News January 2026

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!

We will continue the catecheses on the Dogmatic Constituion Dei Verbum, of Vatican Council II, on divine Revelation. We have seen that God reveals himself in a dialogue of covenant, in which he addresses us as friends. It is therefore a relational knowledge, which not only communicates ideas, but shares a history and calls for communion in reciprocity. The fulfilment of this revelation takes place in a historical and personal encounter in which God himself gives himself to us, making himself present, and we discover that we are known in our deepest truth. It is what happens in Jesus Christ. The Document states that the deepest truth about God and the salvation of man shines out for our sake in Christ, who is both the mediator and the fullness of all revelation (cf. DV, 2).

Jesus reveals the Father to us by involving us in his own relationship with Him. In the Son sent by God the Father “man might in the Holy Spirit have access to the Father and come to share in the divine nature” (ibid.). We therefore reach full knowledge of God by entering into the Son’s relationship with his Father, by virtue of the action of the Spirit. This is attested to, for example, by the Evangelist Luke when he recounts the Lord’s prayer of jubilation: “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows who the Son is except the Father or who the Father is except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” (Lk 10:21-22).

Thanks to Jesus we know God as we are known by Him (cf. Gal 4:9); 1 Cor 13:13). Indeed, in Christ, God has communicated himself to us and, at the same time, he has manifested to us our true identity as his children, created in the image of the Word. This “eternal Word … enlightens all men” (DV 4), revealing their truth in the eyes of the Father: “Your Father, who sees in secret will reward you” (Mt 6:5; 6:8), says Jesus, and he adds that “your Father knows that you need all these things” (cf. Mt 6:32). Jesus Christ is the place where we recognize the truth of God the Father, while we discover ourselves known by Him as sons in the Son, called to the same destiny of full life. Saint Paul writes: “When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son … so that we might receive adoption as children. And because you are children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba!’, Father!” (Gal 4:4-6).

Finally, Jesus Christ reveals the Father with his own humanity. Precisely because he is the Word incarnate that dwells among men, Jesus reveals God to us with his own true and integral humanity: “To see Jesus is to see His Father (Jn 14:9). For this reason, Jesus perfected revelation, fulfilling it through his whole work of making Himself present and manifesting Himself through His words and deeds, His signs and wonders, but especially through His death and glorious resurrection from the dead and final sending of the Spirit of truth” (DV, 4). In order to know God in Christ, we must welcome his integral humanity: God’s truth is not fully revealed where it takes something away from the human, just as the integrity of Jesus’ humanity does not diminish the fullness of the divine gift. It is the integral humanity of Jesus that tells us the truth of the Father (cf. Jn 1:18).

It is not only the death and resurrection of Jesus that saves us and calls us together, but his very person: the Lord who becomes incarnate, is born, heals, teaches, suffers, dies, rises again and remains among us. Therefore, to honour the greatness of the Incarnation, it is not enough to consider Jesus as the channel of transmission of intellectual truths. If Jesus has a real body, the communication of the truth of God is realized in that body, with its own way of perceiving and feeling reality, with its own way of inhabiting and passing through the world. Jesus himself invites us to share his perception of reality: “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” (Mt 6:26).

Brothers and sisters, by following the path of Jesus to the very end, we reach the certainty that nothing can separate us from God’s love. “If God is for us, who is against us?”, writes Saint Paul again. “He who did not withhold his own Son but gave him up for all of us, how will he not with him also give us everything else?” (Rom 8:31-32). Thanks to Jesus, Christians know God the Father and entrust themselves to Him with confidence.

I greet all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors taking part in today’s Audience, particularly the groups from Great Britain, the Netherlands, and the United States of America. As we continue to pray for the unity of Christians, I greet the Ecumenical Delegation of the Catholic Association for Ecumenism and the Council of Churches of the Netherlands. Upon all of you and your families, I invoke the joy and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ. God bless you all!

My greeting then extends to young people, the sick, and newlyweds. We are in the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, which this year has as its theme: "There is one body, and one Spirit, just as God has called you to the one hope" ( Ephesians 4:4). Let us ask the Lord to bestow the gift of his Spirit on all the Churches throughout the world so that, through it, Christians may banish division and build strong bonds of unity.

