sunday gospel reflections
Pope Leo
Holy Mass 09.11.25
Dear brothers and sisters,
Today we celebrate the Feast of the Dedication of the Basilica of Saint John Lateran, which took place in the fourth century under Pope Sylvester I. This Basilica, the Cathedral of Rome, was built at the behest of Emperor Constantine, after he granted Christians the freedom to profess their faith and practice their religion in the year 313.
Why is it that we commemorate this event to the present day? Certainly to recall, with joy and gratitude, a historical event of great importance for the life of the Church, but this is not the only reason. This Basilica, in fact, the “Mother of all Churches,” is much more than a monument or a historical memorial. It is “a sign of the living Church, built with chosen and precious stones in Christ Jesus, the cornerstone (cf. 1 Pet 2:4-5)” (Italian Episcopal Conference, Rite of the Blessing of the Oils and Dedication of the Church and Altar, Introduction). As such, it reminds us that we too are “living stones here on earth… built into” a spiritual temple (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church Lumen Gentium, 6). For this reason, as Saint Paul VI noted, the early Christian community soon began to apply the “name of Church, which means the assembly of the faithful, to the temple that gathers them together” (Angelus, 9 November 1969). It is the ecclesial community, “the Church, the society of believers, [which] gives Saint John Lateran its most solid and striking external structure” (ibid.). Therefore, as we gaze upon this building, let us reflect on what it means to be Church in light of today’s readings.
Firstly, let us consider its foundations. Their importance is obvious and, even somewhat unsettling. If the builders had not dug deep enough to find a solid base on which to construct the rest, the entire building would have collapsed long ago or would be at risk of doing so at any moment, which would put us in grave danger. Fortunately, however, those who came before us laid solid foundations for our Cathedral, digging deep with great effort before raising the walls that welcome us, and this makes us feel much more at ease.
This is a cause for reflection. As laborers in the living Church, we too must first dig deep within ourselves and around ourselves before we can build impressive structures. We must remove any unstable material that would prevent us from reaching the solid rock of Christ (cf. Mt 7:24-27). This is precisely what Saint Paul speaks about in the second reading when he says that “no one can lay any foundation other than the one that has been laid; that foundation is Jesus Christ” (1 Cor 3:11). This means constantly returning to Jesus and his Gospel and being docile to the action of the Holy Spirit. Otherwise, we risk overloading a building with heavy structures whose foundations are too weak to support.
Dear brothers and sisters, as we diligently labor in the service of God’s Kingdom, let us be neither hasty nor superficial. Let us dig deep, unhindered by worldly criteria, which too often demand immediate results and disregard the wisdom of waiting. The millennial history of the Church teaches us that with God’s help, a true community of faith can only be built with humility and patience. Such a community is capable of spreading charity, promoting mission, proclaiming, celebrating and serving the Apostolic Magisterium of which this temple is the first seat (cf. Angelus, 9 November 1969).
The scene presented to us in today’s Gospel (Lk 19:1-10) is particularly enlightening in this regard: Zacchaeus, a wealthy and powerful man, feels moved to meet Jesus. However, he realizes that he is too short to see him and so decides to climb a tree. This is an unusual and inappropriate gesture for someone of his rank who is accustomed to getting whatever he wants at the tax office as though it were his due. This time, however, the road is longer and climbing the branches means that Zacchaeus recognizes his own limitations and overcomes the inhibitions of his pride. In doing so, he is able to meet Jesus, who tells him, “I must stay at your house today” (v. 5). That encounter marks the beginning of a new life for Zacchaeus (cf. v. 8).
When Jesus calls us to take part in God’s great project, he transforms us by skillfully shaping us according to his plans for salvation. In recent years, the image of a “construction site” has often been used to describe our ecclesial journey. It is a beautiful image that speaks of activity, creativity and dedication, as well as hard work and sometimes complex problems to be solved. It captures the concrete, tangible efforts of our communities as they grow every day, sharing their charisms under the guidance of their pastors. The Church of Rome, in particular, stands as a witness to this in the current implementation phase of the Synod. What has matured over years of work now needs to be put to the test and evaluated “in the field.” This implies an uphill journey, but we must not be discouraged. Instead, we should continue with confidence in our efforts to grow together.
The construction of the majestic building in which we find ourselves has had its share of critical moments, delays and changes to the original plans. Yet thanks to the tenacity of those who came before us, we can now gather in this wonderful place. In Rome, a great good is growing thanks to the efforts of many. Let us not allow fatigue to prevent us from recognizing and celebrating this good, so that we may nourish and renew our enthusiasm. After all, it is through charity in action that the face of our Church is shaped, making it ever clearer to all that she is a “mother,” the “mother of all Churches,” or even a “mom,” as Saint John Paul II said when speaking to children on this very feast day (cf. Address for the Dedication of the Basilica of Saint John Lateran, 9 November 1986).
Finally, I would like to mention an essential aspect of the Cathedral’s mission: liturgy. The liturgy is “the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed... the source from which all its power flows” (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy Sacrosanctum Concilium, 10). In it, we find the same themes we have already mentioned: we are built up as God’s temple, as his dwelling place in the Spirit and we receive strength to preach Christ in the world (cf. ibid., 2). Therefore, care for the liturgy, especially here at the See of Peter, must be such that it can serve as an example for the whole people of God. It must comply with the established norms, be attentive to the different sensibilities of those participating and keep with the principle of wise inculturation (cf. ibid., 37-38). At the same time, it must remain faithful to the solemn sobriety typical of the Roman tradition, which can do so much good for the souls of those who actively participate in it (cf. ibid., 14). Every care should be taken to ensure that the simple beauty of the rites expresses the value of worship for the harmonious growth of the whole Body of the Lord. As Saint Augustine said, “beauty is nothing but love, and love is life” (Discourse 365, 1). This truth is realized in an eminent way within the liturgy, and I hope that those who approach the altar of Rome’s Cathedral go away filled with the grace that the Lord wishes to flood the world (cf. Ezek 47:1-2, 8-9, 12).
Pope Francis Homilies
Holy Mass 09.11.25
Dear brothers and sisters,
Today we celebrate the Feast of the Dedication of the Basilica of Saint John Lateran, which took place in the fourth century under Pope Sylvester I. This Basilica, the Cathedral of Rome, was built at the behest of Emperor Constantine, after he granted Christians the freedom to profess their faith and practice their religion in the year 313.
Why is it that we commemorate this event to the present day? Certainly to recall, with joy and gratitude, a historical event of great importance for the life of the Church, but this is not the only reason. This Basilica, in fact, the “Mother of all Churches,” is much more than a monument or a historical memorial. It is “a sign of the living Church, built with chosen and precious stones in Christ Jesus, the cornerstone (cf. 1 Pet 2:4-5)” (Italian Episcopal Conference, Rite of the Blessing of the Oils and Dedication of the Church and Altar, Introduction). As such, it reminds us that we too are “living stones here on earth… built into” a spiritual temple (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church Lumen Gentium, 6). For this reason, as Saint Paul VI noted, the early Christian community soon began to apply the “name of Church, which means the assembly of the faithful, to the temple that gathers them together” (Angelus, 9 November 1969). It is the ecclesial community, “the Church, the society of believers, [which] gives Saint John Lateran its most solid and striking external structure” (ibid.). Therefore, as we gaze upon this building, let us reflect on what it means to be Church in light of today’s readings.
Firstly, let us consider its foundations. Their importance is obvious and, even somewhat unsettling. If the builders had not dug deep enough to find a solid base on which to construct the rest, the entire building would have collapsed long ago or would be at risk of doing so at any moment, which would put us in grave danger. Fortunately, however, those who came before us laid solid foundations for our Cathedral, digging deep with great effort before raising the walls that welcome us, and this makes us feel much more at ease.
This is a cause for reflection. As laborers in the living Church, we too must first dig deep within ourselves and around ourselves before we can build impressive structures. We must remove any unstable material that would prevent us from reaching the solid rock of Christ (cf. Mt 7:24-27). This is precisely what Saint Paul speaks about in the second reading when he says that “no one can lay any foundation other than the one that has been laid; that foundation is Jesus Christ” (1 Cor 3:11). This means constantly returning to Jesus and his Gospel and being docile to the action of the Holy Spirit. Otherwise, we risk overloading a building with heavy structures whose foundations are too weak to support.
Dear brothers and sisters, as we diligently labor in the service of God’s Kingdom, let us be neither hasty nor superficial. Let us dig deep, unhindered by worldly criteria, which too often demand immediate results and disregard the wisdom of waiting. The millennial history of the Church teaches us that with God’s help, a true community of faith can only be built with humility and patience. Such a community is capable of spreading charity, promoting mission, proclaiming, celebrating and serving the Apostolic Magisterium of which this temple is the first seat (cf. Angelus, 9 November 1969).
The scene presented to us in today’s Gospel (Lk 19:1-10) is particularly enlightening in this regard: Zacchaeus, a wealthy and powerful man, feels moved to meet Jesus. However, he realizes that he is too short to see him and so decides to climb a tree. This is an unusual and inappropriate gesture for someone of his rank who is accustomed to getting whatever he wants at the tax office as though it were his due. This time, however, the road is longer and climbing the branches means that Zacchaeus recognizes his own limitations and overcomes the inhibitions of his pride. In doing so, he is able to meet Jesus, who tells him, “I must stay at your house today” (v. 5). That encounter marks the beginning of a new life for Zacchaeus (cf. v. 8).
When Jesus calls us to take part in God’s great project, he transforms us by skillfully shaping us according to his plans for salvation. In recent years, the image of a “construction site” has often been used to describe our ecclesial journey. It is a beautiful image that speaks of activity, creativity and dedication, as well as hard work and sometimes complex problems to be solved. It captures the concrete, tangible efforts of our communities as they grow every day, sharing their charisms under the guidance of their pastors. The Church of Rome, in particular, stands as a witness to this in the current implementation phase of the Synod. What has matured over years of work now needs to be put to the test and evaluated “in the field.” This implies an uphill journey, but we must not be discouraged. Instead, we should continue with confidence in our efforts to grow together.
The construction of the majestic building in which we find ourselves has had its share of critical moments, delays and changes to the original plans. Yet thanks to the tenacity of those who came before us, we can now gather in this wonderful place. In Rome, a great good is growing thanks to the efforts of many. Let us not allow fatigue to prevent us from recognizing and celebrating this good, so that we may nourish and renew our enthusiasm. After all, it is through charity in action that the face of our Church is shaped, making it ever clearer to all that she is a “mother,” the “mother of all Churches,” or even a “mom,” as Saint John Paul II said when speaking to children on this very feast day (cf. Address for the Dedication of the Basilica of Saint John Lateran, 9 November 1986).
Finally, I would like to mention an essential aspect of the Cathedral’s mission: liturgy. The liturgy is “the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed... the source from which all its power flows” (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy Sacrosanctum Concilium, 10). In it, we find the same themes we have already mentioned: we are built up as God’s temple, as his dwelling place in the Spirit and we receive strength to preach Christ in the world (cf. ibid., 2). Therefore, care for the liturgy, especially here at the See of Peter, must be such that it can serve as an example for the whole people of God. It must comply with the established norms, be attentive to the different sensibilities of those participating and keep with the principle of wise inculturation (cf. ibid., 37-38). At the same time, it must remain faithful to the solemn sobriety typical of the Roman tradition, which can do so much good for the souls of those who actively participate in it (cf. ibid., 14). Every care should be taken to ensure that the simple beauty of the rites expresses the value of worship for the harmonious growth of the whole Body of the Lord. As Saint Augustine said, “beauty is nothing but love, and love is life” (Discourse 365, 1). This truth is realized in an eminent way within the liturgy, and I hope that those who approach the altar of Rome’s Cathedral go away filled with the grace that the Lord wishes to flood the world (cf. Ezek 47:1-2, 8-9, 12).
Pope Francis Homilies
Commemoration of all the Faithful departed
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
We have gathered here to celebrate the Commemoration of all the faithful departed. We do so especially for those buried in this place, and with particular affection for our own loved ones. Although they left us on the day when they died, we continue to carry them with us in our hearts, and their memory remains always alive within us amid our daily lives. Often, something brings them to mind, and we recall experiences we once shared with them. Many places, even the fragrance of our homes, speak to us of those we have loved and who have gone before us, vividly maintaining their memory for us.
Today, however, we are not gathered merely to commemorate those who have departed from this world. Our Christian faith, founded upon Christ’s Paschal mystery, helps us to experience our memories as more than just a recollection of the past but also, and above all, as hope for the future. It is not so much about looking back, but instead looking forward towards the goal of our journey, towards the safe harbor that God has promised us, towards the unending feast that awaits us. There, around the Risen Lord and our loved ones, we hope to savor the joy of the eternal banquet. As we just heard from the prophet Isaiah: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food… He will swallow up death forever” (25: 6,8).
This hope for the future brings to life our remembrance and prayer today. This is not an illusion for soothing the pain of our separation from loved ones, nor is it mere human optimism. Instead, it is the hope founded on the Resurrection of Jesus who has conquered death and opened for us the path to the fullness of life. As I said in a recent catechesis, the Lord is “the destination of our journey. Without his love, the voyage of life would become a wandering without a goal, a tragic mistake with a missed destination… The Risen One guarantees our arrival, leading us home, where we are awaited, loved and saved” (General Audience, 15 October 2025).
This final destination, this banquet around which the Lord will gather us, will be an encounter of love. For it was out of love that God created us, through the love of his Son that he saves us from death, and in the joy of that same love, he desires that we live forever with him and with our loved ones. For this reason, whenever we dwell in love and show charity to others, especially the weakest and most needy, then we can journey towards our goal, and even now anticipate it through an unbreakable bond with those who have gone before us. Moroever, Jesus encourages us in these words: “… for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me” (Mt 25:35-36).
Love conquers death. In love, God will gather us together with our loved ones. And, if we journey together in charity, our very lives become a prayer rising up to God, uniting us with the departed, drawing us closer to them as we await to meet them again in the joy of eternal life.
Dear brothers and sisters, even as our sorrow for those no longer among us remains etched in our hearts, let us entrust ourselves to the hope that does not disappoint (cf. Rom 5:5). Let us fix our gaze upon the Risen Christ and think of our departed loved ones as enfolded in his light. Let us allow the Lord’s promise of eternal life to resound in our hearts. He will destroy death forever. Indeed, he has already conquered it, opening for us the way to eternal life by passing through the valley of death during his Paschal mystery. Thus, united to him, we too may enter and pass through the valley of death.
The Lord awaits us, and when we finally meet him at the end of our earthly journey, we shall rejoice with him and with our loved ones who have gone before us. May this promise sustain us, dry our tears, and raise our gaze upwards toward the hope for the future that never fades.
Pope Francis Homilies
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
We have gathered here to celebrate the Commemoration of all the faithful departed. We do so especially for those buried in this place, and with particular affection for our own loved ones. Although they left us on the day when they died, we continue to carry them with us in our hearts, and their memory remains always alive within us amid our daily lives. Often, something brings them to mind, and we recall experiences we once shared with them. Many places, even the fragrance of our homes, speak to us of those we have loved and who have gone before us, vividly maintaining their memory for us.
Today, however, we are not gathered merely to commemorate those who have departed from this world. Our Christian faith, founded upon Christ’s Paschal mystery, helps us to experience our memories as more than just a recollection of the past but also, and above all, as hope for the future. It is not so much about looking back, but instead looking forward towards the goal of our journey, towards the safe harbor that God has promised us, towards the unending feast that awaits us. There, around the Risen Lord and our loved ones, we hope to savor the joy of the eternal banquet. As we just heard from the prophet Isaiah: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food… He will swallow up death forever” (25: 6,8).
This hope for the future brings to life our remembrance and prayer today. This is not an illusion for soothing the pain of our separation from loved ones, nor is it mere human optimism. Instead, it is the hope founded on the Resurrection of Jesus who has conquered death and opened for us the path to the fullness of life. As I said in a recent catechesis, the Lord is “the destination of our journey. Without his love, the voyage of life would become a wandering without a goal, a tragic mistake with a missed destination… The Risen One guarantees our arrival, leading us home, where we are awaited, loved and saved” (General Audience, 15 October 2025).
This final destination, this banquet around which the Lord will gather us, will be an encounter of love. For it was out of love that God created us, through the love of his Son that he saves us from death, and in the joy of that same love, he desires that we live forever with him and with our loved ones. For this reason, whenever we dwell in love and show charity to others, especially the weakest and most needy, then we can journey towards our goal, and even now anticipate it through an unbreakable bond with those who have gone before us. Moroever, Jesus encourages us in these words: “… for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me” (Mt 25:35-36).
Love conquers death. In love, God will gather us together with our loved ones. And, if we journey together in charity, our very lives become a prayer rising up to God, uniting us with the departed, drawing us closer to them as we await to meet them again in the joy of eternal life.
Dear brothers and sisters, even as our sorrow for those no longer among us remains etched in our hearts, let us entrust ourselves to the hope that does not disappoint (cf. Rom 5:5). Let us fix our gaze upon the Risen Christ and think of our departed loved ones as enfolded in his light. Let us allow the Lord’s promise of eternal life to resound in our hearts. He will destroy death forever. Indeed, he has already conquered it, opening for us the way to eternal life by passing through the valley of death during his Paschal mystery. Thus, united to him, we too may enter and pass through the valley of death.
The Lord awaits us, and when we finally meet him at the end of our earthly journey, we shall rejoice with him and with our loved ones who have gone before us. May this promise sustain us, dry our tears, and raise our gaze upwards toward the hope for the future that never fades.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
01.11.25 Holy Mass and proclamation of St. John Henry Newman as “Doctor of the Church”,
Jubilee of the World of Education,
All Saints' Day
Revelation 7: 2-4, 9-14,
Matthew 5: 1-12a
On this Solemnity of All Saints, it is a great joy to include Saint John Henry Newman among the Doctors of the Church, and, at the same time, on the occasion of the Jubilee of the World of Education, to name him, together with Saint Thomas Aquinas, as co-Patron of the Church’s educational mission. Newman’s impressive spiritual and cultural stature will surely serve as an inspiration to new generations whose hearts thirst for the infinite, and who, through research and knowledge, are willing to undertake that journey which, as the ancients said, takes us per aspera ad astra, through difficulties to the stars.
The lives of the saints teach us that it is possible to live passionately amidst the complexity of the present, without neglecting the apostolic mandate to “shine like stars in the world” (Phil 2:15). On this solemn occasion, I wish to say to teachers and educational institutions: “Shine today like stars in the world” through your authentic commitment to the collective search for truth and to sharing it with generosity and integrity. Indeed, you do so through your service to young people, especially the poor, and your daily witness to the fact that “Christian love is prophetic: it works miracles” (Apostolic Exhortation Dilexi Te, 120).
The Jubilee is a pilgrimage of hope, and all of you, in the great field of education, know well how much hope is an indispensable seed! When I reflect on schools and universities, I think of them as laboratories of prophecy, where hope is lived, and constantly discussed and encouraged.
This is also the meaning of the Beatitudes proclaimed in today’s Gospel. The Beatitudes bring with them a new interpretation of reality. They are both the path and the message of Jesus the Teacher. At first glance, it seems impossible to declare as blessed those who are poor, or those who hunger and thirst for justice, the persecuted or the peacemakers. Yet, that which seems inconceivable in the world’s thinking is filled with meaning and light when brought into contact with the Kingdom of God. In the saints, we see this kingdom approaching and becoming present among us. Saint Matthew rightly presents the Beatitudes as a teaching, depicting Jesus as a Master, who transmits a new perspective on things, which is reflected in his own journey. The Beatitudes, however, are not just another teaching; they are the teaching par excellence. In the same way, the Lord Jesus is not just one of many teachers, he is the Master par excellence. Moreover, he is the Educator par excellence. We are his disciples and are in his “school.” We learn how to discover in his life, namely in the path he has travelled, a horizon of meaning capable of shining a light on all forms of knowledge. May our schools and universities always be places of listening to the Gospel and putting it into practice!
Responding to today’s challenges may sometimes seem beyond our capabilities, but this is not the case. Let us not allow pessimism to defeat us! I recall what my beloved predecessor Pope Francis emphasized in his Address to the First Plenary Assembly of the Dicastery for Culture and Education: that we must work together to set humanity free from the encircling gloom of nihilism, which is perhaps the most dangerous malady of contemporary culture, since it threatens to “cancel” hope. [1] This reference to the darkness that surrounds us echoes one of Saint John Henry Newman’s best-known texts, the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light.” In that beautiful prayer, we come to realize that we are far from home, our feet are unsteady, we cannot interpret clearly the way ahead. Yet none of this impedes us, since we have found our Guide: “Lead, Kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on;” “Lead, Kindly Light, The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on.”
The task of education is precisely to offer this Kindly Light to those who might otherwise remain imprisoned by the particularly insidious shadows of pessimism and fear. For this reason, I would like to say to you: let us disarm the false reasons for resignation and powerlessness, and let us share the great reasons for hope in today’s world. Let us reflect upon and point out to others those “constellations” that transmit light and guidance at this present time, which is darkened by so much injustice and uncertainty. I thus encourage you to ensure that schools, universities and every educational context, even those that are informal or street-based, are always gateways to a civilization of dialogue and peace. Through your lives, let the “great multitude” shine forth, of which the Book of Revelation speaks in today’s liturgy, and which “no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages,” and which stood “before the Lamb” (7:9).
In the biblical text, one of the elders observing the multitude asks: “Who are these… and from where have they come” (Rev 7:13). In this regard, in the field of education too, the Christian gaze rests on those who have come “out of the great tribulation” (v. 14) and recognizes in them the faces of so many brothers and sisters of every language and culture who, through the narrow gate of Jesus, have entered into the fullness of life. And so, once again, we must ask ourselves: “Does this mean that the less gifted are not human beings? Or that the weak do not have the same dignity as ourselves? Are those born with fewer opportunities of lesser value as human beings? Should they limit themselves merely to surviving? The worth of our societies, and our own future, depends on the answers we give to these questions” (Apostolic Exhortation Dilexi Te, 95). We can say, too, that the evangelical value of our education also depends on the answers we give.
