News September 2023

“Together”. Like the early Christian community on the Day of Pentecost. Like one flock, loved and gathered by one Shepherd, Jesus. Like the great crowd in the Book of Revelation we are here, brothers and sisters “from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (Rev 7:9), from different communities and countries, daughters and sons of the same Father, inspired by the Spirit received in baptism, and called to the same hope (cf. Eph 4:4-5).

Thank you for your presence. Thank you to the Taizé Community for this initiative. With great affection, I greet the Heads of Churches, the leaders and delegations of the different Christian traditions and all of you, especially the young people: thank you for coming to pray for us and with us, in Rome, prior to the Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, and on the eve of the spiritual retreat that precedes it. “Syn-odos”: let us walk together, not only Catholics, but all Christians, all of the baptized, the whole People of God, because “only the whole can be the unity of all” (cf. J.A. MÖHLER, Symbolism).

Like the great crowd in the Book of Revelation, we prayed in silence, listening to a “great silence” (cf. Rev 8:1). Indeed, silence is important and powerful: it can express unspeakable sorrow in the face of misfortune, but also, in moments of joy, a gladness that goes beyond words.  That is why I would like to reflect briefly with you on its importance in the life of the believer, in the life of the Church and in the journey of Christian unity.  The importance of silence.

First, silence is essential in the life of the believer. Indeed, it lies at the beginning and end of Christ’s earthly existence. The Word, the Word of the Father, became “silence” in the manger and on the cross, on the night of the Nativity and on the night of his Passion. This evening, we Christians have been silent before the San Damiano Cross, as disciples listening before the cross, the Master’s throne. Ours was not an empty silence, but a moment filled with faith, expectation and readiness. In a world full of noise, we are no longer accustomed to silence; indeed sometimes we struggle with it, because silence forces us to face God and ourselves. Yet it lies at the foundation of the word and of life. Saint Paul tells us that the mystery of the Incarnate Word was “kept secret for long ages” (Rom 16:25), teaching us that silence guards the mystery, as Abraham guarded the Covenant, as Mary guarded in her womb and pondered in her heart the life of her Son (cf. Lk 1:31; 2:19.51). Moreover, truth does not need loud cries to reach people’s hearts.  God does not like declarations and shouting, gossiping and noise: rather, he prefers, as he did with Elijah, to speak in the “still small voice” (1 Kings 19:12), in a “thread of resounding silence”. We too, then, like Abraham, like Elijah, like Mary, need to free ourselves from so much noise in order to hear his voice. For only in our silence does his word resound.

Second, silence is essential in the life of the Church. The Acts of the Apostles says that after Peter’s discourse to the Council of Jerusalem, “the whole assembly kept silence” (Acts 15:12), preparing to receive the testimony of Paul and Barnabas about the signs and wonders God had performed among the nations. This reminds us that silence, in the ecclesial community, makes fraternal communication possible, where the Holy Spirit draws together points of view, because he is harmony. To be synodal is to welcome one another like this, in the knowledge that we all have something to share and to learn, gathering together to listen to the “Spirit of truth” (Jn 14:17) in order to know what the Lord “is saying to the churches” (Rev 2:7). What is more, silence enables true discernment, through attentive listening to the Spirit’s “sighs too deep for words” (Rom 8:26) that echo, often hidden, within the People of God. Therefore, let us ask the Holy Spirit to bestow the gift of listening on the participants of the Synod: “listening to God, that with him we may hear the cry of the people; to listen to the people until breathing in the will to which God calls us” (Address at the Prayer Vigil in Preparation for the Synod on the Family, 4 October 2014).

Finally, the third element: silence is essential for the journey of Christian unity. Indeed, it is fundamental to prayer, and ecumenism begins with prayer and is sterile without it. Jesus himself prayed that his disciples “may all be one” (Jn 17:21). The silence that is prayer enables us to accept the gift of unity “as Christ wills it… by the means he chooses” (cf. ABBÉ COUTURIER, Prayer for Unity), not as the fruit of our own efforts and according to purely human criteria. The more we turn together to the Lord in prayer, the more we feel that it is he who purifies us and unites us beyond our differences. Christian unity grows in silence before the cross, just like the seeds we will receive, which represent the different gifts bestowed by the Holy Spirit on the various traditions: it is up to us to sow them, in the certainty that God alone brings about the growth (cf 1 Cor 3:6). They will be a sign for us, who are called in turn quietly to die to selfishness in order, through the action of the Holy Spirit, to grow in communion with God and in fraternity among ourselves.

That is why, brothers and sisters, in common prayer we ask to learn again to be silent: to listen to the voice of the Father, the call of Jesus and the groaning of the Spirit. Let us ask that the Synod be a kairós of fraternity, a place where the Holy Spirit will purify the Church from gossip, ideologies and polarization. As we approach the important anniversary of the great Council of Nicaea, let us ask that we may know how, like the Magi, to worship in unity and in silence the mystery of God made man, certain that the closer we are to Christ, the more united we will be among ourselves. And as the wise men from the East were led to Bethlehem by a star, so may the heavenly light guide us to our one Lord and to the unity for which he prayed. Brothers and sisters, let us set out together, eager to meet him, worship him and proclaim him, “so that the world may believe” (Jn 17:21).

30.09.23 ec

Thinking of this celebration and particularly of you, dear brothers, who would become Cardinals, a text from the Acts of the Apostles came to mind (cf. 2:1-11). It is a fundamental text: the story of Pentecost, the baptism of the Church… But my thoughts were really drawn to one detail: the expression spoken by the Jews who “were dwelling in Jerusalem” (v. 5). They said: We are “Parthians and Medes and Elamites” (v. 9) and so on. This long list of peoples made me think of the Cardinals, who thanks be to God, are from all parts of the world, from the most diverse nations. That is the reason I chose this biblical passage.

