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Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

The feast of the Baptism of Jesus, which we celebrate today, anticipates the beginning of Ordinary Time. This liturgical season will invite us to follow the Lord together, to listen to his Word and to imitate his gestures of love towards others. In doing so, we confirm and renew our Baptism, the sacrament that makes us Christians, freeing us from sin and transforming us into children of God through the power of his Spirit of life.

Today’s Gospel recounts how this efficacious sign of grace comes about. When Jesus is baptised by John in the Jordan River, he sees “the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him” (Mt 3:16). At the same time, from the open heavens, the voice of the Father resounds: “This is my Son, the Beloved” (v. 17). In this moment, the entire Godhead becomes present in history: just as the Son descends into the waters of the Jordan, the Holy Spirit descends upon him and, through him, is given to us as the power of salvation.

Dear friends, God does not look upon the world from afar, unconcerned with our lives, our troubles or our expectations! Instead, he comes among us with the wisdom of his Word made flesh, drawing us into a wondrous plan of love for all humanity.

This is why John the Baptist, filled with wonder, asks Jesus: “Do you come to me?” (v. 14). Yes, in his holiness, the Lord allows himself to be baptized like a sinner, to reveal God’s infinite mercy. The Only-Begotten Son, in whom we are brothers and sisters, comes to serve rather than dominate, to save rather than condemn. He is Christ the Redeemer. He takes upon himself what is ours, including our sin, and gives us what is his: the grace of new and eternal life.

The sacrament of Baptism makes this event present in every time and place, welcoming each of us into the Church, the people of God, composed of men and women of every nation and culture reborn by his Spirit. Let us, therefore, dedicate this day to remembering the great gift we have received, committing ourselves to bear witness to it with joy and authenticity. Just today, I baptised several newborn babies who have become our new brothers and sisters in the faith. How beautiful it is to celebrate the love of God – who calls us by name and frees us from evil – as one family! This first of the sacraments is a sacred sign that accompanies us forever. In moments of darkness, Baptism is light; in life’s conflicts, it is reconciliation; at the hour of death, it is the gateway to heaven.

Let us pray together, asking the Virgin Mary to sustain our faith and the mission of the Church each day.

Dear brothers and sisters,

As I have already mentioned, following the custom on the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, I baptized several newborn children of employees of the Holy See this morning. I would now like to extend my blessing to all children who have received or will receive Baptism during these days – in Rome and throughout the world – entrusting them to the maternal care of the Virgin Mary. In a particular way, I pray for children born into difficult circumstances, whether due to health conditions or external dangers. May the grace of Baptism, which unites them to the Paschal Mystery of Christ bear fruit in their lives and in the lives of their families.

My thoughts turn to the situation currently unfolding in the Middle East, especially in Iran and Syria, where ongoing tensions continue to claim many lives. I hope and pray that dialogue and peace may be patiently nurtured in pursuit of the common good of the whole of society.

In Ukraine, new attacks – particularly severe ones aimed at energy infrastructure as the cold weather grows harsher – are taking a heavy toll on the civilian population. I pray for those who suffer and renew my appeal for an end to the violence and for renewed efforts to achieve peace.

I wish you all a blessed and happy Sunday!

11.01.26 a

“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God” (1 Jn 4:7). The liturgy sets this exhortation before us as we celebrate the Extraordinary Consistory, a moment of grace wherein our unity in the service of the Church finds its expression.

As we know, the word Consistory (Consistorium, or “assembly”) can be understood through the root of the verb consistere, meaning “to stand still.” Indeed, all of us have “paused” in order to be here. We have set aside our activities for a time, and even cancelled important commitments, so as to discern together what the Lord is asking of us for the good of his people. This itself is already a highly significant and prophetic gesture, particularly in the context of the frenetic society in which we live. It reminds us of the importance, in every aspect of life, of stopping to pray, listen and reflect. In doing so, we refocus our attention ever more clearly on our goal, directing every effort and resource towards it, lest we risk running blindly or “beating the air” in vain, as the Apostle Paul warns (cf. 1 Cor 9:26). We gather not to promote personal or group “agendas,” but to entrust our plans and inspirations to a discernment that transcends us – “as the heavens are higher than the earth” (Is 55:9) – and which comes only from the Lord.

For this reason, it is important that during this Eucharist, we place each of our hopes and ideas upon the altar. Together with the gift of our lives, we offer them to the Father in union with the Sacrifice of Christ, so that we may receive them back purified, enlightened, united and transformed by grace into one Bread. Indeed, only in this way will we truly know how to listen to his voice, and to welcome it through the gift that we are to one another – which is the very reason we have gathered.

Our College, while rich in many skills and remarkable gifts, is not called primarily to be a mere group of experts, but a community of faith. Only when the gifts that each person brings are offered to the Lord and returned by him, will they bear the greatest fruit according to his providence.

Moreover, God’s love, of which we are disciples and apostles, is a “Trinitarian” and “relational” love. It is the very source of that spirituality of communion, by which the Bride of Christ lives and desires to be a home and a school (cf. Apostolic Letter Novo Millennio Ineunte, 6 January 2001, 43). Expressing the hope that this spirituality would flourish at the dawn of the third millennium, Saint John Paul II described it as “the heart’s contemplation of the mystery of the Trinity dwelling in us, and whose light we must also be able to see shining on the face of the brothers and sisters around us” (ibid.).

Our “pausing,” then, is first and foremost a profound act of love for God, for the Church and for the men and women of the whole world. Through this, we allow ourselves to be formed by the Spirit: primarily in prayer and silence, but also by facing one another and listening to one another. In our sharing, we become a voice for all those whom the Lord has entrusted to our pastoral care in many different parts of the world. We must live this act with humble and generous hearts, aware that it is by grace that we are here. Moreover, we bring nothing that we have not first received as a gift or talent, which are not to be squandered, but invested with prudence and courage (cf. Mt 25:14–30).

Saint Leo the Great taught that “it is a great and very precious thing in the sight of the Lord when the whole people of Christ apply themselves together to the same duties, and all ranks and orders… cooperate with one and the same Spirit.” In this way, “the hungry are fed, the naked clothed, the sick visited, and no one seeks his or her own interests, but those of others” (Sermon 88, 4). This is the spirit in which we wish to work together: the spirit of those who desire that every member of the Mystical Body of Christ will cooperate in an orderly way for the good of all (cf. Eph 4:11–13). May we fully carry out our ministry with dignity under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, happy to offer our own labor and to see it its fruits mature. May we likewise welcome the labours of others and rejoice in seeing them flourish (cf. Saint Leo the Great, Sermon 88, 5).

For two millennia, the Church has embodied this mystery in its multifaceted beauty (cf. Francis, Encyclical Letter Fratelli Tutti, 280). This very assembly bears witness to it through the variety of our origins and ages, and in the unity of grace and faith that gathers us together and makes us brothers.

Certainly, we stand before a “great crowd” of humanity hungry for goodness and peace. In a world where satisfaction and hunger, abundance and suffering, and the struggle for survival together with a desperate existential emptiness continue to divide and wound individuals, communities and nations, we may feel inadequate. Faced with the words of the Master, “You give them something to eat” (Mk 6:37), we too might feel, like the disciples, that we lack the necessary means. Yet Jesus repeats to us once more, “How many loaves have you? Go and see” (Mk 6:38). This is something we can do together. We may not always find immediate solutions to the problems we face, yet in every place and circumstance, we will be able to help one another – and in particular, to help the Pope – to find the “five loaves and two fish” that providence never fails to provide wherever his children ask for help. When we welcome these gifts, hand them over, receive and distribute them, they are enriched by God’s blessing and by the faith and love of all, ensuring that no one lacks what is necessary (cf. Mk 6:42).

Beloved brothers, what you offer to the Church through your service, at every level, is something profound and very personal, unique to each of you and precious to all. The responsibility you share with the Successor of Peter is indeed weighty and demanding.

For this reason, I offer you my heartfelt thanks, and I wish to conclude by entrusting our work and our mission to the Lord with the words of Saint Augustine: “You give us many things when we pray, and whatever good we received before we prayed for it, we have received from you. We have also received from you the grace that later we came to realize this... Remember, Lord ‘that we are but dust.’ You have made man of the dust” (Confessions, 10, xxxi, 45).  Therefore, we say to you: “Grant what you command, and command what you will” (ibid.).

08.01.26  m

Brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!

After the Jubilee Year, during which we focused on the mysteries of the life of Jesus, we will begin a new cycle of catechesis which will be dedicated to Vatican Council II and a rereading of its Documents. It is a valuable opportunity to rediscover the beauty and the importance of this ecclesial event. Saint John Paul II, at the end of the Jubilee 2000, stated: “I feel more than ever in duty bound to point to the Council as the great grace bestowed on the Church in the twentieth century” (Apostolic Letter Novo millennio ineunte, 57).

Together with the anniversary of the Council of Nicaea, in 2025 we remembered the seventieth anniversary of Vatican Council II. Although the time that separates us from this event is not so long, it is equally true that the generation of bishops, theologians and believers of Vatican II is no longer with us. Therefore, while we hear the call not to let its prophecy fade, and to continue to seek ways and means to implement its insights, it will be important to get to know it again closely, and to do so not through “hearsay” or interpretations that have been given, but by rereading its documents and reflecting on their content. Indeed, it is the Magisterium that still constitutes the guiding star of the Church’s journey today. As Benedict XVI taught, “as the years have passed, the Conciliar Documents have lost none of their timeliness; indeed, their teachings are proving particularly relevant to the new situation of the Church and the current globalized society” (First Message at the end of the Eucharistic Concelebration with the Members of the College of Cardinals, 20 April 2005).

When Pope Saint John XXIII opened the Council on 11 October 1962, he spoke of it as the dawn of a day of light for the whole Church. The work of the numerous Fathers convened from the Churches of all continents did indeed pave the way for a new ecclesial season. After a rich biblical, theological and liturgical reflection spanning the twentieth century, Vatican Council II rediscovered the face of God as the Father who, in Christ, calls us to be his children; it looked at the Church in the light of Christ, light of nations, as a mystery of communion and sacrament of unity between God and his people; it initiated important liturgical reform, placing at its centre the mystery of salvation and the active and conscious participation of the entire People of God. At the same time, it helped us to open up to the world and to embrace the changes and challenges of the modern age in dialogue and co-responsibility, as a Church that wishes to open her arms to humanity, to echo the hopes and anxieties of peoples, and to collaborate in building a more just and fraternal society.

Thanks to Vatican Council II, the Church “has something to say, a message to give, a communication to make” (Saint Paul VI, Encyclical Letter Ecclesiam suam, 65), striving to seek the truth by way of ecumenism, interreligious dialogue and dialogue with people of good will.

This spirit, this inner disposition, must characterize our spiritual life and the pastoral action of the Church, because we have yet to achieve ecclesial reform more fully in a ministerial sense and, in the face of today’s challenges, we are called to continue to be vigilant interpreters of the signs of the times, joyful proclaimers of the Gospel, courageous witnesses of justice and peace. At the beginning of the Council, Monsignor Albino Luciani, the future Pope John Paul I, as Bishop of Vittorio Veneto, wrote prophetically, “As always, there is a need to achieve not so much organizations or methods or structures, but a deeper and more widespread holiness. ... It may be that the excellent and abundant fruits of a Council will be seen after centuries and will mature by laboriously overcoming conflicts and adverse situations”.[1] Rediscovering the Council, then, as Pope Francis remarked, helps us to “restore primacy to God, to what is essential: to a Church madly in love with its Lord and with all the men and women whom he loves” (Homily on the sixtieth anniversary of the beginning of Vatican Council II, 11 October 2022).

Brothers and sisters, Saint Paul VI’s words to the Council Fathers at the end of its work remain a guiding principle for us today. He affirmed that the time had come to leave the Council assembly and go out towards humanity to bring it the good news of the Gospel, in the awareness that they had experienced a time of grace in which the past, present and future were condensed: “The past: for here, gathered in this spot, we have the Church of Christ with her tradition, her history, her councils, her doctors, her saints; the present, for we are taking leave of one another to go out towards the world of today with its miseries, its sufferings, its sins, but also with its prodigious accomplishments, its values, its virtues; and lastly the future is here in the urgent appeal of the peoples of the world for more justice, in their will for peace, in their conscious or unconscious thirst for a higher life, that life precisely which the Church of Christ can and wishes to give them” (Saint Paul VI, Message to the Council Fathers, 8 December 1965).

This is also true for us. As we approach the documents of Vatican Council II and rediscover their prophetic and contemporary relevance, we welcome the rich tradition of the life of the Church and, at the same time, we question ourselves about the present and renew our joy in running towards the world to bring it the Gospel of the kingdom of God, a kingdom of love, justice and peace.

[1] A. Luciani – John Paul I, Note sul Concilio, in Opera omnia, vol. II, Vittorio Veneto 1959-1962. Discorsi, scritti, articoli, Padua 1988, 451-453.

I extend a warm welcome this morning to all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, especially those from England, Ireland, Australia, Canada and the United States of America. To all of you and your families, I offer my prayerful good wishes for a blessed Christmas season and a new year filled with joy and peace. God bless you all! 

07.01.26

Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!