The lasting legacy of Saint John Henry Newman includes some very significant contributions to the theory and practice of education. He wrote, “God has created me to do Him some definite service; He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission—I never may know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next” (Meditations and Devotions, III, I, 2). In these words, we find beautifully expressed the mystery of the dignity of every human person, and also the variety of gifts distributed by God.
Life shines brightly not because we are rich, beautiful or powerful. Instead, it shines when we discover within ourselves the truth that we are called by God, have a vocation, have a mission, that our lives serve something greater than ourselves. Every single creature has a role to play. The contribution that each person can make is uniquely valuable, and the task of educational communities is to encourage and cherish that contribution. Let us not forget that at the heart of the educational journey we do not find abstract individuals but real people, especially those who seem to be underperforming according to the parameters of economies that exclude or even kill them. We are called to form people, so that they may shine like stars in their full dignity.
We can say, then, that from a Christian perspective education helps everyone to become saints. Nothing less will do. Pope Benedict XVI, on his Apostolic Journey to Great Britain in September 2010, during which he beatified John Henry Newman, invited young people to become saints with these words: “What God wants most of all for each one of you is that you should become holy. He loves you much more than you could ever begin to imagine.” [2] This is the universal call to holiness that the Second Vatican Council made an essential part of its message (cf. Lumen Gentium, Chapter V). And holiness is intended for everyone, without exception, as a personal and communal journey marked out by the Beatitudes.
I pray that Catholic education will help each person to discover their own call to holiness. Saint Augustine, whom Saint John Henry Newman greatly admired, once said that we are fellow students who have one Teacher, whose school is on earth and whose chair is in heaven (cf. Serm. 292,1).
[1] Cf. FRANCIS, Address to the Participants of the Plenary Assembly of the Dicastery for Culture and Education (21 November 2024).
[2] BENEDICT XVI, Address to Pupils (17 September 2010).
Dear brothers and sisters,
I would like to greet all of you who have taken part in this sacred celebration, especially the cardinals, bishops and distinguished authorities.
I am very pleased to welcome the official delegation of the Church of England, led by His Grace Stephen Cottrell, Archbishop of York. Following the historic prayer meeting with His Majesty King Charles III, celebrated a few days ago in the Sistine Chapel, your presence today expresses our shared joy at the proclamation of Saint John Henry Newman as a Doctor of the Church. From Heaven, may he accompany Christians on their journey towards full union.
I extend my greetings to all the pilgrims present, especially the young people who have given life to the “Race of the Saints,” promoted by Missioni Don Bosco, which combines sport and solidarity with the most disadvantaged children.
Sisters and brothers, the mystery of the communion of saints, which we breathe in deeply today, reminds us of the final destiny of humanity: a great celebration in which we rejoice together in the love of God, present in all, recognizing and admiring the multifaceted beauty of faces, all different and all resembling the face of Christ. As we anticipate this future reality, we feel even more strongly and painfully how this contrasts with the tragedies that the human family is suffering because of injustice and war. We urgently feel the duty to be builders of fraternity. Let us entrust our prayer and our commitment to the intercession of the Virgin Mary and all the Saints!
Pope Francis Homilies - Pope Leo – All Saints Day Holy Mass 01.11.25
01.11.25 Holy Mass and proclamation of St. John Henry Newman as “Doctor of the Church”,
Jubilee of the World of Education,
All Saints' Day
Revelation 7: 2-4, 9-14,
Matthew 5: 1-12a
On this Solemnity of All Saints, it is a great joy to include Saint John Henry Newman among the Doctors of the Church, and, at the same time, on the occasion of the Jubilee of the World of Education, to name him, together with Saint Thomas Aquinas, as co-Patron of the Church’s educational mission. Newman’s impressive spiritual and cultural stature will surely serve as an inspiration to new generations whose hearts thirst for the infinite, and who, through research and knowledge, are willing to undertake that journey which, as the ancients said, takes us per aspera ad astra, through difficulties to the stars.
The lives of the saints teach us that it is possible to live passionately amidst the complexity of the present, without neglecting the apostolic mandate to “shine like stars in the world” (Phil 2:15). On this solemn occasion, I wish to say to teachers and educational institutions: “Shine today like stars in the world” through your authentic commitment to the collective search for truth and to sharing it with generosity and integrity. Indeed, you do so through your service to young people, especially the poor, and your daily witness to the fact that “Christian love is prophetic: it works miracles” (Apostolic Exhortation Dilexi Te, 120).
The Jubilee is a pilgrimage of hope, and all of you, in the great field of education, know well how much hope is an indispensable seed! When I reflect on schools and universities, I think of them as laboratories of prophecy, where hope is lived, and constantly discussed and encouraged.
This is also the meaning of the Beatitudes proclaimed in today’s Gospel. The Beatitudes bring with them a new interpretation of reality. They are both the path and the message of Jesus the Teacher. At first glance, it seems impossible to declare as blessed those who are poor, or those who hunger and thirst for justice, the persecuted or the peacemakers. Yet, that which seems inconceivable in the world’s thinking is filled with meaning and light when brought into contact with the Kingdom of God. In the saints, we see this kingdom approaching and becoming present among us. Saint Matthew rightly presents the Beatitudes as a teaching, depicting Jesus as a Master, who transmits a new perspective on things, which is reflected in his own journey. The Beatitudes, however, are not just another teaching; they are the teaching par excellence. In the same way, the Lord Jesus is not just one of many teachers, he is the Master par excellence. Moreover, he is the Educator par excellence. We are his disciples and are in his “school.” We learn how to discover in his life, namely in the path he has travelled, a horizon of meaning capable of shining a light on all forms of knowledge. May our schools and universities always be places of listening to the Gospel and putting it into practice!
Responding to today’s challenges may sometimes seem beyond our capabilities, but this is not the case. Let us not allow pessimism to defeat us! I recall what my beloved predecessor Pope Francis emphasized in his Address to the First Plenary Assembly of the Dicastery for Culture and Education: that we must work together to set humanity free from the encircling gloom of nihilism, which is perhaps the most dangerous malady of contemporary culture, since it threatens to “cancel” hope. [1] This reference to the darkness that surrounds us echoes one of Saint John Henry Newman’s best-known texts, the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light.” In that beautiful prayer, we come to realize that we are far from home, our feet are unsteady, we cannot interpret clearly the way ahead. Yet none of this impedes us, since we have found our Guide: “Lead, Kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on;” “Lead, Kindly Light, The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on.”
The task of education is precisely to offer this Kindly Light to those who might otherwise remain imprisoned by the particularly insidious shadows of pessimism and fear. For this reason, I would like to say to you: let us disarm the false reasons for resignation and powerlessness, and let us share the great reasons for hope in today’s world. Let us reflect upon and point out to others those “constellations” that transmit light and guidance at this present time, which is darkened by so much injustice and uncertainty. I thus encourage you to ensure that schools, universities and every educational context, even those that are informal or street-based, are always gateways to a civilization of dialogue and peace. Through your lives, let the “great multitude” shine forth, of which the Book of Revelation speaks in today’s liturgy, and which “no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages,” and which stood “before the Lamb” (7:9).
In the biblical text, one of the elders observing the multitude asks: “Who are these… and from where have they come” (Rev 7:13). In this regard, in the field of education too, the Christian gaze rests on those who have come “out of the great tribulation” (v. 14) and recognizes in them the faces of so many brothers and sisters of every language and culture who, through the narrow gate of Jesus, have entered into the fullness of life. And so, once again, we must ask ourselves: “Does this mean that the less gifted are not human beings? Or that the weak do not have the same dignity as ourselves? Are those born with fewer opportunities of lesser value as human beings? Should they limit themselves merely to surviving? The worth of our societies, and our own future, depends on the answers we give to these questions” (Apostolic Exhortation Dilexi Te, 95). We can say, too, that the evangelical value of our education also depends on the answers we give.
The lasting legacy of Saint John Henry Newman includes some very significant contributions to the theory and practice of education. He wrote, “God has created me to do Him some definite service; He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission—I never may know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next” (Meditations and Devotions, III, I, 2). In these words, we find beautifully expressed the mystery of the dignity of every human person, and also the variety of gifts distributed by God.
Life shines brightly not because we are rich, beautiful or powerful. Instead, it shines when we discover within ourselves the truth that we are called by God, have a vocation, have a mission, that our lives serve something greater than ourselves. Every single creature has a role to play. The contribution that each person can make is uniquely valuable, and the task of educational communities is to encourage and cherish that contribution. Let us not forget that at the heart of the educational journey we do not find abstract individuals but real people, especially those who seem to be underperforming according to the parameters of economies that exclude or even kill them. We are called to form people, so that they may shine like stars in their full dignity.
We can say, then, that from a Christian perspective education helps everyone to become saints. Nothing less will do. Pope Benedict XVI, on his Apostolic Journey to Great Britain in September 2010, during which he beatified John Henry Newman, invited young people to become saints with these words: “What God wants most of all for each one of you is that you should become holy. He loves you much more than you could ever begin to imagine.” [2] This is the universal call to holiness that the Second Vatican Council made an essential part of its message (cf. Lumen Gentium, Chapter V). And holiness is intended for everyone, without exception, as a personal and communal journey marked out by the Beatitudes.
I pray that Catholic education will help each person to discover their own call to holiness. Saint Augustine, whom Saint John Henry Newman greatly admired, once said that we are fellow students who have one Teacher, whose school is on earth and whose chair is in heaven (cf. Serm. 292,1).
[1] Cf. FRANCIS, Address to the Participants of the Plenary Assembly of the Dicastery for Culture and Education (21 November 2024).
[2] BENEDICT XVI, Address to Pupils (17 September 2010).
Dear brothers and sisters,
I would like to greet all of you who have taken part in this sacred celebration, especially the cardinals, bishops and distinguished authorities.
I am very pleased to welcome the official delegation of the Church of England, led by His Grace Stephen Cottrell, Archbishop of York. Following the historic prayer meeting with His Majesty King Charles III, celebrated a few days ago in the Sistine Chapel, your presence today expresses our shared joy at the proclamation of Saint John Henry Newman as a Doctor of the Church. From Heaven, may he accompany Christians on their journey towards full union.
I extend my greetings to all the pilgrims present, especially the young people who have given life to the “Race of the Saints,” promoted by Missioni Don Bosco, which combines sport and solidarity with the most disadvantaged children.
Sisters and brothers, the mystery of the communion of saints, which we breathe in deeply today, reminds us of the final destiny of humanity: a great celebration in which we rejoice together in the love of God, present in all, recognizing and admiring the multifaceted beauty of faces, all different and all resembling the face of Christ. As we anticipate this future reality, we feel even more strongly and painfully how this contrasts with the tragedies that the human family is suffering because of injustice and war. We urgently feel the duty to be builders of fraternity. Let us entrust our prayer and our commitment to the intercession of the Virgin Mary and all the Saints!
Pope Francis Homilies - Pope Leo – All Saints Day Holy Mass 01.11.25
Pope Leo Angelus
26.10.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today’s Gospel (cf. Lk 18:9-14) presents two individuals, a Pharisee and a tax collector, who are praying in the Temple.
The first boasts a long list of merits. He has done many good works, and for this reason he feels superior to others, whom he judges contemptuously. He stands with his head held high. His attitude is clearly presumptuous, denoting a strict observance of the law, but one that is poor in love, made up of “giving” and “taking,” of debts and credits, devoid of mercy.
The tax collector is also praying, but in a very different way. He is in great need of forgiveness: he is a tax collector paid by the Roman Empire, and he works under a contract that allows him to speculate on the proceeds to the detriment of his own countrymen. Yet, at the end of the parable, Jesus tells us that it is the tax collector who returns home “justified,” that is, forgiven and renewed by his encounter with God. Why?
First, the tax collector had the courage and humility to present himself before God. He did not close himself off in his own world or resign himself to the evil he has done. He left the places where he was feared, safe and protected by the power he wielded over others. He went to the Temple alone, without an escort, even at the cost of facing harsh glances and sharp judgments, and he stood before the Lord, at the back, with his head bowed, uttering a few words: “God, be merciful to me a sinner” (v. 13).
Jesus gives us a powerful message: it is not by flaunting our merits that we are saved, nor by hiding our mistakes, but by presenting ourselves honestly, just as we are, before God, ourselves and others, asking for forgiveness and entrusting ourselves to the Lord’s grace.
Commenting on this passage, Saint Augustine compares the Pharisee to a sick man who, out of shame and pride, hides his wounds from the doctor. The tax collector is compared to another who, with humility and wisdom, lays bare his wounds before the doctor, however unpleasant they may be to look at, and asks for help. The saint concludes: “It is not surprising that it was the tax-collector… who went away cured, since he had not been ashamed of showing where he felt pain” (Sermo 351,1).
Dear brothers and sisters,
let us do the same. Let us not be afraid to acknowledge our mistakes, lay them bare, take responsibility for them and entrust them to God’s mercy. That way, his Kingdom — which belongs not to the proud but to the humble and is built through prayer and action, by practicing honesty, forgiveness and gratitude — can grow in us and around us.
Let us ask Mary, the model of holiness, to help us grow in these virtues.
I express my heartfelt closeness to the people of eastern Mexico, which in recent days was hit by flooding. I pray for the families and for all who are suffering because of this calamity, and I entrust to the Lord, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, the souls of the deceased.
Our prayer for peace continues unceasingly, particularly through the communal recitation of the Holy Rosary. As we contemplate the mysteries of Christ together with the Virgin Mary, we make our own the suffering and the hope of the children, the mothers, the fathers, and the elderly who are victims of war. And from this heartfelt intercession arise many gestures of evangelical charity, concrete closeness, and solidarity. To all who, each day, carry forward this commitment with trusting perseverance, I say once again: “Blessed are the peacemakers!”
Thank you all! Have a pleasant Sunday!
Pope Francis Homilies
26.10.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today’s Gospel (cf. Lk 18:9-14) presents two individuals, a Pharisee and a tax collector, who are praying in the Temple.
The first boasts a long list of merits. He has done many good works, and for this reason he feels superior to others, whom he judges contemptuously. He stands with his head held high. His attitude is clearly presumptuous, denoting a strict observance of the law, but one that is poor in love, made up of “giving” and “taking,” of debts and credits, devoid of mercy.
The tax collector is also praying, but in a very different way. He is in great need of forgiveness: he is a tax collector paid by the Roman Empire, and he works under a contract that allows him to speculate on the proceeds to the detriment of his own countrymen. Yet, at the end of the parable, Jesus tells us that it is the tax collector who returns home “justified,” that is, forgiven and renewed by his encounter with God. Why?
First, the tax collector had the courage and humility to present himself before God. He did not close himself off in his own world or resign himself to the evil he has done. He left the places where he was feared, safe and protected by the power he wielded over others. He went to the Temple alone, without an escort, even at the cost of facing harsh glances and sharp judgments, and he stood before the Lord, at the back, with his head bowed, uttering a few words: “God, be merciful to me a sinner” (v. 13).
Jesus gives us a powerful message: it is not by flaunting our merits that we are saved, nor by hiding our mistakes, but by presenting ourselves honestly, just as we are, before God, ourselves and others, asking for forgiveness and entrusting ourselves to the Lord’s grace.
Commenting on this passage, Saint Augustine compares the Pharisee to a sick man who, out of shame and pride, hides his wounds from the doctor. The tax collector is compared to another who, with humility and wisdom, lays bare his wounds before the doctor, however unpleasant they may be to look at, and asks for help. The saint concludes: “It is not surprising that it was the tax-collector… who went away cured, since he had not been ashamed of showing where he felt pain” (Sermo 351,1).
Dear brothers and sisters,
let us do the same. Let us not be afraid to acknowledge our mistakes, lay them bare, take responsibility for them and entrust them to God’s mercy. That way, his Kingdom — which belongs not to the proud but to the humble and is built through prayer and action, by practicing honesty, forgiveness and gratitude — can grow in us and around us.
Let us ask Mary, the model of holiness, to help us grow in these virtues.
I express my heartfelt closeness to the people of eastern Mexico, which in recent days was hit by flooding. I pray for the families and for all who are suffering because of this calamity, and I entrust to the Lord, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, the souls of the deceased.
Our prayer for peace continues unceasingly, particularly through the communal recitation of the Holy Rosary. As we contemplate the mysteries of Christ together with the Virgin Mary, we make our own the suffering and the hope of the children, the mothers, the fathers, and the elderly who are victims of war. And from this heartfelt intercession arise many gestures of evangelical charity, concrete closeness, and solidarity. To all who, each day, carry forward this commitment with trusting perseverance, I say once again: “Blessed are the peacemakers!”
Thank you all! Have a pleasant Sunday!
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Holy Mass 19.10.25
Holy Mass and canonisation of the Blessed:
- Ignazio Choukrallah Maloyan
- Peter To Rot
- Vincenza Maria Poloni
- Maria del Monte Carmelo Rendiles Martínez
- Maria Troncatti
- José Gregorio Hernández Cisneros
- Bartolo Longo
Dear brothers and sisters,
Let us begin our reflection with the question that concludes the Gospel just proclaimed: “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (Lk 18:8). This question reveals to us what is most precious in the Lord’s eyes: faith, namely, the bond of love between God and man. Today we have before us seven witnesses, the new Saints, who, with God’s grace, kept the lamp of faith burning. Indeed, they themselves became lamps capable of spreading the light of Christ.
When we consider the great material, cultural, scientific and artistic treasures, faith shines not because these goods are to be undervalued, but because without faith they lose their meaning. Our relationship with God is of the utmost importance because at the beginning of time he created all things out of nothing and, at the end of time, he will save mortal beings from nothingness. A world without faith, then, would be populated by children living without a Father, that is, by creatures without salvation.
For this reason, Jesus, the Son of God made man, asks about faith: if it disappeared from the world, what would happen? Heaven and earth would remain as before, but there would no longer be hope in our hearts; everyone’s freedom would be defeated by death; our desire for life would fade into nothingness. Without faith in God, we cannot hope for salvation. Jesus’ question can disturb us, but only if we forget that it is Jesus himself who poses it. The Lord’s words, in fact, are always the “Gospel,” the joyful proclamation of salvation. This salvation is the gift of eternal life that we receive from the Father, through the Son, in the power of the Holy Spirit.
Dear friends, this is precisely why Christ speaks to his disciples of the “need to pray always, and not to lose heart” (Lk 18:1). Just as we never grow weary of breathing, so let us never grow weary of praying! Just as breathing sustains the life of the body, so prayer sustains the life of the soul: faith, in fact, is expressed in prayer, and authentic prayer lives on faith.
Jesus shows us this connection with a parable: a judge remains deaf to the pressing requests of a widow, whose perseverance finally leads him to act. At a glance, such tenacity becomes for us a beautiful example of hope, especially in times of trial and tribulation. Nevertheless, the woman’s perseverance and the judge, who acts reluctantly, set the stage for a provocative question from Jesus: Will not God, the good Father, “grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night?” (Lk 18:7).
Let us allow these words to resonate in our hearts: the Lord is asking us whether we believe that God is a just judge towards all. The Son asks us if we believe that the Father always wants our good and the salvation of every person. In this regard, two temptations test our faith: the first draws strength from the scandal of evil, leading us to think that God does not hear the cries of the oppressed and has no pity for the innocent who suffer. The second temptation is the claim that God must act as we want him to: prayer then gives way to a command to God, to teach him how to be just and effective.
Jesus, the perfect witness of filial trust, frees us from both temptations. He is the innocent one who, especially during his Passion, prays thus: “Father, your will be done” (cf. Lk 22:42). The Master gives us these same words in the Our Father. Let us remember that whatever happens to us, Jesus entrusted himself as Son to the Father. We are, therefore, brothers and sisters in his name, so we can proclaim: “It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation, always and everywhere to give you thanks, Lord, holy Father, almighty and eternal God, through Christ our Lord” (Eucharistic Prayer II, Preface).
The Church’s prayer reminds us that God grants justice to all, giving his life for all. Thus, when we cry out to the Lord, “Where are you?”, let us transform this invocation into a prayer, and then we we will recognize that God is present where the innocent suffer. The cross of Christ reveals God’s justice, and God’s justice is forgiveness. He sees evil and redeems it by taking it upon himself. When we are “crucified” by pain and violence, by hatred and war, Christ is already there, on the cross for us and with us. There is no cry that God does not console; there is no tear that is far from his heart. The Lord listens to us, embraces us as we are, and transforms us as he is. Those who reject God’s mercy, however, remain incapable of mercy towards their neighbor. Those who do not welcome peace as a gift will not know how to give peace.
Dear friends, we now understand that Jesus’ questions are a powerful invitation to hope and action: when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith in God’s providence? Indeed, it is this faith that sustains our commitment to justice, precisely because we believe that God saves the world out of love, freeing us from fatalism. When we hear the cries of those in difficulty, let us ask ourselves, are we witnesses to the Father’s love, as Christ was to all? He is the humble one who calls the arrogant to conversion, the just one who makes us just. We see all this in the lives of the new Saints: they are not heroes or champions of some ideal, but authentic men and women.
These faithful friends of Christ are martyrs for their faith, like Bishop Ignazio Choukrallah Maloyan and catechist Peter To Rot; they are evangelizers and missionaries, like Sister Maria Troncatti; they are charismatic founders, like Sister Vincenza Maria Poloni and Sister Maria del Monte Carmelo Rendiles Martínez; with their hearts burning with devotion, they are benefactors of humanity, like Bartolo Longo and José Gregorio Hernández Cisneros. May their intercession assist us in our trials and their example inspire us in our shared vocation to holiness. As we journey towards this goal, let us pray without ceasing, and continue in what we have learned and firmly believe (cf. 2 Tim 3:14). Faith on earth thus sustains the hope for heaven.
