, to make Christ’s message known, to make the Gospel known: “Woe to me”, he says, "if I do not preach the Gospel" (1 Cor 9:16). And writing to the Christians of Rome, he presents himself simply as follows: "Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, an apostle by calling, chosen to proclaim the Gospel of God" (Rom 1:1). This is his vocation. In short, he is aware that he has been "set apart" to bring the Gospel to all, and he cannot but devote himself with all his strength to this mission.

One can therefore understand the sadness, the disappointment and even the bitter irony of the Apostle towards the Galatians, who in his eyes are taking the wrong path, which will lead to them to a point of no return: they have taken the wrong path. The pivot around which everything revolves is the Gospel. Paul does not think of the “four Gospels”, as is natural for us, Indeed, while he is sending this Letter, none of the four Gospels had yet been written. For him the Gospel is what he preaches, what is called the kerygma, that is, the proclamation. And what proclamation? That of the death and resurrection of Jesus as the source of salvation. A Gospel that is expressed in four verbs: “Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and he appeared the Cephas, then to the twelve” (I Cor 15: 3-5). This is Paul’s proclamation, the proclamation that gives life to all. This Gospel is the fulfilment of the promises and the salvation offered to all men. Whoever accepts it is reconciled to God, is welcomed as a true son, and receives the inheritance of eternal life.

Faced with such a great gift to the Galatians, the Apostle cannot explain why they might think of accepting another “gospel”, perhaps more sophisticated, more intellectual, I don’t know … but another “gospel”. It should be noted, however, that these Christians have not yet abandoned the Gospel announced by Paul. The Apostle knows that they are still in time not to take a false step, but he warns them strongly, very strongly. His first argument points directly to the fact that the preaching carried out by the new missionaries - those who bring novelty, who preach - cannot be the Gospel. On the contrary, it is a proclamation that distorts the true Gospel because it prevents them from attaining the freedom acquired by arriving at faith - this is the key word, isn’t it? - it prevents them from reaching the freedom acquired by coming to faith. The Galatians are still "beginners" and their disorientation is understandable. They do not yet know the complexities of the Mosaic Law and their enthusiasm in embracing faith in Christ leads them to listen to these new preachers, deluding themselves that their message is complementary to Paul’s. And it is not.

However, the Apostle, cannot risk compromises on such decisive ground. The Gospel is only one and that is what he proclaimed; there can be no other. Beware! Paul does not say that the true Gospel is his because it was he who announced it, no! He does not say this. This would be presumptuous, it would be boastful. Rather, he affirms that "his" Gospel, the same one that the other Apostles were proclaiming elsewhere, is the only authentic one, because it is that of Jesus Christ. He thus writes: “I would have you know, brethren, that the gospel which was preached by me is not man’s gospel, but it came through a revelation of Jesus Christ” (Gal 1:11). We can understand why Paul uses very harsh terms. Twice he uses the expression “anathema”, which indicates the need to keep far from the community that which threatens its foundations. And this new “gospel” threatens the foundations of the community. In short, on this point the Apostle leaves no room for negotiation: one cannot negotiate. With the truth of the Gospel, one cannot negotiate. Either you receive the Gospel as it is, as it was announced, or you receive any other thing. But you cannot negotiate with the Gospel. One cannot compromise. Faith in Jesus is not a bargaining chip: it is salvation, it is encounter, it is redemption. It cannot be sold off cheaply.

This situation described at the beginning of the Letter seems paradoxical, because all those involved seem to be animated by good feelings. The Galatians who listen to the new missionaries think that by circumcision they will be even more devoted to the will of God and thus be even more pleasing to Paul. Paul's enemies seem to be inspired by fidelity to the tradition received from the fathers and believe that genuine faith consists in observing the Law. In the face of this supreme fidelity, they even justify their insinuations and suspicions about Paul, who is considered unorthodox with regard to tradition. The Apostle himself is well aware that his mission is of a divine nature - it was revealed by Christ Himself, to him - and therefore he is moved by total enthusiasm for the novelty of the Gospel, which is a radical novelty, not a fleeting novelty: there are no “fashionable” gospels, the Gospel is always new, it is newness. His pastoral anxiety leads him to be severe, because he sees the great risk facing young Christians. In short, in this labyrinth of good intentions it is necessary to disentangle oneself in order to grasp the supreme truth that is most consistent with the Person and preaching of Jesus and His revelation of the Father's love. This is important: knowing how to discern. Very often we have seen throughout history, and we even see this today, some movements that preach the Gospel in their own way, sometimes with real and genuine charisms; but then they take it too far and reduce all the Gospel to a “movement”. And this is not Christ’s Gospel: this is the Gospel of the founder and yes, it may help at the beginning, but in the end it does not bear fruit with deep roots. For this reason, Paul's clear and decisive word was salutary for the Galatians and is salutary for us too. The Gospel is Christ’s gift to us, He Himself revealed it to us. It is what gives us life. Thank you.

04.08.21

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!

We have reached the end of the catechesis on the Letter to the Galatians. We could have reflected on so much other content contained in this writing of Saint Paul! The Word of God is an inexhaustible font. And in this letter, the Apostle has spoken to us as an evangeliser, as a theologian and as a pastor.