My blessing to everyone!

21.01.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

Today’s Gospel reading (cf. Jn 1:29-34) speaks to us about John the Baptist, who recognised Jesus as the Lamb of God, the Messiah, proclaiming: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (v. 29).  He adds: “I came baptising with water, that he might be revealed to Israel” (v. 31).

John recognised Jesus as the Saviour; he proclaimed Jesus’ divinity and mission to the people of Israel and then stepped aside, having completed his task, as his words attest: “After me comes a man who ranks before me, for he was before me” (v. 30).

The Baptist was a man whom the crowds dearly loved, to the point that he was even feared by the authorities in Jerusalem (cf. Jn 1:19).  It would have been easy for him to exploit this fame; instead, he did not succumb to the temptations of success and popularity.  Before Jesus, he recognised his own littleness and made space for Jesus’ greatness.  John knew that he was sent to prepare the way of the Lord (cf. Mic 1:3; Is 40:3), and when the Lord came, with joy and humility he acknowledged God’s presence and stepped out of the spotlight.

How important his witness is for us today!  Indeed, approval, consensus and visibility are often given excessive importance, to the point of shaping people’s ideas, behaviours and even their inner lives.  This causes suffering and division, and gives rise to lifestyles and relationships that are fragile, disappointing and imprisoning.  In truth, we do not need these “substitutes for happiness.”  Our joy and greatness are not founded on passing illusions of success or fame, but on knowing ourselves to be loved and wanted by our heavenly Father.

The love of which Jesus speaks is the love of a God who even today comes among us, not to dazzle us with spectacular displays, but to share in our struggles and to take our burdens upon himself.  In doing so, he reveals to us the truth about who we are and how precious we are in his sight.

Dear friends, let us not allow ourselves to be distracted from the Lord’s presence in our midst.  Let us not waste our time and energies chasing after appearances.  Rather, let us learn from John the Baptist to remain vigilant, to love simplicity, to be sincere in our words, to live soberly, and to cultivate a depth of mind and heart.  Let us be content with what is essential and make time each day, when possible, for a special moment to pause in silence to pray, reflect and listen – in other words, “to withdraw into the desert”, in order to meet the Lord and remain with him.

May the Virgin Mary, model of simplicity, wisdom and humility, help us in this resolve.

Dear brothers and sisters,

Today marks the beginning of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.  The origins of this initiative date back two centuries, and Pope Leo XIII greatly encouraged it.  Exactly one hundred years ago, “Suggestions for the Octave of Prayer for Christian Unity” were published for the first time.  This year’s theme is drawn from Saint Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians: “There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling” (4:4).  The prayers and reflections were prepared by an ecumenical group coordinated by the Armenian Apostolic Church’s Department of Interchurch Relations.  During these days, I invite all Catholic communities to deepen their prayers for the full, visible unity of all Christians.

Our responsibility for unity must be accompanied by a steadfast commitment to peace and justice in the world.  Today, I would like to recall in particular the great suffering of the people in eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo.  Many have been forced to flee their country – especially to Burundi – due to violence, and they are facing a serious humanitarian crisis.  Let us pray that dialogue for reconciliation and peace may always prevail among the parties in conflict.

I would also like to assure the victims of the recent floods in southern Africa of my prayers.

I extend a warm greeting to all of you, Romans and pilgrims!

I am pleased to greet the group from the Piggot School in Wargrave, England, as well as the Fratres group from the parish community of Compitese.  I also greet the faithful from various countries, families and associations.  Thank you for your presence and your prayers!

I wish all of you a happy Sunday.

18.01.26

Dear brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!

We have started the cycle of catechesis on Vatican Council II. Today we will begin to look more closely at the Dogmatic Constitution Dei Verbum, on the divine Revelation. It is one of the most beautiful and important of the Council and, to introduce it, it may be helpful to recall the words of Jesus: “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you” (Jn 15:15). This is a fundamental point of Christian faith, which Dei Verbum reminds us of: Jesus Christ radically transforms man’s relationship with God, which is henceforth a relationship of friendship. Therefore, the only condition of the new covenant is love.

