Advent: Perfection, in insecurity

(Jer 33:14-16; Lk 21:25-28.34-36)

 

What kind of Coming is it? A shortcut or an act of power that evens out our stormy waves?

Indeed, it does not seem in the style of 'good news' to speak of «the roar of the sea and the billows» or to reiterate: «watch over the weighed-down hearts».

But in the expectation of his «Promises» - and that He will even manifest himself as «our-righteousness» [first Reading] - we find it difficult to proceed beyond the exterior.

 

In the observant tradition of all peoples, insecurity is perceived as a disadvantage.

So we wait on our Lord in times of economic troubles, that He may profit us with a win; in humiliating events, that He may lift us up.

In loneliness, so that we can meet the right person. 

In the dangers... wishing that at least He conveys strength to turn the situation around.

And in sickness we imagine He restores youthful vigour.

So in babel, let [finally, at least] communicate relaxation - better, triumph.

 

But the Faith detaches itself from this. Faith evaluates with opposite mentality.

 

For example, it happens that we fail to meet a friend because we get the time and place of the appointment wrong.

It also happens with God.

The insecurity proclaimed in the Gospels resembles a «roaring of the sea and the billows» (v.25)... but it is Glad Tidings!

In the mind of the man who dodges oscillations, that kind of «wave» that comes to make us think about old things is immediately identified as an identity danger.

Providence itself - the «wave» that sees ahead - is perhaps branded with disquiet.

In the ideal man as chiselled by the most normalising moralisms, the swampy «water» of the drives is the one that fouls and drags to the ground; and Heaven would always be clear and clean “above” the earth.

Instead, it is often an upstream cultural identification that produces insecurity, far more than the objective reality that ‘comes in’ to refresh our souls and make them as light as the (crudely embodied) «sea foam».

 

Today's Gospel wishes us to be highly critical, and even insecure: it does not say «you must be like this», nor «you are this».

We have to 'dive' into the «waves», we have to know these «billows»; because our fixed point is not in external things.

Missionaries are driven by this certainty: the best 'stability' is instability: that «roar of the sea and the billows» where no wave resembles another.

 

Thus, on the basis of the Word of God... even the liturgical colour violet should perhaps take on a lively reinterpretation - much more biting and profound than we thought we understood.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

Advent: why do you want the Lord... to Come and make Himself Present in your life?

 

 

[1st Advent Sunday (year C),  December 1, 2024]

Advent: Coming, Prayer and turning, amidst the roar of the waves.

The reinterpretation of the liturgical colour purple

 

(Lk 21:25-28.34-36)

 

 

"Jerusalem will be trodden down": twilight and hopes

 

Placing oneself in the "astral" upheavals

(Lk 21:20-28)

 

"And there will be signs in the sun and in the moon and in the stars, and on earth distress of nations in bewilderment by the roaring of the sea and the waves" (v.25).

 

"In these years, the daily reality of our century, tormented already at the dawning of a new millennium, bears the hopes of humanity. The historical process of inculturation of the Gospel and evangelisation of cultures is far from having exhausted all its latent energies. The eternal newness of the Gospel encounters the emergence of cultures in genesis or undergoing renewal. The emergence of new cultures clearly appeals to the courage and intelligence of all believers and all people of goodwill. Social and cultural transformations, political upheavals, ideological ferment, religious restlessness, ethical research, it is a whole world in gestation that aspires to find form and orientation, organic synthesis and a new prophetic season. We know how to draw new answers from the treasury of our hope.

Faced with socio-political imbalances, with scientific discoveries that are not fully controlled, with technical inventions of unprecedented magnitude, mankind remains confusedly the twilight of old ideologies and the wear and tear of old systems. New peoples provoke the old societies, as if to awaken them from their laxity. Young people in search of ideals aspire to give meaning to the human adventure. Neither drugs, violence, permissiveness nor nihilism can fill the void of existence. Minds and hearts are searching for the light that illuminates and the love that warms. Our age reveals to us in the void the spiritual hunger and immense hope of consciences".

[Pope John Paul II, Address to the Pontifical Council for Culture 13 January 1986].

 

At the time of Jesus the eternal city was self-destructing, but the distance between heaven and earth was thinning.

Living Word and ecclesial meditation.

Today, too, we experience reversals: suddenly the fulfilling centre becomes shabby periphery, and vice versa.

And in all walks of life, everyone aspires, tries, explores, migrates, wants to live completely; they are no longer content with the conditions of departure.

Disquiet also spreads to the religious institution, which seemed fixed, certain, eternal, immutable.

Recently, the Pontiff himself spoke of internal 'degeneration'.

How can this be explained? What is the trauma aimed at? And the resulting fall in faith?

On the contrary, what matters about the crisis is precisely in the inner states it activates - despite external perceptions of loss.

We have to disengage ourselves from apparent causes, to enter the depths of the spaces we feel violated.

That pain is part of ourselves, part of the journey of Faith.

By recognising and welcoming it as an intimate vein, a genuine side of being that belongs to us, we regain integrity; we can start again.

 

The authentic Church thinks about the meaning of the journey... also of the whole of history.

It reflects in particular on the unravelling of the holy city and the instability of its cosmos - that of the venerable hierarchies: what was on high now falls ruinously.

The old land of 'promise' is suddenly strewn with ruins: its seemed a heavenly time, passed off as divine; instead, it was a moment, perhaps largely earthly.

On the rubble looms the end of the ancient order, shattered in its archaic prestige and order itself.

As Pope Francis [for example] declared: 'In a Church for the poor, more missionary, there is no room for those who enrich themselves or their magic circle by unworthily wearing the cassock'.

 

The new world will have overturned hierarchies (vv.25-26) and is already causing the crumbling of the pedestals of political, pious and social mythology that have been revealed as earthly.

They have exhausted their useless appeal; they have run out of time. This while a 'wonderful people follow Jesus Christ'.

 

First the obsession with sin, awe and inadequacy preached to all, and the dehumanising, barren steppes produced by civil, military and religious power.

Bitter fruits generated by chosen powers, by worldly princelings, by the stars that seemed celestial [sun, moon, stars and powers that have always towered above humanity: vv.25-26].

The veil has been removed from their teachings: they were not at all angelic, but of this world.

They had partial, purely temporal agendas. They did not form the whole of life.

And here at last is the beginning of a new Kingdom, which is inaugurated in the aspect of a Son, of a Friend with the heart of a man and not of a beast (cf. Dn 7:2-14).

 

A sense of death lurks at the bottom of institutional history, but it is here that the soul is liberated and sublimated.

A new Calling stirs the personal conscience and supplants the ancient principalities. Social summits that laid down the law and controlled everything, oppressing and crushing every new expression of life that rose from below.

Conversely, the Vocation by Name offers the harmony and fraternity of the original Design, conceived as a nuptial feast.

Truths still established will instead be (finally) measured by a saving Presence.

"Flesh" like us and "Rock" like God.

 

A challenging Grace is rising over the supposed catastrophe, an inexorable stage for the establishment of a whole new Fraternity - and the appearance of a new Creation.

Thus, ruin and destruction will turn into high consciousness; exodus, joy of transformation, sense of freedom.

Childlike hope that recomposes the fear of those who thought the Solemn Religion and the sublime enthroned Talar authorities as a safe fortress.

 

The task of the new communities in Christ will be the initiation, the building and the fulfilment of a humanising history, the source in itself of Hope; which overcomes the pre-human time and supplants it with extreme decision.

The relationship between the faithful and the pyramidal mundane - once passed off as sovereign and almost placed in the heavens, on high - will be one of contrast.

The cosmos that has now become meaningless is imploding, in the agony of its finiteness.

For such an upheaval there is only to rejoice.

On the contrary, the style of those who make the world human will be a harbinger of the victory that divinises each one - a triumph that is otherworldly.

For the leaven of history is that of the body bent in service, and the head lifted up in expectation of the Lord who comes in continuity.

 

On every occasion, the attitude of the woman and man of Faith will remain that of one who prepares a new, unpredictable and decisive event [as the appointment with the Coming Christ and Wayfarer always reveals itself even in the details of existence].

