News August 2022

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

Today we begin a new cycle of catechesis: we have finished the catechesis on old age, now we begin a new cycle on the theme of discernment. Discernment is an important act that concerns everyone, because choices are an essential part of life. One chooses food, clothing, a course of study, a job, a relationship. In all of these, a life project is realised, and even our relationship with God is concretized.

In the Gospel, Jesus speaks of discernment with images taken from ordinary life; for example, he describes the fisher who selects the good fish and discards the bad ones; or the merchant who knows how to identify, among many pearls, the one of greatest value. Or he who, ploughing a field, comes across something that turns out to be a treasure (cf. Mt 13:44-48).

In the light of these examples, discernment presents itself as an exercise of intelligence, of also of skill and also of will, to seize the opportune moment: these are the conditions for making a good choice. It takes intelligence, skill, and also will to make a good choice. And there is also a price required for discernment to become effective. To perform his trade to the best of his ability, the fisher reckons with hard work, long nights spent at sea, and then discarding some of the catch, accepting a loss of profit for the sake of those for whom it is intended. The pearl merchant does not hesitate to spend everything to buy that pearl; and so does the person who has stumbled upon a treasure. [These are] unexpected, unplanned situations, where it is crucial to recognise the importance and urgency of a decision to be made.

Everyone has to make decisions; there is no one to make it for us. At a certain point, adults can freely ask for advice; we can reflect, but the decision is our own. We can’t say, ‘I lost this, because my husband decided, my wife decided, my brother decided.’ No. You have to decide, each of us has to decide, and for this reason it is important to know how to discern, to decide well it is necessary to know how to discern.

The Gospel suggests another important aspect of discernment: it involves the emotions. The one who has found the treasure feels no difficulty in selling everything, so great is his joy (cf. Mt 13:44). The term used by the evangelist Matthew indicates a very special joy, which no human reality can give; and indeed it recurs in very few other passages of the Gospel, all of which refer to the encounter with God. It is the joy of the Magi when, after a long and arduous journey, they see the star again (cf. Mt 2:10); the joy, it is the joy of the women who return from the empty tomb after hearing the angel’s announcement of the resurrection (cf. Mt 28:8). It is the joy of those who have found the Lord. Making a good decision, a correct decision, always leads you to that final joy; perhaps along the way you have to suffer a bit of uncertainty, thinking, seeking, but in the end the right decision blesses you with joy.

In the final judgement God will exercise discernment – the great discernment – with regard to us. The images of the farmer, the fisher, and the merchant are examples of what happens in the Kingdom of Heaven, a Kingdom that manifests itself in the ordinary actions of life, which require us to take a stand. This is why it is so important to be able to discern: great choices can arise from circumstances that at first sight seem secondary, but turn out to be decisive. For example, let us think of Andrew and John’s first encounter with Jesus, an encounter that stems from a simple question: ‘Rabbi, where do you live?’ — ‘Come and see,’ says Jesus (cf. Jn 1:38-39). A very brief exchange, but it is the beginning of a change that, step by step, will mark their whole life. Years later, the Evangelist will continue to remember that encounter that changed him forever, and he will even remember the time: ‘It was about four o’clock in the afternoon’ (v. 39). It is the hour when time and the eternal met in his life. And in a good decision, correct, there is an encounter between God’s will and our will; there is an encounter between the present path and the eternal. Making the right decision, after a path of discernment, is to make this encounter: time with eternity.

So: knowledge, experience, emotion, will: these are some of the indispensable elements of discernment. In the course of these catecheses we will see others, equally important.

Discernment — as I’ve said — involves hard work. According to the Bible, we do not find set before us, pre-packaged, the life we are to live. No! We have to decide it all the time, according to the reality that comes. God invites us to evaluate and choose: He created us free and wants us to exercise our freedom. Therefore, discerning is demanding.

We have often had this experience: choosing something that seemed good to us and yet was not. Or knowing what our true good was and not choosing it. Human beings, unlike animals, can be wrong, can be unwilling to choose correctly – freedom, no? And the Bible shows this from its very first pages. God gives man a precise instruction: if you want to live, if you want to enjoy life, remember that you are a creature, that you are not the criterion of good and evil, and that the choices you make will have a consequence, for you, for others and for the world (cf. Gen 2:16-17); you can make the earth a magnificent garden or you can make it a desert of death. A fundamental teaching: it is no coincidence that this is the first dialogue between God and man. The dialogue is: the Lord gives the mission, you have to do this and that; and every person, the step he or she takes, must discern which decision to make. Discernment is that reflection of the mind, of the heart, that we have to do before making a decision.

Discernment is demanding but indispensable for living. It requires that I know myself, that I know what is good for me here and now. Above all, it requires a filial relationship with God. God is Father and He does not leave us alone, He is always willing to advise us, to encourage us, to welcome us. But He never imposes His will. Why? Because He wants to be loved and not feared. And also, God wants children, not slaves: free children. And love can only be lived in freedom. To learn to live one must learn to love, and for this it is necessary to discern: what can I do now, faced with this alternative? Let it be a sign of greater love, of greater maturity in love. Let us ask the Holy Spirit to guide us! Let us invoke Him every day, especially when we have choices to make.

31.08.22 e

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

The readings of this celebration – taken from the Votive Mass “for the Church” – set before us two instances of wonder: the wonder of Paul before God’s saving plan (cf. Eph 1:3-14) and the wonder of the disciples, including Matthew himself, at meeting the risen Jesus, who then commissioned them (cf. Mt 28:16-20). A twofold wonder. Let us enter more deeply into these two “territories” where the wind of the Holy Spirit blows strongly, so that we can set out from this celebration, and this assembly of Cardinals, ever more ready to “proclaim to all the peoples the wonders of the Lord” 

30.08.22 e

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In this place that suffered a harsh calamity, I want to assure the people of Pakistan, hit by floods of disastrous proportions, of my nearness. I pray for the numerous victims, for the wounded and those forced from their homes, and that international solidarity might be prompt and generous.

And now let us invoke Our Lady so that, as I said at the end of my homily, she might obtain pardon and peace for the entire world. Let us pray for the people of Ukraine and for all those who suffer because of war. May the God of peace revive a human and Christian sense of pity and mercy in the hearts of the leaders of nations. Mary, Mother of Mercy and Queen of Peace, pray for us!

28.08.22 ae

For the full transcript click on the picture link above

The Saints are a fascinating explanation of the Gospel. Their lives are a privileged vantage point from which we can glimpse the good news that Jesus came to proclaim – namely, that God is our Father and each of us is loved by him. This is the heart of the Gospel, and Jesus is the proof of this Love – his incarnation, his face.