Saint Augustine, commenting on this passage of the Fourth Gospel, insists on the perspective of grace, which alone can make us friends of God in his Son (Commentary on the Gospel of John, Homily 86). Indeed, an ancient motto stated: “Amicitia aut pares invenit, aut facit”, “friendship is born between equals, or makes them so”. We are not equal to God, but God himself makes us similar to Him in his Son.

For this reason, as we can see in all the Scripture, in the Covenant there is a first moment of distance, in which the pact between God and mankind always remains asymmetrical: God is God and we are creatures. However, with the coming of the Son in human flesh, the Covenant opens up to its final purpose: in Jesus, God makes us sons and daughters, and calls us to become like Him, albeit in our fragile humanity. Our resemblance to God, then, is not reached through transgression and sin, as the serpent suggests to Eve (cf. Gen 3:5), but in our relationship with the Son made man.

The words of the Lord Jesus that we have recalled – “I have called you friends” – are reprised in the Constitution Dei Verbum, which affirms: “Through this revelation, therefore, the invisible God (see Col 1:15; 1 Tim 1:17) out of the abundance of His love speaks to men as friends (see Ex 33:11; Jn 15:14-15) and lives among them (see Bar 3:38), so that He may invite and take them into fellowship with Himself” (no. 2). The God of Genesis already conversed with our first parents, engaging in dialogue with them (cf. Dei Verbum, 3); and when this dialogue was interrupted by sin, the Creator did not cease to seek an encounter with his creatures and to establish a covenant with them. In the Christian Revelation, that is, when God became man in his Son in order to seek us out, the dialogue that had been interrupted is restored in a definitive manner: the Covenant is new and eternal, nothing can separate us from his love. The Revelation of God, then, has the dialogical nature of friendship and, as in the experience of human friendship, it does not tolerate silence, but is nurtured by the exchange of true words.

The Constitution Dei Verbum also reminds us of this: God speaks to us. It is important to recognize the difference between words and chatter: this latter stops at the surface and does not achieve communion between people, whereas in authentic relationships, the word serves not only to exchange information and news, but to reveal who we are. The word possesses a revelatory dimension that creates a relationship with the other. In this way, by speaking to us, God reveals himself to us as an Ally who invites us into friendship with Him.

From this perspective, the first attitude to cultivate is listening, so that the divine Word may penetrate our minds and our hearts; at the same time, we are required to speak with God, not to communicate to him what He already knows, but to reveal ourselves to ourselves.

Hence the need for prayer, in which we are called to live and to cultivate friendship with the Lord. This is achieved first of all in liturgical and community prayer, in which we do not decide what to hear from the Word of God, but it is He Himself who speaks to us through the Church; it is then achieved in personal prayer, which takes place in the interiority of the heart and mind. Time dedicated to prayer, meditation and reflection cannot be lacking in the Christian’s day and week. Only when we speak with God can we also speak about Him.

Our experience tells us that friendships can come to an end through a dramatic gesture of rupture, or because of a series of daily acts of neglect that erode the relationship until it is lost. If Jesus calls us to be friends, let us not leave this call unheeded. Let us welcome it, let us take care of this relationship, and we will discover that friendship with God is our salvation.

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

My greeting then extends to the young people, the sick, and the newlyweds. May the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which we celebrated last Sunday , reawaken in all the memory of our Baptism. May it be for each of us an incentive to always witness to the joy of belonging to Christ, the Father's beloved Son and our Brother who illuminates the path of life.

My blessing to everyone!

14.01.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

I wish you all a blessed and happy Sunday!

11.01.26 a

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

08.01.26  m

Brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

07.01.26

Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!

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

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

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

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

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good wishes to all. Happy Feast!

06.01.26 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

06.01.26 m

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

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

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

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

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

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

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

04.01.26 a

Peace be with you all:

Towards an “unarmed and disarming” peace

“Peace be with you!”

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

The peace of the risen Christ

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

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

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

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

An unarmed peace

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

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

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

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

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

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

A disarming peace

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

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

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

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

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

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

From the Vatican, 8 December 2025

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

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

[3] Ibid., 1.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

01.01.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy New Year!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

01.01.26 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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