During this holy season we have celebrated several feast days. Today’s Solemnity of the Epiphany, as its name suggests, shows us what makes joy possible even in difficult times. As you know, the word “epiphany” means “manifestation,” and our joy indeed comes from a Mystery that is no longer hidden. The life of God has been revealed in many times and in different ways, yet with definitive clarity in Jesus, so that we now know how to hope, even in the midst of many tribulations. “God saves” has no other meaning, no other name [than that of Jesus]. Only what frees and saves us can come from God and is an epiphany of God.

Kneeling like the Magi before the Infant of Bethlehem means, also for us, to profess having found that true humanity in which the glory of God shines forth. In Jesus, the true life appears, the living man, the one who does not exist for himself but is open and in communion, who teaches us to say, “on earth as it is in heaven” (Mt 6:10). Indeed, the divine life is within our reach; it is made manifest so that we might be included in its dynamic freedom, which loosens the bonds of fear and enables us to encounter peace. This is a possibility and an invitation, for communion cannot be constrained. What else could we desire more than this?

In the Gospel account, and in our nativity scenes, the Magi present to the Baby Jesus several precious gifts: gold, frankincense and myrrh (cf. Mt 2:11). They may not seem to be useful for a baby, but they express a desire that gives us much to reflect on as we reach the end of the Jubilee year. The greatest gift is to give everything. Let us recall that poor widow, noticed by Jesus, who put into the Temple treasury her last two pennies, all that she had (cf. Lk 21:1-4). We do not know anything about the possessions of the Magi, who came from the East, but their departure, their risk-taking and their gifts themselves suggest that everything, truly everything that we are and possess needs to be offered to Jesus, who is our inestimable treasure. For its part, the Jubilee has reminded us of the justice founded on gratuitousness, of the original jubilee prescriptions, which included a call for the integration of peaceful living, a redistribution of the land and its resources, and a restoration of “what one has” and “what one is” to the designs of God, which are greater than ours.

Dear friends, the hope that we proclaim must be grounded in reality, for Jesus came down from heaven in order to create a new story here below. In the gifts of the Magi, then, we see what each one of us can share, what we can no longer keep for ourselves but are to give to others, so that the presence of Jesus can grow in our midst. May his Kingdom grow, may his words come to fulfillment in us, may strangers and enemies become brothers and sisters. In the place of inequality, may there be fairness, and may the industry of war be replaced by the craft of peace. As weavers of hope, let us journey together towards the future by another road (cf. Mt 2:12).

Dear brothers and sisters,

On the feast of the Epiphany, which is also Missionary Childhood Day, I greet and thank all the children and young people who, in many parts of the world, pray for missionaries and are committed to helping their less fortunate peers. Thank you, dear friends!

My thoughts also turn to the ecclesial communities of the East, who tomorrow will celebrate Christmas according to the Julian calendar. Dear brothers and sisters, may the Lord Jesus grant you and your families serenity and peace!

I affectionately greet all of you, the faithful of Rome and pilgrims from various countries, especially the members of the Presiding Council of the International Rural Catholic Association, with best wishes for your work.

I greet the faithful of Lampedusa with their parish priest, the young people of the “Tra Noi” Movement, and the participants in the traditional historical-folkloric procession on the values of the Epiphany, which this year features Sicily.

I greet the Polish pilgrims and the numerous participants in the “Procession of the Magi” taking place today in Warsaw and in many cities in Poland, as well as in Rome!

To all of you, I express good wishes for the New Year in the light of the Risen Christ.

Good wishes to all. Happy Feast!

06.01.26 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

The Gospel (cf. Mt 2:1-12) described for us the great joy the Magi experienced when they saw the star once again (cf. v. 10), and at the same time how Herod and all in Jerusalem were troubled by their searching (cf. v. 3). Indeed, every time Sacred Scripture speaks of God manifesting himself, it does not hide the contrasting reactions, such as joy and agitation, resistance and obedience, fear and longing. Today we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord, aware that in his presence nothing stays the same. This marks the beginning of hope, for God reveals himself and nothing remains unchanged. His presence puts an end to that type of melancholic complacency which causes people endlessly to say, “There is nothing new under the sun” (Eccles 1:9). Something new begins which determines the present and the future, as the Prophet announced: “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you” (Is 60:1).

It is surprising that Jerusalem, a city which has witnessed many new beginnings, is troubled. Within the city, those who study the Scriptures and think they have all the answers seem to have lost the ability to ask questions and cultivate a sense of longing. Indeed, the city is frightened of those who, moved by hope, come to it from afar; the city seems fearfully threatened by what should instead bring great joy. This reaction also challenges us as a Church.

The Holy Door of this Basilica, which today is the last to be closed, has seen a stream of innumerable men and women, pilgrims of hope, journeying toward the new Jerusalem, the city whose doors are always open (cf. Rev 21:25). Who were these men and women, and what motivated them? At the end of this Jubilee year, the spiritual searching of our contemporaries, much richer than perhaps we can comprehend, invites us to earnest reflection. Millions of them crossed the threshold of the Church. What did they find? What was in their hearts, their questions, their feelings? Yes, the Magi still exist today. They are the people who sense the need to go out and search, accepting the risks associated with their journey, especially in a troubled world like ours that may be unpleasant and dangerous in many ways.

The ancients referred to homo viator, and indeed all of our lives are a journey. The Gospel challenges the Church not to be afraid of this phenomenon, but to appreciate it, and orient it toward God who sustains us. He is a God who can unsettle us because he does not remain firmly in our hands like the idols of silver and gold; instead, he is alive and life-giving, like the Baby whom Mary cradled in her arms and whom the wise men adored. Holy places like cathedrals, basilicas and shrines, which have become Jubilee pilgrimage destinations, must diffuse the aroma of life, the unforgettable realization that another world has begun.

Let us ask ourselves: is there life in our Church? Is there space for something new to be born? Do we love and proclaim a God who sets us on a journey?

In the Gospel reading, Herod fears for his throne and is agitated about those things that he feels are beyond his control. He tries to take advantage of the wishes of the Magi by manipulating their quest. He is ready to lie, he is willing to do anything. Fear does indeed blind us. Conversely, the joy of the Gospel liberates us. It makes us prudent, yes, but also bold, attentive and creative; it beckons us along ways that are different to those already traveled.

The Magi bring a simple and essential question to Jerusalem: “Where is he who has been born?” (Mt 2:2). How important it is that those who pass through the doors of the Church perceive therein that the Messiah has just been born, that a community gathers in which hope springs forth, and that a story of life is unfolding! The Jubilee reminds us that we can start anew, indeed, that we are still at the beginning and that the Lord wants his presence to grow among us as God-with-us. Yes, God challenges the existing order, for he has plans that inspire his prophets even today. God is determined to rescue us from both old and new forms of slavery. He involves young and old, poor and rich, men and women, saints and sinners in his works of mercy, and in the wonders of his justice. Although the Lord does so quietly, he already makes his Kingdom sprout forth everywhere in the world.

How many epiphanies we have been given and how many more could be given to us! Yet they must lead us away from the intentions of a Herod, from fears that are always ready to be turned into aggression. “From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force” (Mt 11:12). This mysterious expression of Jesus, reported in the Gospel of Matthew, cannot but make us think of the many conflicts by which men resist and even damage the new things that God has in store for everyone. Loving and seeking peace means protecting what is holy and, consequently, that which is newly born like a small, vulnerable, fragile baby. Around us, a distorted economy tries to profit from everything. We see how the marketplace can turn human yearnings of seeking, traveling and beginning again into a mere business. Let us ask ourselves: has the Jubilee taught us to flee from this type of efficiency that reduces everything to a product and human beings to consumers? After this year, will we be better able to recognize a pilgrim in the visitor, a seeker in the stranger, a neighbour in the foreigner, and fellow travellers in those who are different?

The way in which Jesus encountered and allowed himself to be approached by all people teaches us to value the heart’s secrets, which only he can read. With him, we learn to welcome the signs of the times (cf. Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes, 4). No one can sell this to us. The child whom the Magi adore is a priceless and immeasurable Good. It is the Epiphany of a gift. It does not occur in a prestigious location, but in humble place. “And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah” (Mt 2:6). How many cities, how many communities need to hear it said, “You are by no means least.” Yes, the Lord still surprises us! He reveals himself and lets himself be found. His ways are not our ways, and the violent do not succeed in controlling them, nor can the powers of the world block them. This is the great joy of the Magi, who left palace and temple behind in setting out for Bethlehem; it is only at that moment that they see the star once again!

Thus, dear brothers and sisters, it is wonderful to become pilgrims of hope. It is wonderful for us to continue to be pilgrims together! The faithfulness of God continues to amaze us. If we do not reduce our churches to monuments, if our communities are homes, if we stand united and resist the flattery and seduction of those in power, then we will be the generation of a new dawn. Mary, Star of the Morning, will always walk before us! In her Son we will contemplate and serve an extraordinary humanity, transformed not by the delusions of the all-powerful, but by God who became flesh out of love.

06.01.26 m

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

On this Second Sunday after the Nativity of the Lord, I wish first to renew my good wishes to all of you. The day after tomorrow, with the closing of the Holy Door of Saint Peter’s Basilica, we will conclude the Jubilee of Hope. The very mystery of Christmas, in which we are still immersed, reminds us that the foundation of our hope is God’s Incarnation. The Prologue of John, which the Liturgy sets before us today, recalls this clearly: “The Word became flesh and lived among us” (Jn 1:14). Indeed, Christian hope is not based on optimistic forecasts or human calculations, but on God’s decision to share our journey, so that we may never be alone as we travel through life. This is God’s work: in Jesus, he became one of us, chose to remain with us, and willed to be forever God-with-us.

The coming of Jesus in the weakness of human flesh rekindles our hope. At the same time, it entrusts us with a twofold commitment: one to God and the other to our fellow human beings.

We are committed to God, for since he has become flesh, choosing our human frailty as his dwelling place, we are called to reconsider how we think about him, beginning with the flesh of Jesus, and not from an abstract doctrine. We must, therefore, constantly examine our spirituality and the ways in which we express our faith, in order to ensure that they are truly incarnate. In other words, we must be capable of contemplating, proclaiming and praying to the God who meets us in Jesus. He is not a distant deity in a perfect heaven above us, but a God who is nearby and inhabits our fragile earth, who becomes present in the faces of our brothers and sisters, and reveals himself in the circumstances of daily life.

Our commitment to all men and women must also be consistent. Since God has become one of us, every human creature is a reflection of him, bearing his image and containing a spark of his light. This calls us to recognise the inviolable dignity of every person and to offer ourselves in mutual love for one another. Moreover, the Incarnation demands a concrete commitment to the promotion of fraternity and communion. Through this commitment, solidarity becomes the criterion of all human relationships, calling us to strive for justice and peace, to care for the most fragile, and to defend the weak. God has become flesh; therefore, there is no authentic worship of God without care for humanity.

Brothers and sisters, may the joy of Christmas encourage us to continue on our journey. Let us ask the Virgin Mary to make us ever more ready to serve both God and our neighbour.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I wish to express once again my closeness to those suffering as a result of the tragedy in Crans-Montana, Switzerland, and to assure them of my prayers for the young people who died, for the injured, and for their families.

It is with deep concern that I am following the developments in Venezuela. The good of the beloved Venezuelan people must prevail over every other consideration. his must lead to the overcoming of violence, and to the pursuit of paths of justice and peace, guaranteeing the sovereignty of the country, ensuring the rule of law enshrined in its Constitution, respecting the human and civil rights of each and every person, and working together to build a peaceful future of cooperation, stability and harmony, with special attention to the poorest who are suffering because of the difficult economic situation. I pray for all this, and I invite you to pray too, entrusting our prayer to the intercession of Our Lady of Coromoto, and to Saints José Gregorio Hernández and Carmen Rendiles.

I greet all of you with affection, Romans and pilgrims from various countries, especially those from Slovakia and Zagreb, the altar servers from the Cathedral of Gozo, Malta, and the community of the Diocesan Seminary of Fréjus-Toulon, France.

I greet the group from the Oratory of Pugliano in Ercolano, the families and pastoral workers from Postojna and Porcellengo, the faithful from Sant’Antonio Abate, Torano Nuovo, and Collepasso; as well as the teachers from the Rocco-Cinquegrana Institute of Sant’Arpino, the scouts of the province of Modena and Roccella Jonica, and the confirmandi from Ula Tirso, Neoneli and Trescore Balneario.

Dear friends, let us continue to have faith in the God of peace: let us pray, and show solidarity with the peoples who suffer because of wars. I wish you all a happy Sunday!

04.01.26 a

Peace be with you all:

Towards an “unarmed and disarming” peace

“Peace be with you!”

This ancient greeting, still in use today in many cultures, was infused with new life on the evening of Easter on the lips of the risen Jesus.  “Peace be with you” ( Jn 20:19, 21) is his Word that does not merely desire peace, but truly brings about a lasting transformation in those who receive it, and consequently in all of reality.  For this reason, the Apostles’ successors give voice every day throughout the world to the most silent of revolutions: “Peace be with you!”  From the very evening of my election as Bishop of Rome, I have wanted to join my own greeting to this universal proclamation. And I would like to reiterate that this is the peace of the risen Christ – a peace that is unarmed and disarming, humble and persevering.  It comes from God who loves us all unconditionally. [1]

The peace of the risen Christ

The Good Shepherd, who gives his life for the flock and has other sheep not of this fold (cf. Jn 10:11,16), is Christ, our peace, who has conquered death and broken down the walls of division that separate humanity (cf. Eph 2:14). His presence, his gift and his victory continue to shine through the perseverance of many witnesses through whom God’s work carries on in the world, becoming even more visible and radiant in the darkness of our times.