Today we are celebrating the Eucharist on a special day for this city and this Church: the Celestinian Forgiveness. Here, the relics of Pope Celestine V are preserved. This man seems to have completely accomplished what we heard in the First Reading: “The greater you are, the more you must humble yourself; so you will find favour in the sight of the Lord” (Sir 3:18). We erroneously remember Celestine V as “the one who made a great refusal”, according to the expression Dante used in his Divine Comedy. But Celestine V was not a man who said “no”, but a man who said “yes”.

In fact, there exists no other way to accomplish God’s will than to assume the strength of the humble, there is no other way. Precisely because they are such, the humble appear weak and as losers in the eyes of men and women, whereas in reality, they are the true conquerors because they are the ones who confide completely in the Lord and know his will. It is, in fact, “to the humble that God reveals his secrets, and by the humble he is glorified” (cf. Sir 3:19-20). In the spirit of the world that is dominated by pride, the Word of God for today invites us to become humble and meek. Humility does not consist in belittling ourselves, but rather in that healthy realism that makes us recognize our potentials as well as our misery. Beginning with our misery, humility makes us take our gaze off ourselves in order to turn it toward God, to the One who can do everything and who even obtains for us what we would not succeed in obtaining on our own. “All things can be done for the one who believes” (Mk 9:23).

The strength of the humble is the Lord, not strategies, human means, the logic of this world, calculations. No, it is the Lord. In that sense, Celestine V was a courageous witness of the Gospel because there was no logic or power that was able to imprison or control him. In him, we admire a Church free from worldly logic, witnessing completely to that name of God which is Mercy. This is the very heart of the Gospel, for mercy is knowing that we are loved in our misery. They go together. Mercy cannot be understood without understanding one’s own misery. Being believers does not mean drawing near to a dark and frightening God. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us of this: “For you have not come to what may be touched, a blazing fire and darkness and gloom and a tempest and the sound of a trumpet and a voice whose words made the hearers beg that no further messages be spoken to them” (12:18-19). No. Dear brothers and sisters, we have drawn near to Jesus, the Son of God, who is the Mercy of the Father and the Love that saves. He is mercy, and it is only with his mercy that he can speak to our misery. If one of us thinks they can reach mercy another way than through their own misery, they have taken the wrong way. This is why it is important to understand one’s own reality.

For centuries, L’Aquila has kept alive the gift that Pope Celestine V himself left it. That gift is the privilege of reminding everyone that with mercy, and with mercy alone, can the life of every man and every woman be lived with joy. Mercy is the experience of feeling welcomed, put back on our feet, strengthened, healed, encouraged. To be forgiven is to experience here and now that which comes closest to being resurrected. Forgiveness is the passage from death to life, from the experience of anguish and guilt to that of freedom and joy. May this church always be a place in which people can be reconciled and experience that Grace that puts us back on our feet and gives us another chance.  Our God is the God of second chances – “How many times, Lord? One? Seven?” – “Seventy times seven”. It is God who always you another chance. May it be a church of forgiveness, not once a year, but always, every day. For in this way peace is constructed, through forgiveness that is received and given.

Beginning with one’s own misery and looking at that, trying to find out how to reach forgiveness, because even in one’s own misery we will always find a light that is the way to go to the Lord. He gives us light in our misery. This morning, for example, I thought about this when, as we were arriving in L’Aquila and we could not land – thick fog, everything was dark, you couldn’t land. The helicopter pilot was circling, circling, circling…. In the end, he saw a small hole and he went through there – he succeeded, a master-pilot. And I thought about this misery and how the same things happens with our own misery. How many times we look at who we are – nothing, less than nothing – and we circle, circle…. But at times, the Lord makes a small hole. Put yourself in there, they are the Lord’s wounds! That is where mercy is, but it is in your misery. There is a hole in your misery that the Lord makes in order to enter into it. Mercy that comes into you, into my, into our misery.

Dear brothers and dear sisters, you have suffered much because of the earthquake. And as a population, you are trying to get back up and get back on your feet. But those who have suffered must be able to create a treasure out of their own suffering, they must understand that in the darkness they experienced they also received the gift of understanding the suffering of others. You can treasure the gift of mercy because you know what it means to lose everything, to see everything that had been constructed crumble, to leave everything that was dear to you, to feel the hole left by the absence of those whom you loved. You can treasure mercy because you have experienced mercy.

In their lives, everyone, even without living through an earthquake, can experience an “earthquake of the soul”, so to speak, that puts us in contact with our own frailty, our own limitations, our own misery. In this experience, we can lose everything, but we can also learn true humility. In such a circumstance, we can allow life to make us bitter, or we can learn meekness. So, humility and meekness are the characteristics of those who have the mission of treasuring and witnessing to mercy. Yes, because mercy, when it comes to us and because we treasure it, we can also bear witness to this mercy. Mercy is a gift to me, for my misery, but this mercy must also be transmitted to others as a gift from the Lord.

There is, however, a wake-up call that tells us if we are going the wrong way. Today’s Gospel reminds us of this (cf. Lk 14:1, 7-14). Jesus is invited to dinner, we heard, in the house of a Pharisee, and attentively observes how many are running to get the best seats at table. This gives him the cue to tell a parable that remains valid even for us today: “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest someone more distinguished than you be invited by him, and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Please, give your place to this person and you go back there!’ And then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place” (vv. 8-9). Too many times people base their worth on the place they occupy in the world. A person is not the position he or she holds. A person is the freedom that he or she is capable of that is fully manifested when he or she occupies the last place, or when a place is reserved for that person on the Cross.

The Christian knows that his or her life is not a career after the manner of the world, but a career after the manner of Christ who said of himself that he had come to serve and not to be served (cf. Mk 10:45). Unless we understand that the revolution of the Gospel is contained in this type of freedom, we will continue to witness war, violence and injustice, which are nothing other than the external symptoms of a lack of interior freedom. Where there is no interior freedom, selfishness, individualism, personal interest, and oppression, and all these miseries, find their way in. And misery takes control.

Brothers and sisters, may L’Aquila truly be the capital of forgiveness, the capital of peace and of reconciliation! May L’Aquila know how to offer everyone that transformation that Mary sings about in the Magnificat: “He has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate” (Lk 1:52), the transformation that Jesus reminded us of in today’s Gospel, “Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Lk 14:11). And precisely to Mary, whom you venerate under the title of Salvation of the People of L’Aquila, we wish to entrust the resolution to live according to the Gospel. May her maternal intercession obtain pardon and peace for the entire world. The awareness of one’s own misery and the beauty of mercy.

28.08.22 me

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

The words of Jesus, in the very middle of the Gospel of Luke, pierce us like an arrow: “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” (12:49).