Meditating on this, I became aware of a kind of “surprise” hidden in this association of ideas, a surprise in which, with joy, I seemed to recognize the humor of the Holy Spirit, so to speak. Please excuse the expression.

What is this “surprise”? It consists in the fact that normally we pastors, when we read the account of Pentecost, identify ourselves with the Apostles. It is natural to do so. Instead, those “Parthians, Medes, Elamites” et cetera, associated in my mind with the Cardinals, do not belong to the group of disciples. They are outside the Upper Room; they are part of the “crowd” that “gathered” upon hearing the noise of the rushing wind (cf. v. 6). The Apostles were “all Galileans” (cf. v. 7), while the people who gathered were “from every nation under heaven” (v. 5), just like the Bishops and Cardinals of our time.

This kind of role reversal gives us pause for thought and, when we look closely, it reveals an interesting perspective, which I would like to share with you. It is a matter of applying to ourselves – I will put myself first – the experience of those Jews who by a gift of God found themselves protagonists of the event of Pentecost, that is of the “baptism” by the Holy Spirit that gave birth to the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church. I would summarize the perspective in this way: to rediscover with amazement the gift of having received the Gospel “in our own tongues” (v.11), as the Jews said. To think back with gratitude on the gift of having been evangelized and having been drawn from various peoples who, each in their own time received the Kerygma, the proclamation of the mystery of salvation, and in welcoming it, were baptized in the Holy Spirit and became part of the Church. Mother Church, who speaks all languages, is One and is Catholic.

This word from the Acts of the Apostles makes us reflect that, before being “apostles”, before being priests, Bishops, Cardinals, we are “Parthians, Medes, Elamites”, et cetera, et cetera. And this should awaken awe and gratitude in us for having received the grace of the Gospel among our respective peoples of origin. I think this is very important and not to be forgotten. Because there, in the history of our people, I would say in the “flesh” of our people, the Holy Spirit has worked the wonder of communicating the mystery of Jesus Christ who died and rose again. And this came to us “in our language”, from the lips and the gestures of our grandparents and our parents, of catechists, priests, and religious… Every one of us can remember concrete voices and faces. The faith is transmitted “in dialect”. Don’t forget this: the faith is transmitted in dialect, by mothers and grandmothers.

Indeed, we are evangelizers to the extent we cherish in our hearts the wonder and gratitude of having been evangelized, even of being evangelized, because this is really a gift always present, that must be continually renewed in our memories and in faith. Evangelizers who have been evangelized, not functionaries.

Brothers and sisters, dearest Cardinals, Pentecost – like the Baptism of each one of us – is not a thing of the past; it is a creative act that God continually renews. The Church – and each of her members - lives this ever-present mystery. She does not live “off of her name”, still less does she live off of an archeological patrimony, however precious and noble. The Church, and every baptized member, lives the today of God, through the action of the Holy Spirit. Even the act we are carrying out now makes sense if we live it from this perspective of faith. And today, in the light of the Word, we can grasp this reality: you new Cardinals have come from different parts of the world, and the same Spirit that made the evangelization of your peoples fruitful now renews in you your vocation and mission in and for the Church.

From this reflection, drawn from a fruitful "surprise”, I would simply like to draw a consequence for you, brother Cardinals, and for your College. I would like to express this with an image, that of the orchestra: the College of Cardinals is called to resemble a symphony orchestra, representing the harmony and synodality of the Church. I also say "synodality", not only because we are on the eve of the first Assembly of the Synod that has precisely this theme, but also because it seems to me that the metaphor of the orchestra can well illuminate the synodal character of the Church.

A symphony thrives on the skillful composition of the timbres of different instruments: each one makes its contribution, sometimes alone, sometimes united with someone else, sometimes with the whole ensemble. Diversity is necessary; it is indispensable. However, each sound must contribute to the common design. This is why mutual listening is essential: each musician must listen to the others. If one listens only to himself, however sublime his sound may be, it will not benefit the symphony; and the same would be the case if one section of the orchestra did not listen to the others, but played as if it were alone, as if it were the whole. In addition, the conductor of the orchestra is at the service of this kind of miracle that is each performance of a symphony.  He has to listen more than anyone else, and at the same time his job is to help each person and the whole orchestra develop the greatest creative fidelity: fidelity to the work being performed, but also creative, able to give a soul to the score, to make it resonate in the here and now in a unique way.

Dear brothers and sisters, it does us good to reflect upon ourselves as the image of the orchestra, in order to learn to be an ever more symphonic and synodal Church. I propose this especially to you, members of the College of Cardinals, in the consoling confidence that we have the Holy Spirit – he is the protagonist – as our master: the interior master of each one of us and the master of walking together. He creates variety and unity; He is harmony itself.  Saint Basil was looking for a synthesis when he said: “Ipse harmonia est”, he is harmony itself. We entrust ourselves to his gentle and strong guidance, and to the gracious care of the Virgin Mary.

30.09.23

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

I went to Marseille at the end of last week to participate in the conclusion of the Rencontres Méditerranéennes (Mediterranean Meetings), which involved Bishops and mayors from the Mediterranean area, along with numerous young people, so that their outlook would be open to the future. In fact, the event that took place in Marseille was called “Mosaic of Hope”. This is the dream, this is the challenge: that the Mediterranean might recover its vocation, that of being a laboratory of civilization and peace.

27.09.23 e

Dear brothers and sisters, good day!