But one must help oneself to perceive the proximity of this impersonated meaning: the choice between collapse and despair or happiness and liberation happens now, in the time of life that turns to the moment of the encounter with the glorious Risen One.

We will be without regrets for the impressive 'smoke' of that which has self-destructed - because of its low human-divine figure.

And at all costs we will remain faithful not to ideologies or "solid" idols of flab and papier-mâché, but to the experience of God in a missionary dimension, aware that the future is fulfilled day by day.

 

All this we will activate, even when we are deemed unwise, for the common configurations.

Thus - ousted from roles - we will compromise our beautiful and more serene careers as officials.

All the more reason for us to be convivial.

In Him the upheavals will be transformed: into acute consciousness and happy relationships, emancipated of infinity and justice.

New Majesty, who does not reject the night.

 

For when we pause in the pain we would like to flee, the distances between heaven and earth are thinning.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

How human is your divine?

And in ecclesial matters:

Assuming the language of Pope Francis, what do you think of the "invisible enemy" that still obstructs the reform of internal (paganising) mechanisms and anomalies in the apostolic palaces [and "fake lay friends" everywhere] that do little to suit the evangelical spirit and an ideal "glass house"?

 

 

Crisis of a civilisation

 

Paganisation", "worldliness", "corruption" lead to the destruction of the person. But the Christian, called to confront the 'trials of the world', in the difficulties of life has a horizon of hope because he is invited to the 'wedding of the Lamb'. During the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on the morning of Thursday 29 November, Pope Francis continued to follow the cues of the liturgy which, in the final week of the liturgical year, proposes a series of provocations on the theme of the end, of the "end of the world", of the "end of each one of us".

In the day's liturgy of the word, the Pontiff explained at the beginning of his homily, the two readings taken from Revelation (18, 1-2.21-23; 19, 1-3.9) and from Luke's gospel (21, 20-28) are both characterised by "two parts: one part destruction and then one part trust; one part defeat, one part victory". The focus is on two cities with great evocative power: Babylon and Jerusalem, "two cities that are defeated".

First of all Babylon, "symbol of the worldly city, of luxury, of self-sufficiency, of the power of this world, rich". A reality that "seems joyful", yet "will be destroyed". Revelation affirms this by describing "a rite of victory: 'It has fallen. Babylon, the great, has fallen. It has fallen'". Considering her "incapable of being faithful", the Lord condemns her: "He has condemned the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her prostitution".

Still referring to the biblical text, the Pontiff went into detail about the reality of Babylon. "That ostentation of luxury, of glory, of power," he said, "was a great seduction that led people to destruction. And that great city so beautiful showed its truth: 'it became a den of demons, the refuge of every unclean spirit, the refuge of every unclean bird, the refuge of every unclean and hideous beast'". Behind the "magnificence", therefore, lies "corruption: the feasts of Babylon seemed to be feasts of happy people", but "they were fake feasts of happiness, they were feasts of corruption". And for this reason, the Pope explained, the angel's gesture described by Revelation has a symbolic power: "He took a great stone, as big as a millstone and threw it into the sea, exclaiming: 'With this violence Babylon, the great city, will be destroyed'".

Significant is the list, recalled by the Pontiff, of the consequences reserved for it. First of all, there will be no more feasts: "The sound of the musicians, of the players of zither, flute and trumpet, will no longer be heard in you". Then, since it is "not a city of labour but of corruption", there will no longer be "any craftsman of any trade" in it and "the sound of the millstone" will no longer be heard. And again: 'The light of the lamp will no longer shine in you; it will perhaps be an enlightened city, but without light, not bright; this is corrupt civilisation'. Finally, 'the voice of the bridegroom and the bride will no longer be heard in you'. There were many couples, many people, but there will be no love'.

A destiny of destruction, the Pontiff remarked, that 'begins from within and ends when the Lord says: "Enough". And there will be a day when the Lord will say: 'Enough, to the appearances of this world'". In fact, he added, this 'is the crisis of a civilisation that thinks it is proud, sufficient, dictatorial, and ends like that'.

But a sad fate is also reserved for the other symbol-city, Jerusalem. This is spoken of in the Gospel passage in which Jesus - who "as a good Israelite" loved Jerusalem, but saw it as "adulterous, not faithful to the law" - says: "When you see Jerusalem surrounded by armies, then know that its devastation is near"". That is, Francis explained, the city 'is destroyed because of another kind of corruption: the corruption of infidelity to love'. Because of this infidelity it 'has not been able to recognise the love of God in his Son'. For Jerusalem, too, therefore, the fate is harsh: "And it will fall, and there will be days of vengeance. Jerusalem shall be trodden down by the Gentiles".

It is precisely in this passage from Luke's Gospel that the Pontiff singled out "a phrase that helps us understand the meaning of the destruction of both cities: the worldly city and the holy city: 'Until the days of the Gentiles are fulfilled'". The holy city will be punished because it has opened "the gates of its heart to the pagans". The Pope explained how here emerges "the paganisation of life, in our case, Christian life"; and he launched a provocation: "Do we live as Christians? It seems so. But in truth, our life is pagan'. The Christian, that is, enters into the same "seduction of Babylon and Jerusalem lives like Babylon. He wants to make a synthesis that cannot be made. And both will be condemned". Hence the questions: "Are you a Christian? Are you a Christian?" Then, he urged, 'live as a Christian', because 'you cannot mix water with oil'. Instead, today we are witnessing the 'end of a civilisation that is contradictory in itself, which says it is Christian' but 'lives as a pagan'.

At this point, the horizon of hope suggested by the readings opened up in Francis' reflection. In fact, 'after the end of the worldly city and the paganised city of God, the voice of the Lord will be heard: "After this I heard as a mighty voice of an immense crowd in heaven saying: Alleluia!"'. Hence: 'after destruction there is salvation'. As we read in chapter 19 of Revelation: 'Salvation and glory and power are of our God, for true and just are his judgments'. And the destruction of the two cities, the Pontiff explained, is "a judgement of God: He has condemned the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her prostitution, avenging on her the blood of her servants!" For that worldly city "sacrificed the servants of God, the martyrs. And when Jerusalem became paganised, it sacrificed the great martyr: the Son of God".

The vision of Revelation is grandiose: "And for the second time they said, "Hallelujah!" And the angel said: "Come, blessed are those invited to the wedding of the Lamb!"". It is the image of the "great feast, the true feast. Not the pagan feast and the worldly feast". An image of victory and hope also evoked by Jesus in the gospel: "At that moment of tragedy, then they will see the Son of Man coming on a cloud with great power and glory. When these things begin to happen, arise - in the face of tragedy, of the destruction of paganism, of worldliness, arise - lift up your heads, for your deliverance is at hand'.

Here is the message that challenges every Christian: 'There are tragedies, even in our lives, but in the face of these, look to the horizon, because we have been redeemed and the Lord will come to save us. And this,' Francis added, 'teaches us to live the trials of the world not in a pact with worldliness or paganism that leads us to destruction, but in hope, detaching ourselves from this worldly and pagan seduction, and looking at the horizon, hoping for Christ, the Lord'.

In this perspective of hope, the Pope invited us to cast a glance at the past, even the recent past, in order to reread history in the light of the word of God: "Let us think of how the 'Babylonies' of this time have ended. Let us think of the empires of the last century, for example: "It was the great, the great power...". All collapsed. Only, the humble remain who have their hope in the Lord. And so the great cities of today will also end". In the same way "our life will end if we continue to take it down this road of paganisation. It is the opposite of hope: it leads you to destruction. It is the Babylonian seduction of life that draws us away from the Lord'. Instead, the Lord, the Pontiff concluded, invites us to an "opposite path: to go forward, to look with that Alleluia of hope", because "we are, all of us, invited to the wedding feast of the Son of God". So "let us open our hearts with hope and turn away from the paganisation of life."

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 30/11/2018].

 

 

Words and Nature, codes that will not pass away (short verse)

 

The Sources of Hope

(Lk 21:29-33)

 

Lk ends his Apocalyptic discourse with recommendations on the attention and penetrating gaze to be paid to the sign of the times.

And - rooted in the Word of God that becomes an event and directs to the future, Hope ushers in a new phase of history.