Pope Francis Homilies
Holy Mass 19.10.25
Holy Mass and canonisation of the Blessed:
- Ignazio Choukrallah Maloyan
- Peter To Rot
- Vincenza Maria Poloni
- Maria del Monte Carmelo Rendiles Martínez
- Maria Troncatti
- José Gregorio Hernández Cisneros
- Bartolo Longo
Dear brothers and sisters,
Let us begin our reflection with the question that concludes the Gospel just proclaimed: “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (Lk 18:8). This question reveals to us what is most precious in the Lord’s eyes: faith, namely, the bond of love between God and man. Today we have before us seven witnesses, the new Saints, who, with God’s grace, kept the lamp of faith burning. Indeed, they themselves became lamps capable of spreading the light of Christ.
When we consider the great material, cultural, scientific and artistic treasures, faith shines not because these goods are to be undervalued, but because without faith they lose their meaning. Our relationship with God is of the utmost importance because at the beginning of time he created all things out of nothing and, at the end of time, he will save mortal beings from nothingness. A world without faith, then, would be populated by children living without a Father, that is, by creatures without salvation.
For this reason, Jesus, the Son of God made man, asks about faith: if it disappeared from the world, what would happen? Heaven and earth would remain as before, but there would no longer be hope in our hearts; everyone’s freedom would be defeated by death; our desire for life would fade into nothingness. Without faith in God, we cannot hope for salvation. Jesus’ question can disturb us, but only if we forget that it is Jesus himself who poses it. The Lord’s words, in fact, are always the “Gospel,” the joyful proclamation of salvation. This salvation is the gift of eternal life that we receive from the Father, through the Son, in the power of the Holy Spirit.
Dear friends, this is precisely why Christ speaks to his disciples of the “need to pray always, and not to lose heart” (Lk 18:1). Just as we never grow weary of breathing, so let us never grow weary of praying! Just as breathing sustains the life of the body, so prayer sustains the life of the soul: faith, in fact, is expressed in prayer, and authentic prayer lives on faith.
Jesus shows us this connection with a parable: a judge remains deaf to the pressing requests of a widow, whose perseverance finally leads him to act. At a glance, such tenacity becomes for us a beautiful example of hope, especially in times of trial and tribulation. Nevertheless, the woman’s perseverance and the judge, who acts reluctantly, set the stage for a provocative question from Jesus: Will not God, the good Father, “grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night?” (Lk 18:7).
Let us allow these words to resonate in our hearts: the Lord is asking us whether we believe that God is a just judge towards all. The Son asks us if we believe that the Father always wants our good and the salvation of every person. In this regard, two temptations test our faith: the first draws strength from the scandal of evil, leading us to think that God does not hear the cries of the oppressed and has no pity for the innocent who suffer. The second temptation is the claim that God must act as we want him to: prayer then gives way to a command to God, to teach him how to be just and effective.
Jesus, the perfect witness of filial trust, frees us from both temptations. He is the innocent one who, especially during his Passion, prays thus: “Father, your will be done” (cf. Lk 22:42). The Master gives us these same words in the Our Father. Let us remember that whatever happens to us, Jesus entrusted himself as Son to the Father. We are, therefore, brothers and sisters in his name, so we can proclaim: “It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation, always and everywhere to give you thanks, Lord, holy Father, almighty and eternal God, through Christ our Lord” (Eucharistic Prayer II, Preface).
The Church’s prayer reminds us that God grants justice to all, giving his life for all. Thus, when we cry out to the Lord, “Where are you?”, let us transform this invocation into a prayer, and then we we will recognize that God is present where the innocent suffer. The cross of Christ reveals God’s justice, and God’s justice is forgiveness. He sees evil and redeems it by taking it upon himself. When we are “crucified” by pain and violence, by hatred and war, Christ is already there, on the cross for us and with us. There is no cry that God does not console; there is no tear that is far from his heart. The Lord listens to us, embraces us as we are, and transforms us as he is. Those who reject God’s mercy, however, remain incapable of mercy towards their neighbor. Those who do not welcome peace as a gift will not know how to give peace.
Dear friends, we now understand that Jesus’ questions are a powerful invitation to hope and action: when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith in God’s providence? Indeed, it is this faith that sustains our commitment to justice, precisely because we believe that God saves the world out of love, freeing us from fatalism. When we hear the cries of those in difficulty, let us ask ourselves, are we witnesses to the Father’s love, as Christ was to all? He is the humble one who calls the arrogant to conversion, the just one who makes us just. We see all this in the lives of the new Saints: they are not heroes or champions of some ideal, but authentic men and women.
These faithful friends of Christ are martyrs for their faith, like Bishop Ignazio Choukrallah Maloyan and catechist Peter To Rot; they are evangelizers and missionaries, like Sister Maria Troncatti; they are charismatic founders, like Sister Vincenza Maria Poloni and Sister Maria del Monte Carmelo Rendiles Martínez; with their hearts burning with devotion, they are benefactors of humanity, like Bartolo Longo and José Gregorio Hernández Cisneros. May their intercession assist us in our trials and their example inspire us in our shared vocation to holiness. As we journey towards this goal, let us pray without ceasing, and continue in what we have learned and firmly believe (cf. 2 Tim 3:14). Faith on earth thus sustains the hope for heaven.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
12.10.25 Holy Mass, St. Peter's Square,
Jubilee of Marian Spirituality,
28th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
2 Kings 5: 14-17, 2 Timothy 2: 8-13,
Luke 17: 11-19
Dear sisters and brothers,
The Apostle Paul exhorts each of us today, as he did to Timothy: “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David” (2 Tim 2:8). Marian spirituality, which nourishes our faith, has Jesus as its center. It is like Sunday, which opens each new week in the radiance of his Resurrection from the dead. “Remember Jesus Christ”: this alone matters; this is what distinguishes human spiritualities from the way of God. “Chained like a criminal,” (v. 9) Paul urges us not to lose sight of what is essential, and not to strip the name of Jesus of its history and of its cross. What we consider inordinate and crucify, God raises up because “he cannot deny himself” (v. 13). Jesus is God’s faithfulness, God’s faithfulness to himself. The celebration of Sunday, therefore, should make us Christians. It should fill our thoughts and feelings with the burning memory of Jesus and change the way we live together and the way we inhabit the earth. Every Christian spirituality flows from this fire and helps to keep it alive.
The reading from the Second Book of Kings (5:14-17) recounts the healing of Naaman, the Syrian. Jesus himself referred to this passage when he was in the synagogue in Nazareth (cf. Lk 4:27), and his interpretation had a disconcerting effect on the people of his hometown. To say that God had saved a foreigner suffering from leprosy rather than the many lepers in Israel turned them against him: “When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff” (Lk 4:28-29). The Evangelist makes no mention of the presence of Mary. She may have been present to witness what the elderly Simeon had announced to her when she brought the newborn Jesus to the Temple: “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed — and a sword will pierce your own soul too’” (Lk 2:34-35).
Yes, dear friends, “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart” ( Heb 4:12). Pope Francis found the story of Naaman the Syrian to be a relevant and penetrating message for the life of the Church. Speaking to the Roman Curia, he said: “Naaman was forced to live with a tragic situation: he had leprosy. His armor, that had won him renown, in reality covered a frail, wounded and diseased humanity. We often find this contradiction in our lives: sometimes great gifts are the armor that covers great frailties. [...]If Naaman had continued only to accumulate medals to decorate his armor, in the end he would have been devoured by his leprosy: appearing to be alive, yet enclosed and isolated in his disease.” [1] Jesus frees us from this danger. He does not wear armor; instead he is born and dies naked. He offers his gift without forcing the healed lepers to acknowledge him: only a Samaritan in the Gospel seems to realize that he had been saved (cf. Lk 17:11-19). Perhaps the fewer titles we have to boast of, the clearer it is that love is free. God is pure gift and sheer grace. Yet how many voices and convictions can separate us even today from this stark and revolutionary truth!
Brothers and sisters, Marian spirituality is at the service of the Gospel: it reveals its simplicity. Our affection for Mary of Nazareth leads us to join her in becoming disciples of Jesus. It teaches us to return to him and to meditate and ponder the events of our lives in which the Risen One still comes to us and calls us. Marian spirituality immerses us in the history upon which heaven opened. It helps us to see the proud being scattered in their conceit, the mighty being cast down from their thrones and the rich being sent away empty-handed. It impels us to fill the hungry with good things, to lift up the lowly, to remember God’s mercy and to trust in the power of his arm (cf. Lk 1:51-54). Jesus invites us to be part of his Kingdom, just as he asked Mary for her “yes,” which, once given, was renewed every day.
The lepers in the Gospel who do not return to give thanks remind us that God’s grace can touch us and find no response. It can heal us, yet we can still fail to accept it. Let us take care therefore not to go up to the temple in such a way that does not lead us to follow Jesus. Some forms of worship do not foster communion with others and can numb our hearts. In these cases, we fail to encounter the people God has placed in our lives. We fail to contribute, as Mary did, to changing the world, and to share in the joy of the Magnificat. Let us take care to avoid any exploitation of the faith that could lead to labelling those who are different — often the poor — as enemies, “lepers” to be avoided and rejected.
Mary’s path follows that of Jesus, which leads us to encounter every human being, especially the poor, the wounded and sinners. Because of this, authentic Marian spirituality brings God’s tenderness, his way of “being a mother,” to light in the Church. As we read in the Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, “whenever we look to Mary, we come to believe once again in the revolutionary nature of love and tenderness. In her, we see that humility and tenderness are not virtues of the weak but of the strong who need not treat others poorly in order to feel important themselves. Contemplating Mary, we realize that she who praised God for ‘bringing down the mighty from their thrones’ and ‘sending the rich away empty’ (Lk 1:52-53) is also the one who brings a homely warmth to our pursuit of justice” (no. 288).
Dear friends, in a world seeking justice and peace, let us revive Christian spirituality and popular devotion to the events and places blessed by God that have changed the face of the earth forever. Let us use them as a driving force for renewal and transformation. Indeed, the Jubilee we are celebrating calls for a time of conversion and restitution, of reflection and liberation. May Mary Most Holy, our hope, intercede for us and continue to lead us to Jesus, the crucified Lord. In him, there is salvation for all.
[1] Address to the Roman Curia, 23 December 2021.
Pope Francis Homilies - Pope Leo - Holy Mass 12.10.25
12.10.25 Holy Mass, St. Peter's Square,
Jubilee of Marian Spirituality,
28th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
2 Kings 5: 14-17, 2 Timothy 2: 8-13,
Luke 17: 11-19
Dear sisters and brothers,
The Apostle Paul exhorts each of us today, as he did to Timothy: “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David” (2 Tim 2:8). Marian spirituality, which nourishes our faith, has Jesus as its center. It is like Sunday, which opens each new week in the radiance of his Resurrection from the dead. “Remember Jesus Christ”: this alone matters; this is what distinguishes human spiritualities from the way of God. “Chained like a criminal,” (v. 9) Paul urges us not to lose sight of what is essential, and not to strip the name of Jesus of its history and of its cross. What we consider inordinate and crucify, God raises up because “he cannot deny himself” (v. 13). Jesus is God’s faithfulness, God’s faithfulness to himself. The celebration of Sunday, therefore, should make us Christians. It should fill our thoughts and feelings with the burning memory of Jesus and change the way we live together and the way we inhabit the earth. Every Christian spirituality flows from this fire and helps to keep it alive.
The reading from the Second Book of Kings (5:14-17) recounts the healing of Naaman, the Syrian. Jesus himself referred to this passage when he was in the synagogue in Nazareth (cf. Lk 4:27), and his interpretation had a disconcerting effect on the people of his hometown. To say that God had saved a foreigner suffering from leprosy rather than the many lepers in Israel turned them against him: “When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff” (Lk 4:28-29). The Evangelist makes no mention of the presence of Mary. She may have been present to witness what the elderly Simeon had announced to her when she brought the newborn Jesus to the Temple: “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed — and a sword will pierce your own soul too’” (Lk 2:34-35).
Yes, dear friends, “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart” ( Heb 4:12). Pope Francis found the story of Naaman the Syrian to be a relevant and penetrating message for the life of the Church. Speaking to the Roman Curia, he said: “Naaman was forced to live with a tragic situation: he had leprosy. His armor, that had won him renown, in reality covered a frail, wounded and diseased humanity. We often find this contradiction in our lives: sometimes great gifts are the armor that covers great frailties. [...]If Naaman had continued only to accumulate medals to decorate his armor, in the end he would have been devoured by his leprosy: appearing to be alive, yet enclosed and isolated in his disease.” [1] Jesus frees us from this danger. He does not wear armor; instead he is born and dies naked. He offers his gift without forcing the healed lepers to acknowledge him: only a Samaritan in the Gospel seems to realize that he had been saved (cf. Lk 17:11-19). Perhaps the fewer titles we have to boast of, the clearer it is that love is free. God is pure gift and sheer grace. Yet how many voices and convictions can separate us even today from this stark and revolutionary truth!
Brothers and sisters, Marian spirituality is at the service of the Gospel: it reveals its simplicity. Our affection for Mary of Nazareth leads us to join her in becoming disciples of Jesus. It teaches us to return to him and to meditate and ponder the events of our lives in which the Risen One still comes to us and calls us. Marian spirituality immerses us in the history upon which heaven opened. It helps us to see the proud being scattered in their conceit, the mighty being cast down from their thrones and the rich being sent away empty-handed. It impels us to fill the hungry with good things, to lift up the lowly, to remember God’s mercy and to trust in the power of his arm (cf. Lk 1:51-54). Jesus invites us to be part of his Kingdom, just as he asked Mary for her “yes,” which, once given, was renewed every day.
The lepers in the Gospel who do not return to give thanks remind us that God’s grace can touch us and find no response. It can heal us, yet we can still fail to accept it. Let us take care therefore not to go up to the temple in such a way that does not lead us to follow Jesus. Some forms of worship do not foster communion with others and can numb our hearts. In these cases, we fail to encounter the people God has placed in our lives. We fail to contribute, as Mary did, to changing the world, and to share in the joy of the Magnificat. Let us take care to avoid any exploitation of the faith that could lead to labelling those who are different — often the poor — as enemies, “lepers” to be avoided and rejected.
Mary’s path follows that of Jesus, which leads us to encounter every human being, especially the poor, the wounded and sinners. Because of this, authentic Marian spirituality brings God’s tenderness, his way of “being a mother,” to light in the Church. As we read in the Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, “whenever we look to Mary, we come to believe once again in the revolutionary nature of love and tenderness. In her, we see that humility and tenderness are not virtues of the weak but of the strong who need not treat others poorly in order to feel important themselves. Contemplating Mary, we realize that she who praised God for ‘bringing down the mighty from their thrones’ and ‘sending the rich away empty’ (Lk 1:52-53) is also the one who brings a homely warmth to our pursuit of justice” (no. 288).
Dear friends, in a world seeking justice and peace, let us revive Christian spirituality and popular devotion to the events and places blessed by God that have changed the face of the earth forever. Let us use them as a driving force for renewal and transformation. Indeed, the Jubilee we are celebrating calls for a time of conversion and restitution, of reflection and liberation. May Mary Most Holy, our hope, intercede for us and continue to lead us to Jesus, the crucified Lord. In him, there is salvation for all.
[1] Address to the Roman Curia, 23 December 2021.
Pope Francis Homilies - Pope Leo - Holy Mass 12.10.25
Pope Leo
Holy Mass 28.09.25
Dear brothers and sisters,
The words of Jesus convey to us how God sees the world, at every moment and in every place. We heard in the Gospel (Lk 16:19-31) that his eyes observe a poor man and a rich man: seeing one dying of hunger and the other gorging himself in front of him, the elegant clothes of one and the sores of the other licked by dogs (cf. Lk 16:19-21). But the Lord looks into the hearts of people, and through his eyes, we can also recognize one who is in need and one who is indifferent. Lazarus is forgotten by the one right there before him, just beyond the doorway of his house, and yet God is close to him and remembers his name. On the other hand, the man who lives in abundance is nameless, because he has lost himself by forgetting his neighbor. He is lost in the thoughts of his heart: full of things and empty of love. His possessions do not make him a good person.
The story that Christ tells us is, unfortunately, very relevant today. At the doorstep of today’s opulence stands the misery of entire peoples, ravaged by war and exploitation. Through the centuries, nothing seems to have changed: how many Lazaruses die before the greed that forgets justice, before profits that trample on charity, and before riches that are blind to the pain of the poor! Yet the Gospel assures us that Lazarus’ sufferings will come to an end. His pains end just as the rich man’s revelry ends, and God does justice to both: “The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried” (v. 22). The Church tirelessly proclaims this word of the Lord, so that it may convert our hearts.
Dear friends, by a remarkable coincidence, this same Gospel passage was also proclaimed during the Jubilee of Catechists in the Holy Year of Mercy. Addressing pilgrims who had come to Rome for the occasion, Pope Francis emphasized that God redeems the world from all evil by giving his life for our salvation. God’s saving work is the beginning of our mission because it invites us to give of ourselves for the good of all. The Pope said to the catechists: this is the center by “which everything revolves, this beating heart which gives life to everything is the Paschal proclamation, the first proclamation: the Lord Jesus is risen, the Lord Jesus loves you, and he has given his life for you; risen and alive, he is close to you and waits for you every day” (Homily, 25 September 2016). These words help us to reflect on the dialogue in the Gospel between the rich man and Abraham. The rich man’s plea to save his brothers becomes a call to action for us.
Speaking with Abraham, the rich man exclaims: “If someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent” (Lk 16:30). Abraham replies: “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead” (v. 31). Well, one has risen from the dead: Jesus Christ. The words of Scripture, therefore, do not seek to disappoint or discourage us, but to awaken our conscience. Listening to Moses and the Prophets means remembering God’s commandments and promises, whose providence never abandons anyone. The Gospel announces to us that everyone’s life can change because Christ rose from the dead. This event is the truth that saves us; therefore, it must be known and proclaimed. But that is not enough; it must be loved. It is love that leads us to understand the Gospel, for love transforms us by opening our hearts to the word of God and to the face of our neighbor.
In this regard, as catechists you are those disciples of Jesus who become his witnesses. The name of your ministry comes from the Greek verb katēchein, which means “to teach aloud, to make resound.” This means that the catechist is a person of the word – a word that he or she pronounces with his or her own life. Thus, our first catechists are our parents: those who first spoke to us and taught us to speak. Just as we learned our mother tongue, so too the proclamation of the faith cannot be delegated to someone else; it happens where we live, above of all in our homes, around the family table. When there is a voice, a gesture, a face that leads to Christ, the family experiences the beauty of the Gospel.
We have all been taught to believe through the witness of those who believed before us. From childhood, adolescence, youth, adulthood, and even old age, catechists accompany us in our faith, sharing in this lifelong journey, similar to what you have done in these days on this Jubilee pilgrimage. This dynamic involves the whole Church. As the People of God brings men and women to faith, “the understanding of the realities and the words which have been handed down [grows]. This happens through the contemplation and study made by believers, who treasure these things in their hearts (see Luke, 2:19, 51) through a penetrating understanding of the spiritual realities which they experience, and through the preaching of those who have received through Episcopal succession the sure gift of truth” (Dei Verbum, 18 November 1965, 8). In this communion, the Catechism is the “travel guidebook” that protects us from individualism and discord, because it attests to the faith of the entire Catholic Church. Every believer cooperates in her pastoral work by listening to questions, sharing in struggles, and serving the desire for justice and truth that dwells in the human conscience.
This is how catechists teach – literally in Italian, by “leaving a mark.” When we teach the faith, we do not merely give instructions, but we place the word of life in hearts, so that it may bear the fruits of a good life. To Deacon Deogratias, who asked him how to be a good catechist, Saint Augustine replied: “Explain everything in such a way that the one who listens to you, by listening may believe; by believing may hope; and by hoping may love” (Instructing Beginners in Faith, 4, 8).
Dear brothers and sisters, let us take this invitation to heart! Let us remember that no one can give what they do not have. If the rich man in the Gospel had shown charity to Lazarus, he would have done good not only for the poor man but also for himself. If that nameless man had faith, God would have saved him from all torment. But his attachment to worldly riches robbed him of the hope for the true and eternal good. When we too are tempted by greed and indifference, the many “Lazaruses” of today remind us of Jesus’ words. They serve as an effective catechesis for us, especially during this Jubilee, which is for all a time of conversion and forgiveness, of commitment to justice, and of sincere search for peace.
Pope Francis Homilies
Holy Mass 28.09.25
Dear brothers and sisters,
The words of Jesus convey to us how God sees the world, at every moment and in every place. We heard in the Gospel (Lk 16:19-31) that his eyes observe a poor man and a rich man: seeing one dying of hunger and the other gorging himself in front of him, the elegant clothes of one and the sores of the other licked by dogs (cf. Lk 16:19-21). But the Lord looks into the hearts of people, and through his eyes, we can also recognize one who is in need and one who is indifferent. Lazarus is forgotten by the one right there before him, just beyond the doorway of his house, and yet God is close to him and remembers his name. On the other hand, the man who lives in abundance is nameless, because he has lost himself by forgetting his neighbor. He is lost in the thoughts of his heart: full of things and empty of love. His possessions do not make him a good person.
The story that Christ tells us is, unfortunately, very relevant today. At the doorstep of today’s opulence stands the misery of entire peoples, ravaged by war and exploitation. Through the centuries, nothing seems to have changed: how many Lazaruses die before the greed that forgets justice, before profits that trample on charity, and before riches that are blind to the pain of the poor! Yet the Gospel assures us that Lazarus’ sufferings will come to an end. His pains end just as the rich man’s revelry ends, and God does justice to both: “The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried” (v. 22). The Church tirelessly proclaims this word of the Lord, so that it may convert our hearts.