Today’s Gospel presents us a surprising parable: the master of a vineyard goes out from the first dawn until evening to call in some workers, but in the end, he pays everyone equally, even those who have only worked one hour (cf. Mt 20:1-16). It would seem an injustice, but the parable is not to be read through wage criteria; rather, it intends to show us the criteria of God, who does not calculate our merits, but loves us as children.

Let us look more closely at two divine actions that emerge from the story. First, God goes out at all hours to call us; second, He repays everyone with the same “coin”.

First, God is He who goes out at all hours to call us. The parable says that the master “went out early in the morning to hire labourers for his vineyard” (v. 1), but then continues to go out at various times of the day until sunset, to look for those whom no one had yet taken to work. We thus understand that in the parable the workers are not only men, but above all God, who goes out all day without tiring. This is how God is: He does not wait for our efforts to come to us, He does not make an examination to assess our merits before seeking us out, He does not give up if we are late in responding to Him; on the contrary, He Himself has taken the initiative and in Jesus has “come out”-to us, to show us His love. And He seeks us at all hours of the day, which, as Saint Gregory the Great states, represent the different stages and seasons of our life up to old age (cf. Homilies on the Gospel, 19). For His heart, it is never too late; He is always looking for us and waiting for us. Let us not forget this: the Lord always seeks us and awaits us, always!

Precisely because He is so big-hearted, God – this is the second action – repays everyone with the same “coin”, which is his love. Here is the ultimate meaning of the parable: the labourers of the final hour are paid like the first because, in reality, God's is a superior justice. It goes further. Human justice says to “give to each his own according to what he deserves”, while God's justice does not measure love on the scales of our returns, our performance or our failures: God just loves us, He loves us because we are his children, and He does so with an unconditional love, a freely-given love.

Brothers and sisters, sometimes we risk having a “mercantile” relationship with God, focusing more on our prowess than on the generosity of his grace. Sometimes even as the Church, instead of going out at all hours of the day and extending our arms to all, we can feel like the first in our class, judging others far away, without thinking that God loves them too with the same love He has for us. And even in our relationships, which are the fabric of society, the justice we practise sometimes fails to break out of the cage of calculation, and we limit ourselves to giving according to what we receive, without daring to go the extra mile, without counting on the effectiveness of good done freely and love offered with a broad heart. Brothers, sisters, let us ask ourselves: do I, a Christian, know how to go out towards others? Am I generous towards everyone, do I know how to give that extra understanding and forgiveness, as Jesus has done and does every day with me?

May Our Lady help us to convert to God's measure: that of a love without measure.

24.09.23

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

The Scriptures tell us that, having established his kingdom, King David decided to transport the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. After summoning the people, he rose and set out to bring the Ark; on the way, he and the people danced before it, rejoicing in the presence of the Lord (cf. 2 Sam 6:1-15). It is against the backdrop of this scene that the evangelist Luke recounts Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth. Mary, too, rises and sets out for the region of Jerusalem, and when she enters Elizabeth’s house, the child she is carrying, recognizing the arrival of the Messiah, leaps for joy and begins to dance as David had before the Ark (cf. Lk 1:39-45).

Mary, then, is presented as the true Ark of the Covenant, introducing the incarnate Lord into the world. She is the young Virgin who goes to meet the barren, elderly woman and, in bringing Jesus, becomes a sign of God’s visitation that overcomes all sterility. She is the Mother who goes up to the mountains of Judah, to tell us that God is setting out to seek us with his love, so that we might exult with joy. It is God who is setting out!

In these two women, Mary and Elizabeth, God’s visitation to humanity is revealed. One is young and the other old, one is a virgin and the other barren, yet they are both pregnant in an “impossible” way. This is God’s work in our lives; he makes possible even what seems impossible, he generates life even amidst sterility.

Brothers and sisters, let us ask ourselves honestly, from the heart: Do we believe that God is at work in our lives? Do we believe that the Lord, in hidden and often unpredictable ways, acts in history, performs wonders, and is working even in our societies that are marked by worldly secularism and a certain religious indifference?

There is a way to discern whether or not we have this trust in the Lord. What is the way? The Gospel says that “as soon as Elizabeth had heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb” (v. 41). This is the sign: to leap for joy. Whoever believes, whoever prays, whoever welcomes the Lord leaps in the Spirit, and feels that something is moving within, and “dances” with joy. I would like to dwell on this: the leap of faith.

The experience of faith, first and foremost, elicits a certain leaping in the face of life. To leap means to be “touched inside,” to have an interior quiver, to feel that something is moving in our heart. This is the opposite of a flat, cold heart, accustomed to the quiet life, which is encased in indifference and becomes impermeable. Such a heart becomes hardened and insensitive to everything and everyone, even to the tragic discarding of human life, which is seen today in the rejection of many immigrants, of countless unborn children and abandoned elderly people. A cold, flat heart drags life along mechanically, without passion, without impetus, without desire. In our European society, a person can become ill from all this and suffer cynicism, disenchantment, resignation, uncertainty, and an overall sadness – all this together: sadness, that sadness hidden in human hearts. Someone has called these dispositions “sad passions” and are found in those who do not “leap in the face of life”.

Those who are born to faith, on the other hand, recognize the presence of the Lord, like the baby in Elizabeth’s womb. They recognize his work as each day dawns and receive new eyes to view reality. Even in the midst of toil, problems and suffering, each day they discern God’s visitation among us and feel accompanied and sustained by him. Faced with the mystery of life and the challenges of society, those who believe have a spring in their step, a passion, a dream to cultivate, an interest that impels them to personally commit themselves. Now each of us can ask ourselves: do I feel these things? Do I have these things? Those who are like this know that in everything the Lord is present, calling and inviting them to witness to the Gospel with meekness, in order to build a new world, using the gifts and charisms they have received.