Its depth surpasses all current possibilities, which on the contrary oscillate restlessly between signs of catastrophe.

Jesus reassures the disciples about their fears of the end of the world, and commands them not to look at coded messages, but at Nature.

Only in this way will they be able to read and interpret events.

Wise discernment, which serves not to close us off in the immediate present.

In fact, due to upheavals, a hasty evaluation could lead us to fear reversals, blocking growth and witness.

 

The world and things walk towards a Spring, and first and foremost in this sense we have a sentinel role.

On the ruins of a collapsing century, the Father makes clear what is happening - and continues to build what we hope [not according to immediate tastes].

Here and there we can catch its wisps, like the buds on the fig tree.

It is a tree that alludes to the fruit of love that God awaits from his people, called to be tender and sweet: signs of the new season - that of healthy relationships.

In this way, the spirit of dedication manifested by the sons will be a prefiguration of the coming advent of a completely different empire - capable of replacing all others of a competitive nature in the consciousness.

The fig tree is precisely the image of the ideal people of blessings; Israel of the exodus to freedom, and a trace of the Father [in the reflective sobriety and sharing of the desert].

It remains for a long time bare and skeletal; suddenly its buds sprout, open up, and in a few days it is clothed with luxuriant leaves.

Such will be the transition from chaos to the sensitive and fraternal order produced by the proclamation and assimilation of the Word: thought not equal; divine step into history.

 

Through suggestions that belong to the processes of nature, we are introduced to the discernment of the Mystery - expressed in the torrent of transformations.

Its riches are contained in the codes of the Word and in concrete ordinary events. Caskets of invisible realities, which do not pass away.

Such richness will even (and especially) develop out of confusion and collapse, as if by intrinsic strength and essence, day by day.

Not out of abstract exemplariness, but out of the fullness of life rediscovering its roots - rediscovering them in error and in the small.

A paradoxical seed of hope, and omen of better conditions.

Because without imperfection and limitation there is no growth or blossoming, no neighbouring kingdom (vv.30-31) which always "makes contact with wounds" [Fratelli Tutti n.261].

 

The Word of God and the rhythms of Nature are codes that pass time. Authentic, created, given, and revealed.

Sources of discernment, of the penetrating gaze, of the signs of the times, of free thought, of the Hope that does not settle.The plural Today of God in history, humanising

 

Careful not to burden, Keep watch "praying at all times".

(Lk 21:34-36)

 

The new world pounces on us in an alternative way, and imposes itself from one moment to the next, without any concatenated or too polite forewarning. 

But this is precisely the work of the Spirit that stings one-sidedness, that throws off categorical connections (even of the pious life).

Such impetuous Wind seems to be crumbling everything, instead it acts to gather us together.

As the Pontiff says, changes in the Church are not made 'as if it were a business, by majority or minority'.

Beyond discouragement, in the face of earth-shattering events, there is the danger of losing the critical plural consciousness that would really bring us home, and escape (even from ourselves).

Conversely, the woman and man of Faith discover the Coming of Christ among the people and the many 'kinsmen' of the soul, all of whom are authentic fellow travellers.

He always challenges our freedom on a broad and inclusive hope, which gathers the inner motions - even the most disparate; a kind of new 'synodality'.

True disciples perceive the new Kingdom bursting forth suddenly - not according to a 'party' procedure [continuing to quote Pope Francis at the General Audience: see below].

 

Women and men of Faith exercise perception, they become aware of the wailing of the new life; they do not break down.

They do not seek palliatives or cerebral ideas à la page, which dissipate our energies and confuse us, or even more, make us lower our guard.

On the other hand, here is the danger of settling into an institutional time - and the sprouting of obscure compensations: bogus solutions, which make us numb; good only for distracting us, and even tiresome (vv.34-35).

Evasions or half-measures anaesthetise the soul.

In the end, compromises remain an expression of the sense of impotence and failure that sometimes grips the - even spiritual - partisan life [today with its little disembodied orientations; or recovery of lost ground, or excess of sophistication].

And the tragic debaucheries are but a tell-tale sign of the attempt to escape, or turn back - of irresolvable attachments.

Trap-idols ["snares" of v.35] to be kept at a distance: they do not allow one to notice the Lord who comes.

They limit the wealth that wants to come. Wealth that in truth we already contain: in the sides to which we have not yet given space. In them dwells an eminent, authentic and hidden Self.

There - in the Mystery - new life teems. Unexplored veins that wait. Verses of the unconscious that want to express themselves. In contact with our Calling by Name and deep essence.

Intimate resources to be harnessed and triggered by wise expansion; even with bitter fruit - from events that appear threatening, yet activate an excavation, a discovery, an Exodus.

So let us not divide the panorama hysterically, between good and bad emotions: for the 'new' of where we are and where we will be, even perils or bitterness, pauses or detours will have made sense.

In short, we do not allow ourselves to be reduced or seized by the lacerating struggle between black and white... but we do not renounce the virtue of casting off ballast, overcoming fears, in order to widen our gaze.

 

Prayer here becomes therapy, Presence, Motive and Drive; source and summit. Medicine and Bread for the journey of those who do not want to let themselves be put to sleep, but wish to remain awake, indeed to advance, and activate the future.

By assimilating the sacred viewpoint on the world's upheavals, in prayer we will gain a good disposition, we will move our eye to horizons where not a single shape and colour appears.

We will realise that Providence is right, that the Spirit is working well: he is bringing us closer to the Father's full plan.

By approaching in this way also the brothers' desire for life, we will stand "standing upright" (v.36), that is, we will await and welcome without fear the coming of the "Son of Man".

Authentic Presence of God - true and full development of the divine plan on humanity.

 

Perhaps even today we still find it difficult to believe that the Messiah can be identified with the One who creates abundance where there is none and where it did not previously seem permissible to expand.

'Son of Man', on the other hand, is the One who, having reached the pinnacle of human completeness, comes to reflect the divine condition and radiates it widely.

Such a profound side was expected to be absolute, performing, and selective. Close-up.

The Incarnation surprises. It re-evaluates even our skeletal, deficient being.

It transforms it into a precious pearl, a "sniff without citizenship":

"In the synodal journey, listening must take into account the sensus fidei, but it must not overlook all those "presentiments" embodied where we would not expect it: there may be a "sniff without citizenship", but it is no less effective. The Holy Spirit in his freedom knows no boundaries, nor does he allow himself to be limited by affiliations. If the parish is the home of everyone in the neighbourhood, not an exclusive club, I recommend: leave doors and windows open, do not limit yourself to considering only those who attend or think like you - that will be 3, 4 or 5%, no more. Allow everyone to come in... Allow yourself to go out and let yourself be questioned, let their questions be your questions, allow yourself to walk together: the Spirit will lead you, trust the Spirit. Do not be afraid to enter into dialogue and allow yourselves to be moved by it: it is the dialogue of salvation.

Its depth is rooted not in the most algid 'perfection', but in all that is unseated - and it surpasses the categories of ancient, one-sided, respectable religiosity' [Pope Francis, Address to the Diocese of Rome, 18 September 2021].

 

Happenings - even opposing (and inseparable) ones - speak, in us; they develop out of inner energy.

They are treasure troves of enthralling realities; they contain a secret to amaze, a destination that surprises.

Vigilance and Prayer prepare us for this unexpected Encounter, which is growth and humanisation of the people: the quiet, true and full overflowing of the Eternal project, transferred in a wide net.

This is without resignation... even in the summation of the everyday - as well as through the vision and action of prophets who do not blame their own finitude. On the contrary, they see it as a turning point.

 

This makes the incarnate Son come alive and present, animating 'everything' even in the age of uncertainty - sustained by prayer 'the living fire of the Spirit, which gives strength to witness and mission'.

 

All this opens up a healthy and non-disassociated ecclesiality:

 

 

Coordinates of Ecclesiality

 

The first steps of the Church in the world were marked by prayer. The apostolic writings and the great narrative of the Acts of the Apostles give us the image of a Church on the move, an industrious Church, which, however, found in prayer meetings the basis and the impetus for missionary action. The image of the primitive Jerusalem Community is a reference point for every other Christian experience. Luke writes in the Book of Acts: "They were persevering in the apostles' teaching and fellowship, in breaking bread and in prayers" (2:42). The community perseveres in prayer.