The holy bishop Ignatius of Antioch used a beautiful expression when he wrote: “There is then one Teacher, who spoke and it was done; while even those things which He did in silence are worthy of the Father. He who possesses the word of Jesus, is truly able to hear even His very silence” (To the Ephesians, 15: 1-2). We can say that the apostle Paul was capable of giving voice to this silence of God. His most original intuitions help us discover the shocking newness contained in the revelation of Jesus Christ. He was a true theologian who contemplated the mystery of Christ and transmitted it with his creative intelligence. And he was also capable of exercising his pastoral mission towards a lost and confused community. He did this with different methods: from time to time he used irony, firmness, gentleness… He revealed his own authority as an apostle, but at the same time he did not hide the weaknesses of his character. The strength of the Spirit had truly entered his heart: his meeting with the Risen Christ conquered and transformed his entire life, and he spent it entirely at the service of the Gospel. This is Paul.

Paul never conceived of Christianity in peaceful terms, lacking bite and force — on the contrary. With such passion he defended the freedom Christ brought that it stills moves us today, especially if we think of the suffering and loneliness he must have endured. He was convinced that he had received a call to which he alone could respond; and he wanted to explain to the Galatians that they too were called to that freedom which liberated them from every form of slavery because it made them heirs of the ancient promise and, in Christ, children of God. And aware of the risks that this concept of freedom brought, he never minimised the consequences. He was aware of the risks that Christian freedom brought. But he did not minimise the consequences. With parrhesia, that is, courageously, he repeated to the believers that freedom is in no way equal to debauchery, nor does it lead to forms of presumptuous self-sufficiency. Rather, Paul placed freedom in love’s shadow and based its consistent exercise on the service of charity. This entire vision was set within the panorama of a life according to the Holy Spirit that brings to fulfilment the Law given by God to Israel and prevents falling back into the slavery of sin. But the temptation is always to go backward, right? One definition of Christians found in the Scripture says that we Christians are not the type of people who go backward, who turn back. This is a beautiful definition. And the temptation is to turn back to be more secure. And in this case, to turn back to the Law, disregarding the new life of the Spirit. This is what Paul teaches us: the fulfilment of the true Law is found in this life of the Spirit given to us by Jesus. And this life of the Spirit can only be lived in freedom. Christian freedom. This is one of the most beautiful things, most beautiful.

At the end of this catechetical journey, it seems to me that a twofold attitude could rise within us. On the one hand, the Apostle’s teaching generates enthusiasm in us; we feel drawn to follow immediately the way of freedom, to “walk according to the Spirit”. Walking according to the Spirit always makes us free. On the other hand, we are aware of our limitations because we are daily in touch with how difficult it is to be docile to the Spirit, to surrender to his beneficial action. Then tiredness can set it that dampens enthusiasm. We feel discouraged, weak, sometimes marginalised with respect to a worldly life-style. Saint Augustine, referring to the Gospel episode of the storm on the lake, suggests how to react in this situation. This is what he says: “The faith of Christ in your heart is like Christ in the boat. You hear insults, you wear yourself out, you are upset, and Christ sleeps. Wake Christ up, rouse your faith! Even in tribulation you can do something. Rouse your faith. Christ awakes and speaks to you… Therefore, wake Christ up… Believe what has been said to you, and there will be tremendous calm in your heart” (Sermon 63). Saint Augustine says here that in difficult moments it is like we are in the boat at the moment of the storm. And what did the apostles do? They woke Christ up. Wake up Christ who sleeps and you are in the storm, but He is present. This is the only thing we can do in terrible moments: wake up Christ who is within us, but sleeps like [he did] in the boat. It is exactly like this. We must rouse Christ in our hearts and only then will we be able to contemplate things with his eyes for He sees beyond the storm. Through that serene gaze, we can see a panorama that is not even conceivable on our own.

In this challenging but captivating journey, the Apostle reminds us that we cannot let ourselves tire when it comes to doing good. “Let us not grow weary in well-doing” (Gal 6:9). We must trust that the Spirit always comes to assist us in our weakness and grants us the support we need. Let us, therefore, learn to invoke the Holy Spirit more often! “So, Father, how is the Holy Spirit invoked? I know how to pray to the Father with the Our Father. I know how to pray to Mary with the Hail Mary. I know how to pray to Jesus with the Prayer to His Holy Wounds. But to the Spirit… What is the prayer to the Holy Spirit?” The prayer to the Holy Spirit is spontaneous: it needs to come from your heart. In difficult moments, you need to ask: “Holy Spirit, come”. The key word is this: come. Come. But you need to say it yourself in your own words. Come, because I find myself in difficulty. Come, because I am in the dark. Come, because I don’t know what to do. Come, because I am about to fall. Come. Come. This is the Holy Spirit’s word – how to call upon the Spirit.  Let us learn to invoke the Holy Spirit often. We can do this with simple words at various moments during the day. And we can carry with us, perhaps inside the Gospel in our pocket, the beautiful prayer the Church recites on Pentecost: “Come, come Holy Spirit, / And from your celestial home / Shed a ray of light divine! / Come, come, Father of the poor! / Come, Source of all our store! / Come, within our bosoms shine! / You, of comforters the best; / You the soul’s most welcome Guest; / Sweet refreshment… Come…” And so it continues, it is a very beautiful prayer. But only if you have the prayer – or if you cannot find it, the gist of the prayer is “Come”, as the Madonna and the Apostles prayed during the days when Christ ascended into Heaven. They were alone in the Upper Room begging: Come, that the Spirit would come. It would be good for us to pray it often. Come, Holy Spirit. And with the presence of the Spirit, we will protect our freedom. We are free, free Christians, not attached to the past in the bad sense of the word, not chained to practices. Christian freedom is what makes us grow. This prayer will help us walk in the Spirit, in freedom and in joy because when the Holy Spirit comes, joy, true joy comes. May the Lord bless you. Thank you.