Dear friends, by a remarkable coincidence, this same Gospel passage was also proclaimed during the Jubilee of Catechists in the Holy Year of Mercy. Addressing pilgrims who had come to Rome for the occasion, Pope Francis emphasized that God redeems the world from all evil by giving his life for our salvation. God’s saving work is the beginning of our mission because it invites us to give of ourselves for the good of all. The Pope said to the catechists: this is the center by “which everything revolves, this beating heart which gives life to everything is the Paschal proclamation, the first proclamation: the Lord Jesus is risen, the Lord Jesus loves you, and he has given his life for you; risen and alive, he is close to you and waits for you every day” (Homily, 25 September 2016). These words help us to reflect on the dialogue in the Gospel between the rich man and Abraham. The rich man’s plea to save his brothers becomes a call to action for us.
Speaking with Abraham, the rich man exclaims: “If someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent” (Lk 16:30). Abraham replies: “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead” (v. 31). Well, one has risen from the dead: Jesus Christ. The words of Scripture, therefore, do not seek to disappoint or discourage us, but to awaken our conscience. Listening to Moses and the Prophets means remembering God’s commandments and promises, whose providence never abandons anyone. The Gospel announces to us that everyone’s life can change because Christ rose from the dead. This event is the truth that saves us; therefore, it must be known and proclaimed. But that is not enough; it must be loved. It is love that leads us to understand the Gospel, for love transforms us by opening our hearts to the word of God and to the face of our neighbor.
In this regard, as catechists you are those disciples of Jesus who become his witnesses. The name of your ministry comes from the Greek verb katēchein, which means “to teach aloud, to make resound.” This means that the catechist is a person of the word – a word that he or she pronounces with his or her own life. Thus, our first catechists are our parents: those who first spoke to us and taught us to speak. Just as we learned our mother tongue, so too the proclamation of the faith cannot be delegated to someone else; it happens where we live, above of all in our homes, around the family table. When there is a voice, a gesture, a face that leads to Christ, the family experiences the beauty of the Gospel.
We have all been taught to believe through the witness of those who believed before us. From childhood, adolescence, youth, adulthood, and even old age, catechists accompany us in our faith, sharing in this lifelong journey, similar to what you have done in these days on this Jubilee pilgrimage. This dynamic involves the whole Church. As the People of God brings men and women to faith, “the understanding of the realities and the words which have been handed down [grows]. This happens through the contemplation and study made by believers, who treasure these things in their hearts (see Luke, 2:19, 51) through a penetrating understanding of the spiritual realities which they experience, and through the preaching of those who have received through Episcopal succession the sure gift of truth” (Dei Verbum, 18 November 1965, 8). In this communion, the Catechism is the “travel guidebook” that protects us from individualism and discord, because it attests to the faith of the entire Catholic Church. Every believer cooperates in her pastoral work by listening to questions, sharing in struggles, and serving the desire for justice and truth that dwells in the human conscience.
This is how catechists teach – literally in Italian, by “leaving a mark.” When we teach the faith, we do not merely give instructions, but we place the word of life in hearts, so that it may bear the fruits of a good life. To Deacon Deogratias, who asked him how to be a good catechist, Saint Augustine replied: “Explain everything in such a way that the one who listens to you, by listening may believe; by believing may hope; and by hoping may love” (Instructing Beginners in Faith, 4, 8).
Dear brothers and sisters, let us take this invitation to heart! Let us remember that no one can give what they do not have. If the rich man in the Gospel had shown charity to Lazarus, he would have done good not only for the poor man but also for himself. If that nameless man had faith, God would have saved him from all torment. But his attachment to worldly riches robbed him of the hope for the true and eternal good. When we too are tempted by greed and indifference, the many “Lazaruses” of today remind us of Jesus’ words. They serve as an effective catechesis for us, especially during this Jubilee, which is for all a time of conversion and forgiveness, of commitment to justice, and of sincere search for peace.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Angelus 21.09.25
Dear brothers and sisters, Happy Sunday!
The parable that we hear in today’s Gospel (Lk 16:1-13) makes us reflect on our use of material goods and, in general, how we administer the most precious good of all, our very life.
In the story we see a steward summoned by the rich man for “an accounting” of his management. Here we are presented with an image that conveys something important: we are not the masters of our lives or of the goods we enjoy; everything has been given to us as a gift by the Lord, who has entrusted this to our care, our freedom, and our responsibility. One day we will be called to give an account of how we have managed ourselves, our possessions and the earth’s resources – before both God and humankind, before society, and especially before those who will come after us.
The steward in this parable had, up to this point, sought only his own profit. When the day comes for him to give an account and the position is taken away from him, he has to consider what to do to secure his future. In this difficult situation, he realizes that the accumulation of material goods is not the highest value, for the riches of this world are passing. Then he has a brilliant idea: he calls the debtors and “cuts” their debts, renouncing the portion that would have gone to him. In this way, he loses material wealth but gains friends who will be ready to help and support him.
Taking his cue from the story, Jesus exhorts us: “Make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes” (v. 9).
Indeed, the steward in the parable, even while managing the dishonest wealth of this world, succeeds in finding a way to make friends, leaving behind the solitude of his own selfishness. How much more, then, must we, who are disciples living in the light of the Gospel, use the goods of this world and our very lives with a view to the true wealth, which is friendship with the Lord and with our brothers and sisters.
Dear friends, the parable invites us to ask ourselves: how are we managing the material goods, the resources of the earth and our very lives that God has entrusted to us? We can follow the way of selfishness, placing wealth above all else and thinking only of ourselves. But this isolates us from others and spreads the poison of competition, which often fuels conflict. Instead, we can recognize everything we have as a gift from God, to be managed and used as an instrument for sharing – to create networks of friendship and solidarity, to work for the common good, and to build a world that is more just, equitable and fraternal.
Let us pray to the Virgin Mary, that she may intercede for us and help us manage well, with justice and responsibility, what the Lord has entrusted to us.
I warmly greet all of you present in Saint Peter’s Square and those connected through the media.
I address, first of all, the representatives of various Catholic associations engaged in works of solidarity with the people of the Gaza Strip. Dear friends, I appreciate your initiative and many others throughout the Church that express closeness to our brothers and sisters who are suffering in that tormented land. Together with you and with the Pastors of the Churches in the Holy Land, I repeat: there is no future based on violence, forced exile, or revenge. The people need peace; those who truly love them work for peace.
I also offer a special remembrance for people suffering from Alzheimer’s and ataxia.
Thank you all, and I wish everyone a blessed Sunday!
Pope Francis Homilies
Angelus 21.09.25
Dear brothers and sisters, Happy Sunday!
The parable that we hear in today’s Gospel (Lk 16:1-13) makes us reflect on our use of material goods and, in general, how we administer the most precious good of all, our very life.
In the story we see a steward summoned by the rich man for “an accounting” of his management. Here we are presented with an image that conveys something important: we are not the masters of our lives or of the goods we enjoy; everything has been given to us as a gift by the Lord, who has entrusted this to our care, our freedom, and our responsibility. One day we will be called to give an account of how we have managed ourselves, our possessions and the earth’s resources – before both God and humankind, before society, and especially before those who will come after us.
The steward in this parable had, up to this point, sought only his own profit. When the day comes for him to give an account and the position is taken away from him, he has to consider what to do to secure his future. In this difficult situation, he realizes that the accumulation of material goods is not the highest value, for the riches of this world are passing. Then he has a brilliant idea: he calls the debtors and “cuts” their debts, renouncing the portion that would have gone to him. In this way, he loses material wealth but gains friends who will be ready to help and support him.
Taking his cue from the story, Jesus exhorts us: “Make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes” (v. 9).
Indeed, the steward in the parable, even while managing the dishonest wealth of this world, succeeds in finding a way to make friends, leaving behind the solitude of his own selfishness. How much more, then, must we, who are disciples living in the light of the Gospel, use the goods of this world and our very lives with a view to the true wealth, which is friendship with the Lord and with our brothers and sisters.
Dear friends, the parable invites us to ask ourselves: how are we managing the material goods, the resources of the earth and our very lives that God has entrusted to us? We can follow the way of selfishness, placing wealth above all else and thinking only of ourselves. But this isolates us from others and spreads the poison of competition, which often fuels conflict. Instead, we can recognize everything we have as a gift from God, to be managed and used as an instrument for sharing – to create networks of friendship and solidarity, to work for the common good, and to build a world that is more just, equitable and fraternal.
Let us pray to the Virgin Mary, that she may intercede for us and help us manage well, with justice and responsibility, what the Lord has entrusted to us.
I warmly greet all of you present in Saint Peter’s Square and those connected through the media.
I address, first of all, the representatives of various Catholic associations engaged in works of solidarity with the people of the Gaza Strip. Dear friends, I appreciate your initiative and many others throughout the Church that express closeness to our brothers and sisters who are suffering in that tormented land. Together with you and with the Pastors of the Churches in the Holy Land, I repeat: there is no future based on violence, forced exile, or revenge. The people need peace; those who truly love them work for peace.
I also offer a special remembrance for people suffering from Alzheimer’s and ataxia.
Thank you all, and I wish everyone a blessed Sunday!
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Angelus 14.09.25
Dear brothers and sisters, Happy Sunday!
Today the Church celebrates the Feast of the Exultation of the Holy Cross, commemorating the discovery of the Cross by Saint Helen in Jerusalem in the fourth century, and the return of the precious relic to the Holy City by the Emperor Heraclius.
But what does celebrating this feast mean for us today? The Gospel reading that the liturgy places before us (cf. Jn 3:13-17) helps us to understand it. The scene unfolds at night: Nicodemus, one of the leaders of the Jews, a righteous and open-minded person (cf. Jn 7:50-51), comes to meet Jesus. He needs light and guidance: he seeks God and asks the Teacher of Nazareth for help because he recognizes him as a prophet, a man who performs extraordinary signs.
The Lord welcomes him, listens to him, and eventually reveals to him that the Son of Man must be lifted up, “so that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (Jn 3:15), adding: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life” (v. 16). Nicodemus, who perhaps does not fully comprehend the meaning of these words in the moment, will certainly do so when he helps to bury the Savior’s body after the crucifixion (cf. Jn 19:39). It is then that he will understand that God, in order to redeem humanity, became man and died on the cross.
Jesus speaks of this to Nicodemus, recalling an episode in the Old Testament, when the Israelites were bitten by venomous snakes in the desert and were healed by looking upon the bronze serpent that Moses had fashioned and mounted on a pole in obedience to God’s command (cf. Num 21:4-9).
God saves us by showing himself to us, offering himself as our companion, teacher, doctor, friend, to the point of becoming bread broken for us in the Eucharist. In order to accomplish this task, he used one of the cruelest instruments that human beings have ever invented: the cross.
That is why today we celebrate the “exultation”: for the immense love with which God has transformed the means to death into an instrument of life, embracing it for our salvation, teaching us that nothing can separate us from him (cf. Rom 8:35-39) and that his love is greater than our own sin (cf. Francis, Catechesis, 30 March 2016).
Let us then ask, through the intercession of Mary, the Mother who was present at Calvary near her Son, that the saving love of her Son may take root in us and grow, and that we too may know how to give ourselves to each other, as he gave himself completely to all.
Pope Francis Homilies
Angelus 14.09.25
Dear brothers and sisters, Happy Sunday!
Today the Church celebrates the Feast of the Exultation of the Holy Cross, commemorating the discovery of the Cross by Saint Helen in Jerusalem in the fourth century, and the return of the precious relic to the Holy City by the Emperor Heraclius.
But what does celebrating this feast mean for us today? The Gospel reading that the liturgy places before us (cf. Jn 3:13-17) helps us to understand it. The scene unfolds at night: Nicodemus, one of the leaders of the Jews, a righteous and open-minded person (cf. Jn 7:50-51), comes to meet Jesus. He needs light and guidance: he seeks God and asks the Teacher of Nazareth for help because he recognizes him as a prophet, a man who performs extraordinary signs.
The Lord welcomes him, listens to him, and eventually reveals to him that the Son of Man must be lifted up, “so that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (Jn 3:15), adding: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life” (v. 16). Nicodemus, who perhaps does not fully comprehend the meaning of these words in the moment, will certainly do so when he helps to bury the Savior’s body after the crucifixion (cf. Jn 19:39). It is then that he will understand that God, in order to redeem humanity, became man and died on the cross.
Jesus speaks of this to Nicodemus, recalling an episode in the Old Testament, when the Israelites were bitten by venomous snakes in the desert and were healed by looking upon the bronze serpent that Moses had fashioned and mounted on a pole in obedience to God’s command (cf. Num 21:4-9).
God saves us by showing himself to us, offering himself as our companion, teacher, doctor, friend, to the point of becoming bread broken for us in the Eucharist. In order to accomplish this task, he used one of the cruelest instruments that human beings have ever invented: the cross.
That is why today we celebrate the “exultation”: for the immense love with which God has transformed the means to death into an instrument of life, embracing it for our salvation, teaching us that nothing can separate us from him (cf. Rom 8:35-39) and that his love is greater than our own sin (cf. Francis, Catechesis, 30 March 2016).
Let us then ask, through the intercession of Mary, the Mother who was present at Calvary near her Son, that the saving love of her Son may take root in us and grow, and that we too may know how to give ourselves to each other, as he gave himself completely to all.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Holy Mass 07.09.25
Holy Mass with Canonisations
Dear brothers and sisters,
In the first reading, we heard a question: [Lord,] “who has learned your counsel, unless you have given wisdom and sent your holy spirit from on high?” (Wis 9:17). This question comes after two young Blesseds, Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis, were proclaimed saints, and this is providential because in the Book of Wisdom, this question is attributed to a young man like them: King Solomon. Upon the death of his father David, he realized that he had many things: power, wealth, health, youth, beauty, and the entire kingdom. It was precisely this great abundance of resources that raised a question in his heart: “What must I do so that nothing is lost?” Solomon understood that the only way to find an answer was to ask God for an even greater gift, that of his wisdom, so that he might know God’s plans and follow them faithfully. He realized, in fact, that only in this way would everything find its place in the Lord’s great plan. Yes, because the greatest risk in life is to waste it outside of God’s plan.
Jesus, too, in the Gospel, speaks to us of a plan to which we must commit wholeheartedly. He says: “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Lk 14:27); and again: “none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions” (v. 33). He calls us to abandon ourselves without hesitation to the adventure that he offers us, with the intelligence and strength that comes from his Spirit, that we can receive to the extent that we empty ourselves of the things and ideas to which we are attached, in order to listen to his word.
Many young people, over the centuries, have had to face this crossroad in their lives. Think of Saint Francis of Assisi, like Solomon, he too was young and rich, thirsty for glory and fame. That is why he went to war, hoping to be knighted and adorned with honors. But Jesus appeared to him along the way and asked him to reflect on what he was doing. Coming to his senses, he asked God a simple question: “Lord, what do you want me to do?” (Legend of the Three Companions, cap. II: Fonti Francescane, 1401). From there, he changed his life and began to write a different story: the wonderful story of holiness that we all know, stripping himself of everything to follow the Lord (cf. Lk 14:33), living in poverty and preferring the love of his brothers and sisters, especially the weakest and smallest, to his father’s gold, silver and precious fabrics.
How many similar saints we could recall! Sometimes we portray them as great figures, forgetting that for them it all began when, while still young, they said “yes” to God and gave themselves to him completely, keeping nothing for themselves. Saint Augustine recounts that, in the “tortuous and tangled knot” of his life, a voice deep within him said: “I want you” (Confessions, II, 10,18). God gave him a new direction, a new path, a new reason, in which nothing of his life was lost.
In this setting, today we look to Saint Pier Giorgio Frassati and Saint Carlo Acutis: a young man from the early 20th century and a teenager from our own day, both in love with Jesus and ready to give everything for him.
Pier Giorgio encountered the Lord through school and church groups — Catholic Action, the Conferences of Saint Vincent, the FUCI (Italian Catholic University Federation), the Dominican Third Order — and he bore witness to God with his joy of living and of being a Christian in prayer, friendship and charity. This was so evident that seeing him walking the streets of Turin with carts full of supplies for the poor, his friends renamed him “Frassati Impresa Trasporti” (Frassati Transport Company)! Even today, Pier Giorgio’s life is a beacon for lay spirituality. For him, faith was not a private devotion, but it was driven by the power of the Gospel and his membership in ecclesial associations. He was also generously committed to society, contributed to political life and devoted himself ardently to the service of the poor.
Carlo, for his part, encountered Jesus in his family, thanks to his parents, Andrea and Antonia — who are here today with his two siblings, Francesca and Michele — and then at school, and above all in the sacraments celebrated in the parish community. He grew up naturally integrating prayer, sport, study and charity into his days as a child and young man.
Both Pier Giorgio and Carlo cultivated their love for God and for their brothers and sisters through simple acts, available to everyone: daily Mass, prayer, and especially Eucharistic Adoration. Carlo used to say: “In front of the sun, you get a tan. In front of the Eucharist, you become a saint!” And again: “Sadness is looking at yourself; happiness is looking at God. Conversion is nothing more than shifting your gaze from below to above; a simple movement of the eyes is enough.” Another essential practice for them was frequent Confession. Carlo wrote: “The only thing we really have to fear is sin;” and he marveled because — in his own words — “people are so concerned with the beauty of their bodies and do not care about the beauty of their souls.” Finally, both had a great devotion to the saints and to the Virgin Mary, and they practiced charity generously. Pier Giorgio said: “Around the poor and the sick, I see a light that we do not have” (Nicola Gori, Al prezzo della vita: L’Osservatore romano, 11 February 2021). He called charity “the foundation of our religion” and, like Carlo, he practiced it above all through small, concrete gestures, often hidden, living what Pope Francis called “a holiness found in our next-door neighbors” (Apostolic Exhortation Gaudete et Exsultate, 7).
Even when illness struck them and cut short their young lives, not even this stopped them nor prevented them from loving, offering themselves to God, blessing him and praying to him for themselves and for everyone. One day Pier Giorgio said: “The day of my death will be the most beautiful day of my life” (Irene Funghi, I giovani assieme a Frassati: un compagno nei nostri cammini tortuosi: Avvenire, 2 agosto 2025). In his last photo, which shows him climbing a mountain in the Val di Lanzo, with his face turned towards his goal, he wrote: “Upwards” (Ibid). Moreover, Carlo, who was even younger than Pier Giorgio, loved to say that heaven has always been waiting for us, and that to love tomorrow is to give the best of our fruit today.
Dear friends, Saints Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis are an invitation to all of us, especially young people, not to squander our lives, but to direct them upwards and make them masterpieces. They encourage us with their words: “Not I, but God,” as Carlo used to say. And Pier Giorgio: “If you have God at the center of all your actions, then you will reach the end.” This is the simple but winning formula of their holiness. It is also the type of witness we are called to follow, in order to enjoy life to the full and meet the Lord in the feast of heaven.
Pope Francis Homilies
Holy Mass 07.09.25
Holy Mass with Canonisations
Dear brothers and sisters,
In the first reading, we heard a question: [Lord,] “who has learned your counsel, unless you have given wisdom and sent your holy spirit from on high?” (Wis 9:17). This question comes after two young Blesseds, Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis, were proclaimed saints, and this is providential because in the Book of Wisdom, this question is attributed to a young man like them: King Solomon. Upon the death of his father David, he realized that he had many things: power, wealth, health, youth, beauty, and the entire kingdom. It was precisely this great abundance of resources that raised a question in his heart: “What must I do so that nothing is lost?” Solomon understood that the only way to find an answer was to ask God for an even greater gift, that of his wisdom, so that he might know God’s plans and follow them faithfully. He realized, in fact, that only in this way would everything find its place in the Lord’s great plan. Yes, because the greatest risk in life is to waste it outside of God’s plan.
Jesus, too, in the Gospel, speaks to us of a plan to which we must commit wholeheartedly. He says: “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Lk 14:27); and again: “none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions” (v. 33). He calls us to abandon ourselves without hesitation to the adventure that he offers us, with the intelligence and strength that comes from his Spirit, that we can receive to the extent that we empty ourselves of the things and ideas to which we are attached, in order to listen to his word.
Many young people, over the centuries, have had to face this crossroad in their lives. Think of Saint Francis of Assisi, like Solomon, he too was young and rich, thirsty for glory and fame. That is why he went to war, hoping to be knighted and adorned with honors. But Jesus appeared to him along the way and asked him to reflect on what he was doing. Coming to his senses, he asked God a simple question: “Lord, what do you want me to do?” (Legend of the Three Companions, cap. II: Fonti Francescane, 1401). From there, he changed his life and began to write a different story: the wonderful story of holiness that we all know, stripping himself of everything to follow the Lord (cf. Lk 14:33), living in poverty and preferring the love of his brothers and sisters, especially the weakest and smallest, to his father’s gold, silver and precious fabrics.
How many similar saints we could recall! Sometimes we portray them as great figures, forgetting that for them it all began when, while still young, they said “yes” to God and gave themselves to him completely, keeping nothing for themselves. Saint Augustine recounts that, in the “tortuous and tangled knot” of his life, a voice deep within him said: “I want you” (Confessions, II, 10,18). God gave him a new direction, a new path, a new reason, in which nothing of his life was lost.
In this setting, today we look to Saint Pier Giorgio Frassati and Saint Carlo Acutis: a young man from the early 20th century and a teenager from our own day, both in love with Jesus and ready to give everything for him.
Pier Giorgio encountered the Lord through school and church groups — Catholic Action, the Conferences of Saint Vincent, the FUCI (Italian Catholic University Federation), the Dominican Third Order — and he bore witness to God with his joy of living and of being a Christian in prayer, friendship and charity. This was so evident that seeing him walking the streets of Turin with carts full of supplies for the poor, his friends renamed him “Frassati Impresa Trasporti” (Frassati Transport Company)! Even today, Pier Giorgio’s life is a beacon for lay spirituality. For him, faith was not a private devotion, but it was driven by the power of the Gospel and his membership in ecclesial associations. He was also generously committed to society, contributed to political life and devoted himself ardently to the service of the poor.
