Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

In this Sunday's Gospel there is an expression of Jesus that always attracts our attention and needs to be properly understood. 

While he is on his way to Jerusalem, where death on a cross awaits him, Christ asked his disciples: "Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division". And he adds: "[H]enceforth in one house there will be five divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against her mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Lk 12: 51-53). 

Anyone who has even the slightest knowledge of Christ's Gospel knows that it is a message of peace par excellence; as St Paul wrote, Jesus himself "is our peace" (Eph 2: 14), the One who died and rose in order to pull down the wall of enmity and inaugurate the Kingdom of God which is love, joy and peace. 

So how can his words be explained? To what was the Lord referring when he said he had come - according to St Luke's version - to bring "division" or - according to St Matthew's - the "sword" (Mt 10: 34)? 

Christ's words mean that the peace he came to bring us is not synonymous with the mere absence of conflicts. On the contrary, Jesus' peace is the result of a constant battle against evil. The fight that Jesus is determined to support is not against human beings or human powers, but against Satan, the enemy of God and man. 

Anyone who desires to resist this enemy by remaining faithful to God and to good, must necessarily confront misunderstandings and sometimes real persecutions. 

All, therefore, who intend to follow Jesus and to commit themselves without compromise to the truth, must know that they will encounter opposition and that in spite of themselves they will become a sign of division between people, even in their own families. In fact, love for one's parents is a holy commandment, but to be lived authentically it can never take precedence over love for God and love for Christ. 

Thus, following in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus, in accordance with St Francis of Assisi's famous words, Christians become "instruments of peace"; not of a peace that is inconsistent and only apparent but one that is real, pursued with courage and tenacity in the daily commitment to overcome evil with good (cf. Rom 12: 21) and paying in person the price that this entails. 

The Virgin Mary, Queen of Peace, shared until his martyrdom her Son Jesus' fight with the Devil and continues to share in it to the end of time. Let us invoke her motherly intercession so that she may help us always to be witnesses of Christ's peace and never to sink so low as to make compromises with evil.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 19 August 2007]

1. The World Day of Peace this year is being celebrated in the shadow of the dramatic events of 11 September last. On that day, a terrible crime was committed: in a few brief hours thousands of innocent people of many ethnic backgrounds were slaughtered. Since then, people throughout the world have felt a profound personal vulnerability and a new fear for the future. Addressing this state of mind, the Church testifies to her hope, based on the conviction that evil, the mysterium iniquitatis, does not have the final word in human affairs. The history of salvation, narrated in Sacred Scripture, sheds clear light on the entire history of the world and shows us that human events are always accompanied by the merciful Providence of God, who knows how to touch even the most hardened of hearts and bring good fruits even from what seems utterly barren soil.  

This is the hope which sustains the Church at the beginning of 2002: that, by the grace of God, a world in which the power of evil seems once again to have taken the upper hand will in fact be transformed into a world in which the noblest aspirations of the human heart will triumph, a world in which true peace will prevail.

Peace: the work of justice and love 

2. Recent events, including the terrible killings just mentioned, move me to return to a theme which often stirs in the depths of my heart when I remember the events of history which have marked my life, especially my youth.  

The enormous suffering of peoples and individuals, even among my own friends and acquaintances, caused by Nazi and Communist totalitarianism, has never been far from my thoughts and prayers. I have often paused to reflect on the persistent question: how do we restore the moral and social order subjected to such horrific violence? My reasoned conviction, confirmed in turn by biblical revelation, is that the shattered order cannot be fully restored except by a response that combines justice with forgiveness. The pillars of true peace are justice and that form of love which is forgiveness.

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the 35th World Day of Peace]

The Gospel for this Sunday (Lk 12:49-53) is part of Jesus’ teachings to the disciples during his journey to Jerusalem, where death on the cross awaits him. To explain the purpose of his mission, he takes three images: fire, baptism and division. Today I wish to talk about the first image: fire.

Jesus expresses it with these words: “I came to cast fire upon the earth; and would that it were already kindled!” (v. 49). The fire that Jesus speaks of is the fire of the Holy Spirit, the presence living and working in us from the day of our Baptism. It — the fire — is a creative force that purifies and renews, that burns all human misery, all selfishness, all sin, which transforms us from within, regenerates us and makes us able to love. Jesus wants the Holy Spirit to blaze like fire in our heart, for it is only from the heart that the fire of divine love can spread and advance the Kingdom of God. It does not come from the head, it comes from the heart. This is why Jesus wants fire to enter our heart. If we open ourselves completely to the action of this fire which is the Holy Spirit, He will give us the boldness and the fervor to proclaim to everyone Jesus and his consoling message of mercy and salvation, navigating on the open sea, without fear.

In fulfilling her mission in the world, the Church — namely all of us who make up the Church — needs the Holy Spirit’s help so as not to let herself be held back by fear and by calculation, so as not to become accustomed to walking inside of safe borders. These two attitudes lead the Church to be a functional Church, which never takes risks. Instead, the apostolic courage that the Holy Spirit kindles in us like a fire helps us to overcome walls and barriers, makes us creative and spurs us to get moving in order to walk even on uncharted or arduous paths, offering hope to those we meet. With this fire of the Holy Spirit we are called to become, more and more, communities of people who are guided and transformed, full of understanding; people with expanded hearts and joyful faces. Now more than ever there is need for priests, consecrated people and lay faithful, with the attentive gaze of an apostle, to be moved by and to pause before hardship and material and spiritual poverty, thus characterizing the journey of evangelization and of the mission with the healing cadence of closeness. It is precisely the fire of the Holy Spirit that leads us to be neighbours to others, to the needy, to so much human misery, to so many problems, to refugees, to displaced people, to those who are suffering.