10.11.21

Before sharing a few thoughts, I would like to express my gratitude to his Eminence Metropolitan Polykarpos, the representative of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, to His Grace Ian Ernest, the personal representative in Rome of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and to the representatives of the other Christian communities present. I likewise thank all of you, dear brothers and sisters, for coming here to pray. In a particular way, I greet the students from the Ecumenical Institute of Bossey who are deepening their knowledge of the Catholic Church, the Anglican students from Nashotah College in the United States of America, and the Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox recipients of scholarships from the Committee for Cultural Collaboration with the Orthodox Churches. Let us make our own the deep desire of Jesus that we may be “one” (Jn 17:21) and, by his grace, advance along the path to full unity!

On this path, the Magi can help us. Let us consider this evening their journey, which had three steps: it began from the East, passed through Jerusalem, and at last came to Bethlehem.

1. First the Magi set out “from the East” (Mt 2:1), for that is where they first saw the star. They set out from the East, from where the sun rises, yet they were in search of a greater light. These wise men were not content with their own knowledge and traditions; they desired something more. Hence, they embarked on a risky voyage, driven by a restless search for God.  Dear brothers and sisters, may we too follow the star of Jesus! May we not let ourselves be distracted by the glittering lights of this world, brilliant yet falling stars. May we not follow the fashions of the moment, shooting stars that burn out. May we not follow the temptation of shining with our own light, concerned only with our own group and our self-preservation. Let us fix our gaze on Christ, on heaven, on the star of Jesus. Let us follow him, his Gospel, his invitation to unity, without worrying about how long and tiring may be the road to its full attainment. Let us not forget that by looking at the light, the Church – our Church – on the path of unity, continues to be the “mysterium lunae”. Let us desire to journey together, supporting one another, as did the Magi. Traditionally, the Magi have been portrayed with colorful robes that represent the various peoples. In them, we can see reflected our own differences, our different Christian traditions and experiences, but also our unity, which is born of the same desire: to look to heaven and to journey together on earth.

The East also makes us think of Christians living in various regions devastated by war and violence. It was the Middle East Council of Churches that prepared the resources for this Week of Prayer. These brothers and sisters of ours confront any number of difficult challenges, yet by their testimony they give us hope. They remind us that the star of Christ shines in the darkness and never sets; from on high, the Lord accompanies and encourages our steps. Around him, in heaven, there shine together, without distinction of confession, a great band of martyrs; they indicate to us here below a clear way, the way of unity!

2. From the East, the Magi arrive in Jerusalem, their hearts burning with desire for God. They tell Herod: “We have observed his star and its rising, and have come to pay him homage” (v. 2). From the desire of heaven, however, they are brought back to earth and its harsh realities: “When King Herod heard this”, the Gospel tells us, “he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him” (v. 3). In the holy city the Magi did not see reflected the light of the star, but experienced the resistance of the dark forces of this world. Nor does Herod alone feel threatened by this new and different kingship, uncorrupted by worldly power: all Jerusalem is troubled by the message of the Magi.

Along our journey towards unity, we too can halt for the same reason that paralyzed those people: confusion and fear. The fear of a newness that upsets our usual habits and our sense of security; the fear that others may destabilize my traditions and long-established patterns. Yet deep down it is the fear lurking in every human heart, the fear from which the risen Lord wishes to liberate us. On our journey of fellowship, may we never fail to hear his words of encouragement: “Do not be afraid” (Mt 28:5.10). Let us not fear to put our brothers and sisters ahead of our own fears! The Lord wants us to trust one another and to journey together, despite our failings and our sins, despite the errors of the past and our mutual wounds.

Here too, the account of the Magi encourages us. Precisely in Jerusalem, the place of disappointment and opposition, where the path shown by heaven appeared to collide with walls erected by man, they discovered the way to Bethlehem. They learned it from the priests and scribes, who pored over the Scriptures (cf. Mt 2:4). The Magi found Jesus not only from the star, which had meantime disappeared; they also needed the word of God. Nor can we Christians come to the Lord without his living and effective word (cf. Heb 4:12). That word has been given to the entire people of God to be welcomed and prayed over, so that it can be meditated upon together, by the whole people of God. Let us then draw near to Jesus through his word, but let us also draw near to our brothers and sisters through the word of Jesus. His star will rise anew on our journey, and he will give us joy.