Carlo, for his part, encountered Jesus in his family, thanks to his parents, Andrea and Antonia — who are here today with his two siblings, Francesca and Michele — and then at school, and above all in the sacraments celebrated in the parish community. He grew up naturally integrating prayer, sport, study and charity into his days as a child and young man.
Both Pier Giorgio and Carlo cultivated their love for God and for their brothers and sisters through simple acts, available to everyone: daily Mass, prayer, and especially Eucharistic Adoration. Carlo used to say: “In front of the sun, you get a tan. In front of the Eucharist, you become a saint!” And again: “Sadness is looking at yourself; happiness is looking at God. Conversion is nothing more than shifting your gaze from below to above; a simple movement of the eyes is enough.” Another essential practice for them was frequent Confession. Carlo wrote: “The only thing we really have to fear is sin;” and he marveled because — in his own words — “people are so concerned with the beauty of their bodies and do not care about the beauty of their souls.” Finally, both had a great devotion to the saints and to the Virgin Mary, and they practiced charity generously. Pier Giorgio said: “Around the poor and the sick, I see a light that we do not have” (Nicola Gori, Al prezzo della vita: L’Osservatore romano, 11 February 2021). He called charity “the foundation of our religion” and, like Carlo, he practiced it above all through small, concrete gestures, often hidden, living what Pope Francis called “a holiness found in our next-door neighbors” (Apostolic Exhortation Gaudete et Exsultate, 7).
Even when illness struck them and cut short their young lives, not even this stopped them nor prevented them from loving, offering themselves to God, blessing him and praying to him for themselves and for everyone. One day Pier Giorgio said: “The day of my death will be the most beautiful day of my life” (Irene Funghi, I giovani assieme a Frassati: un compagno nei nostri cammini tortuosi: Avvenire, 2 agosto 2025). In his last photo, which shows him climbing a mountain in the Val di Lanzo, with his face turned towards his goal, he wrote: “Upwards” (Ibid). Moreover, Carlo, who was even younger than Pier Giorgio, loved to say that heaven has always been waiting for us, and that to love tomorrow is to give the best of our fruit today.
Dear friends, Saints Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis are an invitation to all of us, especially young people, not to squander our lives, but to direct them upwards and make them masterpieces. They encourage us with their words: “Not I, but God,” as Carlo used to say. And Pier Giorgio: “If you have God at the center of all your actions, then you will reach the end.” This is the simple but winning formula of their holiness. It is also the type of witness we are called to follow, in order to enjoy life to the full and meet the Lord in the feast of heaven.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Angelus
31.08.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
In every culture, sitting at table together, especially on days of rest and celebration, is a sign of peace and communion. In this Sunday’s Gospel (Lk 14:1.7-14), Jesus is invited to a meal by one of the leaders of the Pharisees. Inviting others to one’s table is a sign of openness of heart, while accepting such an invitation entails having the humility to be open to others and their world. These gestures that bring people together help foster a culture of encounter.
Encounter is not always easy. The Evangelist notes that the other guests “observed” Jesus closely; indeed, he was watched with some suspicion by the stricter interpreters of tradition. Yet the encounter takes place because Jesus makes himself genuinely present; as a good guest, he acts with respect and sincerity, avoiding merely polite formalities that preclude authentic encounter. Consequently, as was his wont, he employs a parable to describe what he sees happening and invites those watching him to reflect on it. For he saw people rushing to sit in the places of honour, something that also happens today, not in families but on occasions when people consider it important to “be noticed”, whereby a moment for being together ends up as a competition.
Sisters and brothers, when we sit together at the table of the Eucharist on the Lord’s Day, we too should be willing to let Jesus speak. He becomes our guest and he can tell us how he sees us. It is very important that we see ourselves through his eyes: to see how frequently we reduce life to a competition, how anxious we become to obtain some sort of recognition, and how pointlessly we compare ourselves to others. Stopping to reflect, letting ourselves be taken aback by a word that challenges our hearts’ priorities, is to experience freedom, the freedom to which Jesus calls us.
In the Gospel, Jesus speaks of “humility” in describing perfect freedom (cf. Lk 14:11). Humility is really freedom from ourselves. It is born when the Kingdom of God and its righteousness become our real concern and we allow ourselves to lift up our eyes and look ahead: not down at our feet, but at what lies ahead! Those who exalt themselves generally think that nothing is more interesting than themselves; yet deep down, they are quite insecure. Whereas those who know that they are precious in God’s eyes, who know they are God’s children, have greater things to be worried about; they possess a sublime dignity all their own. Once we learn to take the last places, rather than striving for the first, that dignity will appear, and we will come to the fore simply and effortlessly.
Dear friends, today let us pray that the Church will always be a school of humility for everyone, a home where all are welcome, a place where rivalries are set aside and where Jesus still speaks to us and teaches us to imitate his own humility and freedom. Mary is truly the Mother of that home; it is to her that we now pray.
Pope Francis Homilies
Angelus
31.08.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
In every culture, sitting at table together, especially on days of rest and celebration, is a sign of peace and communion. In this Sunday’s Gospel (Lk 14:1.7-14), Jesus is invited to a meal by one of the leaders of the Pharisees. Inviting others to one’s table is a sign of openness of heart, while accepting such an invitation entails having the humility to be open to others and their world. These gestures that bring people together help foster a culture of encounter.
Encounter is not always easy. The Evangelist notes that the other guests “observed” Jesus closely; indeed, he was watched with some suspicion by the stricter interpreters of tradition. Yet the encounter takes place because Jesus makes himself genuinely present; as a good guest, he acts with respect and sincerity, avoiding merely polite formalities that preclude authentic encounter. Consequently, as was his wont, he employs a parable to describe what he sees happening and invites those watching him to reflect on it. For he saw people rushing to sit in the places of honour, something that also happens today, not in families but on occasions when people consider it important to “be noticed”, whereby a moment for being together ends up as a competition.
Sisters and brothers, when we sit together at the table of the Eucharist on the Lord’s Day, we too should be willing to let Jesus speak. He becomes our guest and he can tell us how he sees us. It is very important that we see ourselves through his eyes: to see how frequently we reduce life to a competition, how anxious we become to obtain some sort of recognition, and how pointlessly we compare ourselves to others. Stopping to reflect, letting ourselves be taken aback by a word that challenges our hearts’ priorities, is to experience freedom, the freedom to which Jesus calls us.
In the Gospel, Jesus speaks of “humility” in describing perfect freedom (cf. Lk 14:11). Humility is really freedom from ourselves. It is born when the Kingdom of God and its righteousness become our real concern and we allow ourselves to lift up our eyes and look ahead: not down at our feet, but at what lies ahead! Those who exalt themselves generally think that nothing is more interesting than themselves; yet deep down, they are quite insecure. Whereas those who know that they are precious in God’s eyes, who know they are God’s children, have greater things to be worried about; they possess a sublime dignity all their own. Once we learn to take the last places, rather than striving for the first, that dignity will appear, and we will come to the fore simply and effortlessly.
Dear friends, today let us pray that the Church will always be a school of humility for everyone, a home where all are welcome, a place where rivalries are set aside and where Jesus still speaks to us and teaches us to imitate his own humility and freedom. Mary is truly the Mother of that home; it is to her that we now pray.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Angelus 24.08.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
At the heart of today’s Gospel (Lk 13:22-30), we find the image of the “narrow gate,” which Jesus uses in his answer to someone who asks him if only a few will be saved. Jesus says, “Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able” (v 24).
At first glance, this image can make us think: if God is the Father of love and mercy, who always stands with open arms to welcome us, why does Jesus say that the gate of salvation is narrow?
Certainly, the Lord does not want to discourage us. Rather, his words are meant primarily to challenge the presumption of those people who think they are already saved, who perform religious acts and feel that is all that is needed. They have not realized that it is not enough to perform religious acts unless they change hearts. The Lord does not want worship detached from life. He is not pleased with sacrifices and prayers, unless they lead to greater love for others and justice for our brothers and sisters. For this reason, when such people come before the Lord boasting that they ate and drank with him and heard him teaching in their streets, they will hear him reply: “I do not know where you come from; go away from me, all you evildoers!” (v 28).
Brothers and sisters, the challenge presented to us in today’s Gospel is worth considering. While we may sometimes be judgmental towards those distant from the faith, Jesus calls into question “the security of believers.” He tells us that it is not enough to profess the faith with words, to eat and drink with him by celebrating the Eucharist or to have a good knowledge of Christian doctrine. Our faith is authentic when it embraces our whole life, when it becomes a criterion for our decisions, when it makes us women and men committed to doing what is right and who take risks out of love, even as Jesus did. He did not choose the easy path of success or power; instead, in order to save us, he loved us to the point of walking through the “narrow gate” of the Cross. Jesus is the true measure of our faith; he is the gate through which we must pass in order to be saved (cf. Jn 10:9) by experiencing his love and by working, in our daily lives, to promote justice and peace.
There are times when this involves making difficult and unpopular decisions, resisting our selfish inclinations, placing ourselves at the service of others, and persevering in doing what is right when the logic of evil seems to prevail, and so on. Once we cross that threshold, however, we will discover that life flourishes anew. From that moment on, we will enter into the immense heart of God and the joy of the eternal banquet that he has prepared for us.
Let us ask the Virgin Mary to help us find the courage to pass through the “narrow gate” of the Gospel, so that we may open ourselves with joy to the wide embrace of God our loving Father.
Pope Francis Homilies
Angelus 24.08.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
At the heart of today’s Gospel (Lk 13:22-30), we find the image of the “narrow gate,” which Jesus uses in his answer to someone who asks him if only a few will be saved. Jesus says, “Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able” (v 24).
At first glance, this image can make us think: if God is the Father of love and mercy, who always stands with open arms to welcome us, why does Jesus say that the gate of salvation is narrow?
Certainly, the Lord does not want to discourage us. Rather, his words are meant primarily to challenge the presumption of those people who think they are already saved, who perform religious acts and feel that is all that is needed. They have not realized that it is not enough to perform religious acts unless they change hearts. The Lord does not want worship detached from life. He is not pleased with sacrifices and prayers, unless they lead to greater love for others and justice for our brothers and sisters. For this reason, when such people come before the Lord boasting that they ate and drank with him and heard him teaching in their streets, they will hear him reply: “I do not know where you come from; go away from me, all you evildoers!” (v 28).
Brothers and sisters, the challenge presented to us in today’s Gospel is worth considering. While we may sometimes be judgmental towards those distant from the faith, Jesus calls into question “the security of believers.” He tells us that it is not enough to profess the faith with words, to eat and drink with him by celebrating the Eucharist or to have a good knowledge of Christian doctrine. Our faith is authentic when it embraces our whole life, when it becomes a criterion for our decisions, when it makes us women and men committed to doing what is right and who take risks out of love, even as Jesus did. He did not choose the easy path of success or power; instead, in order to save us, he loved us to the point of walking through the “narrow gate” of the Cross. Jesus is the true measure of our faith; he is the gate through which we must pass in order to be saved (cf. Jn 10:9) by experiencing his love and by working, in our daily lives, to promote justice and peace.
There are times when this involves making difficult and unpopular decisions, resisting our selfish inclinations, placing ourselves at the service of others, and persevering in doing what is right when the logic of evil seems to prevail, and so on. Once we cross that threshold, however, we will discover that life flourishes anew. From that moment on, we will enter into the immense heart of God and the joy of the eternal banquet that he has prepared for us.
Let us ask the Virgin Mary to help us find the courage to pass through the “narrow gate” of the Gospel, so that we may open ourselves with joy to the wide embrace of God our loving Father.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Angelus 17.08.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today’s Gospel presents us with a demanding text (cf. Lk 12:49-53), in which Jesus uses strong images and great frankness to teach his disciples that his mission, and even that of his followers, is not a “bed of roses”, but a “sign of contradiction” (cf. Lk 2:34).
In this way, the Lord anticipates what he will have to face in Jerusalem when he will be opposed, arrested, insulted, beaten, crucified; when his message of love and justice will be rejected, when the leaders of the people will react with viciousness at his preaching. Moreover, many of the communities to which the evangelist Luke was writing were also experiencing the same thing. As the Acts of the Apostles tells us, they were peaceful communities that, despite their own limitations, sought to live the best they could the Master’s message of love (cf. Acts 4:32-33). Yet they were suffering persecutions.
All of this reminds us that being or doing good does not always receive a positive response. On the contrary, because its beauty at times annoys those who do not welcome it, one can end up encountering harsh opposition, even insolence and oppression. Acting in truth has its cost, because there are those in the world who choose lies, and the devil, who takes advantage of the situation, often seeks to block the actions of good people.
Jesus, however, invites us with his help not to give in and conform ourselves to this mentality, but to continue to act for our good and the good of all, even those who make us suffer. He invites us not to respond to insolence with vengeance, but to remain faithful to the truth in love. The martyrs witnessed to this by shedding their blood for their faith. We, too, can imitate their example even in different circumstances and ways.
Let us think, for example, of the price that good parents must pay if they want to educate their children according to sound principles. Eventually they will have to say “no” and correct their children; this will cause them pain. The same is true for a teacher who desires to form students properly, or for a professional, religious, or politician, who desires to carry out their mission honestly. It is true for anyone who strives to exercise his or her responsibilities consistently according to the teachings of the Gospel.
In this regard, Saint Ignatius of Antioch, while travelling toward Rome to undergo martyrdom, wrote to the Christians of that city: “I do not want you to please men, but to please God” (Letter to the Romans 2:1). He added, “It is better for me to die in Jesus Christ than reign over the ends of the earth” (ibid., 6:1).
Brothers and sisters, let us together ask Mary, Queen of Martyrs, to help us be faithful and courageous witnesses of her Son in every circumstance, and to sustain our brothers and sisters who suffer for the faith today.
Pope Francis Homilies
Angelus 17.08.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today’s Gospel presents us with a demanding text (cf. Lk 12:49-53), in which Jesus uses strong images and great frankness to teach his disciples that his mission, and even that of his followers, is not a “bed of roses”, but a “sign of contradiction” (cf. Lk 2:34).
In this way, the Lord anticipates what he will have to face in Jerusalem when he will be opposed, arrested, insulted, beaten, crucified; when his message of love and justice will be rejected, when the leaders of the people will react with viciousness at his preaching. Moreover, many of the communities to which the evangelist Luke was writing were also experiencing the same thing. As the Acts of the Apostles tells us, they were peaceful communities that, despite their own limitations, sought to live the best they could the Master’s message of love (cf. Acts 4:32-33). Yet they were suffering persecutions.
All of this reminds us that being or doing good does not always receive a positive response. On the contrary, because its beauty at times annoys those who do not welcome it, one can end up encountering harsh opposition, even insolence and oppression. Acting in truth has its cost, because there are those in the world who choose lies, and the devil, who takes advantage of the situation, often seeks to block the actions of good people.
Jesus, however, invites us with his help not to give in and conform ourselves to this mentality, but to continue to act for our good and the good of all, even those who make us suffer. He invites us not to respond to insolence with vengeance, but to remain faithful to the truth in love. The martyrs witnessed to this by shedding their blood for their faith. We, too, can imitate their example even in different circumstances and ways.
Let us think, for example, of the price that good parents must pay if they want to educate their children according to sound principles. Eventually they will have to say “no” and correct their children; this will cause them pain. The same is true for a teacher who desires to form students properly, or for a professional, religious, or politician, who desires to carry out their mission honestly. It is true for anyone who strives to exercise his or her responsibilities consistently according to the teachings of the Gospel.
In this regard, Saint Ignatius of Antioch, while travelling toward Rome to undergo martyrdom, wrote to the Christians of that city: “I do not want you to please men, but to please God” (Letter to the Romans 2:1). He added, “It is better for me to die in Jesus Christ than reign over the ends of the earth” (ibid., 6:1).
Brothers and sisters, let us together ask Mary, Queen of Martyrs, to help us be faithful and courageous witnesses of her Son in every circumstance, and to sustain our brothers and sisters who suffer for the faith today.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo Holy
Mass 15.08.25
The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Dear brothers and sisters,
Today is not Sunday, yet we celebrate in another way the Paschal Mystery of Jesus, which changed the course of history. In Mary of Nazareth, we recognize our own history: the history of the Church, immersed in the common lot of humanity. By taking flesh in her, the God of life — the God of freedom — has conquered death. Yes, today we contemplate how God overcomes death — yet never without us. His is the Kingdom, but ours is the “yes” to his love that can change everything. On the Cross, Jesus freely uttered that “yes” which would strip death of its power — the death that still spreads wherever our hands crucify and our hearts remain imprisoned by fear and mistrust. On the Cross, trust prevailed; so did love, which sees what is yet to come; and forgiveness triumphed.
Mary was there, united with her Son. In our day, we are like Mary whenever we do not flee, whenever we make Jesus’ “yes” our own. That “yes” still lives and resists death in the martyrs of our time, in witnesses of faith and justice, of gentleness and peace. Thus, this day of joy becomes also a day that calls us to choose – how and for whom we shall live.
The liturgy of this feast of the Assumption offers us the Gospel passage on the Visitation. Saint Luke recorded in this passage a decisive moment in Mary’s vocation. It is beautiful to recall that day, as we celebrate the crowning moment of her life. Every human story, even that of the Mother of God, is brief on this earth and comes to an end. Yet nothing is lost. When a life ends, its uniqueness shines even more clearly. The Magnificat, which the Gospel places on the lips of the young Mary, now radiates the light of all her days. One single day — the day she met her cousin Elizabeth — contains the seed of every other day, of every other season. And words are not enough; a song is needed, one that continues to be sung in the Church “from generation to generation” (Lk 1:50), at the close of every day. The surprising fruitfulness of barren Elizabeth confirmed Mary in her trust; it anticipated the fruitfulness of her “yes,” which extends to the fruitfulness of the Church and of all humanity whenever God’s renewing Word is welcomed. That day, two women met in faith, then stayed together for three months to support each other, not just in practical matters but in a new way of reading history.
And so, dear brothers and sisters, the Resurrection enters our world even today. The words and choices of death may seem to prevail, but the life of God breaks through our despair through concrete experiences of fraternity and new gestures of solidarity. Prior to being our final destiny, the Resurrection transforms — in soul and body — our dwelling on earth. Mary’s song, Magnificat, strengthens the hope of the humble, the hungry, the faithful servants of God. These are the men and women of the Beatitudes who, even in tribulation, already see the invisible: the mighty cast down from their thrones, the rich sent away empty, the promises of God fulfilled. Such experiences should be found in every Christian community. They may seem impossible, but God’s Word continues to be brought to light. When bonds are born, with which we confront evil with good and death with life, we see that nothing is impossible with God (cf. Lk 1:37).
Sometimes, unfortunately, where human self-reliance prevails, where material comfort and a certain complacency dull the conscience, this faith can grow old. Then death enters in the form of resignation and complaint, of nostalgia and fear. Instead of letting the old world pass away, one clings to it still, seeking the help of the rich and powerful, which often comes with contempt for the poor and lowly. The Church, however, lives in her fragile members, and she is renewed by their Magnificat. Even in our own day, the poor and persecuted Christian communities, the witnesses of tenderness and forgiveness in places of conflict, and the peacemakers and bridge-builders in a broken world, are the joy of the Church. They are her enduring fruitfulness, the first fruits of the Kingdom to come. Many of them are women, like the elderly Elizabeth and the young Mary — Paschal women, apostles of the Resurrection. Let us be converted by their witness!
Brothers and sisters, when in this life we “choose life” (Dt 30:19), we are right to see in Mary, assumed into heaven, our own destiny. She is given to us as the sign that the Resurrection of Jesus was no isolated event, no mere exception. In Christ, we, too, can “swallow up death” (cf. 1 Cor 15:54). To be sure, it is God’s work, not ours. Yet Mary is that wondrous union of grace and freedom, which urges each of us to have trust, courage and participation in the life of God’s people. “He who is mighty has done great things for me” (Lk 1:49): may each of us know this joy and proclaim it with a new song. Let us not be afraid to choose life! It may seem risky and imprudent. Many voices whisper: “Why bother? Let it go. Think of your own interests.” These are voices of death. But we are disciples of Christ. It is his love that drives us — soul and body — in our time. As individuals and as the Church, we no longer live for ourselves. This — and only this — spreads life and lets life prevail. Our victory over death begins here and now.
Pope Francis Homilies
Mass 15.08.25
The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Dear brothers and sisters,
Today is not Sunday, yet we celebrate in another way the Paschal Mystery of Jesus, which changed the course of history. In Mary of Nazareth, we recognize our own history: the history of the Church, immersed in the common lot of humanity. By taking flesh in her, the God of life — the God of freedom — has conquered death. Yes, today we contemplate how God overcomes death — yet never without us. His is the Kingdom, but ours is the “yes” to his love that can change everything. On the Cross, Jesus freely uttered that “yes” which would strip death of its power — the death that still spreads wherever our hands crucify and our hearts remain imprisoned by fear and mistrust. On the Cross, trust prevailed; so did love, which sees what is yet to come; and forgiveness triumphed.
Mary was there, united with her Son. In our day, we are like Mary whenever we do not flee, whenever we make Jesus’ “yes” our own. That “yes” still lives and resists death in the martyrs of our time, in witnesses of faith and justice, of gentleness and peace. Thus, this day of joy becomes also a day that calls us to choose – how and for whom we shall live.