We find here four essential characteristics of church life: first, listening to the apostles' teaching; second, the keeping of fellowship with one another; third, the breaking of bread; and fourth, prayer. They remind us that the Church's existence has meaning if it remains firmly united with Christ, that is, in the community, in his Word, in the Eucharist and in prayer. It is the way to unite ourselves, us, to Christ. Preaching and catechesis bear witness to the Master's words and gestures; the constant search for fraternal communion preserves us from selfishness and particularism; the breaking of bread realises the sacrament of Jesus' presence in our midst: He will never be absent, in the Eucharist it is Him. He lives and walks with us. And finally prayer, which is the space for dialogue with the Father, through Christ in the Holy Spirit.

Everything in the Church that grows out of these 'coordinates' is without foundation. To discern a situation, we must ask ourselves how, in this situation, there are these four coordinates: preaching, the constant search for fraternal communion - charity -, the breaking of bread - that is, Eucharistic life - and prayer. Any situation must be evaluated in the light of these four coordinates. What does not fit into these coordinates is devoid of ecclesiality, it is not ecclesial. It is God who makes the Church, not the clamour of works. The Church is not a marketplace; the Church is not a group of entrepreneurs going forward with this new enterprise. The Church is the work of the Holy Spirit, whom Jesus sent to gather us together. The Church is precisely the work of the Spirit in the Christian community, in community life, in the Eucharist, in prayer, always. And everything that grows outside of these coordinates is without foundation, it is like a house built on sand (cf. Mt 7:24-27). It is God who makes the Church, not the clamour of works. It is the word of Jesus that fills our efforts with meaning. It is in humility that the future of the world is built.

At times, I feel a great sadness when I see some communities that, with good will, take the wrong road because they think they are doing the Church in gatherings, as if it were a political party: the majority, the minority, what this, that, the other thinks... 'This is like a Synod, a synodal road that we must take'. I ask myself: where is the Holy Spirit there? Where is the prayer? Where is community love? Where is the Eucharist? Without these four coordinates, the Church becomes a human society, a political party - majority, minority - changes are made as if it were a company, for majority or minority... But there is no Holy Spirit. And the presence of the Holy Spirit is precisely guaranteed by these four coordinates. To evaluate a situation, whether it is ecclesial or not, let us ask ourselves if there are these four coordinates: community life, prayer, the Eucharist...[preaching], how life develops in these four coordinates. If this is lacking, the Spirit is lacking, and if the Spirit is lacking we will be a beautiful humanitarian, charity association, fine, even a party, let's say, ecclesial, but there is no Church. And that is why the Church cannot grow by these things: it grows not by proselytism, like any business, it grows by attraction. And who moves the attraction? The Holy Spirit. Let us never forget this word of Benedict XVI: 'The Church does not grow by proselytism, it grows by attraction'. If the Holy Spirit, which is what attracts people to Jesus, is missing, there is no Church. There is a nice club of friends, fine, with good intentions, but there is no Church, there is no synodality.

Reading the Acts of the Apostles we then discover how the powerful engine of evangelisation is prayer meetings, where those who attend experience the presence of Jesus live and are touched by the Spirit. The members of the first community - but this is always true, even for us today - perceive that the story of their encounter with Jesus did not stop at the moment of the Ascension, but continues in their lives. Telling what the Lord said and did - listening to the Word - praying to enter into communion with Him, everything comes alive. Prayer infuses light and warmth: the gift of the Spirit gives them fervour.

In this regard, the Catechism has a very dense expression. It says: 'The Holy Spirit [...] reminds Christ to his praying Church, he also leads her to the whole Truth and gives rise to new formulations, which will express the unfathomable Mystery of Christ, which is at work in the life, sacraments and mission of his Church' (no. 2625). This is the work of the Spirit in the Church: to remember Jesus. Jesus himself said it: He will teach you and remind you. The mission is to remember Jesus, but not as a mnemonic exercise. Christians, walking on the paths of mission, remember Jesus as they make him present again; and from him, from his Spirit, they receive the "drive" to go, to proclaim, to serve. In prayer, the Christian immerses himself in the mystery of God, who loves every man, that God who desires the Gospel to be preached to all. God is God for all, and in Jesus every wall of separation has definitively collapsed: as St Paul says, He is our peace, that is, "he who of two has made one" (Eph 2:14). Jesus made unity.

Thus, the life of the early Church is punctuated by a continuous succession of celebrations, convocations, times of both communal and personal prayer. And it is the Spirit who grants strength to preachers who set out, and who for the love of Jesus sail the seas, face dangers, submit to humiliation.

God gives love, God asks for love. This is the mystical root of all believing life. The first Christians in prayer, but also we who come several centuries later, all experience the same thing. The Spirit animates everything. And every Christian who is not afraid to devote time to prayer can make the words of the Apostle Paul his own: "This life, which I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself up for me" (Gal 2:20). Prayer makes you conscious of this. Only in the silence of adoration do we experience the full truth of these words. We must regain the meaning of adoration. Worship, worship God, worship Jesus, worship the Spirit. The Father, the Son and the Spirit: adore. In silence. The prayer of adoration is the prayer that makes us recognise God as the beginning and the end of all history. And this prayer is the living fire of the Spirit that gives strength to witness and mission.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 25 November 2020].

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

Advent: why do you want the Lord to come and make himself present in your life?

Incarnation. Security is in the insecurity: Coming, Prayer and turning, amid roaring waves.

(Lk 21:25-28.34-36)

 

What kind of Coming is it?

And why do we want the Lord to make himself present in our lives?

Are we waiting for a shortcut - an act of power - that will even out the stormy sea?

Indeed, it does not seem in the style of Good News to speak of "the roar of the sea and the billows" or to reiterate: "watch over the weighed down hearts".

But there is a wise way to understand these expressions, which is not the one already placed in the moral paradigm of religious cultures.

 

In the observant tradition of all peoples, insecurity is perceived as a disadvantage.

According to commonplaces, spiritual masters note progress when a soul with a mixed and disordered existence overcomes its turmoil in favour of order and tranquillity.

But the experience in the Spirit is more intimately restless than overt. Nor is it the same as a generic 'spiritual life' animated by a devout sense that detaches itself from transversal instances, for an ideal of 'consistent calm'.

 

Thus conditioned by a standardised indoctrination to know how to 'be in society', we wait to piously meet our Lord in dark times, but for Him to restore our fortunes.

We wait for him in times of economic troubles, so that he may give us an advantage with a win; in humiliating events, so that he may make us rise again.

In loneliness, that he may bring the right person together. 

In dangers... wishing that He at least conveys strength to turn the situation around.

And in sickness, we imagine that He restores youthful vigour.

So in babel, that (finally, at least) He communicates relaxation - better, triumph.

 

In the Gospels Jesus tries to make his own understand where and when to authentically encounter God.

But in the expectation of his 'Promises' - and that he will even manifest himself as 'our-Justice' [First Reading] - we find it difficult to proceed beyond the external.

We also project our ideas into religion - but Faith detaches itself from them. It evaluates with an opposite mentality.

For example, it happens that we fail to meet a friend because we get the time and place of the appointment wrong.

It also happens with God.

The insecurity proclaimed in the Gospels resembles "the roar of the sea and the billows" (v.25)... but it is glad tidings!

Although we tend to give a sense of permanence to what we have experienced and thought we 'were', time and again we experience that our certainties change - just like the waves.

 

Jesus teaches that true self-doubt paradoxically arises from some self-identification of ours that attempts (comically) to balance the waves of life.

Instead, the essence of each one springs from a living Source, which does what it must every day.

Habits, views, reassuring ways of being with people and dealing with situations, cut off the richness of our precious nuances; much of our very faces.

And births and rejuvenations that belong to us.

The inner impact of the many solicitations of this cosmic [and personal] Core insinuates an inevitable and fertile imbalance, which we risk, however, interpreting negatively; precisely, as annoyance.

In the mind of the man who dodges oscillations, that kind of 'wave' that comes to make us reason about ancient things is immediately identified as an identity danger.