3. That is what happened with the Magi, once they arrived at their final destination: Bethlehem. There they entered the house, knelt down and worshiped the child (cf. Mt 2:11). So their journey ended: together, in the same house, in adoration. In this way, the Magi foreshadowed the disciples of Jesus, many yet one, who at the conclusion of the Gospel fell down in worship before the risen Lord on the mountain in Galilee (cf. Mt 28:17). In this way, they also become a prophetic sign for us who long for the Lord, our traveling companions along the paths of the world, seekers through sacred Scripture of the signs of God in history. Brothers and sisters, for us too, the fullness of unity, in the same house, will only be attained through worship of the Lord. Dear brothers and sisters, the decisive stage of the journey towards full communion requires ever more intense prayer, it requires worship, the worship of God.

The Magi, however, remind us that worship demands something else of us: first, we must fall to our knees. That is the way: bending low, setting aside our own pretences in order to make the Lord alone the centre of everything. How many times has pride proved the real obstacle to communion!  The Magi had the courage to leave behind their prestige and reputation in order to humble themselves in the lowly house of Bethlehem; and as a result they found themselves “overwhelmed with joy” (Mt 2:10). To humble ourselves, to leave certain things behind, to simplify our lives: this evening, let us ask God for that courage, the courage of humility, the one way to come to worship God in the same house, around the same altar.

In Bethlehem, after they had fallen down in adoration, the Magi opened their treasure chests and there appeared gold, frankincense and myrrh (cf. v. 11). These gifts remind us that, only after we have prayed together, only in the presence of God and in his light, do we become truly aware of the treasures that each of us possesses. They are treasures, however, that belong to all, and are meant to be shared. For they are gifts of the Spirit, destined for the common good, for the upbuilding and unity of his people. We come to see this by prayer, but also by service: when we give to those in need, we make our offering to Jesus, who identifies with those who are poor and on the margins (cf. Mt 25:34-40); and he makes us one.

The gifts of the Magi symbolize the gifts the Lord desires to receive from us. God must be given the gold, that which is most precious, because the first place must always go to God. It is to him that we should look, not to ourselves; to his will, not our own; to his ways, not our own. If the Lord is truly in the first place, our choices, including our ecclesiastical choices, can no longer be based on the politics of this world, but on the will of God. Then there is the incense, which recalls the importance of prayer, which rises up to God as a pleasing fragrance (cf. Ps 141:2). May we never tire of praying for one another and with one another. Finally, there is the myrrh, which would be used to honour the body of Jesus taken down from the cross (cf. Jn 19:39), and which speaks to us of care for the suffering flesh of the Lord, reflected in the wounds of the poor. Let us serve those in need. Together, let us serve the suffering Jesus!

Dear brothers and sisters, let us take from the Magi directions for our own journey, and do as they did, returning home “by another road” (Mt 2:12). Like Saul before his encounter with Christ, we need to change course, to invert the route of our habits and our ways, in order to find the path that the Lord points out to us: the path of humility, fraternity and adoration. O Lord, grant us the courage to change course, to be converted, to follow your will and not our own; to go forward together, towards you, who by your Spirit wish to make us one. Amen.

25.01.22

The testimony given by the two great Apostles Peter and Paul today comes to life once more in the Church’s liturgy. Peter, imprisoned by King Herod, is told by an angel of the Lord: “Get up quickly” (Acts 12:7), while Paul, looking back on his entire life and apostolate says: “I have fought the good fight” (2 Tim 4:7). Let us reflect on these two phrases – “get up quickly” and “fight the good fight” – and ask what they have to say to today’s Christian community, engaged in the synodal process.

First, the Acts of the Apostles tell us of the night that Peter was freed from the chains of prison. An angel of the Lord tapped him on the side as he was sleeping, “and woke him, saying, ‘get up quickly’” (Acts 12:7). The angel awakens Peter and tells him to get up. The scene reminds us of Easter, because it contains two verbs present in the accounts of the resurrection: awaken and get up. In effect, the angel awakens Peter from the sleep of death and urges him to get up, to rise and set out towards the light, letting himself be guided by the Lord in passing through all the closed doors along the way (cf. v. 10). This image has great meaning for the Church. We too, as disciples of the Lord and the Christian community, are called to get up quickly, to enter into the mystery of the resurrection, and to let the Lord guide us along the paths that he wishes to point out to us.

Still, we experience many inward forms of resistance that prevent us from setting out. At times, as Church, we are overcome by laziness; we prefer to sit and contemplate the few sure things that we possess, rather than getting up and looking to new horizons, towards the open sea. Often we are like Peter in chains, imprisoned by our habits, fearful of change and bound to the chains of our routine. This leads quietly to spiritual mediocrity: we run the risk of “taking it easy” and “getting by”, also in our pastoral work. Our enthusiasm for mission wanes, and instead of being a sign of vitality and creativity, ends up appearing tepid and listless. Then, the great current of newness and life that is the Gospel becomes in our hands – to use the words of Father de Lubac – a faith that “falls into formalism and habit…, a religion of ceremonies and devotions, of ornaments and vulgar consolations… a Christianity that is clerical, formalistic, anemic and callous” (The Drama of Atheist Humanism).

