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Dear brothers and sisters,

The sixth chapter of the Constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium (SC) of the Second Vatican Council is dedicated to sacred music. The document states that “The musical tradition of the universal Church is a treasure of inestimable value, greater even than that of any other art. The main reason for this pre-eminence is that, as sacred song united to the words, it forms a necessary or integral part of the solemn liturgy.” (SC, 112). It specifies that “Sacred music is to be considered the more holy in proportion as it is more closely connected with the liturgical action, whether it adds delight to prayer, fosters unity of minds, or confers greater solemnity upon the sacred rites. But the Church approves of all forms of true art having the needed qualities, and admits them into divine worship.” (ibid.).

Here we find the core of the Council’s teaching, which confirms and deepens the ministerial function of music in the liturgy, which had already been highlighted by Saint Pius X in the Motu Proprio Inter sollicitudines (22 November 1903). Music, indeed, is part of the liturgical action and is not merely a decorative part of the celebration. In the liturgy, to sing and to play music means to pray, attuning one’s heart to that of our sisters and brothers and to God, through active participation in the mystery that is being celebrated. In particular, music expresses the affective dimension of prayer, as Saint Augustine says: “Cantare amantis est”, that is, “singing belongs to those who love” (Sermo 336, 1). This is very important, because it helps us to open our hearts to God’s action in grace and to allow ourselves to be moulded by it.

Singing also fosters communion. It contributes to the unity of hearts, overcoming differences between people and bringing everyone together in praise of God through the symphony of voices. Thus, it becomes an epiphany of the Church, a tangible manifestation of the communion that belongs to her very nature.

Certain requirements arise from the profound theological significance of sacred song as an integral part of the liturgical action. The first is that it must respond at every level to what is most appropriate for the liturgical moment, beyond fashions or the particular sensitivities of composers. Its form, especially in its melodic aspect, must be at once noble and simple, of high musical quality and easily performable, particularly when it is intended to be sung by the whole assembly (cf. SC, 121).

For the same reason, the Council recommends that the texts too should be suitable, profound and at the same time readily understandable, inspired mainly by Sacred Scripture, the liturgical books and the spiritual Tradition of the Church. Attention must be paid to this, so that the dynamic expressed in the ancient principle lex orandi, lex credendi, that is, the law of prayer is also the law of faith, may remain alive and continue to grow.

Sacrosanctum Concilium devotes considerable attention to the theme of the active participation of the faithful (cf. no. 114). This “must be understood […] on the basis of a greater awareness of the mystery being celebrated and its relationship to daily life” (Benedict XVI, Apostolic Exhortation Sacramentum caritatis, 52), in a “spirit of constant conversion which must mark the lives of all the faithful” (ibid., 55). As for the concrete way in which this can be achieved through the specific role of sacred music, the Constitution offers a clear answer: “the people should be encouraged to take part by means of acclamations, responses, psalmody, antiphons, and songs” and “reverent silence” should be fostered (SC, 30). It urges each person, minister or member of the faithful, to perform “all of, but only, those parts which pertain to his office by the nature of the rite and the principles of liturgy” (SC, 28), in the harmonious balance between the different ministries, the various interventions and moments of silence.

The Council then attributes great value to Gregorian chant, without excluding other genres of sacred music from the celebration. Particular attention is also given to the organ (cf. SC, 120), while the use of other instruments is permitted “on condition that the instruments are suitable, or can be made suitable, for sacred use, accord with the dignity of the temple, and truly contribute to the edification of the faithful” (SC, 120).

A theme close to the Council’s reform is that of inculturation, including in the field of sacred music. In particular, with regard to the musical traditions of different cultures, the Council emphasizes the importance of taking them seriously into consideration, as they form part of people’s religious and social life. Therefore, on the one hand, an “attitude toward religion” should be promoted in everyone (SC, 119). On the other hand, as far as may be practicable […] every effort should be made to see that the traditional music of these peoples, both in schools and in sacred services may be promoted (cf. ibid.).

A particular role in the liturgical context is given to the schola cantorum. The Council recommends the promotion of this pastoral instrument, to ensure the “proper performance of the parts which belong to it, according to the different kinds of music sung, and to encourage the active participation of the faithful in the singing” (Sacred Congregation of Rites, Instruction Musicam sacram, 19).

For this reason, the composer of sacred music is called to know and preserve the musical heritage of the Church, allowing it to inspire new compositions at the service of the liturgy, while respecting contemporary sensibilities and the different cultural traditions, so as “‘purify worship from ugliness of style, from distasteful forms of expression, from uninspired musical texts which are not worthy of the great act that is being celebrated’, to guarantee dignity and excellence to liturgical compositions” (Saint John Paul II, Chirograph on Sacred Music, 22 November 2003, 3).

For all these reasons, the Council Fathers recommend promoting the formation and practice of sacred music “in seminaries, in the novitiates and houses of study of religious of both sexes, and also in other Catholic institutions and schools” (SC, 115), and ensuring that musicians and singers receive sound liturgical formation (cf. ibid.).

Dear brothers and sisters, the Fathers of the Church held liturgical singing in great esteem as a symbol of ecclesial communion. We can therefore conclude with these beautiful words of Saint Ignatius of Antioch: “Let each of you unite to become a choir, so that, harmonious in love and taking up the song of God in unison, you may sing with one voice through Jesus Christ to the Father, so that he may hear you and recognize, from the good works you perform, that you are members of his Son” (cf. Letter to the Ephesians, 4, 2).

I extend a warm welcome to all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, especially those from Malta. Upon you and your families, I invoke the joy and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ. God bless you all!

19.08.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

Yesterday we contemplated the Virgin Mary in her unbreakable bond with her Son. Not even death could sever that union of persons in soul and body, which is eternal life. Every Sunday reminds us that the same fulfillment is reserved for those who follow Jesus. His resurrection is not a past event, but new life that draws us in.

This is demonstrated today by the Canaanite woman, who is the protagonist of the Gospel proclaimed at Mass (cf. Mt 15:21-28). Although she did not belong to his people and lived in a foreign land, she persistently sought to speak with Jesus, following him like a disciple who already had a bond with him. They had probably never met before, yet in a mysterious way, faith had already taken root in her. She does not desire anything for herself, but rather peace for her tormented daughter. She places her trust in Jesus, in whom she recognizes the Messiah, a descendant of David (cf. v. 22).

The Evangelist does not hide the obstacles faced by this woman. The disciples see her as a nuisance, and Jesus himself resists her pleas. The Master had actually withdrawn to that region (cf. v. 21), and we can imagine that, as on other occasions, he was seeking a secluded place to pray and instruct his disciples. At that moment, however, something unexpected happens. Reflecting upon this, we can understand Jesus’ obedience in fulfilling his mission by allowing himself to be moved by what he sees and hears. Finally, he says to her: “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish” (v. 28).

Even today, the Church can be surprised by God’s work and spread the peace of Christ beyond boundaries already drawn. Her mission is anticipated by divine grace, which works in the depths of our consciences, so that in every encounter — even those that disrupt our plans — we are to listen attentively by opening our eyes and hearts to what God wants to tell us.

From the Canaanite woman we learn humility and determination. Thanks to her faith, we learn that God’s table is set for everyone and that no one is left merely with crumbs (cf. vv. 26-27), because each person has his or her own place with the Father. In the light of this faith, inequalities, discrimination and barriers that trample on the dignity of too many of God’s sons and daughters become unbearable.

Dear brothers and sisters, we are the Church of Jesus Christ in a troubled world; a world that seeks peace. Let us ask Mary, our Mother, to intercede for us “because on her lips is proclaimed ‘the strongest and most innovative hymn ever articulated, the Magnificat’” (Magnifica Humanitas, 244). It is the song of one who now sees reality through God’s eyes and, for this reason, does not lose hope and acts in charity.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I renew my appeal for an end to the ongoing violence against the Palestinian civilian population in the West Bank, and I urgently call on the international community to work toward advancing the two-state solution, for a just and lasting peace.