The contrast between darkness and light is not only a biblical image describing the labor pains of a new world being born; it is also an experience that unsettles us and affects us amid the trials we face in our historical circumstances. In order to overcome the darkness, it is necessary to see the light and believe in it. This is a call that Jesus’ disciples are invited to live in a unique and privileged way; yet it also finds its way into every human heart. Peace exists; it wants to dwell within us.  It has the gentle power to enlighten and expand our understanding; it resists and overcomes violence. Peace is a breath of the eternal: while to evil we cry out “Enough,” to peace we whisper “Forever.”  Into this horizon the Risen One has led us.  Sustained by this conviction, even amid what Pope Francis called “a third world war fought piecemeal,” peacemakers continue to resist the spread of darkness, standing as sentinels in the night.

Sadly, it is also possible to forget the light. When this happens, we lose our sense of realism and surrender to a partial and distorted view of the world, disfigured by darkness and fear. Many today call “realistic” those narratives devoid of hope, blind to the beauty of others and forgetful of God’s grace, which is always at work in human hearts, even though wounded by sin.  Saint Augustine urged Christians to forge an unbreakable bond with peace, so that by cherishing it deeply in their hearts, they would be able to radiate its luminous warmth around them.  Addressing his community, he wrote: “If you wish to draw others to peace, first have it yourselves; be steadfast in peace yourselves.  To inflame others, you must have the flame burning within.” [2]

Dear brothers and sisters, whether we have the gift of faith or feel we lack it, let us open ourselves to peace! Let us welcome it and recognize it, rather than believing it to be impossible and beyond our reach. Peace is more than just a goal; it is a presence and a journey. Even when it is endangered within us and around us, like a small flame threatened by a storm, we must protect it, never forgetting the names and stories of those who have borne witness to it. Peace is a principle that guides and defines our choices. Even in places where only rubble remains, and despair seems inevitable, we still find people who have not forgotten peace. Just as on the evening of Easter Jesus entered the place where his disciples were gathered in fear and discouragement, so too the peace of the risen Christ continues to pass through doors and barriers in the voices and faces of his witnesses. This gift enables us to remember goodness, to recognize it as victorious, to choose it again, and to do so together.

An unarmed peace

Shortly before being arrested, in a moment of intimate confidence, Jesus said to those who were with him: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.”  And he immediately added: “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid” (Jn 14:27). Their distress and fear were certainly connected to the violence soon to befall him. But, more deeply, the Gospels do not hide the fact that what troubled the disciples was his nonviolent response: a path that they all, Peter first among them, contested; yet the Master asked them to follow this path to the end. The way of Jesus continues to cause unease and fear. He firmly repeats to those who would defend him by force: “Put your sword back into its sheath” (Jn 18:11; cf. Mt 26:52). The peace of the risen Jesus is unarmed, because his was an unarmed struggle in the midst of concrete historical, political and social circumstances. Christians must together bear prophetic witness to this novelty, mindful of the tragedies in which they have too often been complicit. The great parable of the Last Judgment invites all Christians to act with mercy in this awareness (cf. Mt 25:31-46). In doing so, they will find brothers and sisters at their side who, in different ways, have listened to the pain of others and freed themselves inwardly from the deception of violence.

Although many people today have hearts ready for peace, they are often overcome by a great sense of powerlessness before an increasingly uncertain world.  Saint Augustine had already pointed out this particular paradox: “It is not difficult to possess peace; it is, perhaps, more difficult to praise it. To praise peace, we may find that we lack the necessary talent; we search for the right ideas and weigh our words. But to have peace, it is there, within reach, and we can possess it without effort.” [3]

When we treat peace as a distant ideal, we cease to be scandalized when it is denied, or even when war is waged in its name. We seem to lack those “right ideas,” the well-considered words and the ability to say that peace is near. When peace is not a reality that is lived, cultivated and protected, then aggression spreads into domestic and public life. In the relations between citizens and rulers, it could even be considered a fault not to be sufficiently prepared for war, not to react to attacks, and not to return violence for violence. Far beyond the principle of legitimate defence, such confrontational logic now dominates global politics, deepening instability and unpredictability day by day. It is no coincidence that repeated calls to increase military spending, and the choices that follow, are presented by many government leaders as a justified response to external threats.  The idea of the deterrent power of military might, especially nuclear deterrence, is based on the irrationality of relations between nations, built not on law, justice and trust, but on fear and domination by force.  “Consequently,” as Saint John XXIII had already written in his day, “people are living in the grip of constant fear. They are afraid that at any moment the impending storm may break upon them with horrific violence. And they have good reasons for their fear, for there is certainly no lack of such weapons. While it is difficult to believe that anyone would dare to assume responsibility for initiating the appalling slaughter and destruction that war would bring in its wake, there is no denying that the conflagration could be started by some chance and unforeseen circumstance.” [4]

Moreover, it should be noted that global military expenditure increased by 9.4% in 2024 compared to the previous year, confirming the trend of the last ten years and reaching a total of $2718 billion (or 2.5% of global GDP). [5] Furthermore, the response to new challenges seems to involve not only enormous economic investment in rearmament, but also a shift in educational policies. Rather than fostering a culture of memory that preserves the hard-won awareness of the twentieth century and the millions of victims, we now see communication campaigns and educational programs – at schools, universities and in the media – that spread a perception of threats and promote only an armed notion of defense and security.

And yet, “those who truly love peace also love the enemies of peace.” [6]  Saint Augustine thus advised not to burn bridges or persist in reproach, but to prefer listening and, where possible, engaging in discussions with others. Sixty years ago, the Second Vatican Council concluded with a renewed awareness of the pressing need for dialogue between the Church and the contemporary world.  In particular, the Constitution Gaudium et Spes drew attention to the evolution of warfare: “The hazards peculiar to modern warfare consist in the fact that they expose those possessing recently developed weapons to the risk of perpetrating crimes like these and, by an inexorable chain of events, of urging people to even worse acts of atrocity. To obviate the possibility of this happening at any time in the future, the bishops of the world gathered together to implore everyone, especially government leaders and military advisors, to give unceasing consideration to their immense responsibilities before God and before the whole human race.” [7]

Reiterating the appeal of the Council Fathers, and considering dialogue to be the most effective approach at every level, we must acknowledge that further technological advances and the military implementation of artificial intelligence have worsened the tragedy of armed conflict. There is even a growing tendency among political and military leaders to shirk responsibility, as decisions about life and death are increasingly “delegated” to machines. This marks an unprecedented and destructive betrayal of the legal and philosophical principles of humanism that underlie and safeguard every civilization. It is necessary to denounce the enormous concentrations of private economic and financial interests that are driving States in this direction; yet that alone would not be enough, unless we also awakened conscience and critical thought. The Encyclical Fratelli Tutti presents Saint Francis of Assisi as a model of such awakening: “In the world of that time, bristling with watchtowers and defensive walls, cities were a theater of brutal wars between powerful families, even as poverty was spreading through the countryside. Yet there Francis was able to welcome true peace into his heart and free himself of the desire to wield power over others. He became one of the poor and sought to live in harmony with all.” [8] This is a narrative that we are called to continue today, and that means joining forces to contribute to a disarming peace, a peace born of openness and evangelical humility.

A disarming peace

Goodness is disarming. Perhaps this is why God became a child. The mystery of the Incarnation, which reaches its deepest descent even to the realm of the dead, begins in the womb of a young mother and is revealed in the manger in Bethlehem. “Peace on earth,” sing the angels, announcing the presence of a defenceless God, in whom humanity can discover itself as loved only by caring for him (cf. Lk 2:13-14). Nothing has the power to change us as much as a child. Perhaps it is precisely the thought of our children and of others who are equally fragile, that cuts to the heart (cf. Acts 2:37). In this regard, my venerable predecessor wrote that “human fragility has the power to make us more lucid about what endures and what passes, what brings life and what kills. Perhaps for this reason, we so often tend to deny our limitations and avoid fragile and wounded people: they have the power to question the direction we have chosen, both as individuals and as a community.” [9]

John XXIII was the first pope to advocate “integral disarmament,” which can only be achieved through renewal of the heart and mind.  In Pacem in Terris, he wrote: “Everyone must realize that, unless this process of disarmament be thoroughgoing and complete, and reach people’s very souls, it is impossible to stop the arms race, or to reduce armaments, or — and this is the main thing — ultimately to abolish them entirely. Everyone must sincerely co-operate in the effort to banish fear and the anxious expectation of war from our minds. But this requires that the fundamental principles upon which peace is based in today’s world be replaced by an altogether different one, namely, the realization that true and lasting peace among nations cannot consist in the possession of an equal supply of armaments but only in mutual trust. And we are confident that this can be achieved, for it is a thing which not only is dictated by common sense, but is in itself most desirable and most fruitful of good.” [10]

An essential service that religions must render to a suffering humanity is to guard against the growing temptation to weaponize even thoughts and words. The great spiritual traditions, as well as right reason, teach us to look beyond blood ties or ethnicity, beyond associations that accept only those who are similar and reject those who are different. Today, we see that this cannot be taken for granted. Unfortunately, it has become increasingly common to drag the language of faith into political battles, to bless nationalism, and to justify violence and armed struggle in the name of religion. Believers must actively refute, above all by the witness of their lives, these forms of blasphemy that profane the holy name of God. Therefore, alongside action, it is more necessary than ever to cultivate prayer, spirituality, and ecumenical and interreligious dialogue as paths of peace and as languages of encounter within traditions and cultures. Throughout the world, it is to be hoped that “every community become a ‘house of peace,’ where one learns how to defuse hostility through dialogue, where justice is practiced and forgiveness is cherished.” [11] Now more than ever, we must show that peace is not a utopia by fostering attentive and life-giving pastoral creativity.

At the same time, this should in no way detract from the importance of the political dimension. Those entrusted with the highest public responsibility must “give serious thought to the problem of achieving more humane relations between States throughout the world. This adjustment must be based on mutual trust, sincerity in negotiations and the faithful fulfilment of obligations. Every aspect of the problem must be examined, so that, eventually, a point of agreement may emerge from which sincere, lasting, and beneficial treaties can be initiated.” [12] This is the disarming path of diplomacy, mediation and international law, which is sadly too often undermined by the growing violations of hard-won treaties, at a time when what is needed is the strengthening of supranational institutions, not their delegitimization.

In today’s world, justice and human dignity are at an alarming risk amid global power imbalances. How can we live in this time of destabilization and conflict, and free ourselves from evil? We need to encourage and support every spiritual, cultural and political initiative that keeps hope alive, countering the spread of “fatalistic terms, as if the dynamics involved were the product of anonymous impersonal forces or structures independent of the human will.” [13] For, as has been suggested, “the best way to dominate and gain control over people is to spread despair and discouragement, even under the guise of defending certain values.” [14]  Against this strategy, we must promote self-awareness in civil societies, forms of responsible association, experiences of nonviolent participation, and practices of restorative justice on both a small and large scale. Leo XIII had already made this clear in his Encyclical Rerum Novarum: “The consciousness of his own weakness urges the human person to call in aid from without. We read in Scripture: ‘Two are better than one, for they have the advantage of their society. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow; but woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up’ ( Eccles 4:9-10). And further: ‘A brother that is helped by his brother is like a strong city’ ( Prov 18:19).” [15]

May this be one of the fruits of the Jubilee of Hope, which has moved millions of people to rediscover themselves as pilgrims and to begin within themselves that disarmament of heart, mind and life. God will surely respond to this by fulfilling his promises: “He shall judge between the nations, and shall decide for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.  O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord” (Is 2, 4-5).

From the Vatican, 8 December 2025

[1] Cf. Apostolic Blessing “Urbi et Orbi,” Central Loggia of the Vatican Basilica (8 May 2025).

[2] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Serm. 357, 3.

[3] Ibid., 1.

[4] John XXIII, Encyclical Letter Pacem in terris (11 April 1963), 111.

[5] Cf. SIPRI Yearbook: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security (2025).

[6] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Serm. 357, 1.

[7] Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World Gaudium et Spes, 80.

[8] Francis, Encyclical Letter Fratelli Tutti (3 October 2020), 4.

[9] Francis, Letter to the Directors of “Corriere della Sera” (14 March 2025).

[10] John XXIII, Encyclical Letter Pacem in Terris (11 April 1963), 113.

[11] Leo XIV Address to the Bishops of the Italian Episcopal Conference (17 June 2025).

[12] John XXIII, Encyclical Letter Pacem in Terris (11 April 1963), 118.

[13] Benedict XVI, Encyclical Letter Caritas in Veritate (29 June 2009), 42.

[14] Francis, Encyclical Letter Fratelli Tutti (3 October 2020), 15.

[15] Leo XIII, Encyclical Letter Rerum Novarum (15 May 1891), 50.

01.01.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy New Year!