The Synod that we are now celebrating calls us to become a Church that gets up, one that is not turned in on itself, but capable of pressing forward, leaving behind its own prisons and setting out to meet the world, with the courage to open doors. That same night, there was another temptation (cf. Act 12:12-17): that young girl so taken aback that, instead of opening the door, went back to tell what seemed like a dream. Let us open the door. The Lord calls. May we not be like Rhoda who turned back.

A Church without chains and walls, in which everyone can feel welcomed and accompanied, one where listening, dialogue and participation are cultivated under the sole authority of the Holy Spirit. The Church that is free and humble, that “gets up quickly” and does not temporize or dilly-dally before the challenges of the present time. A Church that does not linger in its sacred precincts, but is driven by enthusiasm for the preaching of the Gospel and the desire to encounter and accept everyone. Let us not forget that word: everyone. Everyone! Go to crossroads and bring everyone, the blind, the deaf, the lame, the sick, the righteous and the sinner: everyone! This word of the Lord should continue to echo in our hearts and minds: in the Church there is a place for everyone. Many times, we become a Church with doors open, but only for sending people away, for condemning people. Yesterday one of you said to me “This is no time for the Church to be sending away, it is the time to welcome”. “They did not come to the banquet…” – so go to the crossroads. Bring everyone, everyone! “But they are sinners…” – Everyone!

In the second reading, we hear the words of Paul who, looking back on his whole life, says: “I have fought the good fight” (2 Tim 4:7). The Apostle is referring to the countless situations, some marked by persecution and suffering, in which he did not spare himself in preaching the Gospel of Jesus. Now at the end of his life, he sees that a great “fight” is still taking place in history, since many are not disposed to accept Jesus, preferring to pursue their own interests and follow other teachers, more accommodating, easier, more to our liking. Paul has fought his own battles and, now that he has run his race, he asks Timothy and the brethren of the community to carry on his work with watchful care, preaching and teaching. Each, in a word, is to accomplish the mission he or she has received; each must do his or her part.

Paul’s exhortation is also a word of life for us; it makes us realize that, in the Church, all of us are called to be missionary disciples and to make our own contribution. Here two questions come to my mind. The first is: What can I do for the Church? Not complaining about the Church, but committing myself to the Church. Participating with passion and humility: with passion, because we must not remain passive spectators; with humility, because being committed within the community must never mean taking centre stage, considering ourselves better and keeping others from drawing near. That is what a synodal Church means: everyone has a part to play, no individual in the place of others or above others. There are no first or second class Christians; everyone has been called.

Participating also means carrying on “the good fight” of which Paul speaks. For it is a “fight”, since the preaching of the Gospel is never neutral – may the Lord free us from watering down the Gospel to make it neutral – it is never neutral, it does not leave things the way they are; it accepts no compromise with the thinking of this world, but instead lights the fire of the kingdom of God amid the reign of human power plays, evil, violence, corruption, injustice and marginalization. Ever since Jesus rose from the dead, and became the watershed of history, “there began a great fight between life and death, between hope and despair, between being resigned to the worst and struggling for the best. A fight that will know no truce until the definitive defeat of all the powers of hatred and destruction (C.M. MARTINI, Easter Homily, 4 April 1999).

So the second question is: What can we do together, as Church, to make the world in which we live more humane, just and solidary, more open to God and to fraternity among men? Surely we must not retreat into our ecclesial circles and remain pinned to some of our fruitless debates. Let us take care not to fall into clericalism, for clericalism is a perversion. A minister who is clerical, who has a clerical attitude, has taken the wrong road; even worse are clericalized lay people. Let us be on our guard against this perversion which is clericalism. Let us help one another to be leaven in the dough of this world. Together we can and must continue to care for human life, the protection of creation, the dignity of work, the problems of families, the treatment of the elderly and all those who are abandoned, rejected or treated with contempt. In a word, we are called to be a Church that promotes the culture of care, tenderness and compassion towards the vulnerable. A Church that fights all forms of corruption and decay, including those of our cities and the places we frequent, so that in the life of every people the joy of the Gospel may shine forth. This is our “fight”, and this is our challenge. The temptation to stand still is great; the temptation of that nostalgia which makes us look to look at other times as better. May we not fall into the temptation of “looking back”, which is becoming fashionable today in the Church.

Brothers and sisters today, according to a fine tradition, I have blessed the Pallia for the recently named Metropolitan Archbishops, many of whom are present at our celebration. In communion with Peter, they are called to “get up quickly”, not to sleep, and to serve as vigilant sentinels over the flock. To get up and “fight the good fight”, never alone, but together with all the holy and faithful people of God. And as good shepherds, to stand before the people, among the people, and behind the people, but always with the God’s holy and faithful people, since they themselves are also part of the holy and faithful People of God.