The Mediterranean Games will begin this week in Taranto. They will include various countries from Africa, Asia and Europe that are part of the Mediterranean region. I hope this sporting event will be a sign of peace and friendship among the peoples of this region and the entire world.

And now I welcome all of you who have gathered here at Castel Gandolfo for the Sunday Angelus.

I warmly welcome pilgrims from various countries. In greeting the Polish pilgrims, I extend my blessing to the many women participating in the traditional pilgrimage to the Shrine of Piekary Śląskie, in Upper Silesia.

I wish everyone a happy Sunday.

16.08.26

Dear brothers and sisters,

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. This is a feast of great importance for both Catholic theology and popular piety. Indeed, it is a deeply cherished celebration in many communities, especially where the cathedral or parish church is dedicated to Our Lady of the Assumption.

To contemplate this mystery of the faith, we can turn to the two iconographic models that artists have used over the centuries to depict this event.

The first, which is also the oldest — having been the only one for nearly a millennium — depicts the Dormition of the Mother of God. She is shown lying on a catafalque, asleep in death; around her are the Apostles, who are moved to venerate her in prayer; and in the centre is the risen Jesus, holding Mary’s soul in his arms like a newborn child. Jesus came to take her to be with him in the glory of God, which we call heaven. In this way, the Lord fulfilled for his Mother what he had promised to all his friends: “when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also” (Jn 14:3).

This first model highlights the central truth. Having died and risen, it is Christ who leads us to the destination for which we have been created, namely eternal life. This is what generations of the faithful have contemplated while praying before the icons of the Dormition, and what can be admired in Rome, in the great mosaic of the apse of the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore.

The more recent iconography, which developed later in the West, depicts the Virgin Mary in full stature, in heaven, enveloped in light, often surrounded by angels and saints. In the centre of the image is the glorified body of the Virgin Mary, in accordance with what is written in the Book of Revelation: “A great portent appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars” (Rev 12:1).

Some artists have combined the two ideas, depicting the glorious Virgin at the top of the image and her empty tomb, often filled with multicolored flowers, at the bottom, with the Apostles gazing up at her in heaven.

This second model highlights the truth that Mary was assumed into heaven body and soul, that is in the entirety of her person. The woman who, on earth, gave flesh and blood to the Incarnate Word and followed him to the point of perfect union in the sacrifice of love was then drawn by him forever into glory.

In such a way, this iconography allows us to contemplate our ultimate destiny. The fullness of life, which we joyfully admire today in Mary, awaits us as well at the end of time, when, as Saint Paul says, the Risen Christ “will change our lowly body to be like his glorious body” (Phil 3:21), clothing what is perishable with incorruptibility and what is mortal with immortality (cf. 1 Cor 15:54). Then, with our flesh transformed by the love of the Redeemer, we will live forever in an endless celebration.

Let us praise the Lord, who has done great things in his and our Most Holy Mother!

The Blessed Virgin Mary, assumed into the glory of heaven, is a sign of hope and consolation for the entire People of God.  For this reason, I wish to invoke her maternal intercession today on behalf of those communities that are in particular need of consolation and of renewed hope.  My thoughts go out to our brothers and sisters in the Holy Land, which is also, par excellence, the Land of Mary.  My thoughts also go out to the Ukrainian and Russian peoples, both of whom are united by their filial devotion to the Holy Mother of God, and to Christians who suffer discrimination or even persecution.

I continue to pray for the people of Colombia who are suffering due to the earthquake.  I stand in solidarity with these communities and with all those living in difficult circumstances, and together with them I pray: “Holy Mary, pray for us!”

I extend my greetings to all of you, the faithful of Castel Gandolfo and pilgrims who have come from Italy and other countries. Thank you for your presence and thank you for your prayers!

I hope that everyone will be able to enjoy a time of rest, to recharge both body and spirit — perhaps with some good reading and time spent in nature.

Have a wonderful celebration today, and see you tomorrow!

15.08.26 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

It is with great joy that I celebrate the Solemnity of the Assumption with you once again this year.

The Magisterium of the Church teaches us that Mary “having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory” (Pius XII, Apostolic Constitution Munificentissimus Deus, 1 November 1950) and points out to us, in this Mystery, the fulfillment of the most perfect grace that God bestowed upon her at her Immaculate Conception (cf. ibid.).

For this reason, many works of art depict her as a beautiful young woman physically rising from the earth toward the heavens at the end of her earthly life. These works are inspired by the scene described in the passage from the Book of Revelation that we heard in the First Reading: “A woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet” (Rev 12:1), signifying that in Mary’s heart, heaven and earth, time and eternity, meet.

On the surface this image seems to contrast with our experience of what the passing of the years does to us. As we age, our bodies do not become more agile, but heavier; our skin does not become fresher, but shows the signs of old age; our hair does not gain color and luster, but turns gray and then white.  So, what do we have in common with the beautiful young woman depicted on the altarpieces of our churches?

To understand this, we must unite the two signs we have mentioned: the incorrupt body of the Mother of God and her immaculate heart. For it is the purity of the soul that, in Mary — as in us — by the grace of God, illuminates and transfigures the whole person, leading us to the glory of Heaven.

The glorification of Mary, body and soul, teaches us that our true beauty does not lie in hiding the signs of aging, but in revealing the signs of love that never end,  and are even impressed on our flesh (cf. 1 Cor 13:8).

With this in mind, we are invited to re-examine many of the aesthetic standards, predominantly hedonistic and consumerist in nature, that the world imposes on us. These standards risk trapping us in burdensome expectations, causing us to waste precious energy on what does not really matter and does not last forever.  In everyday life, we encounter people whose faces are marked by the years and by suffering, yet who are capable of radiating serenity, kindness and peace around them; just as we may observe others who are perhaps outwardly attractive but hard and cold at heart. It is easy to see where true beauty lies and where, on the other hand, there is still a need for conversion, forgiveness and healing.

If we truly wish to discover and nurture the divine beauty that surrounds us and for which we were made, and to share it with those around us, we must learn to see it in the wrinkles of an elderly person as in the tender face of a child as well, in the maturity of an adult as in the liveliness of a young person as well, in work clothes and tools as well as in festive decorations. We must listen to the unique love stories that each of these realities tells us, recognizing in them small glimpses of heaven.

Love is humanity’s most beautiful adornment. Love transfigures, transforms, ennobles and lifts us up, making us light, free and close to God, even amid life’s ups and downs.

Reflecting on the mystery of the Assumption of the Virgin, Saint Paul VI said that to understand its meaning, “we must transform the terms we use in earthly and temporal language into superlative and absolute ones […], to imagine the eternal on a small scale” (Homily, 15 August 1969). Regarding the encounter between the infinite and the finite in the Mother of God, Pope Francis wrote: “Mary was able to turn a stable into a home for Jesus, with poor swaddling clothes and an abundance of love” (Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, 286).

The miracle that Mary, the maiden of Nazareth, experienced in her innocent heart, which led her to the glory of Heaven, is a meeting of extremes, as she herself testifies in the inspired words of the Magnificat, which we heard in the Gospel (cf. Lk 1:46–55).  In this canticle, through the humble expressions of her faith, the Mother of God speaks to us in simple terms of the magnificent mysteries she experienced, such as God becoming man in her to save humanity, and the Eternal One revealing himself within time to reopen the path to eternity for us.  At the same time, in her position as a “humble servant,” Saint Paul VI says that Mary shows us the “humble dimension” in which we too can encounter the Lord.

We need not look far to find the sublimity of the Mystery we celebrate. We can encounter it wherever there is true charity.  For example, in the eyes of a father and mother returning home after a long day, tired but happy to be with their children. In the faces of grandfathers and grandmothers who, despite the aches and pains of old age, are filled with unexpected energy as they care for their grandchildren. In the commitment of young people who strive to grow in morality and sincerity, ready even to go against the grain of “what everyone else does.” Finally, in the daily work of so many men and women who, with faith and dedication, help bring a little bit of Heaven to earth and the earth closer to Heaven.