While the rhythm of passing months repeats itself, the Lord invites us to renew our times by finally ushering in an era of peace and friendship among all peoples. Without this desire for the good, there would be no point in turning the pages of the calendar and filling our diaries.

The Jubilee, which is about to end, has taught us how to cultivate hope for a new world. We do this by converting our hearts to God, so as to transform wrongs into forgiveness, pain into consolation, and resolutions of virtue into good works. In this way, God himself dwells in history and saves it from oblivion, giving the world our Redeemer, Jesus Christ. He is the Only Begotten Son who becomes our brother, illuminating the consciences of people of good will, so that we can build the future as a welcoming home for every man and woman who comes into the world.

In this regard, the feast of Christmas today directs our gaze towards Mary, who was the first to experience Christ’s beating heart. In the silence of her virginal womb, the Word of life presents himself as a heartbeat of grace.

God, the good Creator, has always known Mary’s heart and our hearts. By becoming man, he makes his heart known to us. The heart of Jesus, therefore, beats for every man and woman; for those who are ready to welcome him, like the shepherds, and for those who do not want him, like Herod. His heart is not indifferent to those who have no heart for their neighbour: it beats for the righteous, so that they may persevere in their dedication, as well as for the unrighteous, so that they may change their lives and find peace.

The Saviour comes into the world by being born of a woman. Let us pause to adore this event, which shines forth in Mary Most Holy and is reflected in every unborn child, revealing the divine image imprinted in our humanity.

On this World Day, let us all pray together for peace: first, among nations bloodied by conflict and suffering, but also within our homes, in families wounded by violence or pain. Certain that Christ, our hope, is the sun of justice that never sets, let us confidently implore the intercession of Mary, Mother of God and Mother of the Church.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I warmly greet all of you, gathered in Saint Peter’s Square on this first day of the year, and I offer good wishes of peace. With deep gratitude I reciprocate the greetings of the President of the Italian Republic, Sergio Mattarella.

Since 1 January 1968, at the request of Pope Saint Paul VI, today the World Day of Peace is celebrated. In my Message, I wanted to repeat the wish that the Lord suggested to me when calling me to this service: “Peace be with you all!” A peace that is unarmed and disarming, which comes from God, a gift of his unconditional love, and is entrusted to our responsibility.

Dear friends, with the grace of Christ, let us begin today to build a year of peace, disarming our hearts and refraining from all violence.

I express appreciation for the countless initiatives promoted on this occasion around the world. In particular, I remember the national March that took place yesterday evening in Catania, and I greet the participants in today’s march organized by the Sant’Egidio community.

I also greet the group of students and teachers from Richland, New Jersey, and all of the Romans and pilgrims present.

At the beginning of this year, which marks the eighth centenary of the death of Saint Francis, I would like to extend to each person his blessing, taken from Sacred Scripture: “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”

May the Holy Mother of God guide us on our journey in the new year. Best wishes to everyone!

01.01.26 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

Today, on the Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God, at the beginning of the new civil year, the Liturgy offers us the text of a beautiful blessing: “May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord let his face shine on you and be gracious to you. May the Lord uncover his face to you and bring you peace” (Num 6:24-26).

In the Book of Numbers, this blessing follows the instructions regarding the consecration of the Nazirites, highlighting the sacred and fruitful dimension of offering gifts within the relationship between God and the people of Israel. Human beings offer the Creator all that they have received, and he, in turn, responds by turning toward them his benevolent gaze, just as he did at the dawn of creation (cf. Gen 1:31).

Moreover, the people of Israel, to whom this blessing was addressed, were a people who had been set free – men and women reborn after a long period of slavery, thanks to God’s intervention and the generous response of his servant, Moses. In Egypt, they had enjoyed certain comforts: food was available, as were shelter and a measure of stability. Yet this came at the cost of their freedom; enslaved, they were oppressed by a tyranny that demanded ever more while giving ever less (cf. Ex 5:6–7). Now, in the desert, many of those former comforts were lost. But in exchange there was freedom, which took shape as an open road toward the future, found in the gift of a law of wisdom and in the promise of a land where they might live and grow without shackles or chains. In short, it was a rebirth.

Thus, at the dawn of the new year, the Liturgy reminds us that for each of us, every day can be the beginning of a new life, thanks to God’s generous love, his mercy and the response of our freedom. It is beautiful to view the coming year in this way: as an open journey to be discovered. Indeed, through grace, we can venture forth on this journey with confidence – free and bearers of freedom, forgiven and bringers of forgiveness, trusting in the closeness and goodness of the Lord who accompanies us always.

We recall this truth as we celebrate the mystery of Mary’s divine motherhood. By her “yes,” she helped give a human face to the source of all mercy and benevolence: the face of Jesus. Through his eyes – first as a child, then as a young man and as an adult – the Father’s love reaches us and transforms us.

Therefore, as we set out toward the new and unique days that await us, let us ask the Lord to help us experience at every moment, around us and upon us, the warmth of his fatherly embrace and the light of his benevolent gaze. In this way, we may better understand and keep constantly in mind who we are and towards what marvellous destiny we are heading (cf. Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, Pastoral Constitution Gaudium et Spes, 41). At the same time, let us also give God glory through prayer, holiness of life, and by becoming mirrors of his goodness for one another.

Saint Augustine taught that, in Mary, “the Creator of man became man: so that, though he orders the stars, he might suckle at a woman’s breast; though he is the Bread (cf. Jn 6:35), he might hunger (cf. Mt 4:2)… in order to free us, even though we were unworthy” (Sermon 191, 1.1). In this way, Augustine recalled one of the fundamental features of God’s face: the complete gratuity of his love. As I emphasized in the Message for this World Day of Peace, God presents himself to us “unarmed and disarming,” as naked and defenceless as a newborn in a cradle. He does this to teach us that the world is not saved by sharpening swords, nor by judging, oppressing or eliminating our brothers and sisters. Rather, it is saved by tirelessly striving to understand, forgive, liberate and welcome everyone, without calculation and without fear.

This is the face of God that Mary allowed to take shape and grow within her womb, completely transforming her life. It is the face she proclaimed through the joyful yet delicate light of her eyes while bearing him in her womb; the face whose beauty she contemplated daily in her home as Jesus grew as a child, boy and young man; and the face she followed with the heart of a humble disciple, as he walked the paths of his mission, all the way to the cross and the resurrection. To do so, she too laid aside every defence, renouncing expectations, claims and comforts – as mothers so often do – consecrating her life without reserve to the Son she had received by grace, so that she might, in turn, give him back to the world.

In Mary’s divine motherhood, then, we see the meeting of two immense, “unarmed” realities: that of God, who renounces every privilege of his divinity to be born in the flesh (cf. Phil 2:6-11), and that of a human person who, trustingly and fully, embraces God’s will. In a perfect act of love, she offers him the greatest power she possesses: her freedom.

Reflecting upon this mystery, Saint John Paul II invited us to contemplate what the shepherds found in Bethlehem: “the disarming tenderness of the Child, the surprising poverty in which he is found and the humble simplicity of Mary and Joseph.” These realities transformed their lives, making them “messengers of salvation” (Homily at Mass on the Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God, XXXIV World Day of Peace, 1 January 2001).

He spoke these words at the conclusion of the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000, in terms that resonate with our reflection today: “How many gifts,” he affirmed, “how many extraordinary occasions the Great Jubilee has offered to believers!  In the experience of forgiveness received and given, in the commemoration of the martyrs, in listening to the cry of the world’s poor… we too have glimpsed the saving presence of God in history. We have, as it were, physically felt his love which renews the face of the earth” (ibid.). He then concluded: “Just as he asked the shepherds who hastened to adore him, Christ asks of believers, to whom he has given the joy of meeting him, a courageous readiness to set out once again to proclaim his Gospel, old and ever new. He sends them to enliven our human history and culture with his saving message” (ibid.).

Dear brothers and sisters, on this Solemnity, at the beginning of the new year, and as we approach the conclusion of the Jubilee of Hope, let us draw near to the Nativity scene in faith. Let us approach it as the place of “unarmed and disarming” peace par excellence – a place of blessing where we recall the wonders the Lord has worked in the history of salvation and in our own lives. Then, like the humble witnesses at the grotto, let us set out once more, “glorifying and praising God” (Lk 2:20) for all that we have seen and heard. May this be our commitment and our resolve for the months ahead, and, indeed, for the whole of our Christian lives.

01.01.26 m

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!

We are gathering for this moment of reflection on the last day of the calendar year, close to the end of the Jubilee and at the heart of Christmas time.

The past year has certainly been marked by important events: some of them joyful, such as the pilgrimage of so many of the faithful on the occasion of the Holy Year; others painful, such as the passing of the late Pope Francis, and the scenarios of war that continue to convulse the planet. At its end, the Church invites us to place everything before the Lord, entrusting ourselves to his Providence, and asking him to renew, in us and around us, in the coming days, the wonders of his grace and mercy.

It is in this dynamic that the tradition of the solemn singing of the Te Deum, with which we will thank the Lord this evening for the blessings we have received, finds its place. We will sing, “You are God: we praise you”, “In you, Lord, is our hope”, “Have mercy on us”. In this regard, Pope Francis observed that while “worldly gratitude, worldly hope are evident … they are focused on the self, on its interests … Instead, in this Liturgy … one breathes an entirely different atmosphere: one of praise, of wonder, of gratitude” (Homily of First Vespers of the Solemnity of Mary Mother of God, 31 December 2023).

And it is with these attitudes that today we are called upon to reflect on what the Lord has done for us over the past year, as well as to examine our consciences honestly, to evaluate our response to his gifts and to ask forgiveness for all the times we have failed to treasure his inspirations and invest the talents he has entrusted to us in the best possible way (cf. Mt 25:14-30).

This leads us to reflect on another great sign that has accompanied us in recent months: that of the “journey” and the “destination”. This year, countless pilgrims have come from all over the world to pray at the Tomb of Peter and to confirm their adherence to Christ. This reminds us that our whole life is a journey, whose final destination transcends space and time, to be fulfilled in the encounter with God and in full and eternal communion with Him (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1024). We will also ask for this in the Te Deum prayer, when we say: “Bring us with your saints to glory everlasting”. It is no coincidence that Saint Paul VI defined the Jubilee as a great act of faith in “anticipation of future destinies ... which we already foretaste and ... prepare for” (General Audience, 17 December 1975).

And in this eschatological light of the encounter between the finite and the infinite, a third sign can be seen: the passage through the Holy Door, which so many of us have made, praying and imploring forgiveness for ourselves and our loved ones. It expresses our “yes” to God, who with his forgiveness invites us to cross the threshold of a new life, animated by grace, modelled on the Gospel, inflamed by “love for that neighbour, in whose definition ... every man is included ... in need of understanding, help, comfort, sacrifice, even if personally unknown to us, even if bothersome and hostile, but endowed with the incomparable dignity of a brother” (Saint Paul VI, Homily on the occasion of the closing of the Holy Year, 25 December 1975; cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1826-1827). It is our “yes” to a life lived with commitment in the present and oriented towards eternity.

Dear friends, we meditate on these signs in the light of Christmas. Saint Leo the Great, in this regard, saw the feast of the Birth of Jesus as the proclamation of a joy that is for everyone: “Let the saint rejoice”, he exclaimed, “because he is approaching his reward; let the sinner rejoice, because he is offered forgiveness; let the pagan take courage, because he is called to life” (First Discourse on the Nativity of the Lord, 1).

His invitation is addressed today to all of us, holy by Baptism, because God has become our companion on the journey towards true Life; to us sinners, because, forgiven, with his grace we can stand up and set off again; and finally, to us, poor and fragile, because the Lord, making our weakness his own, has redeemed it and shown us the beauty and strength of his perfect humanity (cf. Jn 1:14).

Therefore, I would like to conclude by remembering the words with which Saint Paul VI, at the end of the Jubilee of 1975, described its fundamental message. It is contained, he said, in one word: “love”. And he added, “God is Love! This is the ineffable revelation with which the Jubilee, through its teaching, its indulgence, its forgiveness and finally its peace, full of tears and joy, has sought to fill our spirit today and our lives tomorrow: God is Love! God loves me! God awaited me, and I have found him! God is mercy! God is forgiveness! God is salvation! God, yes, God is life!” (General Audience, 17 December 1975). May these thoughts accompany us in the passage from the old to the new year, and then always, in our lives.

I extend a warm welcome this morning to all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, especially those coming from Australia, China, Palestine, the Philippines and the United States of America. As we prepare for tomorrow’s celebration of the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, let us entrust the coming year to her maternal intercession. To all of you and your families, I offer my prayerful good wishes for a blessed Christmas season and a new year filled with joy and peace. God bless you all!

31.12.25 a

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family, and the Liturgy offers us the story of their flight into Egypt (cf. Mt 2:13-15, 19-23).

It is a moment of trial for Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Indeed, the bright image of Christmas is suddenly almost eclipsed by the disturbing shadow of a deadly threat, which has its origin in the troubled life of Herod. A cruel and bloodthirsty man, who is feared for his brutality, but precisely for this reason he is deeply lonely and gripped with the fear of being deposed. When he learns from the Magi that the “king of the Jews” has been born (Mt 2:2), feeling this to be a threat to his power, he decrees that all children of the same age as Jesus should be killed. In his kingdom, God is performing the greatest miracle in history, in which all the ancient promises of salvation are fulfilled, but he cannot see this because he is blinded by the fear of losing his throne, riches and privileges. In Bethlehem there is light and joy as some shepherds have received the heavenly announcement and have glorified God before the manger (cf. Lk 2:8-20). But none of this can penetrate the armoured defences of the royal palace, except as a distorted echo of a threat to be stifled with blind violence.