At this moment I am thinking with admiration especially of the many priests, men and women religious and lay faithful who, throughout the world, are dedicated to proclaiming the Gospel with great love and faithfulness, often even at the cost of their lives. Their exemplary testimony reminds us that the Church does not need bureaucrats and diligent officials, but passionate missionaries, consumed by ardour to bring to everyone the consoling word of Jesus and his grace. This is the fire of the Holy Spirit. If the Church does not receive this fire, or does not let it inflame her, she becomes a cold or merely lukewarm Church, incapable of giving life, because she is made up of cold and lukewarm Christians. It will do us good today to take five minutes to ask ourselves: “How is my heart? Is it cold? Is it lukewarm? Is it capable of receiving this fire?”. Let us take five minutes for this. It will do everyone good.

Let us ask the Virgin Mary to pray with us and for us to the Heavenly Father, that he dispense upon all believers the Holy Spirit, the divine flame which warms hearts and helps us to be in solidarity with the joys and the sufferings of our brothers and sisters. May we be sustained on our journey by the example of St Maximilian Kolbe, martyr of charity, whose feast day is today: may he teach us to live the fire of love for God and for our neighbour.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 14 August 2016]

Get closer without being submissive

(Mt 19:13-15)

«I prefer a Church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security» [Evangelii Gaudium n.49].

We must not allow ourselves to be dragged along by the obvious dismissive sentences on legal impurity. According to Jesus, a useless, artificial weight; which curtails the wings and renders unhappy.

On the contrary, it’s always appropriate to acquire a different perception of the things of God in woman and man. And there is no need to be well trained in customary practices: young people are not.

What happened in the small churches of Galilee and Syria in the early 80s? Many pagans began to present themselves at the threshold of the  (Judaizing) communities and were becoming a majority.

Members of the chain of command valued the incipients poorly qualified from the point of view of the observance of the ‘fathers’ dispositions .

Some haughty veterans considered the new ones who asked to be welcomed, like servants still murky [«paidìa»: age 9-11 years], contaminated and “mixed”.

At that time, in the conditions in which they lived, the boys certainly did not fulfill the laws of religious purity; but they served others, both at home and at work.

In short, Jesus proposes a paradigm change to the Apostles.

Make peace with the world of judgments.

The proposal seemed absurd to religions (all pyramidal), not for the person of Faith who proceeds on the Way, in the Spirit.

God does not believe at all that his holiness is endangered by contact with the normal realities of this world.

Indeed, the Lord and Master identifies himself precisely with the little boys of shop and house, with the "polluted" beings, socially null and badly valued.

This is to say: the disciple of the Kingdom cannot afford to disavow the needs of others.

Enough with clichés, nomenclatures, double standards and recognized procedures.

What matters is the concrete good of the real person, as her/he is.

The acceptance of little sons - that is, of those who are at the beginning - in their condition of creative and affective integrity, still considered ambiguous and transgressive, is an icon of a social, religious and inverted class logic; radically not homologable.

So woe to those who prevent the insignificants from going to the Lord!

The laying on of hands on them (vv.13.15) is a sign of redemption, enhancement, emancipation and promotion of the condition of the last, excluded, irrelevant, holdless and ‘mestizo’ [not pictures of candor].

Whoever welcomes a privileged man, a legalist, one who has made his way but doesn’t accept changes, hardly welcomes Jesus.

«In the synodal process […] it must not neglect all those “intuitions” found where we would least expect them, “freewheeling”, but no less important for that reason».

Only the unknown and uncertain must be placed at the center of the new Church that we will have to build.

[Saturday 19th wk. in O.T.  August 16, 2025]

Approach without being submissive

(Mt 19:13-15)

Pope Francis has often reiterated: "I would rather have a Church that has crashed than a Church that is sick from closure. Not a 'comfort zone', but a 'field hospital' involved in our hopes, even wounded - not absent, not detached.

In the apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (49): 'I prefer a Church that is bumpy, wounded and dirty from being out on the streets, rather than a Church that is sick from closure and the comfort of clinging to its own security'.

In short, in the words of the Gospel of Matthew, one must not get carried away by the obvious dismissive judgments about legal impurity. According to Jesus, a useless, artificial burden; one that clips one's wings and makes one unhappy.

On the contrary, it is always good to acquire a different perception of the things of God in man. And it is not necessary to be well trained in customary practices.

What was happening in the small churches of Galilee and Syria in the early 1980s? Many pagans were beginning to show up at the doorsteps of the (Judaizing) communities and were becoming a majority.

The members of the chain of command prevented the distant and incipient from the immediacy of a face-to-face relationship with the Lord - evaluating them as unqualified from the point of view of observing the provisions of the 'fathers'.

Some haughty veterans regarded the newcomers who asked to be received as still turbid servants ["paidìa": age 9-11], defiled and mixed.

At that time, in the conditions in which they lived, young boys certainly did not fulfil the laws of religious purity; but they served others, both at home and at work.

In short, Jesus proposes a paradigm shift to the Apostles.

Stooping? An unbearable model of life for the ambitious veterans who frequently surrounded the Master - but struggled to follow his vital teaching.

The freedom to get off the board - vice versa - was a human figure to be chiselled as the 'model' of the authentic disciple, who reflects Christ and 'conquers' the Kingdom.

Making peace with the world of judgements.

The proposal seemed an absurdity for religions (all pyramidal), not for the person of Faith who proceeds on the Way, in the Spirit.

God does not at all believe that His holiness is endangered by contact with the normal realities of this world.

On the contrary, the Lord and Master identifies Himself precisely with the garzoncini of shop and home, with the 'polluted', socially null and misjudged beings [by any legalistic clique, however devout].

This is to say: the disciple of the Kingdom cannot afford to disregard the life needs of others.

Forget clichés, nomenclature, duplicity and recognised procedures.

What counts is the concrete good of the real person, just as he or she is.

The acceptance of children - i.e. those who are at the beginning - in their condition of creative and affective integrity, still considered ambiguous and transgressive, is an icon of an inverted social, religious and class logic; radically unequal.

So woe to those who prevent the insignificant from going to the Lord!