The liturgy of this feast of the Assumption offers us the Gospel passage on the Visitation. Saint Luke recorded in this passage a decisive moment in Mary’s vocation. It is beautiful to recall that day, as we celebrate the crowning moment of her life. Every human story, even that of the Mother of God, is brief on this earth and comes to an end. Yet nothing is lost. When a life ends, its uniqueness shines even more clearly. The Magnificat, which the Gospel places on the lips of the young Mary, now radiates the light of all her days. One single day — the day she met her cousin Elizabeth — contains the seed of every other day, of every other season. And words are not enough; a song is needed, one that continues to be sung in the Church “from generation to generation” (Lk 1:50), at the close of every day. The surprising fruitfulness of barren Elizabeth confirmed Mary in her trust; it anticipated the fruitfulness of her “yes,” which extends to the fruitfulness of the Church and of all humanity whenever God’s renewing Word is welcomed. That day, two women met in faith, then stayed together for three months to support each other, not just in practical matters but in a new way of reading history.
And so, dear brothers and sisters, the Resurrection enters our world even today. The words and choices of death may seem to prevail, but the life of God breaks through our despair through concrete experiences of fraternity and new gestures of solidarity. Prior to being our final destiny, the Resurrection transforms — in soul and body — our dwelling on earth. Mary’s song, Magnificat, strengthens the hope of the humble, the hungry, the faithful servants of God. These are the men and women of the Beatitudes who, even in tribulation, already see the invisible: the mighty cast down from their thrones, the rich sent away empty, the promises of God fulfilled. Such experiences should be found in every Christian community. They may seem impossible, but God’s Word continues to be brought to light. When bonds are born, with which we confront evil with good and death with life, we see that nothing is impossible with God (cf. Lk 1:37).
Sometimes, unfortunately, where human self-reliance prevails, where material comfort and a certain complacency dull the conscience, this faith can grow old. Then death enters in the form of resignation and complaint, of nostalgia and fear. Instead of letting the old world pass away, one clings to it still, seeking the help of the rich and powerful, which often comes with contempt for the poor and lowly. The Church, however, lives in her fragile members, and she is renewed by their Magnificat. Even in our own day, the poor and persecuted Christian communities, the witnesses of tenderness and forgiveness in places of conflict, and the peacemakers and bridge-builders in a broken world, are the joy of the Church. They are her enduring fruitfulness, the first fruits of the Kingdom to come. Many of them are women, like the elderly Elizabeth and the young Mary — Paschal women, apostles of the Resurrection. Let us be converted by their witness!
Brothers and sisters, when in this life we “choose life” (Dt 30:19), we are right to see in Mary, assumed into heaven, our own destiny. She is given to us as the sign that the Resurrection of Jesus was no isolated event, no mere exception. In Christ, we, too, can “swallow up death” (cf. 1 Cor 15:54). To be sure, it is God’s work, not ours. Yet Mary is that wondrous union of grace and freedom, which urges each of us to have trust, courage and participation in the life of God’s people. “He who is mighty has done great things for me” (Lk 1:49): may each of us know this joy and proclaim it with a new song. Let us not be afraid to choose life! It may seem risky and imprudent. Many voices whisper: “Why bother? Let it go. Think of your own interests.” These are voices of death. But we are disciples of Christ. It is his love that drives us — soul and body — in our time. As individuals and as the Church, we no longer live for ourselves. This — and only this — spreads life and lets life prevail. Our victory over death begins here and now.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Angelus
10.08.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
In today’s Gospel Jesus invites us to consider how we will invest the treasure that is our life (cf. Lk 12:32-48). He says: “Sell your possessions and give alms” (v. 33).
He exhorts us not to keep to ourselves the gifts that God has given us, but rather to use them generously for the good of others, especially those most in need of our help. It is not simply a matter of sharing the material goods we have, but putting our skills, time, love, presence and compassion at the service of others. In short, everything in God’s plan that makes each of us a priceless and unrepeatable good, a living and breathing asset, must be cultivated and invested in order to grow. Otherwise, these gifts dry up and diminish in value, or they end up being taken away by those, who like thieves, snatch them up as something simply to be consumed.
The gift of God that we are is not made to be used in such a manner. We need space, freedom and relationships in order to come to fulfillment and express ourselves. We need love, which alone transforms and ennobles every aspect of our existence, making us more and more like God. It is not by chance that Jesus pronounces these words while he is on the road to Jerusalem, where he will offer himself on the cross for our salvation.
The works of mercy are the most secure and profitable bank where we can entrust the treasure of our existence, because there, as the Gospel teaches us, with “two small copper coins” even the poor widow becomes the richest person in the world (cf. Mk 12:41-44).
In this regard, Saint Augustine says: “If you gave a pound of coppers and received a pound of silver, or a pound of silver and received one of gold, you would be delighted at your luck. What you give will certainly be transformed; it isn’t gold, it isn’t silver, but eternal life that will come your way” (Sermon 390, 2, PL 39, 1706). And he explains why: “It will be transformed, because you yourself will be transformed” (ibid).
To understand what he means by this, we can think of a mother who embraces her children: is she not the most beautiful and richest person in the world? Or a boyfriend and girlfriend, when they are together: do they not feel like king and queen? We could think of many other examples.
Therefore, wherever we are, in the family, parish, school or workplace, we should try not to miss any opportunity to act with love. This is the type of vigilance that Jesus asks of us: to grow in the habit of being attentive, ready and sensitive to one another, just as he is with us in every moment.
Sisters and brothers, let us entrust to Mary this desire and responsibility: may she, the Morning Star, help us to be the “watchmen” of mercy and peace in a world marked by many divisions. Saint John Paul II taught us this (cf. Vigil of Prayer for the 15th World Youth Day, 19 August 2000). And in a beautiful way, so did the young people who came to Rome for the Jubilee.
Pope Francis Homilies
Angelus
10.08.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
In today’s Gospel Jesus invites us to consider how we will invest the treasure that is our life (cf. Lk 12:32-48). He says: “Sell your possessions and give alms” (v. 33).
He exhorts us not to keep to ourselves the gifts that God has given us, but rather to use them generously for the good of others, especially those most in need of our help. It is not simply a matter of sharing the material goods we have, but putting our skills, time, love, presence and compassion at the service of others. In short, everything in God’s plan that makes each of us a priceless and unrepeatable good, a living and breathing asset, must be cultivated and invested in order to grow. Otherwise, these gifts dry up and diminish in value, or they end up being taken away by those, who like thieves, snatch them up as something simply to be consumed.
The gift of God that we are is not made to be used in such a manner. We need space, freedom and relationships in order to come to fulfillment and express ourselves. We need love, which alone transforms and ennobles every aspect of our existence, making us more and more like God. It is not by chance that Jesus pronounces these words while he is on the road to Jerusalem, where he will offer himself on the cross for our salvation.
The works of mercy are the most secure and profitable bank where we can entrust the treasure of our existence, because there, as the Gospel teaches us, with “two small copper coins” even the poor widow becomes the richest person in the world (cf. Mk 12:41-44).
In this regard, Saint Augustine says: “If you gave a pound of coppers and received a pound of silver, or a pound of silver and received one of gold, you would be delighted at your luck. What you give will certainly be transformed; it isn’t gold, it isn’t silver, but eternal life that will come your way” (Sermon 390, 2, PL 39, 1706). And he explains why: “It will be transformed, because you yourself will be transformed” (ibid).
To understand what he means by this, we can think of a mother who embraces her children: is she not the most beautiful and richest person in the world? Or a boyfriend and girlfriend, when they are together: do they not feel like king and queen? We could think of many other examples.
Therefore, wherever we are, in the family, parish, school or workplace, we should try not to miss any opportunity to act with love. This is the type of vigilance that Jesus asks of us: to grow in the habit of being attentive, ready and sensitive to one another, just as he is with us in every moment.
Sisters and brothers, let us entrust to Mary this desire and responsibility: may she, the Morning Star, help us to be the “watchmen” of mercy and peace in a world marked by many divisions. Saint John Paul II taught us this (cf. Vigil of Prayer for the 15th World Youth Day, 19 August 2000). And in a beautiful way, so did the young people who came to Rome for the Jubilee.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo Holy Mass 03.08.25
Jubilee of Young People
Good morning! Happy Sunday!
I hope that all of you rested a little bit. We will shortly begin the greatest celebration that Christ left us, his very presence in the Eucharist. God bless you all. May this be a truly memorable occasion for each and every one of us when together, as Christ’s Church, we walk together and we live with Jesus Christ.
A blessed celebration to all!
Dear young people,
After last night’s Prayer Vigil, we gather again today to celebrate the Eucharist, the Sacrament of the Lord’s total gift of himself to us. We can imagine ourselves today retracing the journey made on Easter evening by the disciples on the road to Emmaus (cf. Lk 24:13-35): they set out from Jerusalem frightened and disappointed, convinced that, after Jesus’ death, there was nothing more to expect, nothing in which to place their hope. But they later found him along the way, welcomed him as a travelling companion, listened to him as he explained the Scriptures, and then recognized him in the breaking of the bread. Their eyes were opened, and the joyful news of Easter found a place in their hearts.
Today’s liturgy does not mention this episode directly, but it does invite us to reflect on what it recounts: the encounter with the risen Christ who transforms our lives and enlightens our affections, desires and thoughts.
The first reading, taken from the Book of Ecclesiastes, invites us, like the two disciples, to come to terms with the experience of our limitations and the fleeting nature of all things that pass away (cf. Eccl 1:2; 2:21-23). On a similar note, the Responsorial Psalm presents us with the image of “the grass that is renewed… in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers” (Ps 90:5-6). These are two strong reminders which may be a bit shocking, but which should not frighten us as if they were “taboo” issues to be avoided. The fragility they speak of is, in fact, part of the marvel of creation. Think of the image of grass: is not a field of flowers beautiful? Of course, it is delicate, made up of small, vulnerable stems, prone to drying out, to being bent and broken. Yet at the same time these flowers are immediately replaced by others that sprout up after them, generously nourished and fertilized by the first ones as they decay on the ground. This is how the field survives: through constant regeneration. Even during the cold months of winter, when everything seems silent, its energy stirs beneath the ground, preparing to blossom into a thousand colors when spring comes.
We too, dear friends, are made this way, we are made for this. We are not made for a life where everything is taken for granted and static, but for an existence that is constantly renewed through gift of self in love. This is why we continually aspire to something “more” that no created reality can give us; we feel a deep and burning thirst that no drink in this world can satisfy. Knowing this, let us not deceive our hearts by trying to satisfy them with cheap imitations! Let us rather listen to them! Let us turn this thirst into a step stool, like children who stand on tiptoe, in order to peer through the window of encounter with God. We will then find ourselves before him, who is waiting for us, knocking gently on the window of our soul (cf. Rev 3:20). It is truly beautiful, especially at a young age, to open wide your hearts, to allow him to enter, and to set out on this adventure with him towards eternity.
Saint Augustine, reflecting on his intense search for God, asked himself: “What, then, is the object of our hope [...]? Is it the earth? No. Is it something that comes from the earth, such as gold, silver, trees, crops, or water [...]? These things are pleasing, these things are beautiful, these things are good” (Sermo 313/F, 3). And the conclusion he reached was: “Seek the one who made them, he is your hope” (ibid.). Thinking of his own journey, he prayed, saying: “You [Lord] were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you […] You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you (cf. Ps 34:8; 1 Pt 2:3) now I hunger and thirst for more (cf. Mt 5:6; 1 Cor 4:11); you touched me, and I burned for your peace” (Confessions, 10, 27).
Sisters and brothers, these are beautiful words and they remind us of what Pope Francis said to young people like you in Lisbon during World Youth Day: “we find ourselves facing great questions that have no simple or immediate answers, but challenge us to continue the journey, to rise above ourselves and to press beyond the here and now. [...] We are called to something higher, and we will never be able to soar unless we first take flight. We should not be alarmed, then, if we sense an inner thirst, a restless, unfulfilled longing for meaning and a future [...] We should not be lethargic, but alive!” (Address to University Students, 3 August 2023).
There is a burning question in our hearts, a need for truth that we cannot ignore, which leads us to ask ourselves: what is true happiness? What is the true meaning of life? What can free us from being trapped in meaninglessness, boredom and mediocrity?
In recent days, you have had many beautiful experiences. You have met other young people from different parts of the world and from diverse cultures. You have exchanged knowledge, shared expectations and entered into dialogue with the city through art, music, technology and sport. At the Circus Maximus, you also approached the Sacrament of Penance and received God’s forgiveness, asking for his help to live a good life.
Through all this, you can grasp an important point: the fullness of our existence does not depend on what we store up or, as we heard in the Gospel, on what we possess (cf. Lk 12:13-21). Rather, fullness has to do with what we joyfully welcome and share (cf. Mt 10:8-10; Jn 6:1-13). Buying, hoarding and consuming are not enough. We need to lift our eyes, to look upwards, to the “things that are above” (Col 3:2), to realize that everything in the world has meaning only insofar as it serves to unite us to God and to our brothers and sisters in charity, helping us to grow in “compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience” (Col 3:12), forgiveness (cf. ibid., v. 13) and peace (cf. Jn 14:27), all in imitation of Christ (cf. Phil 2:5). And in this way we will grow in an ever deeper understanding of what it means that hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us (cf. Rom 5:5).
Dear young people, Jesus is our hope. It is he, as Saint John Paul II said, “who stirs in you the desire to do something great with your lives [...] to commit… to improving yourselves and society, making the world more human and more fraternal.” (XV World Youth Day, Prayer Vigil, 19 August 2000). Let us remain united to him, let us remain in his friendship, always, cultivating it through prayer, adoration, Eucharistic Communion, frequent Confession, and generous charity, following the examples of Blessed Piergiorgio Frassati and Blessed Carlo Acutis who will soon be declared saints. Aspire to great things, to holiness, wherever you are. Do not settle for less. You will then see the light of the Gospel growing every day, in you and around you.
I entrust you to the Virgin Mary, Our Lady of Hope. With her help, as you return to your countries in the coming days, in every part of the world, continue to walk joyfully in the footsteps of the Savior, and spread your enthusiasm and the witness of your faith to everyone you meet! Have a good trip home!
Pope Francis Homilies
Jubilee of Young People
Good morning! Happy Sunday!
I hope that all of you rested a little bit. We will shortly begin the greatest celebration that Christ left us, his very presence in the Eucharist. God bless you all. May this be a truly memorable occasion for each and every one of us when together, as Christ’s Church, we walk together and we live with Jesus Christ.
A blessed celebration to all!
Dear young people,
After last night’s Prayer Vigil, we gather again today to celebrate the Eucharist, the Sacrament of the Lord’s total gift of himself to us. We can imagine ourselves today retracing the journey made on Easter evening by the disciples on the road to Emmaus (cf. Lk 24:13-35): they set out from Jerusalem frightened and disappointed, convinced that, after Jesus’ death, there was nothing more to expect, nothing in which to place their hope. But they later found him along the way, welcomed him as a travelling companion, listened to him as he explained the Scriptures, and then recognized him in the breaking of the bread. Their eyes were opened, and the joyful news of Easter found a place in their hearts.
Today’s liturgy does not mention this episode directly, but it does invite us to reflect on what it recounts: the encounter with the risen Christ who transforms our lives and enlightens our affections, desires and thoughts.
The first reading, taken from the Book of Ecclesiastes, invites us, like the two disciples, to come to terms with the experience of our limitations and the fleeting nature of all things that pass away (cf. Eccl 1:2; 2:21-23). On a similar note, the Responsorial Psalm presents us with the image of “the grass that is renewed… in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers” (Ps 90:5-6). These are two strong reminders which may be a bit shocking, but which should not frighten us as if they were “taboo” issues to be avoided. The fragility they speak of is, in fact, part of the marvel of creation. Think of the image of grass: is not a field of flowers beautiful? Of course, it is delicate, made up of small, vulnerable stems, prone to drying out, to being bent and broken. Yet at the same time these flowers are immediately replaced by others that sprout up after them, generously nourished and fertilized by the first ones as they decay on the ground. This is how the field survives: through constant regeneration. Even during the cold months of winter, when everything seems silent, its energy stirs beneath the ground, preparing to blossom into a thousand colors when spring comes.
We too, dear friends, are made this way, we are made for this. We are not made for a life where everything is taken for granted and static, but for an existence that is constantly renewed through gift of self in love. This is why we continually aspire to something “more” that no created reality can give us; we feel a deep and burning thirst that no drink in this world can satisfy. Knowing this, let us not deceive our hearts by trying to satisfy them with cheap imitations! Let us rather listen to them! Let us turn this thirst into a step stool, like children who stand on tiptoe, in order to peer through the window of encounter with God. We will then find ourselves before him, who is waiting for us, knocking gently on the window of our soul (cf. Rev 3:20). It is truly beautiful, especially at a young age, to open wide your hearts, to allow him to enter, and to set out on this adventure with him towards eternity.
Saint Augustine, reflecting on his intense search for God, asked himself: “What, then, is the object of our hope [...]? Is it the earth? No. Is it something that comes from the earth, such as gold, silver, trees, crops, or water [...]? These things are pleasing, these things are beautiful, these things are good” (Sermo 313/F, 3). And the conclusion he reached was: “Seek the one who made them, he is your hope” (ibid.). Thinking of his own journey, he prayed, saying: “You [Lord] were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you […] You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you (cf. Ps 34:8; 1 Pt 2:3) now I hunger and thirst for more (cf. Mt 5:6; 1 Cor 4:11); you touched me, and I burned for your peace” (Confessions, 10, 27).
Sisters and brothers, these are beautiful words and they remind us of what Pope Francis said to young people like you in Lisbon during World Youth Day: “we find ourselves facing great questions that have no simple or immediate answers, but challenge us to continue the journey, to rise above ourselves and to press beyond the here and now. [...] We are called to something higher, and we will never be able to soar unless we first take flight. We should not be alarmed, then, if we sense an inner thirst, a restless, unfulfilled longing for meaning and a future [...] We should not be lethargic, but alive!” (Address to University Students, 3 August 2023).
There is a burning question in our hearts, a need for truth that we cannot ignore, which leads us to ask ourselves: what is true happiness? What is the true meaning of life? What can free us from being trapped in meaninglessness, boredom and mediocrity?
In recent days, you have had many beautiful experiences. You have met other young people from different parts of the world and from diverse cultures. You have exchanged knowledge, shared expectations and entered into dialogue with the city through art, music, technology and sport. At the Circus Maximus, you also approached the Sacrament of Penance and received God’s forgiveness, asking for his help to live a good life.
Through all this, you can grasp an important point: the fullness of our existence does not depend on what we store up or, as we heard in the Gospel, on what we possess (cf. Lk 12:13-21). Rather, fullness has to do with what we joyfully welcome and share (cf. Mt 10:8-10; Jn 6:1-13). Buying, hoarding and consuming are not enough. We need to lift our eyes, to look upwards, to the “things that are above” (Col 3:2), to realize that everything in the world has meaning only insofar as it serves to unite us to God and to our brothers and sisters in charity, helping us to grow in “compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience” (Col 3:12), forgiveness (cf. ibid., v. 13) and peace (cf. Jn 14:27), all in imitation of Christ (cf. Phil 2:5). And in this way we will grow in an ever deeper understanding of what it means that hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us (cf. Rom 5:5).
Dear young people, Jesus is our hope. It is he, as Saint John Paul II said, “who stirs in you the desire to do something great with your lives [...] to commit… to improving yourselves and society, making the world more human and more fraternal.” (XV World Youth Day, Prayer Vigil, 19 August 2000). Let us remain united to him, let us remain in his friendship, always, cultivating it through prayer, adoration, Eucharistic Communion, frequent Confession, and generous charity, following the examples of Blessed Piergiorgio Frassati and Blessed Carlo Acutis who will soon be declared saints. Aspire to great things, to holiness, wherever you are. Do not settle for less. You will then see the light of the Gospel growing every day, in you and around you.
I entrust you to the Virgin Mary, Our Lady of Hope. With her help, as you return to your countries in the coming days, in every part of the world, continue to walk joyfully in the footsteps of the Savior, and spread your enthusiasm and the witness of your faith to everyone you meet! Have a good trip home!
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo Angelus
27.07.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today’s Gospel presents Jesus teaching his disciples the Our Father (cf. Lk 11:1-13). This is the prayer that unites all Christians, in which the Lord invites us to address God as “Abba,” “Father,” with childlike “simplicity, filial trust… boldness, the certainty of being loved” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2778).
The Catechism of the Catholic Church expresses this very well: “Thus the Lord’s Prayer reveals us to ourselves at the same time that it reveals the Father to us” (ibid., 2783). Indeed, how true this is, for the more we pray with confidence to our heavenly Father, the more we discover that we are beloved children and the more we come to know the greatness of his love (cf. Rom 8:14-17).
Today’s Gospel goes on to describe the characteristics of God’s fatherhood through vivid images: that of a man who gets up in the middle of the night to assist a friend in welcoming an unexpected visitor; and that of a parent who is concerned about giving good things to his children.
These images remind us that God never turns his back on us when we come to him, even if we arrive late to knock at his door, perhaps after mistakes, missed opportunities, failures, or even if, in order to welcome us, he has to “wake up” his children who are sleeping at home (cf. Lk 11:7). Indeed, in the great family of the Church, the Father does not hesitate to make us all participants in each of his loving gestures. The Lord always listens to us when we pray to him. If he sometimes responds in ways or at times that are difficult to understand, it is because he acts with wisdom and providence, which are beyond our understanding. Even in these moments, then, let us not cease to pray — and pray with confidence — for in him we will always find light and strength.
When we recite the Our Father, in addition to celebrating the grace of being children of God, we also express our commitment to responding to this gift by loving one another as brothers and sisters in Christ. Reflecting on this, one of the Fathers of the Church wrote: “We must remember... and know that when we call God ‘our Father’ we ought to behave as children of God” (Saint Cyprian of Carthage, De Dom. orat., 11), and another adds: “You cannot call the God of all kindness your Father if you preserve a cruel and inhuman heart; for in this case you no longer have in you the mark of the heavenly Father’s kindness” (Saint John Chrysostom, De orat. Dom., 3). We cannot pray to God as “Father” and then be harsh and insensitive towards others. Instead, it is important to let ourselves be transformed by his goodness, his patience, his mercy, so that his face may be reflected in ours as in a mirror.