Journeying with his disciples towards Jerusalem, the Lord announces this in typically prophetic style, using two images: fire and baptism (cf. 12:49-50). He is to bring fire into the world; the baptism he himself will receive. Let me take just the image of fire, the powerful flame of the Spirit of God, God himself, as “consuming fire” (Deut 4:24; Heb 12:29). A passionate love that purifies, regenerates and transfigures all things. This fire – but also this “baptism” – is fully revealed in the paschal mystery of Christ, when he, like a column of fire, opens up the path to life through the dark sea of sin and death.

There is however another fire, the charcoal fire that we find in John’s account of the third and final appearance of the risen Jesus to the disciples at the Sea of Galilee (cf. 21:9-14). It is a small fire that Jesus himself built close to the shore, as the disciples in their boats were hauling up their nets miraculously filled with fish. Simon Peter arrived first, jumping into the water, filled with joy (cf. v. 7). That charcoal fire is quiet and gentle, yet it lasts longer and is used for cooking. There on the shore of the sea, it creates a familiar setting where the disciples, amazed and moved, savour their closeness to their Lord.

Today, we do well, dear brothers and sisters to meditate together on the image of fire in both these forms, and in its light, to pray for the Cardinals, especially for those of you who in this celebration will receive the dignity and task it entails.

With those words found in the Gospel of Luke, the Lord calls us once more to follow him along the path of his mission. A fiery mission – like that of Elijah –not only for what he came to accomplish but also for how he accomplished it. And to us who in the Church have been chosen from among the people for a ministry of particular service, it is as if Jesus is handing us a lighted torch and telling us: “Take this; as the Father has sent me so I now send you” (Jn 20:21). In this way, the Lord wants to bestow on us his own apostolic courage, his zeal for the salvation of every human being, without exception. He wants to share with us his magnanimity, his boundless and unconditional love, for his heart is afire with the mercy of the Father. This is what burns in Jesus’ heart: the mercy of the Father. And within this fire, too, there is the mysterious tension of his mission, poised between fidelity to his people, to the land of promises, to those whom the Father has given him, and, at the same time, an openness to all peoples, – that universal tension –, to the horizons of the world, to peripheries as yet unknown.

This is the same powerful fire that impelled the Apostle Paul in his tireless service to the Gospel, in his “race”, his missionary zeal constantly inspired by the Spirit and by the Word. It is the fire, too, of all those men and women missionaries who have come to know the exhausting yet sweet joy of evangelizing, and whose lives themselves became a gospel, for they were before all else witnesses.

This, brothers and sisters, is the fire that Jesus came to “bring to the earth”, a fire that the Holy Spirit kindles in the hearts, hands and feet of all those who follow him. The fire of Jesus, the fire that Jesus brings.

Then there is that other fire, that of the charcoal. The Lord also wants to share this fire with us, so that like him, with meekness, fidelity, closeness and tenderness – this is God’s style: closeness, compassion and tenderness – we can lead many people to savour the presence of Jesus alive in our midst. A presence so evident, albeit in mystery, that there is no need even to ask: “Who are you?” For our hearts themselves tell us that it is he, it is the Lord. This fire burns in a particular way in the prayer of adoration, when we silently stand before the Eucharist and bask in the humble, discreet and hidden presence of the Lord. Like that charcoal fire, his presence becomes warmth and nourishment for our daily life.

That fire makes us think of the example of Saint Charles de Foucauld, who lived for years in a non-Christian environment, in the solitude of the desert, staking everything on presence: the presence of the living Jesus, in the word and in the Eucharist, and his own presence, fraternal, amicable and charitable. It also makes us think of our brothers and sisters who lives of secular consecration, in the world, nourishing a quiet and enduring fire in their workplace, in interpersonal relationships, in small acts of fraternity. Or of those priests who persevere in selfless and unassuming ministry in the midst of their parishioners. A pastor of three parishes, here in Italy, told me that he had a great deal of work. I said, “Are you able to visit all the people?” “Yes, I know everyone!” “You know everyone’s name?” “Yes, even the name of the family dog.” This is the mild kind of fire that carries on the apostolate in the light of Jesus. Then too, is it not a similar fire, conjugal holiness, that daily warms the lives of countless Christian married couples, kept aflame by simple, “homemade” prayers, gestures and tender gazes, and by the love that patiently accompanies their children on their journey of growth. Nor can we overlook the fire kept burning by the elderly: –they are a treasure, the treasure of the Church – the hearth of memory, both in the family and the life of the community. How important is the fire of the elderly! Around it families unite and learn to interpret the present in the light of past experiences and to make wise decisions.

Dear brother Cardinals, by the light and in the strength of this fire walk the holy and faithful people from whom we were taken – we, taken from the people of God – and to whom we have been sent as ministers of Christ the Lord. What does this twofold fire of Jesus, a fire both vehement and mild, say in a special way to me and to you? I think it reminds us that a man of apostolic zeal is impelled by the fire of the Spirit to be concerned, courageously, with things great and small. Remember: Saint Thomas, in the Prima Pars, says: Non coerceri a maximo, not to be confined by the greatest, contineri tamen a minimo, yet to be contained within the smallest, divinum est, is divine.

A Cardinal loves the Church, always with that same spiritual fire, whether dealing with great questions or handling everyday problems, with the powerful of this world – which he often has to do –,or those ordinary people who are great in God’s eyes. I think of the example of Cardinal Agostino Casaroli, rightly famous for his openness to promoting, through farsighted and patient dialogue the new prospects that opened up in Europe following the Cold War – may God prevent human shortsightedness from closing anew those prospects that he opened! In God’s eyes, however, the visits that he regularly made to the young inmates in a juvenile prison of Rome, where he was known simply as “Don Agostino”, were just as important. He was a great diplomat – a martyr of patience, such was his life – along with a weekly visit to the Casal del Marmo, to visit with the young people. How many other, similar examples come to mind! I think of Cardinal Van Thuân, called to shepherd the People of God in another crucial scenario of the twentieth century, who was led by the fire of his love for Christ to care for the soul of the prison guards who watched over him at the door of his prison cell. This kind of people were not afraid of the “great” or the “highest”; they also engaged the “little ones” of every day. After a meeting, during which Cardinal Casaroli had informed Saint John Paul II about his latest mission – I don’t know whether it was in Slovakia or the Czech Republic, one of those countries – when he was leaving, the Pope called him and said, “Your Eminence, one more thing: do you still go to visit the young inmates?” “Yes.” “Never leave them!” Great matters of diplomacy and small pastoral matters. This is the heart of a priest, the heart of a Cardinal.