Besides enabling us to leap in the face of life, the experience of faith also compels us to leap toward our neighbour. Indeed, in the mystery of the Visitation, we see that God’s visitation does not take place through extraordinary, heavenly events, but in the simplicity of an encounter. God comes to the doorway of a family home, in the tender embrace between two women, in the intertwining of two pregnancies full of wonder and hope. There we see the solicitude of Mary, the wonder of Elizabeth, and the joy of sharing.

Let us always remember this in the Church: God is relational and often visits us through human encounters, when we know how to be open to others, when there is a “stirring” within us in favour of those who pass us every day, and when our hearts do not remain impassive and insensitive before the wounds of the fragile. Our major cities and many European countries like France, where different cultures and religions coexist, are a strong force against the excesses of individualism, selfishness and rejection that generate loneliness and suffering. Let us learn from Jesus how to stir ourselves to help those who live nearby. Let us learn from him who is moved to compassion before a weary and exhausted crowd (cf. Mk 6:34) and “leaps with mercy” before the wounded flesh of those he meets. As one of your great saints, Vincent de Paul, exhorts, “we should, then, soften our hearts and make them aware of the sufferings and miseries of our neighbour. We should beg God to give us that spirit of mercy which is the very Spirit of God himself,” to the point of recognizing that the poor are “our lords and masters” (Correspondance, entretiens, documents, Paris 1920-25, 341; 392-393).

Brothers and sisters, I think of the many “stirrings” within France, with its history rich in holiness and culture; artists and thinkers who have inspired many generations. Today, too, our life and the life of the Church, France and Europe need this: the grace of a leap forward, a new leap in faith, charity and hope. We need to rekindle our passion and enthusiasm, to reawaken our desire to commit ourselves to fraternity. We need to once again risk loving our families and dare to love the weakest, and to rediscover in the Gospel the transforming grace that makes life beautiful.

Let us look to Mary, who inconveniences herself by setting out on a journey and who teaches us that this is God’s way: He inconveniences us, sets us in motion and makes us “leap”, similar to the experience of Elizabeth. We want to be Christians who encounter God in prayer, and our brothers and sisters in love; Christians who leap, pulsate, and receive the fire of the Holy Spirit and then allow ourselves to be set afire by the questions of our day, by the challenges of the Mediterranean, by the cry of the poor – and by the “holy utopias” of fraternity and peace that wait to be realized.

Brothers and sisters, together with you, I pray to our Lady, Notre Dame de la Garde, that she will watch over your lives, that she will guard France and will guard all of Europe, and that she will cause us to leap in the Spirit. I would like to offer this prayer using the words of Paul Claudel: “I see the church, open…. I have nothing to offer and nothing to ask. I come, Mother, only to look at you. To look at you, to weep for happiness, knowing thatI am your son, and that you are there….To be with you, Mary, in this place where you are….Because you are there, always… Simply because you are Mary… Simply because you exist… Mother of Jesus Christ, thanks be to you (“The Virgin at Noon”, Poëmes de Guerre 1914-1916, Paris, 1992).

23.09.23 me

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

I offer my cordial greetings and I am grateful to each of you for having accepted the invitation of Cardinal Aveline to participate in these meetings. Thank you for your work and the valuable reflections that you shared.  Church and civil leaders are gathered not to deal with mutual interests, but animated by the desire to care for men and women. 

Marseille is a very ancient city.  Marseilles tells us that, despite difficulties, coexistence is possible and is a source of joy. On the map, it almost seems to draw a smile between Nice and Montpellier. I like to think of it that way: Marseilles as “the smile of the Mediterranean”. So I want to offer you some thoughts centred around three aspects that characterize Marseille, three symbols: the sea, the port and the lighthouse.

23.09.23 e

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

Thank you for being here. Before us is the sea, a source of life, yet this place evokes the tragedy of shipwrecks, which cause death. We are gathered in memory of those who did not make it, who were not saved. Let us not get used to considering shipwrecks as news stories, and deaths at sea as numbers: no, they are names and surnames, they are faces and stories, they are broken lives and shattered dreams. I think of so many brothers and sisters drowned in fear, along with the hopes they carried in their hearts. Faced with such a drama, we need deeds, not words. Before that, however, we need to show some humanity: we need silence, weeping, compassion and prayer. I now invite you to spend a moment of silence in memory of these brothers and sisters of ours: let us be moved by their tragedies. 

22.09.23 mre

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

I am happy to begin my visit by sharing this moment of prayer with you. 

In coming to Marseille, I find myself in the company of great pilgrims: Saints Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Charles de Foucauld, and John Paul II, and so many others who came here to entrust themselves to “Notre Dame de la Garde”. We place under her mantle the fruit of the Rencontres Méditerranéennes, together with the expectations and hopes of your hearts.

In the biblical reading, the prophet Zephaniah exhorted us to joy and confidence, reminding us that the Lord our God is not far away, he is here, near to us, in order to save us (cf. 3:17). 

22.09.23 e

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

Along the course of catechesis on the passion for evangelization, that is, apostolic zeal, let us spend some time today on the witness of Saint Daniel Comboni. He was an apostle who was filled with zeal for Africa. He wrote of these peoples: “they have taken possession of my heart that lives for them alone” (Writings, 941). “I shall die with Africa on my lips” (Writings, 1441). That’s beautiful, isn’t it? And he wrote this to them: “the happiest of my days will be when I may give my life for you” (Writings, 3159). This is the expression of someone who is in love with God and with the brothers and sisters he was serving in mission, whom he never tired of reminding that “Jesus Christ suffered and died for them as well” (Writings, 2499; 4801).