It is precisely this hardness of heart, however, that further highlights the value of the presence and mission of the Holy Family. In the despotic and greedy world represented by the tyrant, it is the birthplace and cradle of the only possible answer of salvation, that of God who, in total gratuitousness, gives himself to men without reserve and without pretension. Being obedient to the voice of the Lord by taking his Bride and child to safety, the gesture of Joseph is revealed in all its redemptive significance. In Egypt, the flame of domestic love, to which the Lord has entrusted his presence in the world, grows and gains strength in order to bring light to the whole world.

As we contemplate this mystery with wonder and gratitude, we think of our families and the light they can bring to the society in which we live. Unfortunately, the world always has its “Herods,” its myths of success at any cost, of unscrupulous power, of empty and superficial well-being, and it often pays the price in the form of loneliness, despair, divisions and conflicts. Let us not allow these mirages to suffocate the flame of love in Christian families. On the contrary, in our families, we should cherish the values of the Gospel: prayer, frequent reception of the sacraments – especially Confession and Communion – healthy affections, sincere dialogue, fidelity, and the simple and beautiful concreteness of everyday words and gestures. This will make them a light of hope for the places in which we live; a school of love and an instrument of salvation in God’s hands (cf. Francis, Homily at Mass for the 10th World Meeting of Families, 25 June 2022).

Let us therefore ask our Father in Heaven, through the intercession of Mary and Saint Joseph, to bless our families and all families throughout the world, so that by following the model of his Son made man, they may be for all an efficacious sign of his presence and his endless charity.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I offer my warm greetings to all of you, Romans and pilgrims from various countries.

In the light of the Nativity of the Lord, let us continue to pray for peace. Today, in particular, let us pray for families suffering because of war, especially for children, elderly and the most vulnerable. Let us entrust ourselves together to the intercession of the Holy Family of Nazareth.

I wish everyone a happy Sunday!

28.12.25

Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!

Today is Saint Stephen’s “birthday,” as the first generations of Christians used to say with the certainty that we are not born just once. Moreover, seeing with the eyes of faith is to see no longer mere darkness, even in death, for Martyrdom is a birth into heaven. We do not choose to come into the world, but then we pass through many experiences in which we are asked to choose ever more intentionally to “come to the light,” to choose the light. The account in the Acts of the Apostles testifies that those who saw Stephen going to his martyrdom were struck by the light of his face and his words. It is written: “All who sat in the council looked intently at him, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel” (Acts 6:15). This is the face of one who does not leave history indifferently, but responds to it with love. Everything Stephen does and says represents the divine love that appeared in Jesus, the Light that shines in our darkness.

Dear friends, the birth of the Son of God among us calls us to live as children of God. He makes this possible by attracting us through the humility of people such as Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds, whom we encounter from that night in Bethlehem. Yet the beauty of Jesus, and of those who imitate his life, is also rejected, for from the beginning, his magnetic force has provoked the reaction of those who struggle for power, those who are exposed by their acts of injustice because of a goodness that reveals the intentions of their hearts (cf. Lk 2:35). To this day, however, no power can prevail over the work of God. Everywhere in the world, there are those who choose justice even at great cost, those who put peace before their fears, and those who serve the poor instead of themselves. Hope then sprouts, and it makes sense to celebrate despite everything.

In the current conditions of uncertainty and suffering in the world, joy might seem impossible. Today, those who believe in peace and have chosen the unarmed path of Jesus and the martyrs are often ridiculed, excluded from public discourse, and not infrequently accused of favouring adversaries and enemies. Christians, however, have no enemies, but brothers and sisters, who remain so even when they do not understand each other. The mystery of Christmas brings us a joy motivated by the tenacity of those who already live in fraternity, of those who already recognise around them, even in their adversaries, the indelible dignity of the daughters and sons of God. Like Jesus, Stephen died forgiving others because of a force more real than that of weapons. It is a gratuitous force, already present in the hearts of all, and which is reawakened and shared in an irresistible way when we begin to look at our neighbour differently, offering them attention and recognition. Yes, this is what it means to be reborn, to come once more into the light, this is our “Christmas!”

Let us now pray to Mary and contemplate her, blessed among all women who give life and counter arrogance with care, and distrust with faith. May Mary bring us into her own joy, a joy that dissolves all fear and all threats, just as snow melts before the sun.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I renew my heartfelt good wishes for peace and serenity in the light of our Lord’s birth.

I greet all of you, the faithful of Rome and pilgrims from many countries.

As we remember Saint Stephen, the first Martyr, we seek his intercession for strengthening our faith and supporting the communities that suffer most for their Christian witness.

May his example of humility, courage and forgiveness accompany those who, in situations of conflict, are committed to promoting dialogue, reconciliation and peace.

I wish everyone a happy feast day!

26.12.25

Dear brothers and sisters,

“Let us all rejoice in the Lord, for our Saviour has been born in the world.  Today, true peace has come down to us from heaven” (Entrance Antiphon, Christmas Mass during the Night). Thus sings the liturgy on Christmas night, and the announcement of Bethlehem resounds in the Church: the Child born of the Virgin Mary is Christ the Lord, sent by the Father to save us from sin and death. Indeed, he is our peace; he has conquered hatred and enmity through God’s merciful love. For this reason, “the Lord’s birth is the birth of peace” (Saint Leo the Great, Sermon 26).

Jesus was born in a stable because there was no room for him in the inn. As soon as he was born, his mother Mary “wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger” (cf. Lk 2:7). The Son of God, through whom all things were created, was not welcomed, and a poor manger for animals was his crib.

The eternal Word of the Father whom the heavens cannot contain chose to come into the world in this way. Out of love, he wanted to be born of a woman and so share our humanity; out of love, he accepted poverty and rejection, identifying himself with those who are discarded and excluded.

Already in the birth of Jesus, we glimpse the fundamental decision that would guide the entire life of the Son of God, even to his death on the cross: the decision not to leave us under the burden of sin, but to bear it himself for us, to take it upon himself. He alone could do so. At the same time, however, he showed us what we alone can do, which is to take on our own share of responsibility. Indeed, God, who created us without us, will not save us without us (cf. Saint Augustine, Sermon 169, 11, 13), that is, without our free will to love. Those who do not love are not saved; they are lost. And those who do not love their brother or sister whom they see, cannot love God whom they do not see (cf. 1 Jn 4:20).

Sisters and brothers, responsibility is the sure way to peace. If all of us, at every level, would stop accusing others and instead acknowledge our own faults, asking God for forgiveness, and if we would truly enter into the suffering of others and stand in solidarity with the weak and the oppressed, then the world would change.

Jesus Christ is our peace first of all because he frees us from sin, and also because he shows us the way to overcome conflicts — all conflicts, whether interpersonal or international. Without a heart freed from sin, a heart that has been forgiven, we cannot be men and women of peace or builders of peace. This is why Jesus was born in Bethlehem and died on the cross: to free us from sin. He is the Saviour. With his grace, we can and must each do our part to reject hatred, violence and opposition, and to practice dialogue, peace and reconciliation.

On this day of celebration, I wish to send a warm and fatherly greeting to all Christians, especially those living in the Middle East, whom I recently visited on my first Apostolic Journey. I listened to them as they expressed their fears and know well their sense of powerlessness before the power dynamics that overwhelm them. The Child born today in Bethlehem is the same Jesus who says: “In me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world” (Jn 16:33).

From God let us ask for justice, peace and stability for Lebanon, Palestine, Israel and Syria, trusting in these divine words: “The effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust for ever” (Is 32:17).

Let us entrust the entire European continent to the Prince of Peace, asking him to continue to inspire a spirit of community and cooperation, in fidelity to its Christian roots and history, and in solidarity with – and acceptance of – those in need. Let us pray in a particular way for the tormented people of Ukraine: may the clamour of weapons cease, and may the parties involved, with the support and commitment of the international community, find the courage to engage in sincere, direct and respectful dialogue.

From the Child of Bethlehem, we implore peace and consolation for the victims of all current wars in the world, especially those that are forgotten, and for those who suffer due to injustice, political instability, religious persecution and terrorism. I remember in a special way our brothers and sisters in Sudan, South Sudan, Mali, Burkina Faso and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

In these final days of the Jubilee of Hope, let us pray to God made man for the beloved people of Haiti, that all forms of violence in the country will cease and that progress will be made on the path of peace and reconciliation.

May the Child Jesus inspire those in Latin America who hold political responsibilities, so that, in facing the numerous challenges, space may be given to dialogue for the common good, rather than to ideological and partisan prejudices.

Let us ask the Prince of Peace to illuminate Myanmar with the light of a future of reconciliation, restoring hope to the younger generations, guiding its entire people along paths of peace, and accompanying those who live without shelter, security or confidence in tomorrow.

We ask the Lord that the ancient friendship between Thailand and Cambodia be restored, and that the parties involved will continue to work towards reconciliation and peace.

We also entrust to God the peoples of South Asia and Oceania, who have been severely tested by recent, devastating natural disasters that have struck entire communities. In the face of such trials, I invite everyone to renew, with heartfelt conviction, our shared commitment to assisting those who suffer.

Dear brothers and sisters, in the darkness of the night, “the true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world” (Jn 1:9), but “his own people did not accept him” (Jn 1:11). Let us not allow ourselves to be overcome by indifference towards those who suffer, for God is not indifferent to our distress.

In becoming man, Jesus took upon himself our fragility, identifying with each one of us: with those who have nothing left and have lost everything, like the inhabitants of Gaza; with those who are prey to hunger and poverty, like the Yemeni people; with those who are fleeing their homeland to seek a future elsewhere, like the many refugees and migrants who cross the Mediterranean or traverse the American continent; with those who have lost their jobs and those who are looking for work, like so many young people who struggle to find employment; with those who are exploited, like many underpaid workers; with those in prison, who often live in inhumane conditions.

The invocation of peace that rises from every land reaches God’s heart, as one poet wrote:

“Not the peace of a cease-fire, not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb, but rather as in the heart when the excitement is over and you can talk only about a great weariness…

Let it come like wildflowers, suddenly, because the field must have it: wildpeace.” [1]

On this holy day, let us open our hearts to our brothers and sisters who are in need or in pain. In doing so, we open our hearts to the Child Jesus, who welcomes us with open arms and reveals his divinity to us: “But to all who received him… he gave power to become children of God” (Jn 1:12).

In a few days’ time, the Jubilee Year will come to an end. The Holy Doors will close, but Christ our hope remains with us always! He is the Door that is always open, leading us into divine life. This is the joyful proclamation of this day: the Child who was born is God made man; he comes not to condemn but to save; his is not a fleeting appearance, for he comes to stay and to give himself. In him, every wound is healed and every heart finds rest and peace.  “The Lord’s birth is the birth of peace.”

To all of you, I offer heartfelt good wishes for a peaceful and holy Christmas!

[1] Y. Amichai, “Wildpeace”, in The Poetry of Yehuda Amichai, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2015.

25.12.25 ueo

Dear brothers and sisters,

“Break forth together into songs of joy” (Is 52:9), cries the messenger of peace to those standing amid the ruins of a city in desperate need of rebuilding. Though dusty and wounded, his feet are beautiful, writes the prophet (cf. Is 52:7), because, along rugged and weary roads they have carried a glad announcement in which everything is reborn. A new day has dawned! We too are part of this new beginning, even if few as yet believe it: peace is real, and it is already among us.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you” (Jn 14:27). Thus Jesus spoke to the disciples, whose feet he had just washed. They were to be messengers of peace, sent to journey tirelessly through the world to reveal to all the “power to become children of God” (Jn 1:12). Today, therefore, we are not only surprised by the peace that is already here; we also celebrate the way in which this gift has been given to us. In this “how,” in fact, shines the divine difference that causes us to break forth into songs of joy. For this reason, throughout the world, Christmas is a feast par excellence of music and song.

The prologue of the fourth Gospel is itself a hymn, with the Word of God as its protagonist. The “Word” is a word that acts. This is a hallmark of God’s Word: it is never without effect. Indeed, many of our own words also have effects, sometimes unintended. Yes, words “act.” Yet here is the surprise that the Christmas liturgy presents to us: the Word of God appears but cannot speak. He comes to us as a newborn baby who can only cry and babble. “The Word became flesh” (Jn 1:14). Though he will grow and one day learn the language of his people, for now he speaks only through his simple, fragile presence. “Flesh” is the radical nakedness that, in Bethlehem as on Calvary, remains even without words – just as so many brothers and sisters, stripped of their dignity and reduced to silence, have no words today. Human flesh asks for care; it pleads for welcome and recognition; it seeks hands capable of tenderness and minds willing to listen; it longs for words of kindness.

“He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God” (Jn 1:11-12). This is the paradoxical way in which peace is already among us: God’s gift invites us in; it seeks to be welcomed and, in turn, inspires our own self-giving. God surprises us because he leaves himself open to rejection. He also captivates us because he draws us away from indifference.  Becoming children of God is a true power – one that remains buried so long as we keep our distance from the cry of children and the frailty of the elderly, from the helpless silence of victims and the resigned melancholy of those who do the evil they do not want.