Dear brothers and sisters, let us once more contemplate Jesus. He alone knows the secret of this lowly grandeur, this unassuming power, this universal vision ever attentive to particulars. The secret of the fire of God, which descends from heaven, brightening the sky from one end to the other, and slowly cooking the food of poor families, migrant and homeless persons. Today too, Jesus wants to bring this fire to the earth. He wants to light it anew on the shores of our daily lives. Jesus calls us by name, each one of us, he calls us by name: we are not a number; he looks us in the eye – let us each allow ourselves to be looked at in the eye – and he asks: you, who are a new Cardinal – and all of you, brother Cardinals –, Can I count on you? That is the Lord’s question.

27.08.22 e

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

We recently celebrated the Assumption into heaven of the Mother of Jesus. This mystery illuminates the fulfilment of the grace that shaped Mary's destiny, and it also illuminates our destination, doesn’t it? The destination is heaven. With this image of the Virgin assumed into heaven, I would like to conclude the cycle of catecheses on old age. In the West, we contemplate her lifted up, enveloped in glorious light; in the East she is depicted reclining, sleeping, surrounded by the Apostles in prayer, while the Risen Lord holds her in his hands like a child.

Theology has always reflected on the relationship of this singular ‘assumption’ with death, which the dogma does not define. I think it would be even more important to make explicit the relationship of this mystery with the resurrection of the Son, which opens the way for the generation of life for us all. In the divine act of reuniting Mary with the Risen Christ, the normal bodily corruption of human death, and not only this, is not simply transcended, the bodily assumption of the life of God is anticipated. In fact, the destiny of the resurrection that pertains to us is anticipated: because, according to Christian faith, the Risen One is the firstborn of many brothers and sisters. The Risen Lord is the one who went first, first, who rose first, in the first place; then we will go, but this is our destiny: to rise again.

We could say — following Jesus' words to Nicodemus — that it is a little like a second birth (cf. Jn 3:3-8). If the first was a birth on earth, this second is a birth in heaven. It is no coincidence that the Apostle Paul, in the text that was read at the beginning, speaks of the pains of childbirth (cf. Rom 8:22). Just as, in the moment we come out of our mother's womb, we are still ourselves, the same human being that was in the womb; so, after death, we are born to heaven, to God's space, and we are still ourselves, who walked on this earth. It is analogous to what happened to Jesus: the Risen One is still Jesus: he does not lose his humanity, his experience, or even his corporality, no, because without it he would no longer be himself, he would not be Jesus: that is, with his humanity, with his lived experience.

The experience of the disciples, to whom he appears for forty days after his resurrection, tells us this. The Lord shows them the wounds that sealed his sacrifice; but they are no longer the ugliness of the painfully suffered disgrace, they are now the indelible proof of his faithful love to the very end. The risen Jesus with his body lives in the Trinitarian intimacy of God! And in it he does not lose his memory, he does not abandon his history, he does not dissolve the relationships he lived on earth. To his friends he promised: ‘And if I go and prepare a place for you – He left to prepare a place for us, for all of us – and if 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). And he will come, not only will he come at the end for everyone, he will come each time for each one of us. He will come to seek us out to bring us to him. In this sense, death is a kind of step toward the encounter with Jesus who is waiting for me to bring me to him.

The Risen One lives in God’s world, where there is a place for everyone, where a new earth is being formed, and the heavenly city, man’s final dwelling place, is being built. We cannot imagine this transfiguration of our mortal corporality, but we are certain that it will keep our faces recognizable and allow us to remain human in God’s heaven. It will allow us to participate, with sublime emotion, in the infinite and blissful exuberance of God's creative act, whose endless adventures we will experience first-hand.

When Jesus speaks of the Kingdom of God, he describes it as a wedding feast; as a party, that is, like a party, a party with friends awaits us; as the work that makes the house perfect, and the surprise that makes the harvest richer than the sowing. Taking seriously the Gospel words about the Kingdom enables our sensitivities to enjoy God’s working and creative love, and puts us in tune with the unprecedented destination of the life we sow. In our old age, my dear contemporaries – and I speak to the old men and old women – in our old age, the importance of the many ‘details’ of which life is made — a caress, a smile, a gesture, an appreciated effort, an unexpected surprise, a hospitable cheerfulness, a faithful bond — becomes more acute. The essentials of life, which we hold most dear as we approach our farewell, become definitively clear to us. See: this wisdom of old age is the place of our gestation, which illuminates the lives of children, of young people, of adults, of the entire community. We, the elderly should be this for others: light for others. Our whole life appears like a seed that will have to be buried so that its flower and its fruit can be born. It will be born, along with everything else in the world. Not without labour pains, not without pain, but it will be born (cf. Jn 16:21-23). And the life of the risen body will be a hundred and a thousand times more alive than we have tasted it on this earth (cf. Mk 10:28-31).

Dear brothers and sisters, the Risen Lord, not by chance, while waiting for the Apostles by the lake, roasts some fish (cf. Jn 21:9) and then offers it to them. This gesture of caring love gives us a glimpse of what awaits us as we cross to the other shore. Yes, dear brothers and sisters, especially you elderly, the best of life is yet to come. ‘But we are old, what more is yet to come?’ The best, because the best of life is yet to come. Let us hope, let us hope for this fulness of life that awaits us all, when the Lord calls us. May the Mother of the Lord and our Mother, who has preceded us to heaven, restore to us the eager anticipation of expectation, because it is not an anaesthetized expectation, it is not a bored expectation, no, it is an expectation with eager anticipation, it is an expectation: ‘When will my Lord come? When will I be able to go there?’ A little bit of fear, because I don’t know what this passage means, and passing through that door causes a little fear – but there is always the hand of the Lord that carries us forward, and beyond the door there is the party.

Let us be attentive, dear old people, contemporaries, let us be attentive. He is expecting us. Just one passage, and then the party.

Thank you.

24.08.22 e

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

In the passage from the Gospel of Luke for this Sunday’s liturgy, someone asks Jesus, “will those who are saved be few?” And the Lord responds: “Strive to enter through the narrow door” (Lk 13:24). The narrow door…this is an image that could scare us, as if salvation is destined for only a few elect, or perfect people. But this contradicts what Jesus taught us on many other occasions. And, as a matter of fact, a little further ahead, he confirms, “People will come from east and west, and from north and south, and recline at table in the kingdom of God” (v. 29). Therefore, this door is narrow, but is open to everyone! Do not forget this. The door is open to everyone!

But to better understand, what this narrow door is, we need to ask what it is. Jesus was using an image from contemporary life, most likely referring to the fact that, when evening would fall, the doors of the city would be closed and only one, the smallest and the narrowest, would remain open. To return home, someone could get through only there.