Providence itself - the 'wave' that sees ahead - is perhaps branded with disquiet, even by those who advise us.

In the ideal man as chiselled by normalising moralisms, the swampy 'water' of drives is the one that dirties and drags down. And Heaven would always be clear and clean 'above' the earth.

Instead, it is often the thought, a cultural identification upstream, that produces insecurity and torment.

Prejudice overwhelms us far more than objective reality, which comes in to refresh our souls and make them as light as the cruelly embodied 'sea foam'.

 

For an evolution towards improvement, Jesus wants a disciple who is permeable to the novelties that shake the old 'status'.

The lack of doubt that the Lord intends to convey does not rhyme with the mechanism of habits.

The certainty he wishes to give us is not the false one - of the lazy immutability of things that are always the same.

The state of defensiveness and 'prevention' may be characteristic of a life spent in self-interested withdrawal, dribbling away the shocks - not a figure of Life in the Spirit.

 

Today's Gospel wishes believers to be highly critical, and even insecure: it does not say "you must be like this", nor "you are this" - "we have made it, why not you?".

[St Benedict's identity is not that of St Francis, although they are both deeply rooted (like circumstances) in the same Source; original Source, however of gushing water].

 

We must dive into the 'waves', we must know these 'waves'; for our stationary point is not in the external things or things that we showcase, but in the Scattering of Being.

The Scrutiny of appearances condemns us to the worst of fluctuations, to the least advantageous of insecurities: to believe that by maintaining (e.g.) economic levels or prestige, reaching that goal, climbing the scoreboard, etc., we will avoid frustrations, avoid anguish, finally be without conflict and even be happy.

But in doing so, our soul is not strengthened, nor does it fly to territories as yet unknown; rather, it rests in the enclosure of the most homologising barnyard.

Instead, we are alive, and the youthfulness that conquers the Kingdom comes from the chaos of upheaval.

Missionaries are animated by this one certainty: the best stability is instability: that "roar of the sea and the waves" where no wave resembles another.

 

In short, based on the Word of God, perhaps even the liturgical colour purple should take on a reinterpretation - much more vital, biting and profound than the one we thought we understood.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

Advent: why do you want the Lord to come and make Himself Present in your life?

Today the Church begins a new liturgical year, a journey that is further enriched by the Year of Faith, 50 years after the opening of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council. The first Tempo of this itinerary is Advent, formed, in the Roman Rite, by the four weeks preceding the Christmas of the Lord, that is, the mystery of the Incarnation. The word 'Advent' means 'coming' or 'presence'. In the ancient world it indicated the visit of the king or emperor to a province; in Christian language it refers to the coming of God, to his presence in the world; a mystery that envelops the cosmos and history in its entirety, but which knows two culminating moments: the first and second coming of Jesus Christ. The first is the Incarnation; the second is the glorious return at the end of time. These two moments, which chronologically are distant - and we are not given to know how far apart -, in depth touch each other, because with his death and resurrection Jesus has already achieved that transformation of man and the cosmos that is the final goal of creation. But before the end, it is necessary that the Gospel be proclaimed to all nations, says Jesus in the Gospel of St Mark (cf. Mk 13:10). The coming of the Lord continues, the world must be penetrated by his presence. And this permanent coming of the Lord in the proclamation of the Gospel continually requires our collaboration; and the Church, which is like the Betrothed, the promised Bride of the crucified and risen Lamb of God (cf. Rev 21:9), in communion with her Lord collaborates in this coming of the Lord, in which his glorious return already begins.

This is what the Word of God calls us to today, outlining the course of action to follow in order to be ready for the coming of the Lord. In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus says to the disciples: "Let not your hearts be heavy with dissipation, drunkenness, and the cares of life ... keep watch and pray at all times" (Lk 21:34, 36). Therefore, sobriety and prayer. And the Apostle Paul adds the invitation to "grow and abound in love" among ourselves and towards all, to make our hearts firm and blameless in holiness (cf. 1 Thess 3:12-13). In the midst of the upheavals of the world, or the deserts of indifference and materialism, Christians receive salvation from God and bear witness to it with a different way of living, like a city set on a mountain. "In those days," announces the prophet Jeremiah, "Jerusalem shall live quietly, and shall be called: Lord-our-justice" (33:16). The community of believers is a sign of God's love, of his righteousness that is already present and at work in history but not yet fully realised, and therefore must always be awaited, invoked, sought with patience and courage.

The Virgin Mary perfectly embodies the spirit of Advent, made up of listening to God, of a deep desire to do his will, of joyful service to one's neighbour. Let us allow ourselves to be guided by her, so that the God who comes may not find us closed or distracted, but may, in each of us, extend a little of his reign of love, justice and peace.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 2 December 2012]

Watch and pray at all times, that you may have the strength . . . to appear before the Son of Man" (Lk 21:36).

These words of Christ, taken from the Gospel of Luke, introduce us into the profound meaning of the Liturgy we are celebrating. On this first Sunday of Advent, which marks the beginning of the second year of immediate preparation for the Jubilee of the Year 2000, the exhortation to watch and pray, in order to be ready for the encounter with the Lord, resounds more vividly than ever.

The thought goes first of all to the meeting next Christmas, when once again we will kneel before the cradle of the newborn Saviour. But the mind also races towards the great date of the Year 2000, when the whole Church will relive the mystery of the Incarnation of the Word with a very special intensity. Towards that goal we are invited to quicken our pace, letting ourselves be guided, especially during the present liturgical year, by the light of the Holy Spirit. Indeed, "among the primary commitments in preparation for the Jubilee is the rediscovery of the presence and action of the Spirit, who acts in the Church" (Tertio millennio adveniente, 45).

In this perspective, the Great Jubilee Committee continues to carry out its work with commendable commitment. Its valuable ecclesial service deserves to be encouraged, especially at this stage so close to the historic deadline. Thanks to the initiatives of animation and coordination put in place by this central body, the path that will lead the People of God to cross the threshold of the third millennium can be better directed and stimulated.

6. "Behold, days will come . . . in which I will fulfil the promises of good that I have made" (Jer 33:14). Through the action of the Spirit, the Lord leads the history of salvation through the centuries to its supreme fulfilment.

"Send forth thy Spirit and renew the face of the earth!" As upon Mary, Virgin of Advent, send your Spirit upon us. Send your Spirit, O Lord, upon the city of Rome and renew its face! Send your Spirit upon the whole world as it prepares to enter the third millennium of the Christian era.

Help us to welcome, like Mary, the gift of your divine presence and protection. Help us to be docile to the promptings of the Spirit, that we may proclaim with courage and apostolic ardour the Word who became flesh and came to dwell among us: Jesus Christ, the God made Man, who redeemed us with his death and resurrection. Amen!

[Pope John Paul II, homily 30 November 1997]

The Gospel of today's Liturgy, the first Sunday of Advent, that is, the first Sunday of preparation for Christmas, speaks to us of the coming of the Lord at the end of time. Jesus announces bleak events and tribulations, but precisely at this point he invites us not to be afraid. Why? Because all will be well? No, but because He will come. Jesus will return, Jesus will come, He has promised it. He says: "Arise and lift up your heads, for your deliverance is at hand" (Lk 21:28). It is good to hear this Word of encouragement: to rise up and raise our heads because it is precisely in the moments when everything seems to be over that the Lord comes to save us; to wait for him with joy even in the midst of tribulations, in the crises of life and in the dramas of history. Waiting for the Lord. But how do we raise our heads, how do we not let ourselves be absorbed by difficulties, sufferings, defeats? Jesus shows us the way with a strong reminder: 'Watch yourselves, lest your hearts become heavy [...]. Watch at all times by praying" (vv. 34.36).

"Watch," vigilance. Let us pause on this important aspect of the Christian life. From Christ's words we see that watchfulness is linked to attention: be attentive, be vigilant, do not be distracted, that is, stay awake! Watchfulness means this: do not allow your heart to become lazy and your spiritual life to soften into mediocrity. Be careful because one can be a "sleeping Christian" - and we know: there are many sleeping Christians, Christians anaesthetised by spiritual worldliness - Christians without spiritual impetus, without ardour in praying - they pray like parrots - without enthusiasm for the mission, without passion for the Gospel. Christians who always look inwards, unable to look to the horizon. And this leads to 'dozing off': getting on with things out of inertia, falling into apathy, indifferent to everything except what suits us. And that is a sad life, going on like that - there is no happiness there.