Dear friends, the beautiful face of Our Lady of the Assumption is unique; it transcends any possible representation, and yet, at the same time, is familiar to us.  Even at this very moment, we can see her face in the people who are close to us, such as the brothers and sisters with whom, in faith, we share the daily offering of our lives. For this reason, the community of believers sees itself in the woman of the Book of Revelation, and the Second Vatican Council describes Mary as “the image and beginning of the Church, […] as a sign of sure hope and solace” (Dogmatic Constitution Lumen Gentium, 68). I n her holy human nature, by the grace of God, we also see our nature; therefore, we too are called to live the same grace-filled life that she lived and to share in her glory.

When speaking of Christ’s resurrection, Saint Augustine urged the Christians of his time to make it the compass and focal point of their lives. He said: “Christ rose from the dead so that He might never die again […]. Change course, follow the light! Begin to rise from the very place from which he rose” (Enarratio in Psalmos, 126:7).

Let us accept his invitation. Let us follow the light of the Risen Lord, changing course if necessary. Let us do so, especially today, by looking to Mary, whom God has crowned with glory in body and soul, and whom he has given to us as Mother, guide, companion on our journey, and protector on the path to Heaven.

15.08.26 m

Dear brothers and sisters,

The fifth chapter of the Conciliar Constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium (SC) is dedicated to the liturgical year, a theme we would like to look at today, to explain its value in the life of every believer.

First of all, it is important to note that this way of referring to the cycle of Christian feasts as the ‘liturgical year’ became widespread in ecclesiastical language thanks to the work of the Servant of God, Abbot Prosper Guéranger (1805–1875).

In the Encyclical Mediator Dei, Pope Pius XII states that it “is not a cold and lifeless representation of the events of the past, or a simple … record of a former age. [The liturgical year] is rather Christ Himself who is ever living in His Church. Here He continues that journey of immense mercy which He lovingly began in His mortal life … with the design of bringing men to know His mysteries and in a way live by them. These mysteries are ever present and active” (III Divinum Officium et Annus Liturgicus, II Cyclus Mysteriorum). The liturgical year should thus be understood as a constant renewal of the work of salvation which Christ accomplishes in history. As she journeys through this temporal cycle, the Church remains in contact with the Lord’s redemptive action, so that all the faithful may be filled with His grace (cf. SC, 102c).

The encounter with Jesus, who died and rose again for us, is the purpose that the Church always pursues, placing the celebration of the Paschal event at the centre of every moment.

Hence the Council Fathers considered “the foundation and kernel of the whole liturgical year” to be Sunday, “the original feast day” (cf. SC, 106). In various modern languages, its name indicates that it is the “dies Domini”, “the Lord’s day”. Even in those languages where the reference to the “day of the sun” (Sunday, Sonntag) has prevailed, the link with Christ can be discerned: Christ is the true “sun of righteousness” who enlightens every person!

Saint John Paul II, in the Apostolic Letter Dies Domini (31 May 1998) teaches that Sunday is the day of the Lord, the day of the Church, the day of man and, finally, the “day of days”. “Since Sunday is the weekly Easter, recalling and making present the day upon which Christ rose from the dead, it is also the day which reveals the meaning of time. … Springing from the Resurrection, it cuts through human time, the months, the years, the centuries, like a directional arrow which points them towards their target: Christ’s Second Coming. Sunday foreshadows the last day, the day of the Parousia” (75), when we shall all rise again.

To sanctify Sunday, it is fundamental to celebrate the Eucharist. Listening to the Word and partaking of the Body of Christ entail, according to the Council Fathers, the coming together in unum (cf. SC, 106), that is, the joyful gathering of the faithful. In this assembly, the Christian community makes visible its communion with the Lord and bears witness to its belonging to Christ and its fidelity to the Church. This assembly cannot be substituted by a solely virtual presence, nor can it be reduced to a merely passive gathering. The liturgical assembly is in fact fulfilled through the active participation of brothers and sisters, called together to “thank God who ‘has begotten them again, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, unto a living hope’” (1 Pet 1:3) (ibid.).

In this regard, I urge everyone to seek the best possible conditions so that even those who are unable to take time off work on Sundays may take part in Holy Mass.

Dear friends, the liturgical year, punctuated by Sundays, has an interesting history, in which the faith and devotion of the Church are interwoven. Indeed, from as early as the second century AD, the celebration of the weekly Easter was joined by that of the annual Easter, the “most solemn festival” (SC, 102), extending over the most joyful period of fifty days, culminating in Pentecost, and prepared for by the season of Lent with its penitential character (cf. SC, 109). The development of the Christmas cycle, which took place later and was modelled on the Paschal cycle, has made it possible to relive the mysteries of the Incarnation of the Word of God, of His birth and of His manifestation to the world.  The Church then incorporated into the various times the veneration of the Blessed Virgin Mary, “joined by an inseparable bond to the saving work of her Son” (SC, 103), and “the memory of the martyrs and the other saints” who “sing God’s perfect praise in heaven and offer prayers for us” (SC, 104).

The liturgical year thus repeats, in sacramental form, the teaching of the history of salvation, guiding the faithful from the expectation of the Messiah to the fullness of the Paschal Mystery and to the anticipation of future glory. In it, the Church celebrates the salvific relevance of the mystery of Christ, enabling believers to participate in it ever more deeply. For this reason, the liturgical year constitutes the guiding principle and the essential framework for all pastoral action.

I greet all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, particularly the groups from Malta and Zimbabwe.  Upon you and your families, I invoke the joy and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ. God bless you all!

12.08.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

Today’s Gospel speaks of Jesus approaching his disciples by walking on the waters of the Sea of Galilee in the midst of a storm (cf. Mt 14:22-33).

Following the miracle of the loaves and fish (cf. Mt 14:13-21), the Master urges his disciples to get into the boat and set out, while he withdraws to the mountain to pray by himself. Once away from the shore, the disciples find themselves at the mercy of the wind and struggle to make headway. After a successful experience in which they had been the protagonists of a miraculous sign, they now find themselves helpless and frightened in the face of the threat of the waves and the headwind.

As the night was drawing to a close, Jesus came towards them across the choppy waters, and, terrified, they mistook him for a ghost (v. 26). But he said to them, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid!” (v. 27). The Lord’s presence changes everything: Peter even manages to take a few steps across the waves towards him; but then losing his nerve, he begins to sink, and Jesus saves him. When the Master then steps into the boat, the storm subsides, and a profession of faith spontaneously springs out of the disciples’ hearts: “Truly, you are the Son of God!” (v. 33).

To realize this point, it was not enough for them simply to have witnessed a miracle, nor to have succeeded in the eyes of the people; instead, they had to experience their own weakness and, within it, recognize God’s presence. Only this experience could open their eyes and hearts to his closeness, finding peace even in the midst of the storm.

Sometime later, Jesus would say to them: “If you have faith and do not doubt… if you say to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ it will be done” (Mt 21:21). This is similar to what they experienced on the lake: the peace of Christ, who had been on the mountain praying, reached them in the midst of the raging waters.

This miracle, then, teaches us something important. First, not to get carried away by success and never to be presumptuous. At the same time, not to despair, even in moments of darkness, when we feel powerless in the face of problems and, despite our efforts, it seems as though we are going backwards rather than forwards. Whatever the circumstances, Jesus does not abandon us, and if we humbly welcome him into the boat of our lives — through prayer, the sacraments and listening to his Word — in him, we will find peace, light and strength for our journey.

May Mary, who was proclaimed blessed for her faith (cf. Lk 1:45), help us to live in a trusting surrender to God.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I continue to follow with concern the tragic situation in Sudan, especially in the city of el-Obeid. In expressing my spiritual closeness to all the people of the nation, I renew my appeal to those in authority to guarantee humanitarian corridors for the civilian population. At the same time, I urge the international community to support efforts aimed at bringing about an immediate ceasefire. Let us pray that the Lord may sustain those who are suffering, convert the hearts of those who sow violence, and grant the long awaited peace.