Now let’s think about when Jesus says, “I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved” (Jn 10:9). He wants to tell us that to enter into God’s life, into salvation, we need to pass through him, not through another one, through him; to welcome him and his Word. Just as to enter into the city, someone had to “measure” the same as the only remaining open narrow door, so too the Christian door is a life whose “measure is Christ”, founded and modeled on him. This means that the rule of measure is Jesus and his Gospel – not what we think, but what he says to us. So, we are talking about a narrow door not because only a few are destined to go through it, no, but because to belong to Christ means to follow him, to live one’s life in love, in service, and in giving oneself as he did, who passed through the narrow door of the cross. Entering into the project God proposes for our life requires that we restrict the space of egoism, reduce the presumption of self-sufficiency, lower the heights of pride and arrogance, and that we overcome laziness, in order to traverse the risk of love, even when it involves the cross.

Let’s think, in concrete terms, about those daily acts of love that we struggle to carry on with: let’s think of the parents who dedicate themselves to their children, making sacrifices and renouncing time for themselves; of those who concern themselves about others and not only about their own interests (how many people are good like this); let’s think of those who spend themselves in service to the elderly, to the poorest and most vulnerable; let’s think of those who keep on working committedly, putting up with discomfort and, perhaps, with misunderstanding; let’s think of those who suffer because of their faith, but who continue to pray and love; let’s think of those who, rather than following their own instincts, respond to evil with good, finding the strength to forgive and the courage to begin again. These are just a few examples of people who do not choose the wide door of their own convenience, but the narrow door of Jesus, of a life spent in loving. The Lord says today that the Father will recognize them much more than those who believe they are already saved but who are actually “workers of evil” (Lk 13:27) in life.

Brothers and sisters, which side do we want to be on? Do we prefer the easy way of thinking only about ourselves, or do we choose the narrow door of the Gospel that puts our selfishness into crisis, but which makes us able to welcome the true life that comes from God and makes us happy? Which side are we on? May Our Lady, who followed Jesus all the way to the cross, help us to measure our life with him so as to enter into the fullness of eternal life.

21.08.22 e

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

The words we heard of Daniel’s dream evoke a mysterious, and at the same time, glorious, vision of God. This vision is picked up at the beginning of the Book of Revelation in reference to the Risen Jesus, who appears to the Seer as Messiah, Priest and King, eternal, omniscient and unchanging (1:12-15). He lays his hand on the shoulder of the Seer and reassures him, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold, I am alive forevermore” (vv. 17-18).  The Living One reassures us, he gives us security. He too died, but now occupies the place destined for him –the First and the Last place.

In this intertwining of symbols there is an aspect that perhaps might help us better understand the connection of this theophany, this apparition of God, with the cycle of life, historical time, the lordship of God over the created world. And this aspect is specifically connected with old age. How is it connected? Let’s see.

The vision communicates an impression of vigour and strength, of nobility, of beauty and charm. His clothing, his eyes, his voice, his feet – everything is glorious in this vision: it is all about a vision! His hair, however, is white – like wool, like snow – like the hair of an old man. The most widely-used biblical term indicating an old man is “zaqen”, which comes from “zaqan”, and means “beard”. Snow-white hair is an ancient symbol of a very long time, of time immemorial, of an eternal existence. We do not need to demythologize everything for children – the image of a God, who is watching over everything with snow-white hair, is not a silly symbol, it is a biblical image, it is a noble image, even a tender image. The Figure in Revelation that stands amidst the golden lampstands overlaps that of the “Ancient of days” in Daniel’s prophecy. He is as old as all of humanity, but even older. He is as ancient and new as the eternity of God. For the eternity of God is like this, ancient and new, because God surprises us with his newness, he always comes to meet us every day in a special way for us, in that moment. He is always renewing himself: God is eternal, he is from all time, we can say that there is like an old age with God, that’s not true, but he is eternal, he renews himself.

In the Eastern Churches, the Feast of the Meeting with the Lord, celebrated on 2 February, is one of the twelve great feasts of the liturgical year. This feast places emphasis on the meeting of Jesus with the old man Simeon in the Temple, it places emphasis on the meeting between humanity, represented by the watchman Simeon, and Anna, with the little Lord Christ, the eternal Son of God, made man. 

In the Byzantine liturgy, the Bishop prays with Simeon: “He is the child born of the Virgin. He is the Word and God of God, the One, who for our sake was incarnate and saved man.” And it continues, “The door of heaven is opened today: the eternal Word of the Father, having assumed a temporal nature, without giving up his divinity, is presented by his will in the temple under the Law by the Virgin Mary, and the watchman takes him in his arms”. These words express the profession of faith from the first four Ecumenical Councils, which are sacred for all the Churches. But Simeon’s action is also the most beautiful icon for the special vocation of old age. Looking at Simeon, we behold the most beautiful icon of old age – to present the children who come into the world as an uninterrupted gift to God, knowing that one of them is the Son generated within God’s own intimacy, before all the ages.

Old age, on its way to a world in which the love that God has infused into Creation will finally radiate without obstacles, must accomplish this gesture performed by Simeon and Anna, before taking its leave. Old age must bear witness – for me this is the core, the most central aspect of old age – old age must bear witness to children that they are a blessing. This witness consists in their initiation – beautiful and difficult – into the mystery of our destination in life that no one can annihilate, not even death. To bring the witness of faith before a child is to sow that life. To bear the witness of humanity too, and of faith, is the vocation of the elderly. To give children the reality that they have lived as a witness, to bear witness. We old people are called to this, to bear witness, so that they might bring it forward.

The witness of the elderly is credible to children. Young people and adults are not capable of bearing witness in such an authentic, tender, poignant way, as elderly people can. It is irresistible when an old person blesses life as it comes their way, laying aside any resentment for life as it goes away. There is no bitterness because time is passing by and he or she is about to move on. No. There is that joy of good wine, of wine that has aged well with the years. The witness of the elderly unites the generations of life, the same with the dimensions of time: past, present and future, for they are not only the memory, they are the present as well as the promise. It is painful – and harmful – to see that the ages of life are conceived of as separate worlds, in competition among themselves, each one seeking to live at the expense of the other: this is not right. Humanity is ancient, very ancient, if we consider time measured by the clock. But the Son of God, who was born of a woman, is the First and the Last for every time. This means that no one falls outside of his eternal generation, outside of his glorious might, outside of his loving proximity.