To remind us of the joy of the Gospel, our beloved Pope Francis wrote: “Sometimes we are tempted to be that kind of Christian who keeps the Lord’s wounds at arm’s length. Yet Jesus wants us to touch human misery, to touch the suffering flesh of others. He hopes that we will stop looking for those personal or communal niches which shelter us from the maelstrom of human misfortune and instead enter into the reality of other people’s lives and know the power of tenderness” (Evangelii Gaudium, 270).

Dear brothers and sisters, since the Word was made flesh, humanity now speaks, crying out with God’s own desire to encounter us. The Word has pitched his fragile tent among us. How, then, can we not think of the tents in Gaza, exposed for weeks to rain, wind and cold; and of those of so many other refugees and displaced persons on every continent; or of the makeshift shelters of thousands of homeless people in our own cities? Fragile is the flesh of defenceless populations, tried by so many wars, ongoing or concluded, leaving behind rubble and open wounds. Fragile are the minds and lives of young people forced to take up arms, who on the front lines feel the senselessness of what is asked of them and the falsehoods that fill the pompous speeches of those who send them to their deaths.

When the fragility of others penetrates our hearts, when their pain shatters our rigid certainties, then peace has already begun. The peace of God is born from a newborn’s cry that is welcomed, from weeping that is heard. It is born amidst ruins that call out for new forms of solidarity. It is born from dreams and visions that, like prophecies, reverse the course of history. Yes, all this exists, because Jesus is the Logos, the Meaning, from which everything has taken shape. “All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made” (Jn 1:3). This mystery speaks to us from the nativity scenes we have built; it opens our eyes to a world in which the Word still resonates, “many times and in many ways” (cf. Heb 1:1), and still calls us to conversion.

To be sure, the Gospel does not hide the resistance of darkness to the light.  It describes the path of the Word of God as a rugged road, strewn with obstacles. To this day, authentic messengers of peace follow the Word along this path, which ultimately reaches hearts – restless hearts that often desire the very thing they resist. In this way, Christmas gives fresh impetus to a missionary Church, urging her onto the paths that the Word of God has traced for her. We do not serve a domineering Word – too many of those already resound everywhere – but a presence that inspires goodness, knows its efficacy and does not claim a monopoly over it.

This is the way of mission: a path toward others. In God, every word is an addressed word; it is an invitation to conversation, a word never closed in on itself. This is the renewal that the Second Vatican Council promoted, which will bear fruit only if we walk together with the whole of humanity, never separating ourselves from it. The opposite is worldliness: to have oneself at the center. The movement of the Incarnation is a dynamics of conversation.  There will be peace when our monologues are interrupted and, enriched by listening, we fall to our knees before the humanity of the other. In this, the Virgin Mary is the Mother of the Church, the Star of Evangelization, the Queen of Peace. In her, we understand that nothing is born from the display of force, and everything is reborn from the silent power of life welcomed.

25.12.25 m

Dear brothers and sisters,

For millennia, across the earth, peoples have gazed up at the sky, giving names to the silent stars, and seeing images therein. In their imaginative yearning, they tried to read the future in the heavens, seeking on high for a truth that was absent below amidst their homes. Yet, as if grasping in the dark, they remained lost, confounded by their own oracles. On this night, however, “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined” (Is 9:2).

Behold the star that astonishes the world, a spark newly lit and blazing with life: “To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord” (Lk 2:11). Into time and space – in our midst – comes the One without whom we would not exist. He who gives his life for us lives among us, illuminating the night with his light of salvation. There is no darkness that this star does not illumine, for by its light all humanity beholds the dawn of a new and eternal life.

It is the birth of Jesus, Emmanuel. In the Son made man, God gives us nothing less than his very self, in order to “redeem us from all iniquity and purify for himself a people of his own” (Titus 2:14). Born in the night is the One who redeems us from the night. The hint of the dawning day is no longer to be sought in the distant reaches of the cosmos, but by bending low, in the stable nearby.

The clear sign given to a darkened world is indeed “a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger” (Lk 2:12). To find the Savior, one must not gaze upward, but look below: the omnipotence of God shines forth in the powerlessness of a newborn; the eloquence of the eternal Word resounds in an infant’s first cry; the holiness of the Spirit gleams in that small body, freshly washed and wrapped in swaddling clothes. The need for care and warmth becomes divine since the Son of the Father shares in history with all his brothers and sisters. The divine light radiating from this Child helps us to recognize humanity in every new life.

To heal our blindness, the Lord chooses to reveal himself in each human being, who reflect his true image, according to a plan of love begun at the creation of the world. As long as the night of error obscures this providential truth, then “there is no room for others either, for children, for the poor, for the stranger” (Benedict XVI, Homily, Christmas Mass during the Night, 24 December 2012). These words of Pope Benedict XVI remain a timely reminder that on earth, there is no room for God if there is no room for the human person. To refuse one is to refuse the other. Yet, where there is room for the human person, there is room for God; even a stable can become more sacred than a temple, and the womb of the Virgin Mary become the Ark of the New Covenant.

Let us marvel, dear brothers and sisters, at the wisdom of Christmas. In the Child Jesus, God gives the world a new life: his own, offered for all. He does not give us a clever solution to every problem, but a love story that draws us in. In response to the expectations of peoples, he sends a child to be a word of hope. In the face of the suffering of the poor, he sends one who is defenceless to be the strength to rise again. Before violence and oppression, he kindles a gentle light that illumines with salvation all the children of this world. As Saint Augustine observed, “human pride weighed you down so heavily that only divine humility could raise you up again” (Saint Augustine, Sermon 188, III, 3). While a distorted economy leads us to treat human beings as mere merchandise, God becomes like us, revealing the infinite dignity of every person. While humanity seeks to become “god” in order to dominate others, God chooses to become man in order to free us from every form of slavery. Will this love be enough to change our history?

The answer will come as soon as we wake up from a deadly night into the light of new life, and, like the shepherds, contemplate the Child Jesus. Above the stable of Bethlehem, where Mary and Joseph watch over the newborn Child with hearts full of wonder, the starry sky is transformed into “a multitude of the heavenly host” (Lk 2:13). These are unarmed and disarming hosts, for they sing of the glory of God, of which peace on earth is the true manifestation (cf. v. 14). Indeed, in the heart of Christ beats the bond of love that unites heaven and earth, Creator and creatures.

For this reason, exactly one year ago, Pope Francis affirmed that the Nativity of Jesus rekindles in us the “gift and task of bringing hope wherever hope has been lost,” because “with him, joy flourishes; with him, life changes; with him, hope does not disappoint” (Homily, Christmas Mass during the Night, 24 December 2024). With these words, the Holy Year began. Now, as the Jubilee draws to a close, Christmas becomes for us a time of gratitude and mission; gratitude for the gift received, and mission to bear witness to it before the world. As the Psalmist sings: “Tell of his salvation from day to day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvellous deeds among all the peoples” (Ps 96:2–3).

Brothers and sisters, contemplation of the Word made flesh awakens in the whole Church a new and true proclamation. Let us therefore announce the joy of Christmas, which is a feast of faith, charity and hope. It is a feast of faith, because God becomes man, born of the Virgin. It is a feast of charity, because the gift of the redeeming Son is realized in fraternal self-giving. It is a feast of hope, because the Child Jesus kindles it within us, making us messengers of peace. With these virtues in our hearts, unafraid of the night, we can go forth to meet the dawn of a new day.

24.12.25 m

Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!

Today, on the fourth Sunday of Advent, the liturgy invites us to meditate on the figure of Saint Joseph. In particular, we see him at the moment when God reveals his mission in a dream (cf. Mt 1:18-24). Thus, a very beautiful episode of salvation history is presented, in which the protagonist, like us, is a fragile and fallible man, yet at the same time is courageous and strong in faith.

The Evangelist Matthew calls him a “just man” (cf. 1:19), characterizing him as a pious Israelite who observes the Law and attends the synagogue. In addition to this, however, Joseph of Nazareth also strikes us as someone who is keenly sensitive and human.

We see an example of this even before the Angel reveals to him the mystery that is taking place in Mary. When Joseph is faced with a situation that is difficult to understand and accept, with regard to his future bride, he does not choose the path of scandal and public condemnation, but the discreet and benevolent path of secret repudiation (cf. Mt 1:19). In this way, he shows that he understands the deepest meaning of his own religious observance: the meaning of mercy.

The purity and nobility of his sentiments, however, become even more evident when the Lord, in a dream, reveals his plan of salvation to him, indicating the unexpected role that he must take up as the spouse of the Virgin Mother of the Messiah. Here, indeed, with a great act of faith, Joseph leaves even the last resort of his security and sets sail toward a future that is now totally in God’s hands. Saint Augustine describes his assent in this way: “Through Joseph’s piety and charity, a son was born of the Virgin Mary, and he was the Son of God” (Serm. 51: 20, 30).

Piety and charity, mercy and abandonment: these are the virtues of the man from Nazareth that today’s liturgy shows us, so that they may accompany us in these last days of Advent, towards Christmas. These are important attitudes that educate the heart to encounter Christ and our brothers and sisters. They can also help us to be, for one another, a welcoming manger, a hospitable home, a sign of God’s presence. In this time of grace, let us not waste the opportunity to practice them: forgiving, encouraging, giving a little hope to those with whom we live and those we meet; and renewing in prayer our filial abandonment to the Lord and his providence, entrusting everything to him with confidence.

May we find help from the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph, who, with faith and great love, were the first to welcome Jesus, the Saviour of the world.

Dear brothers and sisters!

Today, I send a special greeting to the children and young people of Rome! Dear friends, you have come with your families and catechists for the blessing of the figurines of the Child Jesus, which you will place in the mangers in your homes, schools and parish community centers. I thank the Roman Oratory Center for organizing this event, and I cordially bless all the “bambinelli.” Dear children, as you stand before your Nativity scenes, please pray to Jesus for the Pope’s intentions as well. In particular, let us pray together that all the world’s children may live in peace. I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

And together with the “bambinelli” and all the expressions of our faith in the Child Jesus, may the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit always bless you.

I wish you all a happy Sunday and a holy, peaceful Christmas!

21.12.25

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!

Human life is characterized by a constant movement that drives us to do, to act. Nowadays speed is required everywhere in order to achieve optimal results in a wide variety of fields. How does Jesus’ resurrection shed light on this aspect of our experience? When we participate in his victory over death, will we rest? Faith tells us: yes, we will rest. We will not be inactive, but we will enter into God’s repose, which is peace and joy. So, should we just wait, or can this change us right now?

We are absorbed by many activities that do not always leave us satisfied. A lot of our actions have to do with practical, concrete things. We have to assume responsibility for many commitments, solve problems, face difficulties. Jesus too was involved with people and with life, not sparing himself, but rather giving himself to the end. Yet we often perceive how too much doing, instead of giving us fulfilment, becomes a vortex that overwhelms us, takes away our serenity, and prevents us from living to the fullest what is truly important in our lives. We then feel tired and dissatisfied: time seems to be wasted on a thousand practical things that do not, however, resolve the ultimate meaning of our existence. Sometimes, at the end of days full of activities, we feel empty. Why? Because we are not machines, we have a “heart”; indeed, we can say that we are a heart.

The heart is the symbol of all our humanity, the sum of our thoughts, feelings and desires, the invisible centre of our selves. The Evangelist Matthew invites us to reflect on the importance of the heart, quoting this beautiful phrase of Jesus: “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Mt 6:21).

It is therefore in the heart that true treasure is kept, not in earthly safes, not in large financial investments, which today more than ever before are out of control and unjustly concentrated at the bloody price of millions of human lives and the devastation of God’s creation.

It is important to reflect on these aspects, because in the numerous commitments we continually face, there is an increasing risk of dispersion, sometimes of despair, of meaninglessness, even in apparently successful people. Instead, interpreting life in the light of Easter, looking at it with the Risen Jesus, means finding access to the essence of the human person, to our heart: cor inquietum. With this adjective “restless”, Saint Augustine helps us understand the human being’s yearning for fulfilment. The full sentence refers to the beginning of the Confessions, where Augustine writes: “Lord, you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you” (I, 1,1).

Restlessness is the sign that our heart does not move by chance, in a disordered way, without a purpose or a destination, but is oriented towards its ultimate destination, the “return home”. The authentic approach of the heart does not consist in possessing the goods of this world, but in achieving what can fill it completely; namely, the love of God, or rather, God who is Love. This treasure, however, can only be found by loving the neighbour we meet along the way: brothers and sisters in flesh and blood, whose presence stirs and questions our heart, calling it to open up and give itself. Our neighbour asks us to slow down, to look them in the eye, sometimes to change our plans, perhaps even to change direction.

Dear friends, here is the secret of the movement of the human heart: returning to the source of its being, delighting in the joy that never fails, that never disappoints. No one can live without a meaning that goes beyond the contingent, beyond what passes away. The human heart cannot live without hope, without knowing that it is made for fullness, not for want.