He affirmed this in a context characterized by the horror of slavery, of which he was a witness. Slavery “objectifies” the human being, whose value is reduced to being useful to someone or something. But Jesus, God made man, elevated the dignity of every human being and exposed the falsity of every slavery. In the light of Christ, Comboni became aware of the evil of slavery. Moreover, he understood that social slavery is rooted in an even deeper slavery, that of the heart, that of sin, from which the Lord frees us. As Christians, therefore, we are called to fight every form of slavery. Unfortunately, however, slavery, like colonialism, is not something from the past, unfortunately. In the Africa that Comboni loved so much, which is today torn by so many conflicts, “political exploitation gave way to an ‘economic colonialism’ that was equally enslaving. (…) This is a tragedy to which the economically more advanced world often closes its eyes, ears and mouth”. I therefore renew my appeal: “Stop choking Africa: it is not a mine to be stripped or a terrain to be plundered” (Meeting with Authorities, Kinshasa, 31 January 2023).

And going back to the life of Saint Daniel. After the first period spent in Africa, he had to leave the mission due to health reasons. Too many missionaries had died after contracting malaria, complicated by insufficient awareness of the local situation. Though others abandoned Africa, Comboni did not do so. After a period of discernment, he felt the Lord was inspiring him along a new path of evangelization, which he summed up in these words: “Save Africa with Africa” (Writings, 2741s). This was a powerful insight, devoid of colonialism. It was a powerful insight that helped renew his missionary outreach: the people who had been evangelized were not only “objects”, but “subjects” of mission. And Saint Daniel Comboni wanted every Christian to participte in the evangelizing enterprise. With this spirit, he integrated his thoughts and actions, involving the local clergy and promoting the lay service of catechist. Catechists are a treasure in the Church. Catechists are those who bring evangelization forward. He also conceived of human development in this way, cultivating the arts and professions, fostering the role of the family and of women in the transformation of culture and society. And how important it is, even today, to make the faith and human development progress within the context of mission, rather than transplant external models or limit them to sterile welfarism! Neither external models nor welfarism. To take the path of evangelization from the culture, from the people’s culture. To evangelize the culture and to inculturate the Gospel go together.

Comboni’s great missionary passion, however, was not primarily the fruit of human endeavor. He was not driven by his own courage or motivated solely by important values such as freedom, justice and peace. His zeal came from the joy of the Gospel, drawn from Christ’s love which then led to love of Christ! Saint Daniel wrote, “Such an arduous and laborious mission as ours cannot be glossed over, lived by crooked-necked people filled with egoism and with themselves, who do not care for their health and the conversion of souls as they should”. This is the tragedy of clericalism which leads Christians, laity included, to clericalize themselves and to transform themselves – as it says here – into people with crooked necks filled with egoism. This is the plague of clericalism. And he added, “It is necessary to inflame them with charity that has its source from God and the love of Christ; when one truly loves Christ, then privations, sufferings and martyrdom become sweet” (Writings, 6656). He desired to see ardent, joyful, dedicated missionaries, “holy and capable” missionaries, he wrote, “first of all saints, that is, completely free from sin and offence to God and humble. But this is not enough: we need charity that enables our subjects” (Writings, 6655). For Comboni, the source of missionary ability, therefore, is charity, in particular, the zeal by which he made the sufferings of others his own.

In addition, his passion for evangelization never led him to act as a soloist, but always in communion, in the Church. “I have but one life to offer for the salvation of those souls: I wish I had a thousand to be consumed for this end” (Writings, 2271).

Brothers and sisters, Saint Daniel testifies to the love of the Good Shepherd who goes in search of the one who is lost and gives his life for the flock. His zeal was energetic and prophetic in being opposed to indifference and exclusion. In his letters, he earnestly called out his beloved Church who had forgotten Africa for too long. Comboni’s dream is that of a Church who makes common cause with those who are crucified in history, so as to experience the resurrection with them. At this moment, I would like to offer all of you a suggestion. Think of those who are crucified in today’s history: men, women, children, the elderly, all those who are crucified by the history of injustice and domination. Let us think of them and let us pray for them. His witness seems to want to repeat to all of us, men and women of the Church: “Do not forget the poor – love them – for Jesus crucified is present in them, waiting to rise again”. Let us not forget the poor. Before coming here, I had a meeting with Brazilian legislators who are working for the poor, who try to promote the poor through assistance and social justice. And they do not forget the poor – they work for the poor. To all of you, I say: do not forget the poor, because they will be the ones who will open the door of Heaven for you. Thank you.

20.09.23 e

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

Today, the Gospel talks to us about forgiveness (cf. Mt 18:21-35). Peter asks Jesus: “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” (v. 21).

Seven, in the Bible, is a number that indicates completeness, and so Peter is very generous in the assumptions of his question. But Jesus goes further, and answers him: “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven” (v. 22). He tells him, that is, that when one forgives, one does not calculate; that it is good to forgive everything, and always! Just as God does with us, and as those who administer God’s justice are required to do: forgive always. I say this a lot to priests, to confessors: always forgive, as God forgives.

Jesus then illustrates this reality through a parable, which again has to do with numbers. A king, after being implored, forgives a servant the debt of 10,000 talents: it is an excessive, immense value, ranging from 200 to 500 tons of silver: excessive. It was an impossible debt to settle, even by working a lifetime: yet this master, who recalls our Father, forgives it out of sheer “pity” (v. 27). This is God’s heart: he always forgives, because God is compassionate. Let us not forget how God is: he is close, compassionate and tender; this is God’s way of being. Then, however, this servant, whose debt has been forgiven, shows no mercy towards a fellow servant who owes him 100 denarii. This too is a substantial sum, equivalent to about three months’ wages - as if to say that forgiving each other costs money! - but not at all comparable to the previous figure that the master had forgiven.