The alliance between the elderly and children will save the human family. There is a future where children, where young people speak with the elderly. If this dialogue does not take place between the elderly and the young, the future cannot be clearly seen. Can we please give back to children, who need to learn to be born, the tender witness of the elderly who possess the wisdom of dying? Will this humanity, which with all its progress seems to be an adolescent born yesterday, be able to retrieve the grace of an old age that holds firmly to the horizon of our destination? Death is certainly a difficult passage from life for all of us it is a difficult passage. All of us must go there, but it is not easy. But death is also a passage that concludes the time of uncertainty and throws away the clock. This is difficult because this is the passage of death. For the beautiful part of life, which has no more deadlines, begins precisely then. But it begins from the wisdom of that man and that woman, the elderly, who are capable of bearing witness to the young. Let us think about dialogue, about the alliance between the elderly and children, of the elderly with young people, and let us do it in such a way that this bond is not broken. May the elderly have the joy of speaking, of expressing themselves with the young, and may the young seek out the elderly to receive the wisdom of life from them.

17.08.22 e

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

Today, Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Gospel offers us the dialogue between her and her cousin Elizabeth. When Mary enters the house and greets Elizabeth, the latter says: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb” (Lk 1:42). These words, full of faith and joy and wonder, have become part of the “Hail Mary”. Every time we recite this prayer, so beautiful and familiar, we do as Elizabeth did: we greet Mary and we bless her, because she brings Jesus to us.

Mary accepts Elizabeth’s blessing and replies with the canticle, a gift for us, for all history: the Magnificat. It is a song of praise. We can define it as the “canticle of hope”. It is a hymn of praise and exultation for the great things that the Lord has accomplished in her, but Mary goes further: she contemplates the work of God in the entire history of her people. She says, for example, that the Lord “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty” (vv. 52-53). As we listen to these words, we might ask ourselves: is the Virgin not exaggerating a little, perhaps, describing a world that does not exist? Indeed, what she says does not seem to correspond to reality; while she speaks, the powerful of the time have not been brought down: the fearsome Herod, for example, is still firmly on his throne. And the poor and hungry remain so, while the rich continue to prosper.

What does that canticle of Mary mean? What is the meaning? She does not intend to chronicle the time – she is not a journalist – but to tell us something much more important: that God, through her, has inaugurated a historical turning point, he has definitively established a new order of things. She, small and humble, has been raised up and – we celebrate this today – brought to the glory of Heaven, while the powerful of the world are destined to remain empty-handed. Think of the parable of that rich man who had a beggar, Lazarus, in front of his door. How did he end up? Empty-handed. Our Lady, in other words, announces a radical change, an overturning of values. While she speaks with Elizabeth, carrying Jesus in her womb, she anticipates what her Son will say, when he will proclaim blessed the poor and humble, and warn the rich and those who base themselves on their own self-sufficiency. The Virgin, then, prophesies with this canticle, with this prayer: she prophesies that it will not be power, success and money that will prevail, but rather service, humility and love will prevail. And as we look at her, in glory, we understand that the true power is service – let us not forget this: the true power is service – and to reign means to love. And that this is the road to Heaven. It is this.

So, let us look at ourselves, and let us ask ourselves: will this prophetic reversal announced by Mary affect my life? Do I believe that to love is to reign, and to serve is power? Do I believe that the purpose of my life is Heaven, it is paradise? To spend it well here. Or am I concerned only with worldly, material things? Again, as I observe world events, do I let myself be entrapped by pessimism or, like the Virgin, am I able to discern the work of God who, through gentleness and smallness, achieves great things? Brothers and sisters, Mary today sings of hope and rekindles hope in us: in her, we see the destination of our journey. She is the first creature who, with her whole self, body and soul, victoriously crosses the finish line of Heaven. She shows us that Heaven is within reach. How come? Yes, Heaven is within reach, if we too do not give in to sin, if we praise God in humility and serve others generously. Do not give in to sin. But some might say, “But, Father, I am weak” – “But the Lord is always near you, because he is merciful”. Do not forget God’s style: proximity, compassion and tenderness. Always close to us, with his style. Our Mother takes us by the hand, she accompanies us to glory, she invites us to rejoice as we think of heaven. Let us bless Mary with our prayer, and let us ask her to be capable of glimpsing Heaven on earth.

15.08.22 e

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

In the Gospel of today’s liturgy there is an expression of Jesus which always strikes us and challenges us. While he is walking with his disciples, he says: “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” (Lk 12:49). What fire is he talking about? And what is the meaning of these words for us today, this fire that Jesus brings?

As we know, Jesus came to bring to the world the Gospel, that is, the good news of God’s love for each one of us. Therefore, he is telling us that the Gospel is like a fire, because it is a message that, when it erupts into history, burns the old balances of living, burns the old balances of living, challenges us to come out of our individualism, challenges us to overcome selfishness, challenges us to shift from the slavery of sin and death to the new life of the Risen One, of the Risen Jesus. In other words, the Gospel does not leave things as they are; when the Gospel passes, and is listened to and received, things do not stay as they are. The Gospel provokes change and invites conversion. It does not dispense a false intimist peace, but sparks a restlessness that sets us in motion, and drives us to open up to God and to our brothers. It is just like fire: while it warms us with God’s love, it wants to burn our selfishness, to enlighten the dark sides of life – we all have them, eh! – to consume the false idols that enslave us.

In the wake of the Biblical prophets – think, for example, of Elijah and Jeremiah – Jesus is inflamed by God’s love and, to make it spread throughout the world, he expends himself personally, loving up to the end, that is, up to death, and death on the cross (cf. Phil 2:8). He is filled with the Holy Spirit, who is compared to fire, and with his light and his strength, he unveils the mysterious face of God and gives fullness to those considered lost, breaks down the barriers of marginalization, heals the wounds of the body and the soul, and renews a religiosity that was reduced to external practices. This is why he is fire: he changes, purifies.

So, what does that word of Jesus mean for us, for each one of us – for me, for you, for you – what does this word of Jesus, about fire, mean for us? It invites us to rekindle the flame of faith, so that it does not become a secondary matter, or a means to individual wellbeing, enabling us to evade the challenges of life or commitment in the Church and society. Indeed – as a theologian said – faith in God “reassures us – but not on our level, or so to produce a paralyzing illusion, or a complacent satisfaction, but so as to enable us to act” (De Lubac, The Discovery of God). In short, faith is not a “lullaby” that lulls us to sleep. True faith is a fire, a living flame to keep us wakeful and active even at night!

And then, we might wonder: am I passionate about the Gospel? Do I read the Gospel often? Do I carry it with me? Does the faith I profess and celebrate lead me to complacent tranquility or does it ignite the flame of witness in me? We can also ask ourselves this question as. Church: in our communities, does the fire of the Spirit burn, with the passion for prayer and charity, and the joy of faith? Or do we drag ourselves along in weariness and habit, with a downcast face, and a lament on our lips, and gossip every day? Brothers and sisters, let us examine ourselves on this, so that we too can say, like Jesus: we are inflamed with the fire of God’s love, and we want to spread it around the world, to take it to everyone, so that each person may discover the tenderness of the Father and experience the joy of Jesus, who enlarges the heart – and Jesus enlarges the heart! – and makes life beautiful. Let us pray to the Holy Virgin for this: may she, who welcomed the fire of the Holy Spirit, intercede for us.