Distressing reports continue to arrive of innocent people being killed and injured in Ukraine and Russia. These incidents are occurring one after another, indeed they are multiplying, resulting in ever-increasing numbers of civilian victims, including children. My thoughts are with the victims’ families, the wounded and all those who are suffering due to the ongoing conflict. In the face of so much anguish, I renew my heartfelt appeal for humanitarian law to be respected and for both sides to cease attacks on civilian targets. War only begets more war and causes immense suffering. It is time to put an end to this vicious cycle of violence and make room for diplomacy and dialogue, so as to open the way to peace.

And now I offer a warm welcome to all of you, Romans and pilgrims from different countries!

I greet in a special way the young people from the Saint Mary Magdalene Community of the Archdiocese of Milan, who have walked the Via Francigena from Siena to Rome; as well as the Scouts from Enna, who have held their camp in the Roman Hills; and the young people from Pernumia, in the Diocese of Padua.

The presence of so many youth groups, who chose to devote part of their summer vacation on formation activities and friendship, is a sign of hope, as was the gathering of the young Franciscans whom I had the joy of meeting last Thursday in Assisi.

To all of you, young men and women who are listening to me, I would like to remind you that in these days the liturgical calendar offers us some wonderful examples of holy men and women, whom I invite you to get to know them better. Yesterday was the great Saint Dominic, founder of the Order of Preachers; today, Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, Edith Stein, the Carmelite who was killed at Auschwitz and is Co-Patroness of Europe; tomorrow, Saint Lawrence, deacon of the Church of Rome; and the day after tomorrow, Saint Clare of Assisi, who left a life of comfort to follow Jesus, poor and humble, in the footsteps of her fellow citizen, Saint Francis. Dear young people, allow yourselves to be inspired by these exemplary witnesses to the Gospel!

Thank you all for being here, and have a blessed Sunday!

09.08.26

Dear brothers and sisters,

Dear young people!

The Feast of the Transfiguration, which we are celebrating, is a mystery of light that enriches our encounter — one that is so joyful, yet also raises questions about the present and the future. In the Gospel, we find the contrast between light and shadow, silence and words, wonder and incomprehension. Today, we are in Assisi, a city to which countless pilgrims have made their way for centuries, because here everything whispers that our lives can take on a new form, radiate light and heal the world. It was here that the transformation of Francis, Clare and then thousands of other young people began. They embraced the Gospel sine glossa — we could say, in its simplicity — then the life of Jesus began anew within them.

We have come here to understand where history is heading and where we ourselves are going. In the Gospel, we see that meaning can indeed be found, that a path can be glimpsed. Like Peter, James and John, we too have been brought a little aside, and Jesus is with us. What matters is his presence. On the mountain, the apostles contemplate Jesus, who had been speaking about his own future, which had caused a misunderstanding among them. Six days earlier, Peter had taken issue with the Master for speaking openly about the cross (cf. Mt 16:21–26) because he expected glory for the Messiah, and perhaps even for himself. Peter did not consider any opposition or risks, and especially did not ask himself what glory really means. Now, in Jesus’ Transfiguration, God himself reveals his glory, which takes the form of a cloud that protects and envelops. He points to his Son and invites us to listen to him. The path of life is discovered by following him together. The beauty of this path takes on a new dimension, an unprecedented intensity, so much so that Peter would like to stay awhile and prolong that vision. He generously offers to build three tents as he would like that conversation between Jesus, Moses and Elijah to continue. However, one must enter into that conversation, not remain a mere spectator. Indeed, we are called to read the Scriptures with the Master, to interpret our own times and to make decisions by following his path. We have come here to overcome resignation and fear, to dispel the doubts that hold us back, just as they held back the apostles. Jesus calls us to engage with his story in order to write new pages of history.

As we hear that “his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light” (Mt 17:2), we recall Easter morning when an angel of the Lord rolled away the stone sealing the tomb and brought the announcement of the Resurrection. “His face was like lightning, his robe white as snow” (Mt 28:3). That is the light of a new day, toward which we are drawn, even as darkness still surrounds us — and sometimes dwells within us. We see the dawning light in the canonized saints, such as Saint Francis and Saint Clare, and in a myriad of brothers and sisters who respond to evil with good. We are not alone! In recent days you have experienced this, since you have met and listened to one another, moving beyond the clamor of overlapping and conflicting voices to the art of conversation. Today, we contemplate Jesus, who is transfigured precisely in conversation with the Father, with those who preceded him — Moses and Elijah — and with his contemporaries, the disciples.

The Church exists to lead us into this dynamic of listening and decision-making, in which we come to understand for whom we are to live and how we are to live. The Church is the community in which we learn to discern the voice of God, which never simply coincides with our own opinions, and to dare to obey the Holy Spirit, who makes bold and creative all those who choose to follow Jesus. While we are “disfigured” by separating ourselves from him and from others, we are transfigured through the bonds that nourish and call us to life. Franciscan spirituality, in which you have been formed, is among the most attentive to restoring fundamental relationships with God and with all his creatures. Today, more than ever, this is a harmony that needs to be safeguarded and cultivated.

In this regard, at the beginning of my first Encyclical, I suggested that “Each generation inherits the task of shaping its own era, of guiding history to become a place where the dignity of every person is safeguarded, justice is promoted and fraternity is made possible. Yet every era also runs the risk of creating an inhumane and more unjust world. Whenever humanity is in danger of marring its true identity, we Christians lift our eyes to the Incarnate God, knowing that it is ‘only in the mystery of the Word made flesh that the mystery of humanity truly becomes clear.’ In Jesus Christ, this humanity in its grandeur becomes the Way, the Truth and the Life, opening the path for each of us to grow toward fullness” (Magnifica Humanitas, 1).

Dear friends, the reason why Saint Francis still draws us to himself, even eight hundred years after his death, lies in the grandeur of humanity that led him to abandon familiar ways in order to find a new path that is more consistent with that of Jesus. Even in a town that had been Christian for centuries, such as Assisi, this seemed revolutionary. “Clare’s choice was even more striking: a girl who wanted to be like Francis, who wanted to live, as a woman, as free as those brothers!” (Jubilee Audience, 4 October 2025). This is the energy of Christianity — the energy of its beginnings and of its many new beginnings.

Well then, dear young people, today Europe and the whole world are looking to you to be new saints. Dare to believe in the word of the Gospel; become fully human with the freedom of Jesus Christ; embrace Sister Poverty! The title of your gathering, Go!, is a mission, a sending forth onto paths for which we have no maps, because they are opened by listening to the heart, obeying the Holy Spirit, and following the Risen One wherever he has chosen to go before us. Go! Go! Or better yet: let us go! Let’s go to the margins, where the injustice and arrogance of a few deny the dignity and dreams of many, of far too many sons and daughters of God. Pope Francis, drawing inspiration from the Poverello of Assisi, warned us against the temptation “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” (Evangelii Gaudium, 270).

We may not be understood, even by those closest to us, as happened to Saint Francis. Yet, breaking free from the culture of power, and tearing down the walls that separate human beings from one another, is never a betrayal of our families, towns or traditions. Instead, it means freeing them from their ghosts, from enemies invented out of fear or ignorance and from the violence with which people seek to impose their own limited order on a reality that surpasses us on every side. To trust in God is to rediscover, like Francis and Clare, a world of brothers and sisters to cherish and serve, not to exploit and dominate. Not a world to defend, but to embrace.

Commit yourselves, dear young people, to the civilization of love, whose first signs you have encountered in so many examples of selfless giving, and which — in the image of Christ — transforms countless peacemakers who, even today, are committed to serving life in the most tragic situations of death. Unite the best energies of your magnificent humanity: your studies, skills, work, friendships, love and prayer, so that you can bring Saint Francis’ vision to life in many different ways. I imagine you hold dear the prayer often attributed to him, a text from the last century:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me bring love.

Where there is offence, let me bring pardon.

Where there is discord, let me bring union.

Where there is error, let me bring truth.

Where there is doubt, let me bring faith.

Where there is despair, let me bring hope.

Where there is darkness, let me bring your light.

Where there is sadness, let me bring joy.