The laying on of hands on them (vv.13.15) is a sign of redemption, valorisation, emancipation, and promotion of the condition of the last, the excluded, the mocked, the destitute, and the 'mestizos' [not of squares all clarity and whiteness].

Those who welcome a privileged, an observant purist, one who has made his way but does not accept change (a dummy often of good manners and bad habits) hardly welcome Jesus.

In fact, and today's chronicle itself is full of bitter surprises, the directors - so mediocre - who select (v.13) and make adultids are selfish and dangerous big babies, not 'children'.

Only the misunderstood and uncertain are to be placed at the centre of the new Church we are to build.

To internalise and live the message:

Are there any vital aspects of you that you had to tarnish in order to be welcomed into the community?

The Fickleness without Citizenship

In the synodal journey, listening must take into account the sensus fidei, but it must not neglect 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 the dialogue: it is the dialogue of salvation.Do not be disenchanted, be prepared for surprises. There is an episode in the book of Numbers (ch. 22) that tells of a donkey who will become a prophetess of God. The Jews are concluding the long journey that will lead them to the promised land. Their passage frightens King Balak of Moab, who relies on the powers of the magician Balaam to stop the people, hoping to avoid a war. The magician, in his believing way, asks God what to do. God tells him not to humour the king, but he insists, so he relents and mounts a donkey to fulfil the command he has received. But the donkey changes course because it sees an angel with an unsheathed sword standing there to represent God's opposition. Balaam pulls her, beating her, without succeeding in getting her back on the path. Until the donkey starts talking, initiating a dialogue that will open the magician's eyes, transforming his mission of curse and death into a mission of blessing and life.

This story teaches us to trust that the Spirit will always make its voice heard. Even a donkey can become the voice of God, opening our eyes and converting our wrong directions. If a donkey can do it, how much more so can a baptised person, a priest, a bishop, a pope. It is enough to entrust ourselves to the Holy Spirit who uses all creatures to speak to us: he only asks us to clean our ears to hear properly.

(Pope Francis, Speech 18 September 2021)

68. Christ Jesus always manifested his preferential love for the little ones (cf. Mk 10:13-16). The Gospel itself is deeply permeated by the truth about children. What, indeed, is meant by these words: “unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 18:3)? Does not Jesus make the child a model, even for adults? The child has something which must never be lacking in those who would enter the kingdom of heaven. Heaven is promised to all who are simple, like children, to all who, like them, are filled with a spirit of trusting abandonment, pure and rich in goodness. They alone can find in God a Father and become, through Jesus, children of God. Sons and daughters of our parents, God wants us all to become his adopted children by grace!

[Pope Benedict, Africae munus]

Dear Children!

Jesus brings the Truth

The Child whom we see in the manger at Christmas grew up as the years passed. When he was twelve years old, as you know, he went for the first time with Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Passover. There, in the crowds of pilgrims, he was separated from his parents and, with other boys and girls of his own age, he stopped to listen to the teachers in the Temple, for a sort of "catechism lesson". The holidays were good opportunities for handing on the faith to children who were about the same age as Jesus. But on this occasion it happened that this extraordinary boy who had come from Nazareth not only asked very intelligent questions but also started to give profound answers to those who were teaching him. The questions and even more the answers astonished the Temple teachers. It was the same amazement which later on would mark Jesus' public preaching. The episode in the Temple of Jerusalem was simply the beginning and a kind of foreshadowing of what would happen some years later.

Dear boys and girls who are the same age as the twelve-year-old Jesus, are you not reminded now of the religion lessons in the parish and at school, lessons which you are invited to take part in? So I would like to ask you some questions: What do you think of your religion lessons? Do you become involved like the twelve-year-old Jesus in the Temple? Do you regularly go to these lessons at school and in the parish? Do your parents help you to do so?

The twelve-year-old Jesus became so interested in the religion lesson in the Temple of Jerusalem that, in a sense, he even forgot about his own parents. Mary and Joseph, having started off on the journey back to Nazareth with other pilgrims, soon realized that Jesus was not with them. They searched hard for him. They went back and only on the third day did they find him in Jerusalem, in the Temple. "Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been looking for you anxiously" (Lk 2:48). How strange is Jesus' answer and how it makes us stop and think! "How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" (Lk 2:49). It was an answer difficult to accept. The evangelist Luke simply adds that Mary "kept all these things in her heart" (2:51). In fact, it was an answer which would be understood only later, when Jesus, as a grown-up, began to preach and say that for his Heavenly Father he was ready to face any sufferings and even death on the cross.

From Jerusalem Jesus went back with Mary and Joseph to Nazareth where he was obedient to them (Lk 2:51). Regarding this period, before his public preaching began, the Gospel notes only that he "increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favour with God and man" (Lk 2:52).

Dear children, in the Child whom you look at in the Crib you must try to see also the twelve-year-old boy in the Temple in Jerusalem, talking with the teachers. He is the same grown man who later, at thirty years old, will begin to preach the word of God, will choose the Twelve Apostles, will be followed by crowds thirsting for the truth. At every step he will confirm his extraordinary teaching with signs of divine power: he will give sight to the blind, heal the sick, even raise the dead. And among the dead whom he will bring back to life there will be the twelve-year-old daughter of Jairus, and the son of the widow of Naim, given back alive to his weeping mother.

It is really true: this Child, now just born, once he is grown up, as Teacher of divine Truth, will show an extraordinary love for children. He will say to the Apostles: "Let the children come to me, do not hinder them", and he will add: "for to such belongs the kingdom of God" (Mk 10:14). Another time, as the Apostles are arguing about who is the greatest, he will put a child in front of them and say: "Unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 18:3). On that occasion, he also spoke harsh words of warning: "Whoever causes one of these little ones who believes in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened round his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea" (Mt 18:6).

How important children are in the eyes of Jesus! We could even say that the Gospel is full of the truth about children. The whole of the Gospel could actually be read as the "Gospel of children".