I cordially greet the Delegation of the Ecumenical Patriarchate sent by my dear brother Bartholomew. Thank you for your presence and for the message you have brought from Bartholomew! Thank you for walking together because only together can we be the seed of the Gospel and witnesses of fraternity.

May Peter and Paul intercede for us, for the city of Rome, for the Church and for our entire world. Amen.

29.06.22 m

Dear brothers and sisters,

The Gospel of today’s Liturgy, the Solemnity of the Patron Saints of Rome, reports the words that Peter addresses to Jesus: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Mt 16:16). It is a profession of faith, which Peter pronounces not on the basis of his human understanding, but because God the Father inspired it in him (cf. v. 17). For the fisherman Simon, called Peter, it was the beginning of a journey: it would indeed have to be a long time before the scope of those words entered deeply into his life, involving him entirely. There is an “apprenticeship” of faith, similar to ours, that also affected the apostles Peter and Paul. We too believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God, but it takes time, patience, and much humility for our way of thinking and acting to fully adhere to the Gospel.

The apostle Peter experienced this immediately. Just after having declared his own faith to Jesus, when Jesus announces that He will have to suffer and be condemned to death, Peter rejects this prospect, which he considers incompatible with the Messiah. He even feels compelled to rebuke the Master, who in turn says to him: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a scandal to me, because you do not think according to God, but according to men!” (v. 23).

Let us consider: does not the same thing happen to us? We repeat the Creed, we say it with faith, but when faced with the harsh trials of life, everything seems to falter. We are inclined to protest to the Lord, telling him that it is not right, that there must be other, more direct, less strenuous ways. We experience the laceration of the believer, who believes in Jesus, trusts in him; but at the same time feels that it is difficult to follow him and is tempted to seek paths other than those of the Master. St Peter experienced this inner drama, and he needed time and maturity. At first he was horrified at the thought of the cross; but at the end of his life he courageously bore witness to the Lord, even to the point of being crucified—according to tradition—upside down, in order to not be equal to the Master.

The Apostle Paul also had his own path, and he too passed through a slow maturation of faith, experiencing moments of uncertainty and doubt. The apparition of the Risen One on the road to Damascus, which changed him from a persecutor into a Christian, must be seen as the beginning of a journey during which the Apostle came to terms with the crises, failures, and constant torments of what he calls a “thorn in the flesh” (cf. 2 Cor 12:7). The journey of faith is never a walk in the park, for anyone, not for Peter nor for Paul, not for any Christian. The journey of faith is not a walk in the park, but is instead demanding, sometimes arduous. Even Paul, who became a Christian, had to learn how to be a Christian in a gradual manner, especially through times of trial.

In the light of this experience of the holy apostles Peter and Paul, each of us can ask ourselves. When I profess my faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, do I do so with the awareness that I must always be learning, or do I assume that I “already have it all figured out”? And again: In difficulties and trials do I become discouraged, do I complain, or do I learn to make them an opportunity to grow in trust in the Lord? For He, in fact— as Paul writes to Timothy—delivers us from all evil and brings us safely to heaven (cf. 2 Tim 4:18). May the Virgin Mary, Queen of the Apostles, teach us to imitate them by progressing day by day on the path of faith.

29.06.22 a

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!

In the path of catechesis on apostolic zeal, let us start today to look at some figures who, in different ways and times, bore exemplary witness to what passion for the Gospel means. And the first witness is naturally the Apostle Paul. I would like to devote these two catecheses to him.

And the history of Paul of Tarsus is emblematic in this regard. In the first chapter of the Letter to the Galatians, as in the narration of the Acts of the Apostles, we can see that his zeal for the Gospel appears after his conversion, and takes the place of his previous zeal for Judaism. He was a man who was zealous about the law of Moses for Judaism, and after his conversion, this zeal continued, but to proclaim, to preach Jesus Christ. Paul loved Jesus. Saul – Paul’s first name – was already zealous, but Christ converts his zeal: from the Law to the Gospel. His zeal first wanted to destroy the Church, whereas after it builds it up. We might ask ourselves: what happened, that passed from destruction to construction? What changed in Paul? In what way was his zeal, his striving for the glory of God, transformed? What happened there?

Saint Thomas Aquinas teaches that passion, from the moral point of view, is neither good nor evil: its virtuous use makes it morally good, sin makes it bad.[1] In Paul’s case, what changed him is not a simple idea or a conviction: it was the encounter, this word, it was the encounter with the risen Lord – do not forget this, it is the encounter with the Lord that changes a life – it was the encounter with the risen Lord that transformed his entire being. Paul’s humanity, his passion for God and his glory was not annihilated, but transformed, “converted” by the Holy Spirit. The only one who can change our hearts, change, is the Holy Spirit. And it was so for every aspect of his life. Just as it happens in the Eucharist: the bread and wine do not disappear, but become the Body and Blood of Christ. Paul’s zeal remains, but it becomes the zeal of Christ. It changes direction but the zeal is the same. The Lord is served with our humanity, with our prerogatives and our characteristics, but what changes everything is not an idea, but rather the very life itself, as Paul himself says: “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” – it changes you from within, the encounter with Jesus Christ changes you from within, it makes you another person – “the old has passed away, behold, the new has come” (2 Cor 5:17). If one is in Christ, he or she is a new creation, this is the meaning of being a new creation. Becoming Christian is not a masquerade, that changes your face, no! If you are Christian, your heart is changed, but if you are a Christian in appearance, this will not do: masquerading Christians, no, they will not do. The true change is of the heart. And this happened to Paul.