That is “where” to go. But here, especially, is “how” to go:

O Lord, grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console,

to be understood as to understand,

to be loved as to love,

for it is in giving that one receives,

it is in self-forgetting that one finds,

it is in forgiving that one is forgiven,

it is in dying that one awakens to eternal life.

Dear friends, may these days in Assisi remain etched in your memory, and may your return home, to the various countries of Europe to which you will travel, be like the descent of Peter, James and John from the high mountain of the Transfiguration. May your return be reflective, open to the future and committed to Jesus Christ. He trusts you, counts on you and remains always with you.

06.08.26 m

Brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!

In this catechism, we will resume our reflection on the Conciliar Constitution on the liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium (SC). Today we will look at the ecclesial dimension of liturgical prayer.

As the Apostle Paul suggests, it is the Holy Spirit who teaches us to pray. From the day of Pentecost, the Spirit dwells in the Church, inspiring every one of her activities and, in particular, prayer. The life of the first community, born in Jerusalem after the Pasch of Jesus, is life in the Spirit given by the risen Lord. “From that time onwards the Church has never failed to come together to celebrate the paschal mystery: reading those things ‘which were in all the scriptures concerning him’ (Lk 24:27), celebrating the Eucharist in which ‘the victory and triumph of his death are again made present’, and at the same time giving thanks ‘to God for his unspeakable gift’ (2 Cor 9:15) in Christ Jesus, ‘in praise of his glory’ (Eph. 1:12), through the power of the Holy Spirit” (SC, 6).

In our time, in contexts dominated by an efficiency-driven and consumerist mindset, prayer may seem pointless and trivial. In a world where science and technology claim to provide all the answers, praying may appear to be a form of escapism. Furthermore, even in many Christian families, the tradition of prayer is no longer passed on, whilst many people risk confusing it with just another technique, of a psychological nature aimed at personal well-being. Prayer, however, as a fundamental dimension of our humanity, is worth rediscovering in its true form.

The Constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium took this need seriously. This greatly pleased Pope Saint Paul VI, who, on promulgating this first document approved by the Second Vatican Council, stated: “God comes first; prayer is our primary duty; the liturgy is the primary source of the divine life communicated to us, the primary school of our spiritual life” (Address, Saint Peter’s Basilica, 4 December 1963).

Indeed, in the Constitution, the term “prayer” designates the liturgy as a whole. This perspective is decisive, for it guided the liturgical reform, making the active participation of the faithful its central pillar. The liturgy is presented first and foremost as the place of encounter, of God’s initiative in drawing near to humanity in his Son, “the Word made flesh, anointed by the Holy Spirit” (SC, 5), to whom we may respond “through Christ, with Christ and in Christ, in the unity of the Holy Spirit”, that is to say, thanks to “the very prayer which Christ Himself, together with His Body, addresses to the Father” (SC, 84).

For this reason, Saint Paul VI ardently desired that the Liturgy of the Hours, the Church’s daily public prayer, inseparable from the Eucharist, might deeply permeate, enliven, guide and express all Christian prayer, and effectively nourish the spiritual life of the People of God (cf. Apostolic Constitution Laudis canticum).

For this desire to be fulfilled, the Liturgy of the Hours needs to be more fully embraced and lived out in the daily lives of the baptised and of the communities. To the many people who wish to learn to pray, especially catechumens, it can offer the path and the school of Christian prayer.

Every week and every day, the Eucharist and the Liturgy of the Hours are the breath of the life of the Church, which makes the Holy Spirit circulate through her Body. In this prayer, Christ “joins the entire community of mankind to Himself, associating it with His own singing of this canticle of divine praise” (SC, 83). In this way, day by day, we are ever more united with the Paschal Mystery and conformed to him.

Saint Augustine affirms that “When we speak to God in prayer for mercy, we do not separate the Son from Him; and when the Body of the Son prays, it separates not its Head from itself: and it is one Saviour of His Body, our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who both prays for us, and prays in us, and is prayed to by us. He prays for us, as our Priest; He prays in us, as our Head; He is prayed to by us, as our God. Let us therefore recognize in Him our words, and His words in us” (Enarr. in psalmum LXXXVI: PL 37, 1081).

Bound to the Eucharist, whose light it prolongs, the Liturgy of the Hours sanctifies the time of our daily lives: in the morning, we begin the day with faith and gratitude; at midday, we ask for the strength to remain faithful amidst our labours; in the evening, once our work is done, Vespers accompany the moment of sunset; at night, we fall asleep entrusting ourselves to God’s peace. Each Hour is an act of hope: during our earthly pilgrimage, we keep watch, awaiting with the whole Church the glorious return of the Lord.

I extend a warm welcome to all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, especially those from England, Malta and the United States of America. Upon you and your families, I invoke the joy and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ. God bless you all!

05.08.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

When we listen to the Gospel, we frequently hear that Jesus performed signs, which are acts that reveal his special dedication to us and the salvation that he brings to the world. The Lord is presented as the One who gives meaning to our lives, freeing us from evil and sin.

By restoring sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf, Christ is doing more than merely performing miraculous deeds; he is proclaiming to all that the Kingdom of God is near. In this way, today’s Gospel (Mt 14:13–21) bears witness that Jesus not only restores the senses of those who lack them, but that he also fills our senses with good things. To the deaf man, who regains his hearing, the Lord proclaims the Good News to be heard; to the blind man, who regains his sight, he shows the magnificent work of redemption being accomplished for him. Similarly, Jesus gives food to those who are hungry. The account of the multiplication of the loaves shows us that the encounter with the Lord is a nourishing experience. In the desert, that is, when we are in need, Christ is the bread of life. With him, our needs are abundantly met: “All ate and were filled,” and there were “twelve baskets full” left over (v. 20). This number highlights that the Lord’s gift is universal, and that his providential care for us never fails.

Dear friends, Christ truly satisfies humanity’s hunger, our hunger for truth and life. His gesture teaches us that nothing is discarded when it is shared. Hoarding and waste, on the contrary, are two sides of the same evil: greed. This spiritual sickness numbs the senses, which become intoxicated with wealth, to the point of making people forget those who weep from hunger and cry out from thirst. And so, in the face of an opulence that reeks of decay, we find the outstretched hands of those who have no nourishment, the burned homes of those who have no peace.

Faced with the deserts of war and arrogance, let us consider with what kindness the Lord “looked up to heaven, and blessed,” “broke the loaves, and gave them” to his disciples, so that they might distribute them to the crowd (cf. v. 19). In this miracle of charity, we recognise the characteristic actions of Jesus, which find their culmination in the Last Supper, for it was then that the Son of God gave us his very life as our brother in humanity. As we savor the grace of the Eucharist, let us commit ourselves to bearing witness to its beauty in our daily actions, beginning with blessing meals at the table with family and friends. In Jesus’ company, even vacations can become a time of fraternal serenity, if we reach out to our neighbours in need.

Let us therefore ask the Virgin Mary, our loving Mother, to help us grow in charity, so that no one may lack their daily bread.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I am following with concern the alarming situation in Ceuta, praying to God that, through the intercession of Our Lady of Africa, solutions may be found to bring peace, stability and justice.

Let us continue to pray for peace, that wars may cease throughout the world and diplomatic solutions to conflicts may be found.  Let us remember all the victims of hostilities, especially the weakest and most defenceless: children, the elderly and the sick.  May the Lord comfort those who suffer and bless the work of those who bring aid and consolation.

In these days the “Pardon of Assisi” is celebrated.  Saint Francis obtained this Indulgence from Pope Honorius III in 1216, having been inspired — while praying at the Porziuncola — by a vision of Jesus and Mary surrounded by angels.  Let us thank the Lord for this great gift and treasure it, especially in this eighth centenary year of the Transitus of the Poor Man of Assisi, who died at the Porziuncola on 3 October 1226.

I greet all of you, Romans and pilgrims from various countries: in particular, the “Giovanissimi” from the parishes of Saccolongo and Creola (Padua), the young people from the parish of Saint John Bosco in Altamura, and the youth from the Pastoral Collaboration of Castelfranco Veneto, accompanied by their priests and leaders.