What does it mean that "unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven"? Is not Jesus pointing to children as models even for grown-ups? In children there is something that must never be missing in people who want to enter the kingdom of heaven. People who are destined to go to heaven are simple like children, and like children are full of trust, rich in goodness and pure. Only people of this sort can find in God a Father and, thanks to Jesus, can become in their own turn children of God.

From the Vatican, 13 December 1994.

[Pope John Paul II, Letter to the Children in the Year of the Family] From the Vatican, 13 December 1994.

As you are aware, we are about to begin a synodal process, a journey on which the whole Church will reflect on the theme: Towards a Synodal Church: Communion, Participation, Mission: those three pillars. Three phases are planned, and will take place between October 2021 and October 2023. This process was conceived as an exercise in mutual listening. I want to emphasize this. It is an exercise of mutual listening, conducted at all levels of the Church and involving the entire People of God. The Cardinal Vicar, the auxiliary bishops, priests, religious and laity have to listen to one another, and then to everyone else. Listening, speaking and listening. It is not about garnering opinions, not a survey, but a matter of listening to the Holy Spirit, as we read in the book of Revelation: “Whoever has ears should listen to what the Spirit says to the churches” (2:7). To have ears, to listen, is the first thing we need to do. To hear God’s voice, to sense his presence, to witness his passage and his breath of life.

Thus the prophet Elijah came to realize that God is always a God of surprises, even in the way he passes by and makes himself felt: “A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks… but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake – but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake, there was fire – but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire, there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak” (1 Kg 19:11-13).

That is how God speaks to us. We need to open our ears to hear that tiny whispering sound, the gentle breeze of God, which scholars also translate as “a quiet whisper” or “a small, still voice”.

The first step of the process (October 2021–April 2022) will take place in each diocese. That why I am here, as your bishop, for this moment of sharing, because it is very important that the Diocese of Rome be committed to this process. Wouldn’t it look bad if the Pope’s own diocese was not committed to this? Yes, it would look bad, for the Pope, but also for you!

Synodality is not a chapter in an ecclesiology textbook, much less a fad or a slogan to be bandied about in our meetings. Synodality is an expression of the Church’s nature, her form, style and mission. We can talk about the Church as being “synodal”, without reducing that word to yet another description or definition of the Church. I say this not as a theological opinion or even my own thinking, but based on what can be considered the first and most important “manual” of ecclesiology: the Acts of the Apostles.

The word “synod” says it all: it means “journeying together”. The Book of Acts is the story of a journey that started in Jerusalem, passed through Samaria and Judea, then on to the regions of Syria, Asia Minor, Greece, ending up in Rome. A journey that reveals how God’s word, and the people who heed and put their faith in that word, journey together. The word of God journeys with us. Everyone has a part to play; no one is a mere extra. This is important: everyone has a part to play. The Pope, the Cardinal Vicar and the auxiliary bishops are not more important than the others; no, all of us have a part to play and no one can be considered simply as an extra. At that time, the ministries were clearly seen as forms of service. Authority derived from listening to the voice of God and of the people, inseparably. This kept those who received it humble, serving the lowly with faith and love. Yet that story, that journey, was not merely geographical, it was also marked by a constant inner restlessness. This is essential: if Christians do not feel a deep inner restlessness, then something is missing. That inner restlessness is born of faith; it impels us to consider what it is best to do, what needs to be preserved or changed. History teaches us that it is not good for the Church to stand still (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 23). Movement is the fruit of docility to the Holy Spirit, who directs this history, in which all have a part to play, in which all are restless, never standing still.

Peter and Paul were not just two individuals with their own personalities. They represent two visions within much broader horizons. They were capable of reassessing things in the light of events, witnesses of an impulse that led them to stop and think – that is another expression we should remember: to stop and think. An impulse that drove them to be daring, to question, to change their minds, to make mistakes and learn from those mistakes, but above all to hope in spite of every difficulty. They were disciples of the Holy Spirit, who showed them the geography of salvation, opening doors and windows, breaking down walls, shattering chains and opening frontiers. This may mean setting out, changing course, leaving behind certain ideas that hold us back and prevent us from setting out and walking together.

We can see the Spirit driving Peter to go to the house of Cornelius, the pagan centurion, despite his qualms. Remember: Peter had had a disturbing vision in which he was told to eat things he considered impure. He was troubled, despite the assurance that what God has made clean should no longer be considered impure. While he was trying to grasp the significance of this vision, some men sent by Cornelius arrived. Cornelius too had received a vision and a message. He was a pious Roman official, sympathetic to Judaism, but not enough to be fully Jewish or Christian; he would not have made it past a religious “customs office”. Cornelius was a pagan, yet he was told that his prayers were heard by God and that he should send and ask Peter to come to his house. At this point, with Peter and his doubts, and Cornelius uncertain and confused, the Spirit overcomes Peter’s resistance and opens a new chapter of missionary history. That is how the Spirit works. In the meeting between those two men, we hear one of the most beautiful phrases of Christianity. Cornelius meets Peter and falls at his feet, but Peter, picking him up, tells him: “Get up. I too am a man” (Acts 10:26). All of us can say the same thing: “I am a man, I am a woman; we are all human”. This is something we should all say, bishops too, all of us: “Get up. I too am a man”.

The text also says that Peter conversed with Cornelius (cf. v. 27). Christianity should always be human and accessible, reconciling differences and distances, turning them into familiarity and proximity. One of the ills of the Church, indeed a perversion, is the clericalism that detaches priests and bishops from people, making them officials, not pastors. Saint Paul VI liked to quote the words of Terence: “I am a man: I regard nothing human as foreign to me”. The encounter between Peter and Cornelius resolved a problem; it helped bring about the decision to preach directly to the pagans, in the conviction that – as Peter put it – “God shows no partiality” (Acts 10:34). There can be no discrimination in the name of God. Discrimination is a sin among us too, whenever we start to say: “We are the pure, we are the elect, we belong to this movement that knows everything, we are...” No! We are the Church, all of us together.