Jesus’ message is clear: God forgives incalculably, exceeding all measure. This is how he is; He acts out of love, and gratuitously. God is not bought, God is free, he is all gratuitousness. We cannot repay Him but, when we forgive a brother or a sister, we imitate Him. Forgiving is not, therefore, a good deed that we can choose to do or not do: forgiving is a fundamental condition for those who are Christians. Every one of us, in fact, is “forgiven”: let us not forget this, we are forgiven, God gave his life for us and in no way can we recompense his mercy, which he never withdraws from his heart. However, by corresponding to his gratuitousness, that is, by forgiving one another, we can bear witness to him, sowing new life around us. For outside of forgiveness there is no hope; outside of forgiveness there is no peace. Forgiveness is the oxygen that purifies the air of hatred, forgiveness is the antidote to the poisons of resentment, it is the way to defuse anger and heal so many maladies of the heart that contaminate society.

Let us ask ourselves, then: do I believe I have received from God the gift of immense forgiveness? Do I feel the joy of knowing that He is always ready to forgive me when I fall, even when others do not, even when I am not even able to forgive myself? He forgives: do I believe that he forgives? And then: can I in turn forgive those who wrong me? In this respect, I would like to propose a little exercise to you: let us try, now, each one of us, to think of a person who has hurt us, and ask the Lord for the strength to forgive them. And let us forgive them out of love for the Lord: brothers and sisters, this will do us good; it will restore peace to our hearts.

May Mary, Mother of Mercy, help us to receive the grace of God and to forgive each other.

17.09.23 e

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In our catecheses, we continue to meet passionate witnesses to the proclamation of the Gospel. Let us recall that this is a series of catecheses on apostolic zeal, on the will and even the interior ardour to carry forward the Gospel. Today we go to Latin America, specifically to Venezuela, to get to know the figure of a layman, Blessed José Gregorio Hernández Cisneros. He was born in 1864 and learned the faith above all from his mother, as he recounted, “My mother taught me virtue from the cradle, made me grow in the knowledge of God and gave me charity as my guide.” Let’s be attentive: it is the moms who pass on the faith. The faith is passed on in dialect, that is, the language of moms, that dialect that moms know to speak with their children. And to you moms: be diligent in passing on the faith in that maternal dialect.

Truly, charity was the north star that oriented the existence of Blessed José Gregorio: a good and sunny person with a cheerful disposition, he was endowed with a marked intelligence; he became a doctor, university professor, and scientist. But he was first and foremost a doctor close to the weakest, so much so that he was known in his homeland as “the doctor of the poor.” He cared for the poor, always. To the riches of money he preferred the riches of the Gospel, spending his existence to aid the needy. In the poor, the sick, the migrants, the suffering, José Gregorio saw Jesus. The success he never sought in the world he received, and continues to receive, from the people, who call him “saint of the people,” “apostle of charity,” “missionary of hope.” Beautiful names: “saint of the people”, “apostle of the people”, “missionary of hope”.

José Gregorio was a humble man, kind, and helpful man. And at the same time he was driven by an inner fire, a desire to live in the service of God and neighbor. Driven by this ardor, he tried several times to become a religious and a priest, but various health problems prevented him from doing so. Physical frailty did not, however, lead him to close in on himself, but to become a doctor who was even more sensitive to the needs of others; he clung to Providence and, forged in his soul, went ever more toward what was essential. This is apostolic zeal: it does not follow one’s own aspirations, but openness to God’s designs. And so the Blessed understood that, through caring for the sick, he would put God’s will into practice, comforting the suffering, giving hope to the poor, witnessing to the faith not in words but by example. So, by way of this interior path, he came to accept medicine as a priesthood: “the priesthood of human pain” (M. YABER, José Gregorio Hernández: Médico de los Pobres, Apóstol de la Justicia Social, Misionero de las Esperanzas, 2004, 107). How important it is not to suffer things passively, but, as Scripture says, to do everything in a good spirit, to serve the Lord (cf. Col. 3:23).

But let us ask ourselves, though: where did José Gregorio get all this enthusiasm, all this zeal? It came from a certainty and a strength. The certainty was God’s grace: he wrote that “if there are good and bad people in the world, the bad are such because they themselves have become bad: but the good are such with God’s help” (May 27, 1914). And he considered himself first of all to be in need of grace, begging on the streets and in dire need of the love. And this was the strength he drew on: intimacy with God. He was a man of prayer – this is the grace of God and the intimacy with the Lord. He was a man of prayer who participated at Mass.

And in contact with Jesus, who offers himself on the altar for all, José Gregory felt called to offer his life for peace. The First World War was underway. So, we come to June 29, 1919: a friend comes to visit him and finds him very happy. José Gregorio has indeed learned that the treaty ending the war has been signed. His offering has been accepted, and it is as if he foresees that his work on earth is done. That morning, as usual, he had been at Mass, and now he goes down the street to bring medicine to a sick person. But as he crosses the road, he is hit by a vehicle; taken to the hospital, he dies pronouncing the name of Our Lady. So, his earthly journey ends, on a road while doing a work of mercy, and in a hospital, where he had made his work a masterpiece, as a doctor.

Brothers, sisters, in the presence of this witness let us ask ourselves: do I, faced with God present in the poor near me, faced with those in the world who suffer the most, how do I react? And the example of José Gregorio: how does it affect me? He spurs us to engagement in the face of the great social, economic, and political issues of today. So many people talk about it, so many complain about it, so many criticize and say that everything is going wrong. But that’s not what the Christian is called to do; instead, he is called to deal with it, to get his or her hands dirty: first of all, as St. Paul told us, to pray (cf. 1 Tim 2:1-4), and then not to engage in idle chattering – idle chatter is a plague – but to promote good, and to build peace and justice in truth. This, too, is apostolic zeal; it is the proclamation of the Gospel; and this is Christian beatitude: “blessed are the peacemakers” (Mt 5:9).