I wish everyone a happy Sunday!

02.08.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

At the heart of Jesus’ teachings lies the mystery of the Kingdom of God, which today’s Gospel likens to treasure and a pearl (cf. Mt 13:44–52). The parables convey the surprise of those who find something far beyond what they could have hoped for, so much so that selling or leaving everything behind no longer seems a sacrifice, but a gain. Indeed, from the very beginning, the evangelists portray Jesus’ call to follow him as irresistible. It is a free choice, yet also urgent and capable of eliciting a ready and wholehearted response. This is a first important aspect of how God is near and makes himself known: encountering his Kingdom marks a turning point that does not limit life but enlarges it. If anything must change on our part, it is only so that our lives may be opened to greater possibilities, not fewer.

There is a second aspect that Jesus seems to attach great importance to: the one who finds the treasure hidden in the field is likely a peasant, while the pearl is recognized as precious by a merchant, perhaps a traveler. Two more parables follow, in which the protagonists are fishermen and a scribe well-versed in both the old and the new. Other parables compare the Kingdom to a woman kneading dough or tidying her house, to a king planning for war, a man designing a tower, administrators managing payments or investments, and to shepherds and farmers. In short, the Kingdom of God reveals its inestimable beauty in different ways, but calls everyone — men and women, young and old, rich and poor — to a profound renewal. Everyone is capable of understanding it and is drawn to it.

Today, too, the Church is a communion of people who differ in origin, culture, abilities and responsibilities. Yet all are called to recognize themselves as “one” in Jesus Christ: he is the hidden treasure, the pearl of great price, the net that gathers those who are scattered. From the beginning, Jesus called and gathered around himself people who would otherwise never have come to know one another. In this way, he demonstrated that God has no favourites, but instead offers his love freely, especially to the little ones or those cast aside.

Brothers and sisters, all we have to do is ask for this gift, the very same one sought by the young King Solomon (cf. 1 Kings 3:5, 7–12). It is the gift of recognizing the pearl of great price, of discerning the treasure for which it is worth selling everything. While the consumer culture influences our tastes, constantly creating new needs only to sell us solutions that never satisfy, and that sometimes even poison the heart, we must learn to grasp what truly matters: the treasure of a relationship with God that opens us to joy and helps us to live our relationships with one another more fully.

May the intercession of Mary, Seat of Wisdom, direct our desire for life toward Jesus, so that in him it may find its complete fulfilment.

Dear brothers and sisters,

Yesterday, in Lebanon, Elias Hoayek, Maronite Patriarch of Antioch from 1899 to 1931 and Founder of the Congregation of the Maronite Sisters of the Holy Family, was beatified. For more than thirty years, he led the Maronite Church with great dedication and pastoral sensitivity. A man of dialogue and hope, he was an outstanding ecclesial, social and political leader, so much so that he came to be known as the “Father of Greater Lebanon.” May the prayers and intercession of the new blessed always accompany the Maronite faithful throughout the world, and obtain the gift of peace for all the people of Lebanon, a country dear to my heart.

I continue to follow with deep concern the ongoing and escalating violence in the Holy Land, where, in recent days, many civilians, both in the West Bank and in Gaza, have once again fallen victim. I make a heartfelt appeal for a return to negotiations to achieve a just political solution, founded on the equal dignity and equal rights of every human person. At the same time, I urge the rejection of further military actions and unilateral decisions, especially those that violate the respect for and the status quo of the holy places of every religion.

I likewise renew my plea regarding the situation throughout the Middle East, where the intensification of military operations has again wreaked violence and destruction, endangering the lives of countless civilians and further aggravating the shortages of drinking water and electricity. From the depths of my heart, I exhort all parties involved to suspend the attacks and urgently reopen paths of dialogue and diplomacy, so that the longed-for peace for the entire region may be achieved without delay.

Let us continue to pray for all those peoples throughout the world who are suffering because of war. May the Lord touch the hearts and enlighten the minds of those in power, so that reconciliation and peace may soon prevail.

As devastating wildfires affect the various regions of France and Spain, I express my closeness to all those who have been affected and invite everyone to pray for them and for the emergency personnel engaged in relief efforts.

Today we celebrate the Sixth World Day for Grandparents and the Elderly, whose theme is taken from the words of the Prophet Isaiah: “I will never forget you” (Is 49:15). Together, let us give thanks to the Lord for the gift that the elderly are to the Church and society. Let us also commit ourselves to respecting and valuing the precious role they play, and to ensuring that they always receive the care, attention and assistance they deserve.

I warmly greet all of you present here, as well as those who have come from various parts of Italy and from around the world!

I offer a special welcome to the pilgrims belonging to the Opera della Chiesa and to the bishops accompanying them; I welcome and greet the children from the House of Mercy in Chortkiv, Ukraine, who are guests of the parish of Saint Michael the Archangel in Nocera Superiore; to the young people from the Parish of Manerbio; to those taking part in the International Youth Gathering organized on the occasion of the bicentenary of the death of Saint Jeanne-Antide Thouret; to the young pilgrims of the Catholic student movement Ӧnze-Lieve-Vrouw Ster-Der-Zee of Maldegem, Belgium; and to the cadets of the Carabinieri Training School in Velletri, accompanied by their chaplain and commanding officers.

I also greet the members of the Catholic Men Association of Cameroon.

I extend a special greeting to those taking part in the Sagra delle Pesche festival of Castel Gandolfo, who have brought the fruits of their harvest to be blessed.

This evening, the traditional procession of the Madonna Fiumarola will take place on the River Tiber here in Rome. May Mary, the Mother of Jesus, obtain for all those participating in this beautiful tradition, and for each one of us, the grace to live every day according to the teachings of the Gospel.

And I wish all of you a happy Sunday!

26.07.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

Following the parable of the sower, Jesus continues to address the crowds using a series of images: the good wheat and the weeds, the mustard seed and the yeast in the dough (cf. Mt 13:24–43).

These three short parables recall the coming of the Kingdom of God in history, its action in human lives, and the way it grows, expands and transforms the world from within. Through these images, Jesus warns us against the temptation of thinking that God is a powerful figure who imposes himself by force, who takes over and dominates, or who arrives triumphantly. Instead, God favours smallness, a sign of his discreet love, by which he leaves us free to accept or reject him. His love makes its presence felt even among the weeds, acts in a hidden and invisible way like the smallest of all seeds, and leavens the dough without making a sound.

Brothers and sisters, through these parables, Jesus reveals something important about the manner in which God works in our lives and in history. We sometimes expect God to do something spectacular; we want him to intervene from on high, immediately uprooting the weeds of evil. We imagine a strong and powerful God, and, unfortunately, we also model our way of being Christians and way of being the Church on this image. However, the Kingdom of God spreads even amidst the weeds, requiring us to train our vision so we can discern the good that sprouts despite the darkness of evil, and avoiding rash judgments. It comes like the smallest of seeds and thus calls for patience in accompanying these processes, so that we can recognize it in the little things of daily life and in the simplicity of ordinary existence. It grows invisibly like yeast in flour, and so we are freed from discouragement and invited to have faith even when it seems that God is absent. In fact, he is always with us, and his love is always ready to help us.

God’s way of acting must also become the way in which we live, both as individuals and as the Church, amidst the reality that surrounds us. We are called to adopt a Gospel-centered approach, without hastily opposing others through arrogant judgments, without imposing ourselves through power and force, and without losing trust in God’s work. As the then-Cardinal Ratzinger said, it is a matter of submitting ourselves to the logic of the seed — which is not that of success and greatness, but that of making ourselves small and serving others (cf. Address to Catechists and Religion Teachers, 10 December 2000). In this way, we will become like small seeds of the Gospel that sprout, and leavens of love that transform the dough of the world.

Let us ask the Blessed Virgin Mary, who knew how to welcome the seed of the Word in her smallness, to sustain us on our journey and intercede for us.

Dear brothers and sisters,

While I am taking a few days for rest, I once again extend my greetings and gratitude to all of you, residents of Castel Gandolfo, and I joyfully welcome the pilgrims arriving from every part of the world!