We need to be vigilant lest we drag our days into habit, lest we be weighed down - Jesus says - by the burdens of life (cf. v. 34). The burdens of life weigh us down. Today, then, is a good opportunity to ask ourselves: what weighs down my heart? What weighs down my spirit? What makes me sit in the armchair of laziness? It is sad to see Christians 'in the armchair'! What are the mediocrities that paralyse me, the vices that crush me to the ground and prevent me from lifting my head? And with regard to the burdens on the shoulders of the brothers, am I attentive or indifferent? These questions do us good, for they help guard the heart from sloth. But, Father, tell us: what is acedia? It is a great enemy of the spiritual life, even of the Christian life. Acedia is that laziness which causes one to fall, to slide into sadness, which takes away the zest for life and the will to do. It is a negative spirit, an evil spirit that pins the soul in torpor, robbing it of joy. You start with that sadness, you slip, you slip, and no joy. The Book of Proverbs says: "Guard your heart, for from it springs life" (Pr 4:23). Guard your heart: this means watchfulness, vigilance! Be awake, guard your heart.

And let us add an essential ingredient: the secret to being vigilant is prayer. For Jesus says: 'Keep watch at all times by praying' (Lk 21:36). It is prayer that keeps the lamp of the heart burning. Especially when we feel our enthusiasm grow cold, prayer rekindles it, because it brings us back to God, to the centre of things. Prayer awakens the soul from sleep and focuses it on what matters, on the purpose of existence. Even in our busiest days, we do not neglect prayer. Now I was watching, in the programme "In His Image", a beautiful reflection on prayer: it will help us, watching it will do us good. The prayer of the heart, repeating short invocations often, can help us. In Advent, get used to saying, for example: "Come, Lord Jesus". Only this, but say it: 'Come, Lord Jesus'. This time of preparation for Christmas is beautiful: we think of the crib, we think of Christmas, and we say from the heart: 'Come, Lord Jesus, come'. Let us repeat this prayer throughout the day, and the soul will remain alert! "Come, Lord Jesus": it is a prayer we can say three times, all together. "Come, Lord Jesus", "Come, Lord Jesus", "Come, Lord Jesus".

And now let us pray to Our Lady: she, who waited for the Lord with a watchful heart, may she accompany us on the journey of Advent.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 28 November 2021]

The Call of the fishermen

(Mt 4:18-22)

 

It is not the call of the boss, but the invitation of the Friend, who lives firsthand what he preaches, exposing himself.

To Abraham God says «Go to the land that I will point you to». Jesus does not say «Go», but «Come»: it’s He who risks and goes ahead, offering Himself as Lamb.

Abraham is only an envoy; the disciple of Christ on the way reproposes a Person in relationship and his whole story.

«Fishermen of men»: the meaning of the expression is clearer in Lk 5:10 [Greek text]: our mission is to raise to life those who no longer breathe, suffocate, enveloped by impetuous waves, by forces of negativity.

Pull them out of polluted eddies where one live dehumanizing. To place everyone in transparent water, with values that are no longer those of the folded up and corrupt society of the cunnings.

The Son of God calls us to cut off what degrades the experience of personal fullness. He promotes in each one the dna of God who doesn’t create competition, but communion.

It’s essential to abandon the «nets»: what envelops and prevents, blocks. Even the «boat», that is, the way of managing work.

And the «father», who in the family passed on the tradition, customs which risked blurring the new Light.

All jerseys to be broken. It means: a new approach, even if you continue to carry out the previous life.

Values are no longer static and banal [seeking consensus, settling down...]: fatuous glitters, that inculcate external idols, regulating and uniformizing.

 

To give these new impulses, Jesus flies over the court palaces, from which nothing would have been born.

Nor does he designate anyone with the title that belongs to Him alone: «Pastor».

We need attention, not directors and leaders who judge, or binaries that do not concern us; nor unnecessary mental patterns.

The woman and the man of all times need only wise support; traveling companions who help discover their hidden sides, unknowns, secrets, that can flourish.

The Person dimension is essential.

Of course, we must distract the mind from the known, and take the Way of the ‘farther’: no shortcut free of unknowns.

Road traveled on foot, which changes one’s own and other people’s mental atmosphere; wich flies over the custom, used, whatever, external way of seeing things.

Here, standing in our Call and naturalness, we’ll be all-round ourselves. And we will be surprised.

This in the gamble of unpredictable Love: only in this way can one contact one’s own deep states, to know each other; thus realizing unexpected dreams of open and complete life, by activating dormant energies.

And like Jesus, able to put into action anyone who we meet - recovering the opposite sides and eccentricities, for a total ideal.

 

 

[St  Andrew the Apostle, November 30, 2024]

Call of the fishermen

(Mt 4:18-22)

 

It is not the call of the leader, but the invitation of the Friend, who lives personally what he preaches, exposing himself.

To Abraham God says "Go to the land that I will show you". Jesus does not say 'Go', but 'Come': it is He who risks and goes ahead, presenting Himself as the Lamb.

He does not sit down to lecture and teach doctrines.

Abraham is only an envoy; Christ's disciple on the way re-presents a Person in relation to him and his whole story.

"Fishers of men": the meaning of the expression is clearer in Lk 5:10 [Greek text]: our mission is to lift to life those who are no longer breathing, suffocating, enveloped by raging waves, by forces of negativity.

Pull them out of polluted whirlpools where people live in a dehumanising way. Place them all in transparent water, with values that are no longer those of the bent and corrupt society of the cunning.

The Son of God calls to invite us to cut away that which degrades the experience of personal fullness. He fosters in everyone the DNA of the God who does not create competition, but communion.

Fundamental is to abandon the "nets": that which entangles and prevents, blocks. Even the "boat", that is, the way of managing work.

Even the "father", who in the family transmitted tradition, customs (which risked obscuring the New Light).

All links to be broken. It means: a new approach, even if one continues with one's former life.

Values are no longer static and banal [consensus-seeking, settling down...]: fatuous glitter, inculcating external, regulating and uniforming idols.

 

To give these new impulses, Jesus does not choose sacred environments and (perhaps pious) people who could not regenerate anyone.

The Lord passes over courtly palaces, from which nothing would be born.

Nor does He designate someone with the title that belongs to Him alone: 'Shepherd' [and it is not clear why all denominational traditions were then immediately filled with 'shepherds'...].

We need attention, not judging directors and leaders, or binaries that do not concern us; nor do we need useless mental models.

The woman and man of all times only need wise support; fellow travellers who help discover their hidden, unknown, secret sides, which can flourish.

The Person dimension is essential, but for the realisation of oneself and the Kingdom of God, it is perhaps impossible to stand alone and face Heaven face to face.

Of course, one must distract the mind from the known, and take the albeit dangerous path of "further on": no shortcut without unknowns.

A road trodden on foot, which changes one's own and others' mental atmosphere; which glosses over the used, external, qualunquistic way of seeing things.

Here, standing in our Calling and naturalness, we will be ourselves in the round. And we will surprise ourselves.

This in the hazard of unpredictable Love: only thus able to contact our own deep states, to know ourselves; thus realising unexpected dreams of open and complete life, activating dormant energies.

And like Jesus, able to put into action everyone one meets - recovering opposing sides and eccentricities, for a total ideal.

 

The Tao Tê Ching (LXV) says:

"In ancient times those who practised the Way well did not make the people discerning with it, but with it they strove to make them dull".

Master Wang Pi points out: "Perspicacious here means that he obfuscates his own simplicity, displaying cunning and falsehood. Obtuse means that he does not conform to spontaneity, knowing nothing and keeping himself genuine'.

And commenting on the same passage from the Tao, Master Ho-shang Kung adds:

"The man who possesses the mysterious virtue is opposed to and different from creatures: the latter want to increase themselves, the mysterious virtue confers on others".

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

What certainties do you still have to leave behind?

Do you cultivate vital openings?

If you meet Jesus who walks, treads, goes further: how and according to what inclinations do you think your barrenness could become fruitful?