Dear brothers and sisters, today’s liturgy invites us, through prayer and charity, to feel loved and to love as God loves us: with openness, discretion, mutual concern, and without deceit. Let us ask Mary to help us respond to this call, so that we may manifest the sweetness of the Father’s face.
Pope Francis Homilies
27.07.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today’s Gospel presents Jesus teaching his disciples the Our Father (cf. Lk 11:1-13). This is the prayer that unites all Christians, in which the Lord invites us to address God as “Abba,” “Father,” with childlike “simplicity, filial trust… boldness, the certainty of being loved” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2778).
The Catechism of the Catholic Church expresses this very well: “Thus the Lord’s Prayer reveals us to ourselves at the same time that it reveals the Father to us” (ibid., 2783). Indeed, how true this is, for the more we pray with confidence to our heavenly Father, the more we discover that we are beloved children and the more we come to know the greatness of his love (cf. Rom 8:14-17).
Today’s Gospel goes on to describe the characteristics of God’s fatherhood through vivid images: that of a man who gets up in the middle of the night to assist a friend in welcoming an unexpected visitor; and that of a parent who is concerned about giving good things to his children.
These images remind us that God never turns his back on us when we come to him, even if we arrive late to knock at his door, perhaps after mistakes, missed opportunities, failures, or even if, in order to welcome us, he has to “wake up” his children who are sleeping at home (cf. Lk 11:7). Indeed, in the great family of the Church, the Father does not hesitate to make us all participants in each of his loving gestures. The Lord always listens to us when we pray to him. If he sometimes responds in ways or at times that are difficult to understand, it is because he acts with wisdom and providence, which are beyond our understanding. Even in these moments, then, let us not cease to pray — and pray with confidence — for in him we will always find light and strength.
When we recite the Our Father, in addition to celebrating the grace of being children of God, we also express our commitment to responding to this gift by loving one another as brothers and sisters in Christ. Reflecting on this, one of the Fathers of the Church wrote: “We must remember... and know that when we call God ‘our Father’ we ought to behave as children of God” (Saint Cyprian of Carthage, De Dom. orat., 11), and another adds: “You cannot call the God of all kindness your Father if you preserve a cruel and inhuman heart; for in this case you no longer have in you the mark of the heavenly Father’s kindness” (Saint John Chrysostom, De orat. Dom., 3). We cannot pray to God as “Father” and then be harsh and insensitive towards others. Instead, it is important to let ourselves be transformed by his goodness, his patience, his mercy, so that his face may be reflected in ours as in a mirror.
Dear brothers and sisters, today’s liturgy invites us, through prayer and charity, to feel loved and to love as God loves us: with openness, discretion, mutual concern, and without deceit. Let us ask Mary to help us respond to this call, so that we may manifest the sweetness of the Father’s face.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Holy Mass 20.07.25
Cathedral of Albano
Dear brothers and sisters,
I am very happy to be here to celebrate today’s Eucharist in this beautiful Cathedral. As you know, I was supposed to be here on 12 May, but the Holy Spirit worked in a different way. But I am truly pleased to be with you and in the spirit of fraternity and Christian joy, I greet all of you here present, His Eminence, as well as the Bishop of the Diocese, and the authorities present.
In this Mass, both the first reading and the Gospel invite us to reflect on hospitality, service and listening (cf. Gen 18:1-10; Lk 10:38-42).
First, God visits Abraham in the figure of “three men” who arrive at his tent “in the heat of the day” (cf. Gen 18:1-2). The scene is easy to imagine: the blazing sun, the stillness of the desert, the intense heat, and the three strangers seeking shelter. Abraham is seated “at the entrance of his tent,” the position of the master of the house, and it is moving to see how he exercises this role. Recognizing the presence of God in the visitors, he gets up, runs to greet them, and prostrates himself on the ground imploring them to stay. Thus the whole scene comes to life. The afternoon’s stillness is filled with gestures of love which involve not only the Patriarch, but also his wife Sarah and the servants. Abraham is no longer seated, but stands “by them under the tree” (Gen 18:8), and it is there that God gives him the best news he could have hoped for: “your wife Sarah shall have a son” (Gen 18:10).
The dynamics of this encounter lead us to reflect on how God chooses the path of hospitality in order to enter into the lives of Sarah and Abraham and announce that they would have a child, which they had long desired but had given up hope of receiving. Having visited them before in many moments of grace, God returns to knock on their door, asking for hospitality and trust. The elderly couple respond positively, despite not yet understanding what will happen. They recognize God’s blessing and his presence in the mysterious visitors, and offer them what they have: food, company, service and the shade of a tree. In return, they receive the promise of new life and descendants.
While the circumstances are different, the Gospel also teaches us about God’s way of acting. Here too, Jesus appears as a guest at the house of Martha and Mary. This time, however, he is not a stranger: he comes to his friends’ house in the midst of a festive atmosphere. One of the sisters welcomes him by serving him, while the other sits at his feet, listening as a disciple would her teacher. As we know, Jesus responds to the first sister’s complaints that she would like some help with the tasks at hand by inviting her to recognize the value of listening (cf. Lk 10:41-42).
It would be incorrect, however, to see these two attitudes as mutually exclusive, or to compare the merits of the two women. Service and listening are, in fact, twin dimensions of hospitality.
Our relationship with God comes first. Although it is true that we must live out our faith through concrete actions, faithfully carrying out our duties according to our state of life and vocation, it is essential that we do so only after meditating on the Word of God and listening to what the Holy Spirit is saying to our hearts. To this end, we should set aside moments of silence, moments of prayer, times in which, quieting noise and distractions, we recollect ourselves before God in simplicity of heart. This is a dimension of the Christian life that we particularly need to recover today, both as a value for individuals and communities, and as a prophetic sign for our times. We must make room for silence, for listening to the Father who speaks and “sees in secret” (Mt 6:6). Summer can be a providential time to experience the beauty and importance of our relationship with God, and how much it can help us to be more open, more welcoming to others.
During the summer, we have more free time in which to gather our thoughts and reflect, and also to travel and spend time with each other. Let us make good use of this, by leaving behind the whirlwind of commitments and worries in order to savour a few moments of peace, of reflection, taking time as well to visit other places and share in the joy of seeing others — as I am doing here today. Let us make summer an opportunity to care for others, to get to know each other and to offer advice and a listening ear, for these are expressions of love, and that is something we all need. Let us do so with courage. In this way, through solidarity, in the sharing of faith and life, we will help to promote a culture of peace, helping those around us to overcome divisions and hostility and to build communion between individuals, peoples and religions.
Pope Francis said that “If we want to saviour life with joy, we must associate these two approaches: on the one hand, ‘being at the feet’ of Jesus, in order to listen to him as he reveals to us the secret of everything; on the other, being attentive and ready in hospitality, when he passes and knocks at our door, with the face of a friend who needs a moment of rest and fraternity” (Angelus, 21 July 2019). These words were pronounced just a few months before the pandemic broke out; that long and difficult experience, which we still remember, taught us much about their truth.
Certainly all of this requires effort. Serving and listening do not always come easily; they require hard work and the ability to make sacrifices. For instance, it takes an effort in listening and serving in order to be faithful and loving mothers and fathers raising their family, just as it requires effort for children to respond to their parents’ hard work at home and at school. It also requires effort in order to understand each other when there are disagreements, to forgive when mistakes are made, to help when someone is sick, and to comfort one another in times of sadness. But it is precisely by making an effort that something worthwhile can be built in life; it is the only way to form and nurture strong and genuine relationships between people. Thus, with the foundations of everyday life, the Kingdom of God grows and manifests its presence (cf. Lk 7:18-22).
Saint Augustine, reflecting on the story of Martha and Mary in one of his homilies, said: “These two women symbolize two lives: the present and the future; a life lived in toil and a life of rest; one troubled and the other blessed; one temporary, the other eternal” (Serm. 104, 4). And considering Martha’s work, Augustine said: “Who is exempt from the duty of caring for others? Who can rest from these tasks? Let us try to carry them out with charity and in such a way that none will be able to find fault with us... The weariness will pass and rest will come, but rest will only come through the effort made. The ship will sail and reach its homeland; but the homeland will not be reached except by means of the ship” (ibid., 6-7).
Today, Abraham, Martha and Mary remind us that listening and service are two complementary attitudes that enable us to open ourselves and our lives to the blessings of the Lord. Their example invites us to reconcile contemplation and action, rest and hard work, silence and the bustle of our daily lives with wisdom and balance, always taking Jesus’ charity as our measure, his Word as our light, and his grace as our source of strength, which sustains us beyond our own capacity (cf. Phil 4:13).
Pope Francis Homilies
Holy Mass 20.07.25
Cathedral of Albano
Dear brothers and sisters,
I am very happy to be here to celebrate today’s Eucharist in this beautiful Cathedral. As you know, I was supposed to be here on 12 May, but the Holy Spirit worked in a different way. But I am truly pleased to be with you and in the spirit of fraternity and Christian joy, I greet all of you here present, His Eminence, as well as the Bishop of the Diocese, and the authorities present.
In this Mass, both the first reading and the Gospel invite us to reflect on hospitality, service and listening (cf. Gen 18:1-10; Lk 10:38-42).
First, God visits Abraham in the figure of “three men” who arrive at his tent “in the heat of the day” (cf. Gen 18:1-2). The scene is easy to imagine: the blazing sun, the stillness of the desert, the intense heat, and the three strangers seeking shelter. Abraham is seated “at the entrance of his tent,” the position of the master of the house, and it is moving to see how he exercises this role. Recognizing the presence of God in the visitors, he gets up, runs to greet them, and prostrates himself on the ground imploring them to stay. Thus the whole scene comes to life. The afternoon’s stillness is filled with gestures of love which involve not only the Patriarch, but also his wife Sarah and the servants. Abraham is no longer seated, but stands “by them under the tree” (Gen 18:8), and it is there that God gives him the best news he could have hoped for: “your wife Sarah shall have a son” (Gen 18:10).
The dynamics of this encounter lead us to reflect on how God chooses the path of hospitality in order to enter into the lives of Sarah and Abraham and announce that they would have a child, which they had long desired but had given up hope of receiving. Having visited them before in many moments of grace, God returns to knock on their door, asking for hospitality and trust. The elderly couple respond positively, despite not yet understanding what will happen. They recognize God’s blessing and his presence in the mysterious visitors, and offer them what they have: food, company, service and the shade of a tree. In return, they receive the promise of new life and descendants.
While the circumstances are different, the Gospel also teaches us about God’s way of acting. Here too, Jesus appears as a guest at the house of Martha and Mary. This time, however, he is not a stranger: he comes to his friends’ house in the midst of a festive atmosphere. One of the sisters welcomes him by serving him, while the other sits at his feet, listening as a disciple would her teacher. As we know, Jesus responds to the first sister’s complaints that she would like some help with the tasks at hand by inviting her to recognize the value of listening (cf. Lk 10:41-42).
It would be incorrect, however, to see these two attitudes as mutually exclusive, or to compare the merits of the two women. Service and listening are, in fact, twin dimensions of hospitality.
Our relationship with God comes first. Although it is true that we must live out our faith through concrete actions, faithfully carrying out our duties according to our state of life and vocation, it is essential that we do so only after meditating on the Word of God and listening to what the Holy Spirit is saying to our hearts. To this end, we should set aside moments of silence, moments of prayer, times in which, quieting noise and distractions, we recollect ourselves before God in simplicity of heart. This is a dimension of the Christian life that we particularly need to recover today, both as a value for individuals and communities, and as a prophetic sign for our times. We must make room for silence, for listening to the Father who speaks and “sees in secret” (Mt 6:6). Summer can be a providential time to experience the beauty and importance of our relationship with God, and how much it can help us to be more open, more welcoming to others.
During the summer, we have more free time in which to gather our thoughts and reflect, and also to travel and spend time with each other. Let us make good use of this, by leaving behind the whirlwind of commitments and worries in order to savour a few moments of peace, of reflection, taking time as well to visit other places and share in the joy of seeing others — as I am doing here today. Let us make summer an opportunity to care for others, to get to know each other and to offer advice and a listening ear, for these are expressions of love, and that is something we all need. Let us do so with courage. In this way, through solidarity, in the sharing of faith and life, we will help to promote a culture of peace, helping those around us to overcome divisions and hostility and to build communion between individuals, peoples and religions.
Pope Francis said that “If we want to saviour life with joy, we must associate these two approaches: on the one hand, ‘being at the feet’ of Jesus, in order to listen to him as he reveals to us the secret of everything; on the other, being attentive and ready in hospitality, when he passes and knocks at our door, with the face of a friend who needs a moment of rest and fraternity” (Angelus, 21 July 2019). These words were pronounced just a few months before the pandemic broke out; that long and difficult experience, which we still remember, taught us much about their truth.
Certainly all of this requires effort. Serving and listening do not always come easily; they require hard work and the ability to make sacrifices. For instance, it takes an effort in listening and serving in order to be faithful and loving mothers and fathers raising their family, just as it requires effort for children to respond to their parents’ hard work at home and at school. It also requires effort in order to understand each other when there are disagreements, to forgive when mistakes are made, to help when someone is sick, and to comfort one another in times of sadness. But it is precisely by making an effort that something worthwhile can be built in life; it is the only way to form and nurture strong and genuine relationships between people. Thus, with the foundations of everyday life, the Kingdom of God grows and manifests its presence (cf. Lk 7:18-22).
Saint Augustine, reflecting on the story of Martha and Mary in one of his homilies, said: “These two women symbolize two lives: the present and the future; a life lived in toil and a life of rest; one troubled and the other blessed; one temporary, the other eternal” (Serm. 104, 4). And considering Martha’s work, Augustine said: “Who is exempt from the duty of caring for others? Who can rest from these tasks? Let us try to carry them out with charity and in such a way that none will be able to find fault with us... The weariness will pass and rest will come, but rest will only come through the effort made. The ship will sail and reach its homeland; but the homeland will not be reached except by means of the ship” (ibid., 6-7).
Today, Abraham, Martha and Mary remind us that listening and service are two complementary attitudes that enable us to open ourselves and our lives to the blessings of the Lord. Their example invites us to reconcile contemplation and action, rest and hard work, silence and the bustle of our daily lives with wisdom and balance, always taking Jesus’ charity as our measure, his Word as our light, and his grace as our source of strength, which sustains us beyond our own capacity (cf. Phil 4:13).
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo Holy Mass
13.07.25
Castel Gandolfo
Brothers and sisters,
I have the joy of celebrating this Eucharist with you. I greet all those present, the parish community, the priests, and His Eminence, the Bishop of the Diocese, and the civil and military authorities.
In this Sunday’s Gospel, we have heard one of Jesus’ most beautiful and moving parables. We all know the parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:25-37).
That parable constantly challenges us to think about our own lives. It troubles our dormant or distracted consciences, and warns us about the risk of a complacent faith that is satisfied with the outward observance of the law but incapable of feeling and acting with the same merciful compassion as God.
The parable is really about compassion. True, the Gospel story speaks of the compassion that moved the Samaritan to act, but it first speaks of how others regarded the wounded man lying on the roadside after being attacked by robbers. We are told that a priest and a Levite “saw him and passed by” (v. 32). Of the Samaritan, however, the Gospel says, “he saw him and had compassion on him” (v. 33).
Dear brothers and sisters, how we look at others is what counts, because it shows what is in our hearts. We can look and walk by, or we can look and be moved with compassion. There is a kind of seeing that is superficial, distracted and hasty, a way of seeing while pretending not to see. We can see without being touched or challenged by the sight. Then too, there is seeing with the eyes of the heart, looking more closely, empathizing with the other, sharing his or her experience, letting ourselves be touched and challenged. This way of seeing calls into question the way we live our life and the responsibility we feel towards others.
The parable speaks to us first about God’s way of seeing us, so that we in turn can learn how to see situations and people with his eyes, so full of love and compassion. The Good Samaritan is really a figure of Jesus, the eternal Son whom the Father sent into our history precisely because he regarded humanity with compassion and did not walk by. Like the man in the Gospel who was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, humanity was descending to the depths of death; in our own day too, we have to confront the darkness of evil, suffering, poverty and the riddle of death. Yet God has looked upon us with compassion; he wanted to walk our same path and come down among us. In Jesus, the Good Samaritan, he came to heal our wounds and to pour out upon us the balm of his love and mercy.
Pope Francis, who often reminded us that God is mercy and compassion, once referred to Jesus as “the compassion of the Father toward us” (Angelus, 14 July 2029). Saint Augustine tells us that, as the Good Samaritan who came to our aid, Jesus “wanted to be known as our neighbor. Indeed, the Lord Jesus Christ makes us realize that he is the one who cared for the half-dead man beaten by robbers and left on the side of the road (De Doctrina Christiana, I, 30.33).
We can understand, then, why this parable is so challenging for each of us. If Christ shows us the face of a compassionate God, then to believe in him and to be his disciples means allowing ourselves to be changed and to take on his same feelings. It means learning to have a heart that is moved, eyes that see and do not look away, hands that help others and soothe their wounds, shoulders that bear the burden of those in need.
In today’s first reading, we hear the words of Moses, who tells us that obeying the Lord’s commandments and turning our minds and hearts to him does not involve multiplying outward acts, but rather looking to our own hearts and discovering that there God has written his law of love. If we realize deep down that Christ, the Good Samaritan, loves us and cares for us, we too will be moved to love in the same way and to become compassionate as he is. Once we are healed and loved by Christ, we too can become witnesses of his love and compassion in our world.
Brothers and sisters, today we need this “revolution of love.” Today, the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Jericho is the road travelled by all those who descend into sin, suffering and poverty. It is the road travelled by all those weighed down by troubles or hurt by life. The road travelled by all who fall down, lose their bearings and hit rock bottom. The road travelled by all those peoples that are stripped, robbed and pillaged, victims of tyrannical political systems, of an economy that forces them into poverty, and of wars that kill their dreams and their very lives.
What do we do? Do we look and walk by, or do we open our hearts to others, like the Samaritan? Are we content at times merely to do our duty, or to regard as our neighbor only those who are part of our group, who think like us, who share our same nationality or religion? Jesus overturns this way of thinking by presenting us with a Samaritan, a foreigner or heretic, who acts as a neighbor to that wounded man. And he asks us to do the same.
The Samaritan, wrote Benedict XVI, “does not ask how far his obligations of solidarity extend. Nor does he ask about the merits required for eternal life. Something else happens: his heart is wrenched open... If the question had been ‘Is the Samaritan my neighbor, too?’ the answer would have been a pretty clear-cut no, given the situation at the time. But Jesus now turns the whole matter on its head: the Samaritan, the foreigner, makes himself the neighbor and shows me that I have to learn to be a neighbor deep within and that I already have the answer in myself. I have to become like someone in love, someone whose heart is open to being shaken up by another’s need” (Jesus of Nazareth, 197).
Looking without walking by, halting the frantic pace of our lives, allowing the lives of others, whoever they may be, with their needs and troubles, to touch our heart. That is what makes us neighbors to one another, what generates true fraternity and breaks down walls and barriers. In the end, love prevails and proves more powerful than evil and death.
Dear friends, let us look to Christ, the Good Samaritan. Let us listen again today to his voice. For he says to each of us, “Go and do likewise” (v. 37).
Pope Francis Homilies
13.07.25
Castel Gandolfo
Brothers and sisters,
I have the joy of celebrating this Eucharist with you. I greet all those present, the parish community, the priests, and His Eminence, the Bishop of the Diocese, and the civil and military authorities.
In this Sunday’s Gospel, we have heard one of Jesus’ most beautiful and moving parables. We all know the parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:25-37).
That parable constantly challenges us to think about our own lives. It troubles our dormant or distracted consciences, and warns us about the risk of a complacent faith that is satisfied with the outward observance of the law but incapable of feeling and acting with the same merciful compassion as God.
The parable is really about compassion. True, the Gospel story speaks of the compassion that moved the Samaritan to act, but it first speaks of how others regarded the wounded man lying on the roadside after being attacked by robbers. We are told that a priest and a Levite “saw him and passed by” (v. 32). Of the Samaritan, however, the Gospel says, “he saw him and had compassion on him” (v. 33).
Dear brothers and sisters, how we look at others is what counts, because it shows what is in our hearts. We can look and walk by, or we can look and be moved with compassion. There is a kind of seeing that is superficial, distracted and hasty, a way of seeing while pretending not to see. We can see without being touched or challenged by the sight. Then too, there is seeing with the eyes of the heart, looking more closely, empathizing with the other, sharing his or her experience, letting ourselves be touched and challenged. This way of seeing calls into question the way we live our life and the responsibility we feel towards others.
The parable speaks to us first about God’s way of seeing us, so that we in turn can learn how to see situations and people with his eyes, so full of love and compassion. The Good Samaritan is really a figure of Jesus, the eternal Son whom the Father sent into our history precisely because he regarded humanity with compassion and did not walk by. Like the man in the Gospel who was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, humanity was descending to the depths of death; in our own day too, we have to confront the darkness of evil, suffering, poverty and the riddle of death. Yet God has looked upon us with compassion; he wanted to walk our same path and come down among us. In Jesus, the Good Samaritan, he came to heal our wounds and to pour out upon us the balm of his love and mercy.
Pope Francis, who often reminded us that God is mercy and compassion, once referred to Jesus as “the compassion of the Father toward us” (Angelus, 14 July 2029). Saint Augustine tells us that, as the Good Samaritan who came to our aid, Jesus “wanted to be known as our neighbor. Indeed, the Lord Jesus Christ makes us realize that he is the one who cared for the half-dead man beaten by robbers and left on the side of the road (De Doctrina Christiana, I, 30.33).