We continue to follow with concern the events unfolding in various countries torn apart by war and violence.  Let us not forget those who are suffering and dying because of these conflicts, and let us add our constant prayers to the generous efforts for peace.

I greet Mother Elvira’s Cenacolo Community, gathered in Saluzzo for the Festival of Life; the New Families Movement of the Focolari gathered for the International School; the Mexican students participating in the APRA Summer School; and the group from the Catholic Worldview Fellowship.

I extend my greetings to the young adult Regnum Christi members who are participating in the International Formators Course, and I also greet those taking part in “The Lion Pilgrimage,” accompanied by Bishop Anthony Percy, the Auxiliary Bishop from Sydney, Australia.

I also greet the families and the children assisted by Sisters of Charity of the Assumption of Rome, the young people from the parish of Holy Saviour in Jerusalem, the children’s group from the parish of Saint Augustine of Bovolenta and the pilgrims from the Liturgical Academy of Rzeszów.

I wish all of you a peaceful Sunday!

19.07.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

In today’s liturgy, the Evangelist Matthew presents us with the Parable of the Sower (cf. Mt 13:1–23), which describes the generosity and trust with which God sows his Word in our hearts and his power in us.

Jesus himself, the Word made flesh, who gave his life for our salvation, is the seed that the Father continues to sow throughout the world so that, by dying, he may bear much fruit (cf. Jn 12:24).  It is true that sometimes he finds in us hard and unresponsive soil, at other times distracted soil, like the beaten path, the rocky ground, or the thorny bushes.  Yet there are also moments when he finds receptive and fertile ground, and then miracles of love are set in motion that have the power to transform everything — as we ourselves have no doubt experienced in our own lives.  For this reason, the Father never ceases to sow, because he knows that the power of his love is stronger than our weakness (cf. 2Cor 12:9–10).

Referring to the “seed” of the Word of God, Saint John Chrysostom asks, “How could it be reasonable to sow among thorns, on rocky ground, or on the path?  In the case of seeds and soil, it would not be reasonable; but in the case of souls and doctrine, it is altogether praiseworthy” (Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew, 44, 5), because in God’s hands it is possible that “rocky ground may be transformed into fertile soil; that the path may no longer be trampled underfoot or exposed to every passer-by, but become rich earth; and that the thorns may be cleared away and the seed may enjoy complete security” (ibid.).

God’s generosity towards us is not naïve but wise.  He sees within us the potential of a good that, at times, we ourselves might fail to recognize.  For this reason, the Lord, who knows the soil of our hearts better than we, never ceases to believe in us — in who we are and in who we can become, day by day, if we entrust ourselves to him in faith.

Thus, from the generosity and trust with which the seed is sown, and from the humility and openness with which it is received, the fruits of the Holy Spirit grow within us and spread.  Saint Paul teaches that they are “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal 5:22).  How greatly our world stands in need of these fruits: to be filled with them and transformed by them!

Let us therefore resolve, especially during these summer days of vacation, to make room for listening to, reading, and meditating on the Word of God, thereby fostering—together with rest and wholesome recreation — meaningful moments of silence and prayer.  In this way, we shall return to our usual activities renewed in body and spirit, ready to proclaim the Good News of the Gospel and ever more capable of contributing to the growth of the Kingdom of God.

May Mary, Queen of the Apostles and Star of the Evangelization, help us.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I greet the residents of this beautiful town, Castel Gandolfo, where I am resting for a few days, and I joyfully welcome all of you, pilgrims from every corner of the world!

Unfortunately, the winds of war are blowing once again in the Middle East, in Ukraine and in many other parts of the world, sowing violence, terror and death, and once again affecting many innocent people.  Let us not allow these winds to extinguish the flame of hope and peace, even when it seems fragile and flickering.

I renew my hope that we will persevere on the path of dialogue, encounter and diplomacy. This is the only path capable of leading to a just and lasting peace, in which peoples can live in reconciliation, mutual security and respect for the dignity of every person.

Today is “Sea Sunday.” My thoughts go out to all sailors, fishermen and port workers around the world who, though marked by separation from their loved ones and sometimes by fear of the conflicts occur on the seas, sustain trade and the lives of many peoples through their patient and quiet labour.

Finally, I offer my prayers for the many Polish faithful gathered for the annual pilgrimage with the icon of Jasna Góra, that, as “missionary disciples,” they may be joyful witnesses to the Gospel.

12.07.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

In today’s Gospel reading (Mt 11:25–30) Jesus invites us to join him in praising the Father, “Lord of heaven and earth” (v. 25). The Son of God made man reveals his love by including all creatures in this act of thanksgiving.

The simplicity of such a spontaneous and joyful gesture reflects God’s way of acting: he delights in revealing himself “to infants,” while remaining hidden “from the wise and the intelligent” (v. 25). So filled are they with their own ideas that they fail to recognize the presence of Christ, the Messiah who comes to visit his people.  Human wisdom thus becomes arrogance, and doctrine degenerates into pride. By contrast, God’s true wisdom is revealed in the humility of the Incarnation, and his teaching is addressed above all to those who struggle: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens” (v. 28), says the Lord. Going to Jesus means responding to his love and sharing in his life, even to the cross, as he himself teaches: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt 16:24).  It is precisely this self-giving out of love that constitutes Jesus’ “yoke” (Mt 11:29), which is the essence of his teaching and the heart of his wisdom, ablaze with love for all.

Brothers and sisters, how can the weight of the cross be “easy” and “light” (v. 30)? For one reason alone: because the Lord himself carries it with us, never leaving us alone in what burdens us. As a true teacher, Jesus takes upon himself humanity wounded by evil in order to heal and care for it. The wisdom he gives us is therefore a proclamation of salvation, and his yoke lifts us up from every fall. For this reason, our journey of following Christ is not an asceticism that mortifies. Rather, it is a school of freedom that takes seriously the drama of history and continually sheds light on its meaning, especially in its darkest moments. Indeed, only in the cross of Jesus is evil overcome; only in his passion does our mortal weariness find consolation and redemption.

In slavery, Christ is liberation. Amid the scourge of war, Christ is hope. In the hour of sin, Christ is forgiveness. This is true wisdom and the path that we wish to walk together, united as disciples in his name. Jesus teaches us this as the Son, by becoming our brother. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, he reveals to the Church the truth about God and about humanity, for “no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” (v. 27).

Dear friends, as we thank the Lord for the loving trust he has placed in us, let us ask Mary, Queen of Peace, to intercede for the good of the Church and of the whole world.

Dear brothers and sisters,

Last Thursday, 2 July, Father Francis Xavier Tru’o’ng Bǚu was beatified at the Shrine of Tac Say in Vietnam. He was killed in 1946 in hatred of the faith (in odium fidei). Amid oppression and violence, he defended the rights of the people and did not abandon his parishioners. May his intercession and prayers strengthen all those who proclaim the Gospel in situations of persecution today.

I extend my warm greetings to all of you gathered today in Saint Peter’s Square.

I offer a cordial welcome to the pilgrims from Brazil and to the Choir of the University of Mérida in Venezuela. I continue to remember in my prayers the victims of the earthquake and all the Venezuelan people. May the Lord sustain them in this time of great hardship.

I greet in particular several groups from Poland: the newly ordained priests of the Capuchin Friars Minor of the Province of Kraków; the Children’s Choir of the Archdiocese of Łódź, accompanied by their Auxiliary Bishop; and the group from the Diocese of Legnica.

I also greet the young people from Bellagio and the Jubilaeum Choir from Augusta, Sicily, together with their mayor and their pastor.

I wish everyone a happy Sunday!

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Dear brothers and sisters,

God always loves us first. The beauty of the sea, this island and your faces is a reflection of his gratuitous initiative: love precedes us, surrounds us and brings us together. I am grateful to the Lord for the opportunity to visit you, following in the footsteps of Pope Francis, who chose to travel to Lampedusa on 8 July 2013 for his first trip as the Successor of Peter.