Let us go forward along the path of Blessed José Gregorio: a layman, a doctor, a man of daily work whom apostolic zeal drove to live performing charity throughout his whole life.

13.09.23

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Today the Gospel speaks to us about fraternal correction (cf. Mt 18:15-20), which is one of the highest expressions of love, and also one of the most demanding, because it is not easy to correct others. When a brother in faith wrongs you, then you, without rancour, help him, correct him: help by correcting.

Unfortunately, however, often the first thing that is created around those who make a mistake is gossip, in which everyone comes to know the mistake, complete with details, apart from the person concerned! This is not right, brothers and sisters, this does not please God. I never tire of repeating that gossip is a plague on the life of people and communities, because it leads to division, it leads to suffering, it leads to scandal; it never helps improve or grow. A great spiritual master, Saint Bernard, said that idle curiosity and superficial words are the first steps on the ladder of pride, which does not lead upwards, but downwards, plunging man towards perdition and ruin (cf. The twelve steps of humility and pride).

Instead, Jesus teaches us to behave in a different way. This is what He says today: “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone” (v. 15). Speak to him about it “face to face”, speak about it fairly, to help him understand where he has erred. And do this for his own good, overcoming shame and finding true courage, which is not to slander, but to tell him to his face with meekness and gentleness.

But we might ask, what if this is not enough? What if he does not understand? Then we must look for help. Beware, though: not from the group that gossips! Jesus says: “Take one or two others along with you” (v. 16), meaning people who genuinely want to lend a hand to this misguided brother.

And if he still does not understand? Then, Jesus says, involve the community. But here too, this does not mean to pillory a person, putting him to shame publicly, but rather to unite the efforts of everyone to help him change. Pointing the finger is not good; in fact, it often makes it more difficult for the wrongdoer to recognize his mistake. Rather, the community must make him feel that, while it condemns the mistake, it is close to the person with prayer and affection, always ready to offer forgiveness, understanding, and to start over.

And so, let us ask ourselves: how should I behave with a person who wrongs me? Do I keep it inside and accumulate resentment? “You will pay for it”, those words which come so often: “you will pay for it…”. Do I talk about it behind their backs? “Do you know what he did?”; and so on… Or am I brave, courageous, and do I try to talk about it to him or her? Do I pray for him or her, ask for help to do good? And do our communities take care of those who fall, so that they can get back up and start a new life? Do they point their fingers or open their arms? What do you do: do you point the finger or open your arms?

May Mary, who continued to love even as she heard people condemn her Son, help us to always seek the path of good.

10.09.23 e

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On Monday I returned from Mongolia. I would like to express my appreciation to those who accompanied me on my visit with prayer, and to reiterate my gratitude to the authorities, who solemnly welcomed me: in particular Mr. President Khürelsükh, and also the former President Enkhbayer, who gave me the official invitation to visit the country. I think back with joy of the local Church and the Mongolian people: a noble and wise people, who showed me great warmth and affection. Today I would like to take you to the heart of this journey.

06.09.23 e

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With the words of the Responsorial Psalm, we prayed: “O God... my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (Ps 63:2). This magnificent plea accompanies our journey through life, amid all the deserts we are called to traverse. It is precisely in those deserts that we hear the good news that we are not alone in our journey; those times of dryness cannot render our lives barren forever; our cry of thirst does not go unheard. God the Father has sent his Son to give us the living water of the Holy Spirit to satisfy our souls (cf. Jn 4:10). Jesus, as we heard in the Gospel, shows us the way to quench our thirst. It is the way of love, which he followed even to the cross, and on which he calls us to follow him, losing our lives in order to find them (cf. Mt 16:24-25).

Let us reflect together on these two things: the thirst within us, and the love that quenches that thirst.

First, we are called to acknowledge the thirst within us. The Psalmist cries out to God in his aridity, for his life has become like a desert. His words have a particular resonance in a land like Mongolia: immense, rich in history and culture, yet a land also marked by the aridity of the steppes and the desert. Many of you know both the satisfaction and the fatigue of journeying, which evokes a fundamental aspect of biblical spirituality represented by Abraham and, in a broader sense, by the people of Israel and indeed every disciple of the Lord. For all of us are “God’s nomads”, pilgrims in search of happiness, wayfarers thirsting for love. The desert of which the Psalmist speaks, then, is our life. We are that dry land thirsting for fresh water, water that can slake our deepest thirst. Our hearts long to discover the secret of true joy, a joy that even in the midst of existential aridity, can accompany and sustain us. Deep within us, we have an insatiable thirst for happiness; we seek meaning and direction in our lives, a reason for all that we do each day. More than anything, we thirst for love, for only love can truly satisfy us, bring us fulfilment; only love can make us happy, inspire inner assurance and allow us to savour the beauty of life. Dear brothers and sisters, the Christian faith is the answer to this thirst; it takes it seriously, without dismissing it or trying to replace it with tranquilizers or surrogates. For in this thirst lies the great mystery of our humanity: it opens our hearts to the living God, the God of love, who comes to meet us and to make us his children, brothers and sisters to one another.