The passion for the Gospel is not a matter of comprehension or studies – you can study all the theology you want, you can study the Bible and all that, and become atheist or worldly, it is not a question of studies; in history there have been many atheist theologians, no! Study is useful but it does not generate the new life of grace; rather, to convert means going through that same experience of “fall and resurrection” that Saul/Paul lived and which is at the origin of the transfiguration of his apostolic zeal. Indeed, as Saint Ignatius says: “For it is not knowing much, but realizing and relishing things interiorly, that contents and satisfies”. [2] Every one of us, think. “I am a religious” – “Fine” – “I pray” – “Yes” – “I try to obey the commandments” – “Yes” – “But where is Jesus in your life?” – “Ah, no, I do the things the Church commands”. But Jesus, where is he? Have you encountered Jesus, have you spoken with Jesus? If you pick up the Gospel or talk with Jesus, do you remember who Jesus is?  And this is something that we very often lack; a Christianity, I would say, not without Jesus, but with an abstract Jesus… No! How Jesus entered your life, how he entered the life of Paul, and when Jesus enters, everything changes. Many times, we have heard comments on people: “But look at him, he was a wretch and now he is a good man, she is a good woman… who changed them? Jesus, they found Jesus. Has your Christian life changed? “No, more or less, yes…”. If Jesus did not enter your life, it did not change. You can be Christian only from the outside. No, Jesus must enter and this changes you, and this happened to Paul. It is finding Jesus, and this is why Paul said that Christ’s love drives us, it is what takes you forward. The same thing happened, this change, to all the saints, who went forward when they found Jesus.

We can reflect further on the change that takes place in Paul, who from a persecutor became an apostle of Christ. We note that there is a sort of paradox in him: indeed, as long as he feels he is righteous before God, he feels authorized to persecute, to arrest, even to kill, as in the case of Stephen; but when, enlightened by the Risen Lord, he discovers he was a “blasphemer and persecutor” (cf. 1 Tim 1:13) – this is what he says of himself, “I formerly blasphemed and persecuted” – then he starts to be truly capable of loving. And this is the way. If one of us says, “Ah, thank you Lord, because I am a good person, I do good things, I do not commit major sins…”, this is not a good path, this is the path of self-sufficiency, it is a path that does not justify you, it makes you turn up your nose… It is an elegant Catholic, but an elegant Catholic is not a holy Catholic, he is elegant. The true Catholic, the true Christian is one who receives Jesus within, which changes your heart. This is the question I ask you all today: what does Jesus mean for me? Did I let him enter my heart, or do I keep him within reach but so that he does not really enter within? Have I let myself be changed by him? Or is Jesus just an idea, a theology that goes ahead… And this is zeal, when one finds Jesus and feels the fire, like Paul, and must preach Jesus, must talk about Jesus, must help people, must do good things. When one finds the idea of Jesus, he or she remains an ideologue of Christianity, and this does not justify, only Jesus justifies us. May the Lord help us find Jesus, encounter Jesus, and may this Jesus change our life from within and help us to help others. Thank you.

[1] Cfr  Quaestio “De veritate” 24, 7.

[2]  Spiritual Exercises, Annotations, 2, 4.

29.03.23

Let us look at the two Apostles, Peter and Paul: the fisherman from Galilee whom Jesus made a fisher of men, and the Pharisee who persecuted the Church but was transformed by grace into an evangelizer of the nations. In the light of God’s word, let us draw inspiration from their story and from the apostolic zeal that marked their lives. In encountering the Lord, they experienced a true passover:  they were set free: the doors to a new life opened before them.

Brothers and sisters, on the eve of the Jubilee Year, let us reflect on that image of the door. The Jubilee will be a time of grace during which we will open the Holy Door so that everyone may cross the threshold of that living sanctuary who is Jesus and, in him, experience the love of God that confirms our hope and renews our joy. In the story of Peter and Paul, several doors open.

The first reading tells of the deliverance of Peter from prison; it is filled with images reminiscent of Passover. The event takes place during the feast of Unleavened Bread. Herod recalls the figure of the Pharaoh of Egypt. The deliverance takes place at night, as it did for the Israelites. The angel gives Peter the same instructions once given to Israel: he tells Peter to rise quickly, gird himself and put on his sandals (cf. Acts 12:8; Ex 12:11). The account, then, is that of a new exodus. God delivers his Church, frees his people who are in chains, and once again reveals himself as the God of mercy who sustains them on their journey.