You see, we cannot understand what it means to be “catholic” without thinking of this large, open and welcoming expanse. Being Church is a path to enter into this broad embrace of God. To return to the Acts of the Apostles, we see the emerging problem of how to organize the growing number of Christians, and particularly how to provide for the needs of the poor. Some were saying that their widows were being neglected. The solution was found by assembling the disciples and determining together that seven men would be appointed full time for diakonia, to serve the tables (Acts 6:1-7). In this way, though service, the Church advanced, journeyed together, was “synodal”, accompanied by discernment, amid the felt needs and realities of life and in the power of the Spirit. The Spirit is always the great “protagonist” of the Church’s life.

There was also the clash of differing visions and expectations. We need not be afraid when the same thing happens today. Would that we could argue like that! Arguments are a sign of docility and openness to the Spirit. Serious conflicts can also take place, as was the case with the issue of circumcision for pagan converts, which was settled with the deliberation of the so-called Council of Jerusalem, the first Council. Today too, there can be a rigid way of looking at things, one that restricts God’s makrothymía, his patient, profound, broad and farsighted way of seeing things. God sees into the distance; God is not in a hurry. Rigidity is another perversion, a sin against the patience of God, a sin against God’s sovereignty. Today too.

So it was back then. Some converts from Judaism, in their self-absorption, maintained that there could be no salvation without submission to the Law of Moses. In this way, they opposed Paul, who proclaimed salvation directly in the name of Jesus. This opposition would have compromised the reception of the new pagan converts. Paul and Barnabas were sent to Jerusalem, to the Apostles and the elders. It was not easy: in discussing this problem, the arguments appeared irreconcilable; they debated at length. It was a matter of recognizing God’s freedom of action, that no obstacles could prevent him from touching the hearts of people of any moral or religious background. The situation was resolved when they accepted the evidence that “God, who knows the heart” – as a good “cardiologist” – was on the side of the pagans being admitted to salvation, since he “gave them the Holy Spirit just as he did to us” (Acts 15:8). In this way, respect was shown for the sensibilities of all and excesses were tempered. They learned from Peter’s experience with Cornelius. Indeed, the final “document” presents the Spirit as the protagonist in the process of decision-making and reflects the wisdom that he is always capable of inspiring: “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessary things” (Acts 15:28).

“… and to us”. In this Synod, we want to get to the point where we can say, “it seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us”, for, guided by the Holy Spirit, you will be in constant dialogue among yourselves, but also in dialogue with the Holy Spirit. Remember those words: “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us not to place on you any burden…” “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us”. That is how you should try to discuss things at every stage of this synodal process. Without the Holy Spirit, this will be a kind of diocesan parliament, but not a Synod. We are not holding a diocesan parliament, examining this or that question, but making a journey of listening to one another and to the Holy Spirit, discussing yes, but discussing with the Holy Spirit, which is a way of praying.

“To the Holy Spirit and to us”. Still, it is always tempting to do things on our own, in an “ecclesiology of substitution”, which can take many forms. As if, once ascended to heaven, the Lord had left a void needing to be filled, and we ourselves have to fill it. No, the Lord has left us the Spirit! Jesus’ words are very clear: “I will pray to the Father and he will give you another Paraclete, to stay with you forever… I will not leave you orphans” (Jn 14:16.18). In fulfilment of this promise, the Church is a sacrament, as we read in Lumen Gentium, 1: “The Church, in Christ, is like a sacrament – a sign and instrument of communion with God and of the unity of the whole human race”. That sentence, which echoes the testimony of the Council of Jerusalem, contradicts those who would take God’s place, presuming to shape the Church on the basis of their own cultural and historical convictions, forcing it to set up armed borders, toll booths, forms of spirituality that blaspheme the gratuitousness of God’s involvement in our lives. When the Church is a witness, in word and deed, of God’s unconditional love, of his welcoming embrace, she authentically expresses her catholicity. And she is impelled, from within and without, to be present in every time and place. That impulse and ability are the Spirit’s gift: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). To receive the power of the Holy Spirit to become witnesses: this is our path as Church, and we will be Church if we take this path.

Being a synodal Church means being a Church that is the sacrament of Christ’s promise that the Spirit will always be with us. We show this by growing in our relationship with the Spirit and the world to come. There will always be disagreements, thank God, but solutions have to be sought by listening to God and to the ways he speaks in in our midst. By praying and opening our eyes to everything around us; by practicing a life of fidelity to the Gospel; by seeking answers in God’s revelation through a pilgrim hermeneutic capable of persevering in the journey begun in the Acts of the Apostles. This is important: the way to understand and interpret is through a pilgrim hermeneutic, one that is always journeying. The journey that began after the Council? No. The journey that began with the first Apostles and has continued ever since. Once the Church stops, she is no longer Church, but a lovely pious association, for she keeps the Holy Spirit in a cage. A pilgrim hermeneutic capable of persevering in the journey begun in the Acts of the Apostles. Otherwise, the Holy Spirit would be demeaned. Gustav Mahler – as I have said on other occasions – once stated that fidelity to tradition does not consist in worshiping ashes but in keeping a fire burning. As you begin this synodal journey, I ask you: what are you more inclined to do: guard the ashes of the Church, in other words, your association or group, or keep the fire burning? Are you more inclined to worship what you cherish, and which keep you self-enclosed – “I belong to Peter, I belong to Paul, I belong to this association, you to that one, I am a priest, I am a bishop…” – or do you feel called to keep the fire of the Spirit burning? Mahler was a great composer, but those words showed that he was also a teacher of wisdom. Dei Verbum (no. 8), citing the Letter to the Hebrews, tells us that “God, who spoke in partial and various ways to our fathers (Heb 1:1), uninterruptedly converses with the bride of his beloved Son”. Saint Vincent of Lérins aptly compared human growth to the development of the Church’s Tradition, which is passed on from one generation to the next. He tells us that “the deposit of faith” cannot be preserved without making it advance in such a way as “to be consolidated by years, enlarged by time, refined by age” (Commonitorium primum, 23: ut annis consolidetur, dilatetur tempore, sublimetur aetate). This is how our own journey should be. For reality, including theology, is like water; unless it keeps flowing, it becomes stagnant and putrefies. A stagnant Church starts to decay.