The Apostles, as you know, sailed the Mediterranean and experienced the hospitality of the inhabitants of its islands and coasts, which have been a crossroads of civilizations for millennia. The Gospel resounds where peoples meet, people welcome one another, their lives intertwine and different cultures engage in dialogue. It falls silent, however, when each person makes him or herself an island, avoiding contact and cutting off exchange. In this sense, the parable of the Good Samaritan, which we just heard, describes a story that continues to speak to us (cf. Lk 10:25–37), and the Encyclical Fratelli Tutti has helped us re-examine it in light of the challenging historical circumstances in which we find ourselves. The word of God is always relevant for today and draws us into a conversation from which we emerge transformed. How, then, will we respond to the love of the One who loved us first?

Dear friends, today Lampedusa and Linosa lie along a path as dangerous as the one that led down from Jerusalem to Jericho (cf. v. 30). Here you have seen not just one, but thousands of human beings fallen into the hands of robbers who have taken everything from them, beat them brutally and walked away, leaving them half-dead (cf. ibid.). The sea has claimed the lives of others — those who did not manage to reach their hoped-for destination. Yet we feel their presence, which challenges us no less than that of those who have landed in need of attention and aid. Indeed, before any intellectual consideration or ideological conviction, the encounter with those who lie before us, stripped of everything, calls us to be close to them. The Letter to the Hebrews tells us: “Remember […] those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering” (13:3). This is the heart of the Gospel parable: we become neighbors by acting as neighbors (cf. Lk 10:36–37)!

I have come to thank you, brothers and sisters of Lampedusa, for the solidarity that so many of you have shown. Once again, the miracle of compassion has taken place: “he saw them and had compassion on them” (v. 33). It is an inner revolution that brings forth within us God’s “heart” and broadens our thoughts, hearts and lives. I thank the volunteers, the organizations united in the “Forum Lampedusa Solidale,” the civil institutions, the Coast Guard, the mayors and local administrations that have served over the years. I also thank the deacons, priests, religious sisters, doctors, psychologists and educators, as well as the security forces and all those who, with or without the gift of faith, have chosen to love one another. Yes, it is love that has taken shape among you. Compassion, which recognizes a brother or sister in peril at sea, is its first stirring: a profound call to do what you might never have imagined possible. I greet the migrants who are here. They themselves have not only received solidarity but have often shown it on their journey, as the poor helping the poorest. Thank you, brothers and sisters, because there is nothing to be taken for granted in you reaching out to others; nothing happens automatically.

The parable tells us that love is always rooted in freedom, and freedom lies in the decisions we make. There are also those who choose not to be a neighbor and those who choose not to make a decision. Those who have lost their lives in this sea are victims both of decisions that were made and of decisions that were not made. Indifference to the common good and corruption in their countries of origin; a global economic system that generates poverty and exclusion; fear that fuels prejudice and contempt; the belief that such problems do not concern us; the criminal calculations of those who profit from the suffering of others; the slow and difficult transition from mere emergency management to the development of comprehensive and shared policies — all are present-day echoes of the haste to “pass by” (vv. 31-32) in the Gospel narrative.

In the parable, a priest happens to be there “by chance” (v. 31), followed by a Levite. Both see what is happening, but they continue on their way. Unfortunately, in every age there are those who fear being “contaminated” by contact with others, thus denying — even in the face of suffering and death — our common origin in God, the infinite dignity of every human being and the call to boundless love. It is time to recognize and affirm that religious affiliation must never become a reason for discrimination, as if faith had boundaries rather than being a universal call to salvation. Where there were walls of separation, Christ broke them down (cf. Eph 2:14). There is no love of God without love of neighbor, and there is no neighbor if I do not draw near. To pause, to be moved, to bend down, to weep before another’s pain — as Jesus did — means entering into the dynamic of love, the very movement in which God has revealed himself.

My dear friends, those who allow themselves to be drawn into this dynamic of compassion and mercy begin to live differently, to be citizens in a different way and to work differently. Then the civilization of love — the one envisioned by my holy predecessors John XXIII, Paul VI and John Paul II — can truly emerge. Together with a great number of prophets and martyrs of the last century, they understood that only mercy can respond to the depths of the human heart and the horrors of war by opening the way to a new beginning. Now, standing on the shoulders of these giants, we have entered a millennium in which we must give spiritual, cultural, legal, political and economic expression to the civilization of love. May the enormity of the suffering we witness help us grasp the radical nature of this call.

Like the Good Samaritan, we can always change our plans and direction. More than the Good Samaritan, we have the resources and opportunities to give hope a concrete, historical reality. He “went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; then he set him on his own beast and brought him to an inn, and took care of him” (Lk 10:34). We, too, must recognize that “the civilization of love will not arise from a single or spectacular gesture, but from the sum total of small and steadfast acts of fidelity that serve as a bulwark against dehumanization” (Encyclical Letter Magnifica Humanitas, 213). To this, friends of Lampedusa, you are witnesses! Here, as we encounter each other, we gain a better understanding of our era, and each of us can assess the direction of our own lives. “Certainly, not everyone has the same power to make a difference… Yet, no one is without responsibility. We all have our own areas for action, and it is precisely there — and nowhere else — that we must choose whether to fuel the mentality of force (even if only through indifference, cynicism, lies or hatred), or to preserve the mindset of peace (with truth, moderation, closeness and care)” (ibid., 212).

From this far-flung corner of Europe on the Mediterranean Sea, one can more clearly perceive the momentous challenge that the phenomenon of migration poses to European societies. In this regard, just as with the ecological transition and the promotion of peace, Europe possesses a unique potential, stemming from its history and culture, and therefore bears a corresponding responsibility. Thanks to its geographical location and institutional framework, Europe is capable of addressing the crisis — in this region — in a comprehensive manner, integrating immediate relief efforts into a long-term strategic plan capable of receiving, protecting, supporting and integrating migrants, while at the same time assisting developing countries so that no one is forced to emigrate. All of this must be done with vigilance, ensuring respect for the dignity of every person. This is a task not only for public institutions but also for civil society as a whole and for the Church.

Sisters and brothers, as I said recently in Tenerife during my Apostolic Journey to Spain, in Lampedusa too, the culture of hospitality has a tourist dimension, which, unfortunately, can feel threatened by migration routes and give rise to indifference, or even opposition, to their dramatic aspects. Indeed, for many a vacation is merely a distraction, a time of lightheartedness and carefree enjoyment. It then seems as though an invisible wall has to be erected between the sea of shipwrecked migrants and the vacationers. Have the courage to think differently. Little by little, with a bit of creativity, you will be able to ensure that anyone who spends time on this island, even if only for rest, becomes more humane, inspired by your charity, what the sea has taught you and the encounters that have formed you. There is authentic rest when the meaning of life is rediscovered, and true well-being when the economy is just and fraternal. In such an economy, care for creation and social friendship come together in a synthesis that humanity is seeking today.

The first reading reminded us that, by practicing hospitality, “some entertained angels without knowing it” (Heb 13:2). May you, in your own small ways, be a prophetic sign of what we can aspire to achieve together on a larger scale. You and your families will be the first to benefit from this, overcoming divisions and differences that only charity can dissolve. The parish, in particular, should be a community where, guided by the Gospel, we learn to welcome, accompany and integrate one another in a spirit of communion.

Here, next to the altar, we have the image of Our Lady of Safe Harbor, the patroness of Lampedusa. Perhaps you know that Saint Augustine liked to describe human life as a voyage across a stormy sea and one’s destiny as a safe and secure harbor. Let us not be overcome by fear, but rather look upon daily hardships as a time of opportunity and witness. May your faith, dear friends, be strengthened by these years of trial and generous commitment. May this venerated image speak to you once again with the same power as in days past, when those who handed down this devotion entrusted themselves to the Virgin’s intercession with radical sincerity. In God we all have a safe haven, and every Christian community is called to be a reflection of it on earth. And to you, the communities of Lampedusa and Linosa, may you never lack the breath of faith, hope and charity: “O’scià!” [a traditional greeting of the people of Lampedusa].

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