On that night of deliverance, the doors of the prison are first miraculously opened. Then, we are told that when Peter and the angel accompanying him came to the iron gate leading into the city, “it opened to them of its own accord” (Acts 12:10). They did not open the door; it opened by itself. It is God who opens doors; he is the one who sets us free and opens the way before us. Jesus, as we heard in the Gospel, entrusted the keys of the Kingdom to Peter, yet Peter realizes that it is the Lord who opens doors; he always goes before us. This point is significant: the doors of the prison were opened by the Lord’s strength, but Peter then found it hard to enter the house of the Christian community. The woman who went to the door thought that it was a ghost and did not open the door (cf. Acts 12:12-17). How many times have communities not learned this wisdom of the need to open the doors!

The journey of the Apostle Paul is also, primarily, a passover experience. First, he is changed by his encounter with the Risen Lord on the road to Damascus and then, fervently contemplating the crucified Christ, discovers the grace of weakness. When we are weak, he tells us, it is then that we are strong, because we no longer rely on ourselves, but on Christ (cf. 2 Cor 12:10). Seized by the Lord and crucified with him, Paul can write, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:20). Yet this does not lead to a consoling, inward-looking religiosity – like that found in a few movements in the Church today – on the contrary, the encounter with the Lord ignites in the life of Paul a burning zeal for evangelization. As we heard in the second reading, at the end of his life, he could say: “The Lord stood by me and gave me strength to proclaim the message fully, that all the Gentiles might hear it” (2 Tim 4:17).

In describing how the Lord gave him so many opportunities to preach the Gospel, Paul employs the image of open doors. He journeyed to Antioch with Barnabas, and we read that “when they arrived, they gathered the church together and declared all that God had done with them, and how he had opened a door of faith to the Gentiles” (Acts 14:27). In a similar way, in writing to the community in Corinth, he says, “a wide door for effective work opened to me” (1 Cor 16:9). Writing to the Colossians, he urges them: “Pray for us also, that God may open to us a door for the word, to declare the mystery of Christ” (Col 4:3).

Brothers and sisters, the Apostles Peter and Paul both experienced this grace. They witnessed first-hand the work of God, who opened the doors of their interior prisons but also the actual prisons into which they were thrown because of the Gospel. The Lord also opened before them the doors of evangelization, so they could have the joy of encountering their brothers and sisters in the fledgling communities and bring the hope of the Gospel to all.       Now, this year we also are preparing to open the Holy Door.

Brothers and sisters, today the Metropolitan Archbishops appointed in the last year receive the pallium. In communion with Peter and following the example of Christ, the gate for the sheep (cf. Jn 10:7), they are called to be zealous shepherds who open the doors of the Gospel and, through their ministry, help to build a Church and a society of open doors.

With fraternal affection, I greet the delegation of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, whom I thank for coming to manifest the shared desire for full communion between our Churches. I also send heartfelt cordial greetings to my dear brother Bartholomew.

May Saints Peter and Paul help us to open the door of our lives to the Lord Jesus. May they intercede for us, for this City of Rome and for the whole world. Amen.

29.06.24

Dear brothers and sisters, good day!

Today, Solemnity of the Saints Apostles Peter and Paul, in the Gospel Jesus says to Simon, whom He named Peter, “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 16:19). This is why often we see Saint Peter depicted holding two large keys, as in the statue here in this Square. Those keys represent the ministry of authority that Jesus entrusted to him in the service of all the Church. Because authority is a service, and authority that is not service is dictatorship.

Let us be careful, though, to understand well the meaning of all this. The keys of Peter, in fact, are the keys of a Kingdom, which Jesus does not describe as a safe or a vault, but with other images: a tiny seed, a precious pearl, a hidden treasure, a handful of yeast (cf. Mt 13:1-33), that is, like something precious and rich, yes, but at the same time small and inconspicuous. To reach it, therefore, one does not need to operate mechanisms and safety locks, but to cultivate virtues such as patience, attention, constancy, humility, service.

Therefore, the mission that Jesus entrusts to Peter is not that of barring the doors to the house, permitting entry only to a few select guests, but of helping everyone find the way to enter, in faithfulness to the Gospel of Jesus. For everyone: everyone, everyone, everyone can enter.

And Peter will do this throughout his life, faithfully, until his martyrdom, after having been the first to experience for himself, not without fatigue and with many setbacks, the joy and the freedom that come from meeting the Lord. He was the first to have to convert, and to understand that authority is a service, in order to open the door to Jesus, and it was not easy for him. Let us think: just after saying to Jesus, “You are the Christ”, the Master had to reproach him, because he refused to accept the prophecy of His passion and His death by the cross (cf. Mt 16:21-23).

Peter received the keys to the Kingdom not because he was perfect, no: he is a sinner; but because he was humble, honest, and the Father had given him sincere faith (cf. Mt 16:17). Therefore, entrusting himself to God’s mercy, he was able to support and fortify his brethren too, as was asked of him (cf. Lk 22:32).

Today we can ask ourselves, then: do I cultivate the desire to enter, with God’s grace, into His Kingdom, and to be, with His help, its welcoming guardian for others too? And to do so, do I let myself be “polished”, softened, modelled by Jesus and His Spirit, the Spirit who dwells in us, in each one of us?

May Mary, Queen of the Apostles, and the Saints Peter and Paul, grant for us, with their prayers, to be a guide and support to one another for the encounter with the Lord Jesus.

29.06.24 a