You see, then, how our Tradition is like a mass of leavened dough; we can see it growing and in that growth is communion: journeying together brings about true communion. Here too, the Acts of the Apostles can help us by showing us that communion does not suppress differences. It is the wonder of Pentecost, where different languages are not obstacles; by the working of the Holy Spirit, “each one heard them speaking in his own language” (Acts 2:8). Feeling at home, different but together on the same journey. [Pardon me for speaking so long, but the Synod is a serious matter, and so I have felt free to speak at length...]

To return to the synodal process, the diocesan phase is very important, since it involves listening to all the baptized, the subject of the infallible sensus fidei in credendo. There is a certain resistance to moving beyond the image of a Church rigidly divided into leaders and followers, those who teach and those who are taught; we forget that God likes to overturn things: as Mary said, “he has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly” (Lk 1:52). Journeying together tends to be more horizontal than vertical; a synodal Church clears the horizon where Christ, our sun, rises, while erecting monuments to hierarchy covers it. Shepherds walk with their people: we shepherds walk with our people, at times in front, at times in the middle, at times behind. A good shepherd should move that way: in front to lead, in the middle to encourage and preserve the smell of the flock, and behind, since the people too have their own “sense of smell”. They have a nose for finding new paths for the journey, or for finding the road when the way is lost. I want to emphasize this, also for the bishops and priests of the diocese. In this synodal process, they should ask: “Am I capable of walking, of moving, in front, in between and behind, or do I remain seated in my chair, with mitre and crozier?” Shepherds in the midst of the flock, yet remaining shepherds, not the flock. The flock knows we are shepherds, the flock knows the difference. In front to show the way, in the middle to sense how people feel, behind to help the stragglers, letting the people sniff out where the best pastures are found.

The sensus fidei gives everyone a share in the dignity of the prophetic office of Christ (cf. Lumen Gentium, 34-35), so that they can discern the paths of the Gospel in the present time. It is the “sense of smell” proper to the sheep, but let us be careful: in the history of salvation, we are all sheep with regard to the Shepherd who is the Lord. The image (of sheep) helps us understand the two dimensions that contribute to this “sense of smell”. One is individual and the other communitarian: we are sheep, yet we are also members of the flock, which in this case means the Church. These days, in the Office of Readings, we are reading from Augustine’s sermon on pastors, where he tells us, “with you I am a sheep; for you I am a shepherd”. These two aspects, individual and ecclesial, are inseparable: there can be no sensus fidei without sharing in the life of the Church, which is more than mere Catholic activism; it must above all be that “sense” that is nourished by the “mind of Christ” (Phil 2:5).

The exercise of the sensus fidei cannot be reduced to the communication and comparison of our own opinions on this or that issue, or a single aspect of the Church’s teaching or discipline. No, those are instruments, verbalizations, dogmatic or disciplinary statements. The idea of distinguishing between majorities and minorities must not prevail: that is what parliaments do. How many times have those who were “rejected” become “the cornerstone” (cf. Ps 118:22; Mt 21:42), while those who were “far away” have drawn “near” (Eph 2:13). The marginalized, the poor, the hopeless were chosen to be a sacrament of Christ (cf. Mt 25:31-46). The Church is like that. And whenever some groups wanted to stand out more, those groups always ended badly, even denying salvation, in heresies. We can think of the heresies that claimed to lead the Church forward, like Pelagianism, and then Jansenism. Every heresy ended badly. Gnosticism and Pelagianism are constant temptations for the Church. We are so rightly concerned for the dignity of our liturgical celebrations, but we can easily end up simply becoming complacent. Saint John Chrysostom warns us: “Do you want to honour the body of Christ? Do not allow it to be despised in its members, that is, in the poor who lack clothes to cover themselves. Do not honour him here in the church with rich fabrics while outside you neglect him when he is suffering from cold and naked. The one who said, “this is my body”, confirming the fact with his word, also said, “you saw me hungry and you did not feed me” and, “whenever you failed to do these things to one of the least of these, you failed to do it to me” (Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew, 50, 3). You may say to me: “Father, what do you mean? Are the poor, the beggars, young drug addicts, all those people that society discards, part of the Synod too?”

Yes, dear friends. It is not me who is saying this, but the Lord. They too are part of the Church, and you will not properly celebrate the Synod unless you somehow make them part of it (in a way to be determined), or spend time with them, not only listening to what they have to say, but also feeling what they feel, listening to them even if they may insult you. The Synod is for everyone, and it is meant to include everyone. The Synod is also about discussing our problems, the problems I have as your Bishop, the problems that the auxiliary Bishops have, the problems that priests and laity have, the problems that groups and associations have. So many problems! Yet unless we include the “problem people” of society, those left out, we will never be able to deal with our own problems. This is important: that we let our own problems come out in the dialogue, without trying to hide them or justify them. Do not be afraid!