Jesus Christ, with his Incarnation, Passion, Death and Resurrection, has given us a solid foundation for this hope. The restless heart will not be disappointed, if it enters into the dynamism of the love for which it was created. The destination is certain, life has triumphed, and in Christ it will continue to triumph in every death of daily life. This is Christian hope: let us always bless and thank the Lord who has given it to us!

I extend a warm welcome this morning to all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, especially those coming from Nigeria, Indonesia and the United States of America. I pray that each of you, and your families, may experience a blessed Advent in preparation for the coming of the new born Jesus, Son of God and Savior of the world. God bless you all!

Lastly, I greet the sick, the newlyweds and the young people, especially the students of the Cicero Institute of Sala Consilina and those of the Capriotti Institute of San Benedetto del Tronto. In a few days it will be Christmas and I imagine that in your homes the preparation of the nativity scene, an evocative representation of the Mystery of the Nativity of Christ, is being completed or has already been completed. I hope that such an important element, not only of our faith, but also of Christian culture and art, will continue to be part of Christmas to remember Jesus who, in becoming man, came "to dwell among us".

My blessing to you all!

17.12.25

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

Today’s Gospel places in jail with John the Baptist, who finds himself imprisoned because of his preaching (cf. Mt 14:3-5). Nevertheless, he does not lose hope, thus becoming for us a sign that a prophet, even in chains, retains the ability to use his voice in the pursuit of truth and justice.

From prison, John the Baptist hears “about the works of Christ” (Mt 11:2), which are different from what he expected, so he sends his disciples to ask him: “Are you the one who is to come, or should we wait for another?” (v. 3). Those who seek truth and justice, those who long for freedom and peace, have questions about Jesus: Is he truly the Messiah, the Saviour promised by God through the prophets?

Jesus responds by directing our gaze toward those whom he loved and served. It is: the least, the poor, the sick who speak on his behalf. Christ announces who he is by what he does. And what he does is a sign of salvation for all of us. In fact, by encountering Jesus – lives previously deprived of light, speech and taste regain meaning – the blind see, the mute speak, the deaf hear. The image of God, seemingly disfigured by leprosy, regains wholeness and vitality. Even the dead, who are completely lifeless, come back to life (cf. v. 5). This is the Gospel of Jesus, the good news proclaimed to the poor. Thus, when God comes into the world, it is clearly seen!

The words of Jesus free us from the prison of despair and suffering. Every prophecy finds its expected fulfillment in Him. It is Christ who opens the eyes of man to the glory of God. He gives voice to the oppressed and to those whose voices have been silenced by violence and hatred. He defeats ideologies that make us deaf to the truth. He heals the ailments that deform the body.

In this way, the Word of life redeems us from evil, which causes the heart to die.  For this reason, in this Advent season, as disciples of the Lord, we are called to combine our anticipation of the Savior with attention to what God is doing in the world. Then we will be able to experience the joy of freedom in encountering our Savior: “Gaudete in Domino semper – Rejoice in the Lord always” (Phil 4:4). This invitation introduces today’s Holy Mass, the third Sunday of Advent, called Gaudete Sunday. Let us rejoice, since Jesus is our hope, especially in times of trial, when life seems to lose meaning and everything appears darker, words fail us, and we struggle to understand others.

May the Virgin Mary, model of expectant hope, attentiveness, and joy, help us to imitate the work of her Son by sharing bread and the Gospel with the poor.

Dear brothers and sisters!

Yesterday in Jaén, Spain, Father Emanuele Izquierdo and fifty-eight companions were beatified, together with Father Antonio Montañés Chiquero and sixty-four companions.  All of them were killed in hatred of the faith during the religious persecution from 1936-38.  Also yesterday Raymond Cayré, priest, Gérard-Martin Cendrier, of the Order of Friars Minor, Roger Vallé, seminarian, Jean Mestre, layman, and forty-six companions were beatified in Paris. They were killed in hatred of the faith in 1944-45 during the Nazi occupation. Let us praise the Lord for these martyrs, courageous witnesses to the Gospel, persecuted and killed for remaining close to their people and faithful to the Church!

I am following with deep concern the resumption of fighting in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo. While expressing my closeness to the people, I urge the parties in the conflict to cease all forms of violence and to seek constructive dialogue, respecting the ongoing peace process.

I wish everyone a happy Sunday.

14.12.25a

Dear brothers and sisters,

Today we celebrate the Jubilee of Hope for correctional institutions, prisoners and all those who oversee or work in the penitentiary system. The choice of this day, the third Sunday of Advent, for this particular jubilee is rich in meaning, as it is the day that the Church calls Gaudete Sunday, whose name comes from the first words of the entrance antiphon for the Mass (cf. Phil 4:4). In the Liturgical Year, it is the Sunday “of joy”, which reminds us of the bright aspect of waiting: the confidence that something beautiful, something joyful will happen.

In this regard, on 26 December last year, Pope Francis, when opening the Holy Door in the Church of Our Father in the prison in Rebibbia, addressed this invitation to everyone: “I say two things to you: First, the rope in hand, with the anchor of hope. Second, open wide the doors of your heart”. Referring to an image already directed toward eternity, beyond the barrier of space and time (cf. Heb 6:17-20), he was inviting us to keep alive our faith in the life to come and always to believe in the possibility of a better future. At the same time, however, he was exhorting us to be people who practice, with generous hearts, justice and charity in the places where we live.

While the close of the Jubilee Year draws near, we must recognize that, despite the efforts of many, even in the penitentiary system there is much that still needs to be done in this regard. The words of the prophet Isaiah that we have just heard, “the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with singing” (35:10), remind us that it is God who ransoms, who redeems and liberates. Furthermore, they convey the sense of an important and demanding mission for all of us. Certainly, prison is a difficult place and even the best proposals can encounter many obstacles. For this reason, however, we must never tire, be discouraged or give up. We must keep moving forward with tenacity, courage and a spirit of collaboration. Indeed, there are many who do not yet understand that for every fall one must be able to get back up, that no human being is defined only by his or her actions and that justice is always a process of reparation and reconciliation.

Yet, when even in difficult situations we are able to maintain and preserve the beauty of feelings, sensitivity, attention to the needs of others, respect, the capacity for mercy and forgiveness, beautify flowers spring forth from the “hard ground” of sin and suffering. Moreover, gestures, projects and encounters, unique in their humanity, mature even within prison walls. This involves working on one’s own feelings and thoughts, which is necessary for those deprived of their freedom, but even more so for those who have the obligation of representing them and making sure that they are treated justly. The Jubilee is a call to conversion and, as such, it is a source of hope and joy.

For this reason, it is important to look first of all to Jesus, to his humanity and to his Kingdom in which “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk… and the poor have good news preached to them” (Mt 11:5). We must remember that, even if at times these miracles come through the extraordinary interventions of God, more often they are entrusted to us, to our compassion, attention and wisdom and to the responsibility of our community and institutions.

This brings us to another dimension of the prophesy that we heard: the obligation to promote in every place – and I wish to emphasize particularly in prisons – a society established on new criteria, and ultimately on charity, as Saint Paul VI said at the conclusion of the 1975 Jubilee Year: “This – charity – should be, especially on the plane of public life, … the beginning of the new hour of grace and goodwill, which the calendar of history opens before us: the civilization of love!” (General Audience, 31 December 1975).

To this end, Pope Francis also hoped that during this Jubilee year “forms of amnesty or pardon meant to help individuals regain confidence in themselves and in society” (Bull, Spes Non Confundit, 10) could be granted and real opportunities of reintegration could be offered to all (cf. ibid.). I hope that many countries are following his desire. The Jubilee, as we know, with its biblical origin, was a year of grace in which everyone was offered the possibility of restarting in many different ways (cf. Lev 25:8-10).

The Gospel that we heard also speaks to us of this reality. John the Baptist, while he was preaching and baptizing, invited the people to repentance and to cross the river once again, symbolically, as in the time of Joshua (cf. Josh 3:17) in order to enter into and take possession of the new “Promised Land”, that is a heart reconciled with God and with our brothers and sisters. In this sense, John’s profile as a prophet is eloquent: he was upright, austere and frank, even to the point of being imprisoned for his courageous words. He was not “A reed shaken by the wind” (Mt 11:7). Yet at the same time, he was rich in mercy and understanding towards all who sincerely repented and were struggling to change (cf, Lk 3:10-14).

In this regard, Saint Augustine concludes one of his famous commentaries on the episode in the Gospel of the adulterous woman (cf. Jn 8:1-11) saying: “When the accusers left, only the poor woman and mercy remained. And to her the Lord said: go and sin no more (Jn 8:10-11)” (Sermo 302, 14).

Dear friends, the task that the Lord entrusts to you — to all of you, prisoners and those who work in the penitentiary system — is not easy. There are many problems to be addressed. Here, we can mention overcrowding, insufficient commitment to guarantee stable educational programs for rehabilitation and job opportunities. On a more personal level, let us not forget the weight of the past, the wounds to be healed in body and heart, the disappointments, the infinite patience that is needed with oneself and with others when embarking on paths of conversion, and the temptation to give up or to no longer forgive. The Lord, however, beyond all this, continues to repeat to us that only one thing is important: that no one be lost (cf. Jn 6:39) and that all “be saved” (1 Tim 2:4).

Let no one be lost! Let all be saved! This is what our God wants, this is his Kingdom, and this is the goal of his actions in the world. As Christmas approaches, we too want to embrace more strongly his dream, while being steadfast and faithful in our commitment (cf. James 5:8). We know that even in the face of the greatest challenges, we are not alone: the Lord is near (cf. Phil 4:5), he walks with us, and with him at our side, something beautiful and joyful will always happen.

14.12.25 m

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning! Welcome to you all!

The mystery of death has always raised profound questions in human beings. Indeed, it seems to be the most natural and at the same time most unnatural event that exists. It is natural, because every living being on earth dies. It is unnatural, because the desire for life and eternity that we all feel for ourselves and for the people we love makes us see death as a sentence, as a “contradiction”.

Many ancient peoples developed rites and customs linked to the cult of the dead, to accompany and to recall those who journeyed towards the supreme mystery. Today, however, we see a different trend. Death seems to be a sort of taboo, an event to keep at a distance; something to be spoken of in hushed tones, to avoid disturbing our sensibilities and our tranquillity. This is often why we avoid visiting cemeteries, where those who have gone before us rest as they await resurrection.

So what is death? Is it truly the last word on our lives? Only human beings ask themselves this question, because only they know they must die. But being aware of this does not save them from death; on the contrary, in a certain sense it “burdens” them compared to other living creatures. Animals suffer, of course, and they realize that death is near, but they do not know that death is part of their destiny. They do not question the meaning, purpose and outcome of life.

Considering this aspect, one might then think that we are paradoxical, unhappy creatures, not only because we die, but also because we are certain that this event will happen, even though we do not know how or when. We find ourselves aware and at the same time powerless. This is probably where the frequent repressions and existential flights from the question of death originate.

Saint Alphonsus Maria de’ Liguori, in his famous work Apparecchio alla morte (Preparation for Death), reflects on the pedagogical value of death, emphasizing that it can be a great teacher of life. To know that it exists, and above all to reflect on it, teaches us to choose what we really want to make of our existence. Praying, in order to understand what is beneficial in view of the kingdom of heaven, and letting go of the superfluous that instead binds us to ephemeral things, is the secret to living authentically, in the awareness that our passage on earth prepares us for eternity.

Yet many current anthropological views promise immanent immortality, theorize the prolongation of earthly life through technology. This is the transhuman scenario, which is making its way into the horizon of the challenges of our time. Could death really be defeated by science? But then, could science itself guarantee us that a life without death is also a happy life?

The event of the Resurrection of Christ reveals to us that death is not opposed to life, but rather is a constitutive part of it, as the passage to eternal life. The Pasch of Jesus gives us a foretaste, in this time still full of suffering and trials, of the fullness of what will happen after death.

The Evangelist Luke seems to grasp this harbinger of light in the dark when, at the end of that afternoon when darkness had shrouded Calvary, he writes: “It was the day of Preparation, and the sabbath was beginning” (Lk 23:54). This light, which anticipates Easter morning, already shines in the darkness of the sky, which still appears overcast and mute. The lights of the Sabbath, for the first and only time, herald the dawn of the day after the Sabbath: the new light of the Resurrection. Only this event is capable of illuminating the mystery of death to its full extent. In this light, and only in this, what our heart desires and hopes becomes true: that death is not the end, but the passage towards full light, towards a happy eternity.

The Risen One has gone before us in the great trial of death, emerging victorious thanks to the power of divine Love. Thus, he has prepared for us the place of eternal rest, the home where we are awaited; he has given us the fullness of life in which there are no longer any shadows and contradictions.

Thanks to Him, who died and rose again for love, with Saint Francis we can call death our “sister”. Awaiting it with the sure hope of the Resurrection preserves us from the fear of disappearing forever and prepares us for the joy of life without end.

I am deeply saddened by the news of the renewed conflict along the border between Thailand and Cambodia, which has claimed civilian lives and forced thousands of people to flee their homes. I express my closeness in prayer to these dear peoples, and I call on the parties to immediately cease fire and resume dialogue.

I extend a warm welcome this morning to all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, especially those coming from England, Wales, Malta, Uganda, Australia, Japan, Malaysia, Singapore and the United States of America.  I pray that each of you, and your families, may experience a blessed Advent in preparation for the coming of the new born Jesus, Son of God and Saviour of the world.  God bless you all!