14.08.22 e

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

We are now at the last catechesis dedicated to old age. Today we enter into the moving intimacy of Jesus’ farewell to his followers, amply recounted in the Gospel of John. The parting discourse begins with words of consolation and promise: “Let not your hearts be troubled” (Jn 14:1). “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” (14:3). They are beautiful, these words of the Lord.

Shortly beforehand, Jesus had said to Peter, “You shall follow afterward” (13:36), reminding him of the passage through the fragility of his faith. The time of life that remains to the disciples will be, inevitably, a passage through the fragility of witness and through the challenges of brotherhood. But it will also be a passage through the exciting blessings of faith: “He who believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these he will do” (14:12). Think what a promise this is! I do not know if we think of it fully, if we believe in it fully! I don’t know, at times I think not.

Old age is the fitting time for the moving and joyful witness of expectation. The elderly man and woman are waiting, waiting for an encounter. In old age the works of faith, which bring us and others closer to the Kingdom of God, are by now beyond the power of the energy, words, and impulses of youth and maturity. But precisely in this way they make the promise of the true destination of life even more transparent. And what is the true destination of life? A place at the table with God, in the world of God. It would be interesting to see whether in the local Churches there is any specific reference intended to revitalize this special ministry of awaiting the Lord – it is a ministry, the ministry of awaiting the Lord – encouraging individual charisms and community qualities of the elderly person.

An old age that is consumed in the dejection of missed opportunities brings despondency to oneself and to others. Instead, old age lived with gentleness, lived with respect for real life, definitively dissolves the misconception of a Church that adapts to the worldly condition, thinking that by so doing it can definitively govern its perfection and fulfilment. When we free ourselves from this presumption, the time of aging that God grants us is already in itself one of those “greater” works Jesus speaks of. In effect, it is a task that Jesus was not given to fulfil: his death, his resurrection and his ascent to heaven made it possible for us! Let us remember that “time is superior to space”. It is the law of initiation. Our life is not made to be wrapped up in itself, in an imaginary earthly perfection: it is destined to go beyond, through the passage of death – because death is a passage. Indeed, our stable place, our destination is not here, it is beside the Lord, where he dwells forever.

Here, on earth, the process of our “novitiate” begins: we are apprentices of life, who – amid a thousand difficulties – learn to appreciate God’s gift, honouring the responsibility of sharing it and making it bear fruit for everyone. The time of life on earth is the grace of this passage. The conceit of stopping time – of wanting eternal youth, unlimited wellbeing, absolute power – is not only impossible, it is delusional.

Our existence on earth is the time of the initiation of life: it is life, but one that leads you towards a fuller life, the initiation of the fuller one; a life which finds fulfilment only in God. We are imperfect from the very beginning, and we remain imperfect up to the end. In the fulfilment of God’s promise, the relationship is inverted: the space of God, which Jesus prepares for us with the utmost care, is superior to the time of our mortal life. Hence: old age brings closer the hope of this fulfilment. Old age knows definitively, by now, the meaning of time and the limitations of the place in which we live our initiation. This is why old age is wise: the elderly are wise for this reason. This is why it is credible when it invites us to rejoice in the passing of time: it is not a threat, it is a promise. Old age is noble, it does not need to beautify itself to show its nobility. Perhaps the disguise comes when nobility is lacking. Old age is credible when it invites one to rejoice in the passing of time: but time passes … Yes, but this is not a threat, it is a promise. The old age that rediscovers the depth of the gaze of faith is not conservative by nature, as they say! God’s world is an infinite space, in which the passage of time no longer carries any weight. And it was precisely at the Last Supper that Jesus projected himself towards this goal, when he said to his disciples: “I tell you I shall not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom” (Mt 26:29). He went beyond. In our preaching, Paradise is often rightly full of beatitude, of light, of love. Perhaps it lacks a little life. Jesus, in the parables, spoke of the kingdom of God by putting more life into it. Are we no longer capable of this? The life that continues…

Dear brothers and sisters, old age, lived in the expectation of the Lord, can become the fulfilled “apologia” of faith, which gives grounds, for everyone, for our hope for all (cf. 1 Pt 3:15). Because old age renders Jesus’ promise transparent, projecting towards the Holy City of which the Book of Revelation speaks (chapters 21-22). Old age is the phase in life most suited to spreading the joyful news that life is the initiation to a final fulfilment. The elderly are a promise, a witness of promise. And the best is yet to come. The best is yet to come: it is like the message of elderly believers, the best is yet to come. May God grant us all an old age capable of this! Thank you.

10.08.22 e

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

In the Gospel of today’s Liturgy, Jesus speaks to the disciples to reassure them of any fear and to invite them to be vigilant. He addresses two fundamental exhortations to them: the first is, “Do not be afraid, little flock” (Lk 12:32); the second is, “Be ready” [literal translation of v. 35 used in the Italian original]. “Do not be afraid” and “be ready”. They are two key words for conquering the fears that paralyze us at times, and to overcome the temptation of a passive, slumbering life. “Do not be afraid” and “Be ready”. Let us look at these two invitations.

Do not be afraid. First of all, Jesus encourages the disciples. He has just finished speaking to them about the loving and provident care of the Father, who cares for the lilies of the fields and the birds of the air, and therefore, all the more for his children. So there is no need to worry and fret for our lives are firmly in God’s hands. We are heartened by Jesus’ invitation not to fear. Indeed, at times we feel imprisoned by a feeling of distrust and anxiety. It is the fear of failure, of not being acknowledged and loved, the fear of not being able to realize our plans, of never being happy, and so on. And so, we struggle to find solutions, to find a space in which to get out of the cycle, to accumulate goods and wealth, to obtain security. And where does this take us? We end up living anxiously and constantly worrying. Instead, Jesus reassures us: Do not be afraid! Trust in the Father who wants to give you all you truly need. He has already given you his Son, his Kingdom, and he will always accompany you with his providence, taking care of you every day. Do not be afraid -- this is the certainty that your hearts should be attached to! Do not be afraid – a heart attached to this certainty. Do not be afraid.

But knowing that the Lord watches over us with love does not entitle us to slumber, to let ourselves succumb to laziness! On the contrary, we must be alert, vigilant. Indeed, to love means being attentive to the other, being aware of his or her needs, being willing to listen and welcome, being ready.