We should feel ourselves part of one great people which has received God’s promises. Those promises speak of a future in which all are invited to partake of the banquet God has prepared for every people (cf. Is 25:6). Here I would note that even the notion “People of God” can be interpreted in a rigid and divisive way, in terms of exclusivity and privilege; that was the case with the notion of divine “election”, which the prophets had to correct, showing how it should rightly be understood. Being God’s people is not a privilege but a gift that we receive, not for ourselves but for everyone. The gift we receive is meant to be given in turn. That is what vocation is: a gift we receive for others, for everyone. A gift that is also a responsibility. The responsibility of witnessing by our deeds, not just our words, to God’s wonderful works, which, once known, help people to acknowledge his existence and to receive his salvation. Election is a gift. The question is this: if I am a Christian, if I believe in Christ, how do I give that gift to others? God’s universal saving will is offered to history, to all humanity, through the incarnation of his Son, so that all men and women can become his children, brothers and sisters among themselves, thanks to the mediation of the Church. That is how universal reconciliation is accomplished between God and humanity, that unity of the whole human family, of which the Church is a sign and instrument (cf. Lumen Gentium, 1). In the period prior to the Second Vatican Council, thanks to the study of the Fathers of the Church, there was a renewed realization that the people of God is directed towards the coming of the Kingdom, towards the unity of the human family created and loved by God. The Church, as we know and experience her in the apostolic succession, should be conscious of her relationship to this universal divine election and carry out her mission in its light. In that same spirit, I wrote my encyclical Fratelli Tutti. As Saint Paul VI said, the Church is a teacher of humanity, and today she aims at becoming a school of fraternity.

Why do I say these things? Because in the synodal process, our listening must take into account the sensus fidei, but it must not neglect all those “intuitions” found where we would least expect them, “freewheeling”, but no less important for that reason. The Holy Spirit in his freedom knows no boundaries or tests of admission. If the parish is to be a home to everyone in the neighbourhood, and not a kind of exclusive club, please, let’s keep the doors and windows open. Don’t limit yourself to those who come to church or think as you do – they may be no more than 3, 4 or 5 percent. Let everyone come in… Go out and meet them, let them question you, let their questions become your questions. Journey together: the Spirit will lead you; trust in the Spirit. Do not be afraid to engage in dialogue and even to be taken aback by what you hear, for this is the dialogue of salvation.

Don’t be disheartened; be prepared for surprises. In the book of Numbers (22:8ff.) we hear of a donkey who became a prophet of God. The Hebrews were about to end the long journey that led them to the promised land. Their passage through his territory frightened Balak, the king of Moab, who told Balaam, a seer, to stop them, in hopes of avoiding a war. Balaam, who was in his own way a believer, asked God what to do. God told him not to go along with the king, but since the king insisted, Balaam set out on a donkey to do as the king said. The donkey, however, turned aside from the road because it saw an angel with an unsheathed sword, representing the opposition of God. Balaam tugged at the reins and beat the donkey, but could not get it to return to the road. Finally, the donkey opened his mouth and spoke, the beginning of a dialogue that would open the seer’s eyes and turn his mission of cursing and death into a mission of blessing and life.

This story teaches us to trust that the Spirit will always make his voice heard. Even a donkey can become the voice of God, can open our eyes and change our course when we go astray. If a donkey can do that, how much more can a baptized person, a priest, a bishop, a Pope do it? We need but rely on the Holy Spirit, who uses all of creation to speak to us: he only asks us to clean out our ears, to hear better.

[Pope Francis, Address to the Diocese of Rome, 18 September 2021]

The itinerary of the creature (and of the Church) that realizes in itself the victory of Life over death

Mary is an icon of how to find the right path, from which the events of life can step us away or take us away.

Emblem of those who are on their own conformal story in person, Gem of comparison so as not to betray our identity-vocational character and innate disposition.

Like her however giving in; nevertheless, changing. And thus realizing our true nature, in the pilgrimage towards the Core of being - because present to things, in the different ways of taking field in the world, clearly.

Her soul possessed a youthful freshness, an ability to approach herself without however losing the scope of the comparisons: in noticing, living of every Gift.

Whoever follows her style embraces and adores the unexpected, and when the Novelty of the Spirit breaks in, the heart immediately makes room for it.

The attitude of his soul did not turn to the banal repetition: amazed by a Word, stunned by the Unexpected, surprised by a Wound.

Itinerant, she taught to open the will and mind to new paths that not only dodged but even flew over the preponderant of conditionings.

She spontaneously activated flows of possibilities that put so many habits behind, without even fighting them.

Mary disposed herself to grasp the variations, the nuances of the soul; even the unusual feelings that maybe we repudise to attribute to her and that instead she felt. Sometimes even getting lost in the labyrinths of a frightening epochal struggle with the «dragon», the ideology of power.

A full life, as a family mother, not as an incorporeal creature that withdraws, and only modest.

Nothing naive and enslaved. Free woman, Mary leaves without asking for authorization of the delayed, hierarchical and still patriarchal society.

And she does not associate herself with reassuring caravans, because she’s not a person of a pack but of novelty.

She didn’t walk along the Jordan, which was the most travelled and safest road. But why to risk life in hostile land? Because love knows no obstacle.

And exuberance doesn’t repeat conformity. Life flowing from Galilee to Judaea, that is, from the periphery to the center.

So she agreed to make cohabit in herself and make the variegated situations coexistent with the facets of the many appeals, the afflatus of the care and the spirit of decision - as an emancipated person.

As today’s Liturgy expresses, the Woman accepted the Desert but found a Refuge, «forgetting her people and her father’s house».

Solidarity, Sobriety, Silence: the experience of the Exodus. Novelty, Fraternity and Person’s Horizon: that allow the rediscovery of one’s own ‘seed’ - and the sense of the Church.

Mary is a sign of the paradoxical existence of the believer, who knows his baseness and the Unpredictable of God: in her travel we recognize the ideal path of our journey.

We cannot ignore that in the world sometimes strength prevails over weakness, need makes love pale, decline seems to ridicule life...

But in the dialectic of losing ourselves in order to find ourselves, we introduce new energies; like Her, we acquire an ability to see the graves wide open, grasping life even in places of death.

In this way, Lk is the evangelist who celebrates the reversals of the situations [pharisee and tax collector, first and last place, unruly son and firstborn, so on].

In such reverses Life in the Spirit does not manifest itself as a reply that reassures or sacralizes positions, but as an attitude to gain in loss; a flowering, in the bitterness of the cross.