 

 

Andrew, the Protoclite

Dear brothers and sisters

in the last two catecheses we have spoken of the figure of St Peter. Now we want, as far as the sources allow, to get to know the other eleven Apostles a little more closely. Therefore let us speak today of Simon Peter's brother, Saint Andrew, also one of the Twelve. The first striking feature in Andrew is his name: it is not Hebrew, as one would have expected, but Greek, a not inconsiderable sign of a certain cultural openness in his family. We are in Galilee, where the Greek language and culture are quite present. In the lists of the Twelve, Andrew occupies the second place, as in Matthew (10:1-4) and Luke (6:13-16), or the fourth place as in Mark (3:13-18) and Acts (1:13-14). In any case, he certainly enjoyed great prestige within the early Christian communities.The blood bond between Peter and Andrew, as well as the common call addressed to them by Jesus, emerge explicitly in the Gospels. We read: 'As Jesus was walking along the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and Andrew his brother, casting their nets into the sea, because they were fishermen. And he said to them, 'Follow me, I will make you fishers of men'" (Mt 4:18-19; Mk 1:16-17). From the Fourth Gospel we gather another important detail: at first, Andrew was a disciple of John the Baptist; and this shows us that he was a man who sought, who shared the hope of Israel, who wanted to know more about the word of the Lord, the reality of the Lord present. He was truly a man of faith and hope; and from John the Baptist one day he heard Jesus proclaimed as 'the Lamb of God' (John 1:36); he then moved and, together with another unnamed disciple, followed Jesus, the One who was called by John 'the Lamb of God'. The evangelist relates: they "saw where he was staying and that day they stayed with him" (John 1:37-39). Andrew therefore enjoyed precious moments of intimacy with Jesus. The account continues with a significant note: "One of the two who had heard John's words and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother. He met his brother Simon first and said to him, "We have found the Messiah, which means the Christ," and led him to Jesus" (John 1:40-43), immediately showing an uncommon apostolic spirit. Andrew, therefore, was the first of the Apostles to be called to follow Jesus. Precisely on this basis, the liturgy of the Byzantine Church honours him with the appellation Protóklitos, which means 'first called'. And it is certain that also because of the fraternal relationship between Peter and Andrew, the Church of Rome and the Church of Constantinople feel that they are sister Churches in a special way. To underline this relationship, my predecessor Pope Paul VI, in 1964, returned the distinguished relic of St Andrew, until then kept in the Vatican Basilica, to the Orthodox Metropolitan Bishop of the city of Patras in Greece, where according to tradition the Apostle was crucified.

Gospel traditions particularly recall the name of Andrew on three other occasions that make us know this man a little more. The first is that of the multiplication of the loaves in Galilee. At that juncture, it was Andrew who pointed out to Jesus the presence of a boy who had with him five barley loaves and two fish: very little - he remarked - for all the people gathered there (cf. Jn 6:8-9). It is worth emphasising, in this case, Andrew's realism: he noticed the boy - so he had already asked the question: "But what is this for so many people?" (ibid.) - and realised the insufficiency of his few resources. Jesus, however, was able to make them sufficient for the multitude of people who had come to listen to him. The second occasion was in Jerusalem. On his way out of the city, a disciple pointed out to Jesus the sight of the mighty walls that supported the Temple. The Master's response was surprising: he said that not stone upon stone would remain of those walls. Andrew then, together with Peter, James and John, asked him: "Tell us when this will happen and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be fulfilled" (Mk 13:1-4). In response to this question, Jesus gave an important discourse on the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of the world, inviting his disciples to read the signs of the times carefully and to remain ever vigilant. From this we can deduce that we must not be afraid to ask Jesus questions, but at the same time we must be ready to accept the teachings, even surprising and difficult ones, that he offers us.

Finally, a third initiative of Andrew is recorded in the Gospels. The setting is Jerusalem again, just before the Passion. For the feast of Passover,' John recounts, 'some Greeks had also come to the holy city, probably proselytes or God-fearers, who had come to worship the God of Israel on the feast of Passover. Andrew and Philip, the two apostles with Greek names, served as interpreters and mediators of this small group of Greeks to Jesus. The Lord's answer to their question appears - as so often in John's Gospel - enigmatic, but it is precisely in this way that it reveals itself to be rich in meaning. Jesus says to the two disciples and, through them, to the Greek world: "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Truly, truly, I say to you, if the grain of wheat that falls into the earth does not die, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" (12:23-24). What do these words mean in this context? Jesus wants to say: Yes, the meeting between me and the Greeks will take place, but not as a simple and brief conversation between me and some people, driven above all by curiosity. With my death, comparable to the falling to the ground of a grain of wheat, the hour of my glorification will come. From my death on the cross will come the great fruitfulness: the 'dead grain of wheat' - symbol of me crucified - will become in the resurrection bread of life for the world; it will be light for peoples and cultures. Yes, the encounter with the Greek soul, with the Greek world, will take place at that depth alluded to in the story of the grain of wheat that draws to itself the forces of earth and heaven and becomes bread. In other words, Jesus prophesies the Church of the Greeks, the Church of the Gentiles, the Church of the world as the fruit of his Passover.

Very ancient traditions see in Andrew, who transmitted this word to the Greeks, not only the interpreter of some Greeks in the encounter with Jesus now mentioned, but they consider him to be the apostle of the Greeks in the years that followed Pentecost; they let us know that in the rest of his life he was the announcer and interpreter of Jesus for the Greek world. Peter, his brother, came from Jerusalem via Antioch to Rome to exercise his universal mission there; Andrew, on the other hand, was the apostle to the Greek world: they thus appear in life and in death as true brothers - a brotherhood that is symbolically expressed in the special relationship of the Sees of Rome and Constantinople, truly sister Churches.

A later tradition, as mentioned, tells of Andrew's death in Patras, where he too suffered the torture of crucifixion. At that supreme moment, however, similarly to his brother Peter, he asked to be placed on a different cross from that of Jesus. In his case, it was a decussate cross, i.e. a cross with an inclined cross, which was therefore called 'St Andrew's cross'. Here is what the Apostle is said to have said on that occasion, according to an ancient account (early 6th century) entitled Andrew's Passion: 'Hail, O Cross, inaugurated by the body of Christ and adorned with his members, as if they were precious pearls. Before the Lord ascended thee, thou inculcatedst an earthly fear. Now instead, endowed with a heavenly love, you are received as a gift. Believers know, in your regard, how much joy you possess, how many gifts you keep prepared. Surely therefore and full of joy I come to thee, that thou also mayest receive me exultant as a disciple of him who was suspended to thee ... O blessed Cross, who received the majesty and beauty of the Lord's limbs! ... Take me and bear me away from men and render me to my Master, that through thee I may be received by him who by thee redeemed me. Hail, O Cross; yes, hail indeed!". As we can see, there is here a very profound Christian spirituality, which sees in the Cross not so much an instrument of torture as the incomparable means of a full assimilation to the Redeemer, to the Grain of wheat fallen to the earth. We must learn from here a very important lesson: our crosses acquire value if they are considered and accepted as part of the cross of Christ, if they are reached by the reverberation of his light. Only from that Cross are even our sufferings ennobled and acquire their true meaning.

May the Apostle Andrew, therefore, teach us to follow Jesus promptly (cf. Mt 4:20; Mk 1:18), to speak enthusiastically of Him to all we meet, and above all to cultivate a relationship of true familiarity with Him, well aware that only in Him can we find the ultimate meaning of our life and death.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 14 June 2006].

Dear brothers and sisters

in the last two catecheses we have spoken of the figure of St Peter. Now we want, as far as the sources allow, to get to know the other eleven Apostles a little more closely. Therefore let us speak today of Simon Peter's brother, Saint Andrew, also one of the Twelve. The first striking feature in Andrew is his name: it is not Hebrew, as one would have expected, but Greek, a not inconsiderable sign of a certain cultural openness in his family. We are in Galilee, where the Greek language and culture are quite present. In the lists of the Twelve, Andrew occupies second place, as in Matthew (10:1-4) and Luke (6:13-16), or fourth place as in Mark (3:13-18) and Acts (1:13-14). In any case, he certainly enjoyed great prestige within the early Christian communities.