This brings us to the second thing: the love that quenches our thirst. First was our deep, existential thirst, and now we reflect on the love that quenches our thirst. This is the heart of the Christian faith: God, who is Love, has drawn near to you, to me, to everyone, in his Son Jesus, and wants to share in your life, your work, your dreams and your thirst for happiness. It is true that, at times, we feel like a “dry and weary land where there is no water”, yet it is equally true that God cares for us and offers us clear, refreshing water, the living water of the Spirit, springing up within us to renew us and free us from the risk of drought. Jesus gives us that water. As Saint Augustine tells us, “…if we recognize ourselves in those who thirst, we can also recognize ourselves in those who quench that thirst” (On the Psalms, 63:1). Indeed, if in this life we often experience the desert with loneliness, fatigue and emptiness, we should also remember, with Augustine, that, “lest we grow faint in this desert, God refreshes us with the dew of his word… True, he makes us feel thirst, but then comes to satisfy that thirst… God has been merciful to us; he has opened for us a highway in the desert:our Lord Jesus Christ”. And that is the path through the desert of our lives. “He has offered us a source of consolation in that desert: the preachers of his word. He has offered us water in that desert, by filling those preachers with the Holy Spirit, so as to create, in them, a fount of water springing up to life everlasting” (ibid., 1, 6). These words, dear friends, speak to you of your own history. Amid the deserts of life and in the difficulties associated with being a small community, the Lord has ensured that you not lack the water of his word, thanks especially to the preachers and missionaries who, anointed by the Holy Spirit, sow among you the seeds of its beauty. That word always brings us back to what is essential, to the very heart of our faith: allowing ourselves to be loved by God and in turn to make our lives an offering of love. For love alone truly quenches our thirst. Let us never forget: love alone truly quenches our thirst.

That is precisely what Jesus tells the apostle Peter in today’s Gospel. Peter cannot accept the fact that Jesus must suffer, be charged by the leaders of the people, undergo his passion and then die on the cross. Peter reacts, he protests, he tries to convince Jesus that he is wrong, because, in Peter’s mind – and we too often have the same idea – the Messiah cannot possibly end in failure, dying on a cross like a criminal forsaken by God. The Lord then rebukes Peter because he thinks “as the world does”, and not as God does (cf. Mt 16:21-23). If we think that success, power, or material things suffice to satisfy the thirst in our lives, then we are thinking as the world does. That kind of worldliness leads nowhere; indeed, it leaves us thirstier than before. Jesus instead shows us the way: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it” (Mt 16:24-25).

This, dear brothers and sisters, is surely the best way: to embrace the cross of Christ. At the heart of Christianity is an amazing and extraordinary message. If you lose your life, if you make it a generous offering in service, if you risk it by choosing to love, if you make it a free gift for others, then it will return to you in abundance, and you will be overwhelmed by endless joy, peace of heart, and inner strength and support; and we need inner peace.

This is the truth that Jesus wants us to discover, the truth he wants to reveal to all of you and to this land of Mongolia. You need not be famous, rich or powerful to be happy. No! Only love satisfies our hearts’ thirst, only love heals our wounds, only love brings us true joy. This is the way that Jesus taught us; this is the path that he opened up before us.

May we too, dear brothers and sisters, heed what the Lord said to Peter in response: “Get behind me” (Mt 16:23). In other words, be my disciple, walk in my footsteps and stop thinking as the world does. If we do this, we will be able, with the grace of Christ and the Holy Spirit, to journey along the path of love. Even when love calls for denying ourselves, combatting our personal and worldly forms of selfishness, and taking the risk of living a life of genuine fraternity. For while it is true that all these things entail effort and sacrifice, and sometimes taking up the cross, it is even more true that, when we lose our lives for the sake of the Gospel, the Lord gives them back to us abundantly, in the fullness of love and joy for all eternity.

03.09.23 m

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

Allow me to address you in this way, as a brother in faith to those who believe in Christ, and as a brother to all of you in the name of our shared religious quest and our membership in the one human family. In terms of that religious quest, humanity can be compared to a band of wayfarers treading the earth with eyes lifted to heaven. A traveler from afar once observed that here in Mongolia he saw “nothing but the sky and earth.” (cf. WILLIAM OF RUBRUK, Viaggio in Mongolia, XIII/3, Milan 2014, 63). Here indeed, the sky, so clear and blue, embraces these vast and imposing lands, as if to remind us of the two essential aspects of human life: the earthly, made up of our relationships with others, and the heavenly, consisting in our quest for the transcendent Other. Mongolia thus reminds all of us, as pilgrims and wayfarers, to lift our gaze on high in order to discern which path to follow on our journey here below.

03.09.23 ee

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Thank you, Your Excellency, for your kind words. Thank you Sister Salvia, Father Peter Sanjaajav and Rufina for your testimonies. Thank you, all of you, for your presence and your faith! I am happy to be with you all. The joy of the Gospel is what has motivated you, consecrated men and women in religious life and in ordained ministry, to be here and to dedicate yourselves, together with your lay sisters and brothers, to the service of the Lord and of others. I thank God for this, using the words of a beautiful prayer of praise, Psalm 34, which I will draw upon in order to share some thoughts with you. The Psalm invites us to “taste and see that the Lord is good” (v. 9).

02.09.23 pwe

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

“Let Justice and Peace Flow” is the theme of this year’s ecumenical Season of Creation, inspired by the words of the prophet Amos: “Let justice flow on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream” (5:24).

The evocative image used by Amos speaks to us of what God desires. God wants justice to reign; it is as essential to our life as God’s children made in his likeness as water is essential for our physical survival. This justice must flow forth wherever it is needed, neither remaining hidden deep beneath the ground nor vanishing like water that evaporates before it can bring sustenance. God wants everyone to strive to be just in every situation, to live according to his laws and thus to enable life to flourish. When we “seek first the kingdom of God” (Mt 6:33), maintaining a right relationship with God, humanity and nature, then justice and peace can flow like a never-failing stream of pure water, nourishing humanity and all creatures.

01.09.23 e