The second word. Be ready. This is the second invitation today. This is Christian wisdom. Jesus repeats this invitation several times. And today he does so through three short parables, centred on the master of a house who, in the first, returns unexpectedly from a wedding banquet; in the second, does not want to be surprised by thieves; and in the third, returns from a long journey. The message in all of them is it is necessary to stay awake, not to fall asleep, that is, not to be distracted, not to give in to inner idleness, because the Lord comes even in situations in which we do not expect him. To be attentive to the Lord, not to go to sleep. We need to stay alert.

And at the end of our life, he will call us to account for the goods he has entrusted to us. Therefore, being vigilant also means being responsible, that is, safeguarding and administering those goods faithfully. We have received so much: life, faith, family, relationships, work, but also the places where we live, our city, creation. We have received so many things. Let us try to ask ourselves: Do we take care of this inheritance the Lord has left us? Do we safeguard its beauty or do we use things only for ourselves and for our immediate convenience? We have to think a little about this – are we guardians of the creation that has been given to us?

Brothers and sisters, let us walk without fear, in the certainty that the Lord accompanies us always. And let us stay awake lest we be asleep when the Lord passes by. Saint Augustine used to say, “I am afraid that the Lord will pass by and I will not notice”. To be asleep, and not to notice that the Lord passes by. Stay alert! May the Virgin Mary help us, who welcomed the Lord’s visit and readily and generously said, “Here I am”.

07.08.22 e

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

Today I would like to share some reflections with you on the apostolic journey I made to Canada in recent days. It was unlike the other journeys. In fact, the main motivation was to meet the indigenous peoples to express to them my closeness and my sorrow, and to ask for forgiveness – to ask for forgiveness – for the harm done to them by those Christians, including many Catholics, who in. the past collaborated in the forced assimilation and enfranchisement policies of the governments of the time.

In this sense, Canada has embarked on the process of writing a new page, a new page, in the journey that the Church has been making together with the indigenous peoples for some time. And indeed, the motto of the journey, “Walking together” explains this somewhat. A path of reconciliation and healing, which presupposes historical knowledge, listening to the survivors, awareness and above all conversion, a change of mentality. This in-depth study shows that, on the one hand, some men and women of the Church were among the most decisive and courageous supporters of the dignity of the indigenous peoples, coming to their defence and contributing to raising awareness of their languages and cultures; but, on the other hand, there was unfortunately no shortage of Christians, that is, priests, men and women religious and laypeople, who participated in programmes that today we understand are unacceptable and also contrary to the Gospel. And this is why I went to ask for forgiveness, on behalf of the Church.

It was therefore a penitential pilgrimage. There were many joyful moments, but the overall meaning and tone was reflection, repentance and reconciliation. Four months ago, I received in the Vatican, in separate groups, representatives of the indigenous peoples: there were six meetings in total, to prepare a little for this meeting.

There were three main stages in the pilgrimage: the first, in Edmonton, in the western part of the country. The second, in Québec, in the east. And the third in the north, in Iqaluit, maybe 300 kilometres from the arctic circle. The first meeting took place in Maskwacis – “Bear Hills” – where the leaders and members of the main indigenous groups gathered, from all over the country: First Nations, Métis and Inuit. Together we remembered: the good memory of the thousand-year history of these peoples, in harmony with their land. This is one of the most beautiful things about the indigenous peoples, their harmony with the land. They never mistreat creation, never. In harmony with the land. And we recounted the painful memory of the abuse they suffered, also in the residential schools, as a result of cultural assimilation policies.

After remembrance, the second step of our journey was that of reconciliation. Not a compromise between us – it would be an illusion, a mise en scène – but allowing ourselves to be reconciled by Christ, who is our peace (cf. Eph 2: 14). We did this by keeping as a point of reference the image of the tree, central to the life and symbolism of the indigenous peoples.

Remembrance, reconciliation, and therefore healing. We took this third step of the journey on the banks of Lac Sainte-Anne, precisely on the day of the feast of Saints Joachim and Anne. We can all draw from Christ, source of water, and there, in Jesus, we saw the proximity of the Father who heals wounds and also forgives sins.

From this journey of remembrance, reconciliation and healing springs hope for the Church, in Canada and everywhere. And there, the image of the disciples of Emmaus who, after walking with the risen Jesus, with Him and because of Him, passed from failure to hope (cf. Lk 24:13-35). How many times in history have Christ’s disciples retraced this road of Emmaus!

As I said at the beginning, the journey together with the indigenous peoples formed the backbone of this apostolic journey. The two meetings with the local Church and with the Authorities of the country, to whom I wish to reiterate my sincere gratitude for their great hospitality and the warm welcome they gave me and my collaborators. And the same to the bishops. Before the Governors, indigenous leaders and the diplomatic corps, I reaffirmed the active will of the Holy See and the local Catholic communities to promote the indigenous cultures, with appropriate spiritual paths and with attention to the customs and languages of the peoples. At the same time, I noted how the colonizing mentality is present today in various forms of ideological colonization, threatening the traditions, history and religious bonds of peoples, erasing differences, focusing only on the present and often neglecting duties towards the weakest and most fragile. It is therefore a matter of recovering a healthy balance, to recover harmony, which is more than balance, it is something else; to recover harmony between modernity and ancestral cultures, between secularization and spiritual values. And this directly addresses the mission of the Church, sent all over the world to bear witness to and “sow” a universal fraternity that respects and promotes the local dimension with its multiple riches (cf. Encyclical Letter Fratelli tutti, 142-153). I have already said it, but I wish to reaffirm my thanks to the civil authorities, the Governor General, the Prime Minister, the local authorities of the places where I went: I thank you very much for the way in which you helped this to be done. And I thank the bishops, I thank them above all for the unity of the episcopate: this was possible, on our part, because the bishops were united, and where there is unity one can proceed. Therefore, I would like to emphasize this and to thank the bishops of Canada for this unity.

And the last meeting was marked by hope, in the land of the Inuit, with the young and the elderly. And I assure you that in these meetings, especially the last one, I had to feel the blows of the pain of those people, what they had lost… the elderly who had last their children and did not know what had become of them, due to this policy of assimilation. It was a very painful moment, but one we must face up to: we must face up to our errors, our sins. In Canada too, the young and the elderly form a key pairing, a sign of the times: the young and the elderly in dialogue so as to journey together in history amid remembrance and prophecy, which are in tension. May the fortitude and pacific action of the indigenous peoples of Canada be an example for all originary peoples not to close themselves up, but to offer their indispensable contribution for a more fraternal humanity, that knows how to love creation and the Creator, in harmony with creation, in harmony between you all. Thank you.

03.08.22 e