The blood bond between Peter and Andrew, as well as the common call addressed to them by Jesus, emerge explicitly in the Gospels. We read: 'As Jesus was walking along the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and Andrew his brother, casting their nets into the sea, because they were fishermen. And he said to them, 'Follow me, I will make you fishers of men'" (Mt 4:18-19; Mk 1:16-17). From the Fourth Gospel we gather another important detail: at first, Andrew was a disciple of John the Baptist; and this shows us that he was a man who sought, who shared the hope of Israel, who wanted to know more about the word of the Lord, the reality of the Lord present. He was truly a man of faith and hope; and from John the Baptist one day he heard Jesus proclaimed as 'the Lamb of God' (John 1:36); he then moved and, together with another unnamed disciple, followed Jesus, the One who was called by John 'the Lamb of God'. The evangelist relates: they "saw where he was staying and that day they stayed with him" (John 1:37-39). Andrew therefore enjoyed precious moments of intimacy with Jesus. The account continues with a significant note: "One of the two who had heard John's words and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother. He met his brother Simon first and said to him, "We have found the Messiah, which means the Christ," and led him to Jesus" (John 1:40-43), immediately showing an uncommon apostolic spirit. Andrew, therefore, was the first of the Apostles to be called to follow Jesus. Precisely on this basis, the liturgy of the Byzantine Church honours him with the appellation Protóklitos, which means 'first called'. And it is certain that also because of the fraternal relationship between Peter and Andrew, the Church of Rome and the Church of Constantinople feel that they are sister Churches in a special way. To underline this relationship, my predecessor Pope Paul VI, in 1964, returned the distinguished relic of St Andrew, until then kept in the Vatican Basilica, to the Orthodox Metropolitan Bishop of the city of Patras in Greece, where according to tradition the Apostle was crucified.

Gospel traditions particularly recall the name of Andrew on three other occasions that make us know this man a little more. The first is that of the multiplication of the loaves in Galilee. At that juncture, it was Andrew who pointed out to Jesus the presence of a boy who had with him five barley loaves and two fish: very little - he remarked - for all the people gathered there (cf. Jn 6:8-9). It is worth emphasising, in this case, Andrew's realism: he noticed the boy - so he had already asked the question: "But what is this for so many people?" (ibid.) - and realised the insufficiency of his few resources. Jesus, however, was able to make them sufficient for the multitude of people who had come to listen to him. The second occasion was in Jerusalem. On his way out of the city, a disciple pointed out to Jesus the sight of the mighty walls that supported the Temple. The Master's response was surprising: he said that not stone upon stone would remain of those walls. Andrew then, together with Peter, James and John, questioned him: "Tell us when this will happen and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be fulfilled" (Mk 13:1-4). In response to this question, Jesus gave an important discourse on the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of the world, inviting his disciples to read the signs of the times carefully and to remain ever vigilant. From this we can deduce that we must not be afraid to ask Jesus questions, but at the same time we must be ready to accept the teachings, even surprising and difficult ones, that he offers us.

Finally, a third initiative of Andrew is recorded in the Gospels. The setting is Jerusalem again, just before the Passion. For the feast of Passover,' John recounts, 'some Greeks had also come to the holy city, probably proselytes or God-fearers, who had come to worship the God of Israel on the feast of Passover. Andrew and Philip, the two apostles with Greek names, served as interpreters and mediators of this small group of Greeks to Jesus. The Lord's answer to their question appears - as so often in John's Gospel - enigmatic, but it is precisely in this way that it reveals itself to be rich in meaning. Jesus says to the two disciples and, through them, to the Greek world: "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Truly, truly, I say to you, if the grain of wheat that falls into the earth does not die, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" (12:23-24). What do these words mean in this context? Jesus wants to say: Yes, the meeting between me and the Greeks will take place, but not as a simple and brief conversation between me and some people, driven above all by curiosity. With my death, comparable to the falling of a grain of wheat into the earth, the hour of my glorification will come. From my death on the cross will come the great fruitfulness: the 'dead grain of wheat' - symbol of me crucified - will become in the resurrection bread of life for the world; it will be light for peoples and cultures. Yes, the encounter with the Greek soul, with the Greek world, will take place at that depth alluded to in the story of the grain of wheat that draws to itself the forces of earth and heaven and becomes bread. In other words, Jesus prophesies the Church of the Greeks, the Church of the Gentiles, the Church of the world as the fruit of his Passover.

Very ancient traditions see in Andrew, who transmitted this word to the Greeks, not only the interpreter of some Greeks in the encounter with Jesus now mentioned, but they consider him to be the apostle of the Greeks in the years that followed Pentecost; they let us know that in the rest of his life he was the announcer and interpreter of Jesus for the Greek world. Peter, his brother, came from Jerusalem via Antioch to Rome to exercise his universal mission there; Andrew, on the other hand, was the apostle to the Greek world: they thus appear in life and in death as true brothers - a brotherhood that is symbolically expressed in the special relationship of the Sees of Rome and Constantinople, truly sister Churches.

A later tradition, as mentioned, tells of Andrew's death in Patras, where he too suffered the torture of crucifixion. At that supreme moment, however, similarly to his brother Peter, he asked to be placed on a different cross from that of Jesus. In his case, it was a decussate cross, i.e. a cross with an inclined cross, which was therefore called 'St Andrew's cross'. Here is what the Apostle is said to have said on that occasion, according to an ancient account (early 6th century) entitled Andrew's Passion: "Hail, O Cross, inaugurated by the body of Christ and adorned with its members, as if they were precious pearls. Before the Lord ascended thee, thou inculcatedst an earthly fear. Now instead, endowed with a heavenly love, you are received as a gift. Believers know, in your regard, how much joy you possess, how many gifts you keep prepared. Surely therefore and full of joy I come to thee, that thou also mayest receive me exultant as a disciple of him who was suspended to thee ... O blessed Cross, who received the majesty and beauty of the Lord's limbs! ... Take me and bear me away from men and render me to my Master, that through thee I may be received by him who by thee redeemed me. Hail, O Cross; yes, hail indeed!". As we can see, there is here a very profound Christian spirituality, which sees in the Cross not so much an instrument of torture as the incomparable means of a full assimilation to the Redeemer, to the Grain of wheat fallen to the earth. We must learn from here a very important lesson: our crosses acquire value if they are considered and accepted as part of the cross of Christ, if they are reached by the reverberation of his light. Only from that Cross are even our sufferings ennobled and acquire their true meaning.

May the Apostle Andrew, therefore, teach us to follow Jesus promptly (cf. Mt 4:20; Mk 1:18), to speak enthusiastically of Him to all we meet, and above all to cultivate a relationship of true familiarity with Him, well aware that only in Him can we find the ultimate meaning of our life and death.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 14 June 2006]

Christ, who commanded to pray for the labourers of the harvest, also called them personally. His words of call are preserved in the treasury of the Gospel: "Come after me and I will make you fishers of men" (Mt 4:19). "Come and follow me" (Mt 19:21). "If any man will serve me, let him follow me" (Jn 12:26). These words of call are entrusted to our apostolic ministry and we must make them heard, like the other words of the Gospel, "to the ends of the earth" (Acts 1:8). It is Christ's will that we make them heard. The People of God have a right to hear them from us.

The admirable pastoral programmes of the individual Churches, the Vocations Works which, according to the Council, must dispose and promote all pastoral activity for vocations (cf. Optatam Totius, 2) open the way, prepare the good ground for the Lord's grace. God is always free to call whom he wills and when he wills, according to the "extraordinary riches of his grace through his goodness towards us in Christ Jesus" (Eph 2, 7). But ordinarily he calls through our persons and our word. Therefore, do not be afraid to call. Go down among your young people. Go out personally to them and call. The hearts of many young, and not so young, are predisposed to listen to you. Many of them are looking for a purpose to live for; they are waiting to discover a worthwhile mission, to consecrate their lives to it. Christ has tuned them in to his and your call. We must call. The rest will be done by the Lord, who offers each one his particular gift, according to the grace he has been given (cf. 1 Cor 7:7; Rom 12:6).

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the 16th World Day for Vocations]