News July 2026

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

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

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

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

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

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

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I wish all of you a happy Sunday!

26.07.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

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

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

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

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

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

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

I wish all of you a peaceful Sunday!

19.07.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

12.07.26

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

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

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

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

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

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

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

I wish everyone a happy Sunday!

05.07.26 a

Dear brothers and sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

04.07.26 m