Knowing how to find opportunities for growth even in the apparent degradation.

And in us? The redefinition of what is "deal or humiliation" can become redeemed history, the authentic disruptive force in the course of events, and of any situation.

In the defenceless and incapable of miracle there is in fact the perception of a power that knows how to recover the whole being. Virtue that reassembles the harmony of the vital wave.

Project that wants to raise the poor from garbage, to turn us into masterpieces - starting from the truth of lowest and beggar roots [where we are ourselves].

The challenge of Faith is open.

The itinerary of the creature (and of the Church) who realises in herself the victory of Life over death

Mary is Icon of how to find the right path, from which the vicissitudes of life can lead us away or take us away.

Emblem of those who are on their own and conforming path, Gem of comparison for not betraying our identity-vocational character and innate disposition.

Like Her, however, surrendering ourselves; yet changing. And thus realising our true nature, in the pilgrimage towards the Core of Being - being present to things, in the different ways of being in the world, sharply.

His soul possessed a youthful freshness, an ability to approach itself without losing the scope of feedback: in realising, living from every Gift.

Those who follow his style embrace and adore the unexpected, and when the Newness of the Spirit suddenly bursts in, they immediately know how to make room for it.

The attitude of his soul did not turn to banal repetitiveness: amazed by a Word, stunned by the unexpected, surprised by a Wound.

Itinerant, she taught to open the heart and mind to new paths that not only dodged but even flew over the preponderance of conditioning.

She spontaneously activated streams of possibilities that put so many habits behind them, without even fighting them.

Maria disposed herself to grasp the variants, the nuances of the soul; even the unaccustomed feelings that we may be loathe to attribute to her and which she felt instead. Sometimes even losing herself in the labyrinths of a frightening struggle with the 'dragon', the ideology of power.

A full life, as a mother of a family, not as an incorporeal creature who only recoils.

Nothing naive or subservient. A free woman, Maria sets off without asking for permission from the backward, hierarchical and still patriarchal society.

And she does not associate herself with reassuring caravans, because she is not a person of the herd but of novelty.

She did not set out along the Jordan, which was the beaten and safe road. But why risk your life in a hostile land? Because love knows no obstacle.

And exuberance does not repeat conformity. Life that flows from Galilee to Judea, that is, from the periphery to the official religious centre, never vice versa.

Not infrequently, for the devout in an observant territory, any announcement of life and any novelty are perceived with extreme distrust [an attack on one's security and personal offence, instead of service].

This is why when she arrives at the house of the man of worship she does not even 'greet' him. Elizabeth (she too seems to be a forgotten one) cultivated the promise ["Elì-shébet" the Lord My-Personal has sworn; as in "God is faithful to Me"].

He Zechariah ["Zachar-Ja" the Lord yes but not Mine but of Israel "remembers"; OK, God does not suffer amnesia but has been, has been... and who knows when 'He comes']. He could not move from religiosity to Faith.

Usual cliché, not innate ability:

In ancient religions the priest is the elder of great reminiscences. He makes devout memories - all right - but as if still in a museum, almost embalming temporal decay.

The man of the cult is part of a class that likes to frequent the places that count; refractory to a Spirit that insists and appeals, that throws life [also of institutes] into the air by breaching and inflaming consciences, to stir up situations.

Here instead is the poor woman. She prophesies - like the first communities of evangelisation that are represented there in a watermark.

She was not a legal person in that culture, rather a non-person, who even had to ask permission from her son, about everything.

The opposite of authority and officialdom (inside and outside the House), who remained incapable of communicating anything: not 'blessed' but unhappy; 'mute' because he had nothing more to say to those waiting outside the Temple.

Nothing vital and no real blessing to pass on to people; zero with which to fill the existence of his neighbour.

So the Soul Bride girl is the one who seems to ignore the still practitioner of the sacred and the ritual!

She does not even speak to him - for she is destined for 'heavenly glory', not to be drawn into the minutiae of reasoning and a rationality that makes love pale.

Creature and authentic community that reflects Jesus.

Instead, it teaches us to do our part, precisely by attempting to allow the things we like and the dissimilarities that arise to coexist.

All this, without inhibitions - seeking the Meaning of contradictions instead of taming them regardless; because one-sidedness would have made her fragile, arid, incomplete.

So she accepted to make the multifaceted situations cohabit within her and make them coexist with the facets of the many appeals, the afflatus of caring and the spirit of decision - as an emancipated woman.

As today's Liturgy recites, the Assumption accepted the Desert but found a Refuge, "forgetting her people and her father's house".Solidarity, Sobriety, Silence: the Exodus experience. Novelty, Fraternity and Person Horizon that enable the rediscovery of one's seed - and the meaning of the Church.

Mary teaches the paradoxical existence of the believer, who knows his lowliness and the Unpredictability of God: in her story we recognise the ideal path of our journey.

We cannot ignore that in the world sometimes strength prevails over weakness, need makes love pale, decline seems to ridicule life...

But in the dialectic of losing oneself in order to find oneself again, we introduce new energies; we acquire, like her, an ability to see graves wide open, glimpsing life even in places of death.

In this way, Lk is the evangelist who celebrates the reversals of situations [Pharisee and publican, first and last place, scape-goat son and first-born; and so on].

In these reversals, Life in the Spirit does not reveal itself as a replication that reassures or sanctifies positions, but as an attitude of gain in loss; a flowering in the bitterness of the cross.

A knowing how to find opportunities for growth even in the apparent degradation of the corrupt [even pious and respectable] world.

And in us? The redefinition of what is 'affair or humiliation' can become redeemed history, the authentic disruptive force in the course of events, and of any affair.

Indeed, in the helpless and incapable of miracles lies the perception of a power that can reclaim the whole being. Virtue that recomposes the harmony of the vital wave.

Project that wants to raise the poor from the rubbish, to transform us into masterpieces - starting from the truth of pitocche radici [where we are ourselves].

The challenge of Faith is open.