Lastly, I greet the young people, the sick and the newlyweds. Today we celebrate the memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Loreto. Dear young people, at the school of Mary you learn to love and to hope; dear sick people, may the Blessed Virgin be your companion and comfort in suffering; and you, dear newlyweds, entrust your conjugal journey to the Mother of Jesus.

My blessing to you all!

10.12.25

Dear brothers and sisters, happy feast day!

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  We express our joy because the Father of Heaven wanted her to be “preserved immune from all stain of original sin” (Pius IX, Apostolic Constitution Ineffabilis Deus, 8 December 1854), full of innocence and holiness in order to be able to entrust to her, for our salvation, “his only begotten Son … whom … the Father loves from his heart” (cf. ibid.)

The Lord has granted to Mary the extraordinary grace of a completely pure heart, in view of an even greater miracle: the coming of Christ the Savior into the world as man (cf. Lk 1:31-33).  The Virgin learned about this, with the wonder typical of the humble, from the greeting of the Angel: “Hail, full of grace: the Lord is with you” (v. 28) and with faith she responded with her “yes”: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (v. 38).

Commenting on these words, Saint Augustine says that “Mary believed, and what she believed was fulfilled in her” (Sermon 215, 4).  The gift of the fullness of grace, in the young woman of Nazareth, was able to bear fruit because she in her freedom welcomed it, embracing the plan of God.  The Lord always acts in this way: he gives us great gifts, but he leaves us free to accept them or not.  For this reason, Augustine adds: “We also believe, because that which came to be [in her] can also benefit us” (ibid.).  And so this feast, which makes us rejoice for the unsullied beauty of the Mother of God, also invites us to believe as she believed, giving our generous assent to the mission to which the Lord calls us.

The miracle, which took place at Mary’s conception, was renewed for us in Baptism: cleansed from original sin, we have become children of God, his dwelling place and the temple of the Holy Spirit.  And just as Mary, by means of a special grace, was able to welcome Jesus in herself and give him to all people, so too “Baptism allows Christ to live in us and allows us to live united with him, to cooperate in the Church, each according to his or her condition, for the transformation of the world” (Francis, Catechesis, 11 April 2018).

Dear friends, how great is the gift of the Immaculate Conception, but so also is the gift of Baptism that we have received!  The “yes” of the Mother of the Lord is wonderful, but so also can ours be, renewed faithfully each day, with gratitude, humility and perseverance, in prayer and in concrete acts of love, from the most extraordinary gestures to the most mundane and ordinary efforts and acts of service.  In this way, Christ can be known, welcomed and loved everywhere and salvation can come to everyone.

Today, let us ask the Father for this, through the intercession of Mary Immaculate, while we pray together the very same words by which she herself first believed.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I wish all of you a peaceful feast day in the light of our heavenly Mother.

08.12.25

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

The Gospel for this second Sunday of Advent announces the coming of the Kingdom of God (cf. Mt 3:1-12).  Before Jesus’s public ministry, John the Baptist, his precursor, appears on the scene.  John preached in the desert of Judea saying: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near!” (Mt 3:1).

In the “Our Father” we pray each day: “Thy kingdom come”, as Jesus himself taught us.  With this invocation we turn towards the new thing that God has in store for us, recognizing that the course of history is not already written by the powerful people of this world.  Let us, then, put our thoughts and energy at the service of God who came not to reign over us, but rather to free us.  This is the “gospel”, the truly good news that motivates and draws us in.

Certainly, in his preaching, the Baptist’s tone is severe.  Nonetheless, the people listen attentively because they hear resounding in his words God’s plea to take life seriously, to take advantage of the present moment in order to prepare themselves for the encounter with him who judges, not by appearance, but by the deeds and intentions of the heart.

This same John will be surprised at the manner in which the Kingdom of God manifests itself in Jesus Christ, in meekness and in mercy.  The prophet Isaiah compared Jesus to a sprout: an image not of power or destruction, but of birth and newness.  Upon the shoot, which sprouts forth from a seemingly dead tree trunk, the Holy Spirit begins gently to blow its gifts (cf. Is 11:1-10).  Each one of us can think of a similar surprise that has happened to us in life.

This, too, is what the Church experienced in the Second Vatican Council, which concluded exactly sixty years ago.  It is an experience that is renewed when we journey together toward the Kingdom of God with everyone eager to welcome and serve it.  When the Kingdom comes to fruition, not only will those things which seem weak or marginal bud forth, but even those things which humanly speaking would be impossible will also be brought to fulfillment.  In the images given by the prophet: “The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them” (Is 11:6).

Sisters and brothers, how much the world needs this hope!  Nothing is impossible to God.  Let us prepare ourselves for his Kingdom, let us welcome it.  The little child, Jesus of Nazareth, will lead us!  He who placed himself in our hands, from the night of his birth to the dark hour of his death on the cross, shines upon our history as the rising Sun.  A new day has begun: let us arise and walk in his light!

This is the spirituality of Advent, very luminous and concrete.  The streetlights remind us that each of us can be a little light, if we welcome Jesus, the shoot of a new world.  Let us learn how to do this from Mary, our Mother, a woman of hope who remains faithful in waiting.

Dear brothers and sisters,

A few days ago I returned from my first Apostolic Journey to Türkiye and Lebanon.  With my beloved brother Bartholomew, Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople, and the Representatives of other Christian confessions, we gathered to pray together in Iznik, the site of the ancient city of Nicea, where 1700 years ago, the first Ecumenical Council took place.  Today is the 60th anniversary of the Common Declaration between Pope Paul VI and the Patriarch Athenagoras, which put an end to the mutual excommunications.  We give thanks to God and renew our dedication to journeying towards the full visible unity of all Christians.  In Türkiye I had the joy of meeting the Catholic community: through patient dialogue and service to those who suffer, they witness to the Gospel of love and the logic of God who manifests himself in littleness.

Lebanon continues to be a mosaic of coexistence and it comforted me to hear many testimonies in this regard.  I met people who announce the Gospel by welcoming refugees, visiting the imprisoned, and sharing food with those in need.  I was comforted by the sight of so many people in the street who came to greet me. And I was likewise touched by the meeting with the relatives of the victims of the explosion in the port of Beirut.  The Lebanese people were waiting for a word and a presence of consolation, but it was they who comforted me with their faith and their enthusiasm!  I thank everyone who accompanied me with their prayers!  Dear brothers and sisters, all that has happened in these recent days in Türkiye and Lebanon teaches us that peace is possible, and that Christians in dialogue with men and women of other faiths and cultures can contribute to building it up.  Let us not forget that peace is possible!

I would like to express my closeness to the people of South and Southeast Asia, who have been severely tried by recent natural disasters.  I pray for the victims, for the families who mourn their loss and for those who provide assistance.  I exhort the international community and all people of goodwill to support our brothers and sisters of those regions with gestures of solidarity.

I wish everyone a happy Sunday and a blessed Advent journey.

07.12.25

Dear brothers and sisters!

At the end of these intense days, which we have joyfully shared together, we give thanks to the Lord for the many gifts of his goodness, his presence among us, the Word he abundantly offers us and for allowing us to be together.

As we have just heard in the Gospel, Jesus also had words of gratitude for the Father and, turning to him, prayed: “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth” (Lk 10:21).

However, praise does not always find a place within us. Sometimes, weighed down by the struggles of life, worried about the many problems around us, paralyzed by powerlessness in the face of evil and oppressed by so many difficult situations, we are more inclined to resignation and lamentation than to wonder and gratitude.

Dear people of Lebanon, I invite you to cultivate always an attitude of praise and gratitude. You are the recipients of a rare beauty with which the Lord has adorned your land. At the same time, you are witnesses and victims of how evil, in its various forms, can obscure this splendor.

From this esplanade overlooking the sea, I too can contemplate the beauty of Lebanon that is sung about in Scripture. The Lord planted his tall cedars here, nourishing and watering them (cf. Ps 104:16). He made the garments of the bride in the Song of Songs fragrant with the perfume of this land (cf. 4:11), and in Jerusalem, the holy city clothed in light for the coming of the Messiah, he announced: “The glory of Lebanon shall come to you, the cypress, the plane, and the pine, to beautify the place of my sanctuary, and I will glorify the place where my feet rest” (Is 60:13).

This beauty, however, is overshadowed by poverty and suffering, the wounds that have marked your history. In this regard, I just visited the port in order to pray at the site of the explosion. The beauty of your country is also overshadowed by the many problems that afflict you, the fragile and often unstable political context, the dramatic economic crisis that weighs heavily upon you and the violence and conflicts that have reawakened ancient fears.

In such a scenario, gratitude easily gives way to disillusionment, songs of praise find no place in the desolation of the heart and hope is dried up by uncertainty and confusion.

The word of the Lord, however, invites us to find the small shining lights in the heart of the night, both to open ourselves to gratitude and to spur us on to a common commitment for the sake of this land.

As we have heard, the reason Jesus gives thanks to the Father is not for his extraordinary works, but because he reveals his greatness specifically to the little ones and to the humble, to those who do not attract attention and seemingly count for little or nothing and have no voice. The Kingdom that Jesus comes to inaugurate is marked, in fact, by the very characteristic described by the prophet Isaiah: it is a shoot, a small branch sprouting from a trunk (cf. Is 11:1). It is a small sign of hope that promises rebirth when everything else seems to be dying. Indeed, the coming of the Messiah was announced in the smallness of a shoot, because he can only be recognized by the little ones, by those who humbly know how to recognize the hidden details and traces of God in a seemingly lost story.

It is also an indication for us, so that we may have eyes capable of recognizing the smallness of the shoot that emerges and grows even in the midst of a painful period. Even here and now, we can see small lights that shine in the night, small shoots that sprout forth and small seeds planted in the arid garden in this era of history. I think of your sincere and genuine faith, rooted in your families and nourished by Christian schools. I think of the constant work of parishes, congregations and movements to meet the questions and needs of the people. I think of the many priests and religious who devote themselves to their mission amid many difficulties, and of the lay people dedicated to charitable works and the promotion of the Gospel in society. For these lights that strive to illuminate the darkness of the night, and for these small and invisible shoots that nevertheless open up hope for the future, today we join Jesus in saying: “We praise you, Father!” We thank you because you are with us and do not let us falter.

At the same time, this gratitude must not remain an introspective and illusory consolation. It must lead us to a transformation of the heart, a conversion of life and a realization that God has made us precisely to live in the light of faith, the promise of hope and the joy of charity. As a result, we are all called to cultivate these shoots, to not be discouraged, to not give in to the logic of violence and the idolatry of money, and to not resign ourselves in the face of the spreading evil.

Everyone must do their part, and we must unite our efforts so that this land can return to its former glory. Disarming our hearts is the only way to do this. Let us cast off the armour of our ethnic and political divisions, open our religious confessions to mutual encounter and reawaken in our hearts the dream of a united Lebanon. A Lebanon where peace and justice reign, where all recognize each other as brothers and sisters, and, finally, where the words of the prophet Isaiah can be fulfilled: “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion shall graze together” (Is 11:6).

This is the dream entrusted to you; it is what the God of peace places in your hands. Lebanon, stand up! Be a home of justice and fraternity! Be a prophetic sign of peace for the whole of the Levant!

Brothers and sisters, I too would like to repeat the words of Jesus: “I praise you, Father.” I raise my gratitude to the Lord for having shared these days with you. While I carry your sufferings and hopes in my heart, I pray that this land of the Levant may always be illuminated by faith in Jesus Christ, the sun of justice. I likewise pray that through the grace of Christ, Lebanon will persevere in that hope that does not disappoint.

Dear brothers and sisters,

During these days of my first Apostolic Journey, undertaken during this Jubilee Year, I wanted to come as a pilgrim of hope to the Middle East, imploring God for the gift of peace for this beloved land, marked by instability, wars and suffering.

Dear Christians of the Levant, when the results of your efforts for peace are slow in coming, I invite you to lift your gaze to the Lord who is coming! Let us look to him with hope and courage, inviting everyone to set out on the path of coexistence, fraternity and peace. Be artisans of peace, heralds of peace, witnesses of peace!

The Middle East needs new approaches, in order to reject the mindset of revenge and violence, to overcome political, social and religious divisions, and to open new chapters in the name of reconciliation and peace. The path of mutual hostility and destruction in the horror of war has been traveled too long, with the deplorable results that are before everyone's eyes. We need to change course, we need to educate our hearts for peace.

From this square, I pray for the Middle East and all peoples who suffer because of war. I also offer hopeful prayers for a peaceful solution to the current political disputes in Guinea-Bissau. Nor do I forget the victims, and their dear families, of the fire in Hong Kong.

I especially pray for beloved Lebanon! I ask the international community once again to spare no effort in promoting processes of dialogue and reconciliation. I make a heartfelt appeal to those who hold political and social authority, here and in all countries marked by war and violence: listen to the cry of your peoples who are calling for peace! Let us all place ourselves at the service of life, the common good and the integral development of people.

Finally, to you, Christians of the Levant, citizens of these lands in every respect, I repeat: have courage! The whole Church looks to you with affection and admiration. May the Blessed Virgin Mary, Our Lady of Harissa, protect you always.

02.12.25