We can understand, then, why this parable is so challenging for each of us. If Christ shows us the face of a compassionate God, then to believe in him and to be his disciples means allowing ourselves to be changed and to take on his same feelings. It means learning to have a heart that is moved, eyes that see and do not look away, hands that help others and soothe their wounds, shoulders that bear the burden of those in need.
In today’s first reading, we hear the words of Moses, who tells us that obeying the Lord’s commandments and turning our minds and hearts to him does not involve multiplying outward acts, but rather looking to our own hearts and discovering that there God has written his law of love. If we realize deep down that Christ, the Good Samaritan, loves us and cares for us, we too will be moved to love in the same way and to become compassionate as he is. Once we are healed and loved by Christ, we too can become witnesses of his love and compassion in our world.
Brothers and sisters, today we need this “revolution of love.” Today, the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Jericho is the road travelled by all those who descend into sin, suffering and poverty. It is the road travelled by all those weighed down by troubles or hurt by life. The road travelled by all who fall down, lose their bearings and hit rock bottom. The road travelled by all those peoples that are stripped, robbed and pillaged, victims of tyrannical political systems, of an economy that forces them into poverty, and of wars that kill their dreams and their very lives.
What do we do? Do we look and walk by, or do we open our hearts to others, like the Samaritan? Are we content at times merely to do our duty, or to regard as our neighbor only those who are part of our group, who think like us, who share our same nationality or religion? Jesus overturns this way of thinking by presenting us with a Samaritan, a foreigner or heretic, who acts as a neighbor to that wounded man. And he asks us to do the same.
The Samaritan, wrote Benedict XVI, “does not ask how far his obligations of solidarity extend. Nor does he ask about the merits required for eternal life. Something else happens: his heart is wrenched open... If the question had been ‘Is the Samaritan my neighbor, too?’ the answer would have been a pretty clear-cut no, given the situation at the time. But Jesus now turns the whole matter on its head: the Samaritan, the foreigner, makes himself the neighbor and shows me that I have to learn to be a neighbor deep within and that I already have the answer in myself. I have to become like someone in love, someone whose heart is open to being shaken up by another’s need” (Jesus of Nazareth, 197).
Looking without walking by, halting the frantic pace of our lives, allowing the lives of others, whoever they may be, with their needs and troubles, to touch our heart. That is what makes us neighbors to one another, what generates true fraternity and breaks down walls and barriers. In the end, love prevails and proves more powerful than evil and death.
Dear friends, let us look to Christ, the Good Samaritan. Let us listen again today to his voice. For he says to each of us, “Go and do likewise” (v. 37).
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo Angelus
06.07.25
Joyful laborers in God’s Kingdom
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today’s Gospel (Lk 10:1-12, 17-20) reminds us of the importance of the mission to which we are all called, each according to our own vocation and in the particular situations in which the Lord has placed us.
Jesus sends out seventy-two disciples (v. 1). This symbolic number indicates that the hope of the Gospel is meant for all peoples, for such is the breadth of God’s heart and the abundance of his harvest. Indeed, God continues to work in the world so that all his children may experience his love and be saved.
At the same time, Jesus says, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest” (v. 2).
On the one hand, God, like a sower, has generously gone out into the world, throughout history, and sowed in people’s hearts a desire for the infinite, for a fulfilled life and for salvation that sets us free. The harvest, then, is plentiful. The Kingdom of God grows like a seed in the ground, and the women and men of today, even when seemingly overwhelmed by so many other things, still yearn for a greater truth; they search for a fuller meaning for their lives, desire justice, and carry within themselves a longing for eternal life.
On the other hand, however, there are few laborers to go out into the field sown by the Lord; few who are able to distinguish, with the eyes of Jesus, the good grain that is ripe for harvesting (cf. Jn 4:35-38). The Lord wishes to do something great in our lives and in the history of humanity, yet there are few who perceive this, pause to receive the gift and then proclaim and share it with others.
Dear brothers and sisters, the Church and the world do not need people who fulfill their religious duties as if the faith were merely an external label. We need laborers who are eager to work in the mission field, loving disciples who bear witness to the Kingdom of God in all places. Perhaps there is no shortage of “intermittent Christians” who occasionally act upon some religious feeling or participate in sporadic events. But there are few who are ready, on a daily basis, to labor in God’s harvest, cultivating the seed of the Gospel in their own hearts in order then to share it in their families, places of work or study, their social contexts and with those in need.
To do this, we do not need too many theoretical ideas about pastoral plans. Instead, we need to pray to the Lord of the harvest. Priority must be given, then, to our relationship with the Lord and to cultivating our dialogue with him. In this way, he will make us his laborers and send us into the field of the world to bear witness to his Kingdom.
Let us ask the Blessed Virgin Mary, who generously gave her “yes” to participating in the work of salvation, to intercede for us and accompany us on the path of following the Lord, so that we too may become joyful laborers in God’s Kingdom.
Pope Francis Homilies
06.07.25
Joyful laborers in God’s Kingdom
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today’s Gospel (Lk 10:1-12, 17-20) reminds us of the importance of the mission to which we are all called, each according to our own vocation and in the particular situations in which the Lord has placed us.
Jesus sends out seventy-two disciples (v. 1). This symbolic number indicates that the hope of the Gospel is meant for all peoples, for such is the breadth of God’s heart and the abundance of his harvest. Indeed, God continues to work in the world so that all his children may experience his love and be saved.
At the same time, Jesus says, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest” (v. 2).
On the one hand, God, like a sower, has generously gone out into the world, throughout history, and sowed in people’s hearts a desire for the infinite, for a fulfilled life and for salvation that sets us free. The harvest, then, is plentiful. The Kingdom of God grows like a seed in the ground, and the women and men of today, even when seemingly overwhelmed by so many other things, still yearn for a greater truth; they search for a fuller meaning for their lives, desire justice, and carry within themselves a longing for eternal life.
On the other hand, however, there are few laborers to go out into the field sown by the Lord; few who are able to distinguish, with the eyes of Jesus, the good grain that is ripe for harvesting (cf. Jn 4:35-38). The Lord wishes to do something great in our lives and in the history of humanity, yet there are few who perceive this, pause to receive the gift and then proclaim and share it with others.
Dear brothers and sisters, the Church and the world do not need people who fulfill their religious duties as if the faith were merely an external label. We need laborers who are eager to work in the mission field, loving disciples who bear witness to the Kingdom of God in all places. Perhaps there is no shortage of “intermittent Christians” who occasionally act upon some religious feeling or participate in sporadic events. But there are few who are ready, on a daily basis, to labor in God’s harvest, cultivating the seed of the Gospel in their own hearts in order then to share it in their families, places of work or study, their social contexts and with those in need.
To do this, we do not need too many theoretical ideas about pastoral plans. Instead, we need to pray to the Lord of the harvest. Priority must be given, then, to our relationship with the Lord and to cultivating our dialogue with him. In this way, he will make us his laborers and send us into the field of the world to bear witness to his Kingdom.
Let us ask the Blessed Virgin Mary, who generously gave her “yes” to participating in the work of salvation, to intercede for us and accompany us on the path of following the Lord, so that we too may become joyful laborers in God’s Kingdom.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
Holy Mass 29.06.25
Saints Peter and Paul
Dear brothers and sisters,
Today we celebrate two brothers in faith, Peter and Paul, whom we honour as pillars of the Church and venerate as patrons of the diocese and city of Rome.
The story of these two Apostles has much to say to us, the community of the Lord’s disciples, as we make our pilgrim way in today’s world. Upon reflection, I would like to emphasize two specific aspects of their faith: ecclesial communion and the vitality of faith.
First, ecclesial communion. Today’s liturgy reminds us how Peter and Paul were called to share a single fate, that of martyrdom, which united them definitively to Christ. In the first reading, we see Peter in prison awaiting judgment (cf. Acts 12:1-11). In the second reading, the Apostle Paul, also in chains, tells us, in a kind of last will and testament, that his blood is about to be poured out and offered to God (cf. 2 Tim 4:6-8, 17-18). Peter and Paul were both ready to lay down their lives for the sake of the Gospel.
Yet this communion of the two Apostles in the one confession of faith was the conclusion of a long journey on which each embraced the faith and lived out his apostolate in his own particular way. Their brotherhood in the Spirit did not erase their different backgrounds. Simon was a fisherman from Galilee, while Saul was highly educated and a member of the party of the Pharisees. Peter immediately left everything to follow the Lord, while Paul persecuted Christians before his life-changing encounter with the risen Christ. Peter preached mainly to the Jews, whereas Paul was driven to bring the Good News to the gentiles.
As we know, the two were at odds over the proper way to deal with gentile converts, so much so that Paul tells us that, “when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood self-condemned” (Gal 2:11). At the Council of Jerusalem, the two Apostles would once more debate the issue.
Dear friends, the history of Peter and Paul shows us that the communion to which the Lord calls us is a unison of voices and personalities that does not eliminate anyone’s freedom. Our patron saints followed different paths, had different ideas and at times argued with one another with evangelical frankness. Yet this did not prevent them from living the concordia apostolorum, that is, a living communion in the Spirit, a fruitful harmony in diversity. As Saint Augustine remarks, “the feast of the two Apostles is celebrated on one day. They too were one. For although they were martyred on different days, they were one” (Serm. 295, 7.7).
All this invites us to reflect on the nature of ecclesial communion. Awakened by the inspiration of the Spirit, it unites differences and builds bridges of unity thanks to the rich variety of charisms, gifts and ministries. It is important that we learn to experience communion in this way — as unity within diversity — so that the various gifts, united in the one confession of faith, may advance the preaching of the Gospel. We are called to persevere along this path, following the example of Peter and Paul, since all of us need that kind of fraternity. The whole Church needs fraternity, which must be present in all of our relationships, whether between lay people and priests, priests and bishops, bishops and the Pope. Fraternity is also needed in pastoral care, ecumenical dialogue and the friendly relations that the Church desires to maintain with the world. Let us make an effort, then, to turn our differences into a workshop of unity and communion, of fraternity and reconciliation, so that everyone in the Church, each with his or her personal history, may learn to walk side by side.
Saints Peter and Paul also challenge us to think about the vitality of our faith. In our life as disciples, we can always risk falling into a rut, a routine, a tendency to follow the same old pastoral plans without experiencing interior renewal and a willingness to respond to new challenges. The two Apostles, however, can inspire us by the example of their openness to change, to new events, encounters and concrete situations in the life of their communities, and by their readiness to consider new approaches to evangelization in response to the problems and difficulties raised by our brothers and sisters in the faith.
At the heart of today’s Gospel lies the question that Jesus asked his disciples. Today he asks us that same question, challenging us to examine whether our faith life retains its energy and vitality, and whether the flame of our relationship with the Lord still burns bright: “Who do you say that I am?” (Mt 16:15).
Every day, at every moment in history, we must always take this question to heart. If we want to keep our identity as Christians from being reduced to a relic of the past, as Pope Francis often reminded us, it is important to move beyond a tired and stagnant faith. We need to ask ourselves: Who is Jesus Christ for us today? What place does he occupy in our lives and in the life of the Church? How can we bear witness to this hope in our daily lives and proclaim it to those whom we meet?
Brothers and sisters, the exercise of a discernment born of these questions can enable our faith and the faith of the Church to be constantly renewed and to find new paths and new approaches to preaching the Gospel. This, together with communion, must be our greatest desire. Today I would like to speak to the Church in Rome in particular, because it, above all, is called to be a sign of unity and communion, a Church on fire with vibrant faith, a community of disciples who testify to the joy and consolation of the Gospel wherever people find themselves.
In the joy of the communion that the lives of Saints Peter and Paul invite us to cultivate, I greet my brother Archbishops who today receive the Pallium. Dear brothers, this sign of the pastoral responsibility entrusted to you also expresses your communion with the Bishop of Rome, so that in the unity of the Catholic faith, each of you may build up that communion in your local Churches.
I would also like to greet the members of the Synod of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. I you thank for your presence here and for your pastoral zeal. May the Lord grant peace to your people!
And with deep gratitude, I greet the Delegation of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, sent here by my dear brother, His Holiness Bartholomew.
Dear brothers and sisters, strengthened by the witness of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, let us walk together in faith and communion and invoke their intercession upon ourselves, the city of Rome, the Church, and the whole world.
Holy Mass and Blessing of the Sacred Pallium for the new Metropolitan Archbishops on the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul (29 June 2025) | LEO XIV
Holy Mass 29.06.25
Saints Peter and Paul
Dear brothers and sisters,
Today we celebrate two brothers in faith, Peter and Paul, whom we honour as pillars of the Church and venerate as patrons of the diocese and city of Rome.
The story of these two Apostles has much to say to us, the community of the Lord’s disciples, as we make our pilgrim way in today’s world. Upon reflection, I would like to emphasize two specific aspects of their faith: ecclesial communion and the vitality of faith.
First, ecclesial communion. Today’s liturgy reminds us how Peter and Paul were called to share a single fate, that of martyrdom, which united them definitively to Christ. In the first reading, we see Peter in prison awaiting judgment (cf. Acts 12:1-11). In the second reading, the Apostle Paul, also in chains, tells us, in a kind of last will and testament, that his blood is about to be poured out and offered to God (cf. 2 Tim 4:6-8, 17-18). Peter and Paul were both ready to lay down their lives for the sake of the Gospel.
Yet this communion of the two Apostles in the one confession of faith was the conclusion of a long journey on which each embraced the faith and lived out his apostolate in his own particular way. Their brotherhood in the Spirit did not erase their different backgrounds. Simon was a fisherman from Galilee, while Saul was highly educated and a member of the party of the Pharisees. Peter immediately left everything to follow the Lord, while Paul persecuted Christians before his life-changing encounter with the risen Christ. Peter preached mainly to the Jews, whereas Paul was driven to bring the Good News to the gentiles.
As we know, the two were at odds over the proper way to deal with gentile converts, so much so that Paul tells us that, “when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood self-condemned” (Gal 2:11). At the Council of Jerusalem, the two Apostles would once more debate the issue.
Dear friends, the history of Peter and Paul shows us that the communion to which the Lord calls us is a unison of voices and personalities that does not eliminate anyone’s freedom. Our patron saints followed different paths, had different ideas and at times argued with one another with evangelical frankness. Yet this did not prevent them from living the concordia apostolorum, that is, a living communion in the Spirit, a fruitful harmony in diversity. As Saint Augustine remarks, “the feast of the two Apostles is celebrated on one day. They too were one. For although they were martyred on different days, they were one” (Serm. 295, 7.7).
All this invites us to reflect on the nature of ecclesial communion. Awakened by the inspiration of the Spirit, it unites differences and builds bridges of unity thanks to the rich variety of charisms, gifts and ministries. It is important that we learn to experience communion in this way — as unity within diversity — so that the various gifts, united in the one confession of faith, may advance the preaching of the Gospel. We are called to persevere along this path, following the example of Peter and Paul, since all of us need that kind of fraternity. The whole Church needs fraternity, which must be present in all of our relationships, whether between lay people and priests, priests and bishops, bishops and the Pope. Fraternity is also needed in pastoral care, ecumenical dialogue and the friendly relations that the Church desires to maintain with the world. Let us make an effort, then, to turn our differences into a workshop of unity and communion, of fraternity and reconciliation, so that everyone in the Church, each with his or her personal history, may learn to walk side by side.
Saints Peter and Paul also challenge us to think about the vitality of our faith. In our life as disciples, we can always risk falling into a rut, a routine, a tendency to follow the same old pastoral plans without experiencing interior renewal and a willingness to respond to new challenges. The two Apostles, however, can inspire us by the example of their openness to change, to new events, encounters and concrete situations in the life of their communities, and by their readiness to consider new approaches to evangelization in response to the problems and difficulties raised by our brothers and sisters in the faith.
At the heart of today’s Gospel lies the question that Jesus asked his disciples. Today he asks us that same question, challenging us to examine whether our faith life retains its energy and vitality, and whether the flame of our relationship with the Lord still burns bright: “Who do you say that I am?” (Mt 16:15).
Every day, at every moment in history, we must always take this question to heart. If we want to keep our identity as Christians from being reduced to a relic of the past, as Pope Francis often reminded us, it is important to move beyond a tired and stagnant faith. We need to ask ourselves: Who is Jesus Christ for us today? What place does he occupy in our lives and in the life of the Church? How can we bear witness to this hope in our daily lives and proclaim it to those whom we meet?
Brothers and sisters, the exercise of a discernment born of these questions can enable our faith and the faith of the Church to be constantly renewed and to find new paths and new approaches to preaching the Gospel. This, together with communion, must be our greatest desire. Today I would like to speak to the Church in Rome in particular, because it, above all, is called to be a sign of unity and communion, a Church on fire with vibrant faith, a community of disciples who testify to the joy and consolation of the Gospel wherever people find themselves.
In the joy of the communion that the lives of Saints Peter and Paul invite us to cultivate, I greet my brother Archbishops who today receive the Pallium. Dear brothers, this sign of the pastoral responsibility entrusted to you also expresses your communion with the Bishop of Rome, so that in the unity of the Catholic faith, each of you may build up that communion in your local Churches.
I would also like to greet the members of the Synod of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. I you thank for your presence here and for your pastoral zeal. May the Lord grant peace to your people!
And with deep gratitude, I greet the Delegation of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, sent here by my dear brother, His Holiness Bartholomew.
Dear brothers and sisters, strengthened by the witness of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, let us walk together in faith and communion and invoke their intercession upon ourselves, the city of Rome, the Church, and the whole world.
Holy Mass and Blessing of the Sacred Pallium for the new Metropolitan Archbishops on the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul (29 June 2025) | LEO XIV
Pope Leo Angelus
22.06.25
The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today, in many countries, the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, Corpus Christi, is being celebrated, and the Gospel recounts the miracle of the loaves and fishes (cf. Lk 9:11-17).
In order to feed the thousands of people who came to listen to him and to ask for healing, Jesus invited the Apostles to bring him what little they had; he then blessed the loaves and fishes, and told them to distribute them to everyone. The result was astonishing: not only did everyone receive enough food, but there was an abundance left over (cf. Lk 9:17).
Beyond being a marvel, the miracle is a “sign” that reminds us that God’s gifts, even the smallest, grow whenever they are shared.
Reading this on the day of Corpus Christi, however, leads us to reflect on an even deeper reality. For we know that at the root of every human sharing lies a greater sharing that precedes it, namely God’s sharing with us. He, the Creator, who gave us life, in order to save us asked one of his creatures to be his mother, to give him a fragile, limited, mortal body like ours, entrusting himself to her as a child. In this way, he shared our poverty to the utmost limits, choosing to use the little we could offer him in order to redeem us (cf. Nicholas Cabasilas, The Life in Christ, IV, 3).
Let us think of how wonderful it is when we give a gift — even a small one, proportionate to our means — and see that it is appreciated by the recipient; how happy we are when the gift, despite its simplicity, unites us even more to those we love. Indeed, what happens between us and God through the Eucharist is precisely that the Lord welcomes, sanctifies and blesses the bread and wine that we place on the altar, together with the offering of our lives, and he transforms them into the Body and Blood of Christ, the sacrifice of love for the salvation of the world. God unites himself to us by joyfully accepting what we bring, and he invites us to unite ourselves to him by likewise joyfully receiving and sharing his gift of love. In this way, says Saint Augustine, “just as one loaf is made from single grains collected together… so in the same way the body of Christ is made one by the harmony of charity” (Serm. 229/A, 2).
Dear friends, this evening we will take part in the Eucharistic Procession. We will celebrate Holy Mass together and then set out, carrying the Blessed Sacrament through the streets of our city. We will sing, pray and finally gather in front of the Basilica of Saint Mary Major to implore the Lord’s blessing on our homes, our families and all humanity. May this celebration be a sign of our daily commitment to set out from the altar and the tabernacle, going forth as bearers of communion and peace for others, in a spirit of solidarity and charity.
Pope Francis Homilies
22.06.25
The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today, in many countries, the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, Corpus Christi, is being celebrated, and the Gospel recounts the miracle of the loaves and fishes (cf. Lk 9:11-17).
In order to feed the thousands of people who came to listen to him and to ask for healing, Jesus invited the Apostles to bring him what little they had; he then blessed the loaves and fishes, and told them to distribute them to everyone. The result was astonishing: not only did everyone receive enough food, but there was an abundance left over (cf. Lk 9:17).
Beyond being a marvel, the miracle is a “sign” that reminds us that God’s gifts, even the smallest, grow whenever they are shared.
Reading this on the day of Corpus Christi, however, leads us to reflect on an even deeper reality. For we know that at the root of every human sharing lies a greater sharing that precedes it, namely God’s sharing with us. He, the Creator, who gave us life, in order to save us asked one of his creatures to be his mother, to give him a fragile, limited, mortal body like ours, entrusting himself to her as a child. In this way, he shared our poverty to the utmost limits, choosing to use the little we could offer him in order to redeem us (cf. Nicholas Cabasilas, The Life in Christ, IV, 3).
Let us think of how wonderful it is when we give a gift — even a small one, proportionate to our means — and see that it is appreciated by the recipient; how happy we are when the gift, despite its simplicity, unites us even more to those we love. Indeed, what happens between us and God through the Eucharist is precisely that the Lord welcomes, sanctifies and blesses the bread and wine that we place on the altar, together with the offering of our lives, and he transforms them into the Body and Blood of Christ, the sacrifice of love for the salvation of the world. God unites himself to us by joyfully accepting what we bring, and he invites us to unite ourselves to him by likewise joyfully receiving and sharing his gift of love. In this way, says Saint Augustine, “just as one loaf is made from single grains collected together… so in the same way the body of Christ is made one by the harmony of charity” (Serm. 229/A, 2).
Dear friends, this evening we will take part in the Eucharistic Procession. We will celebrate Holy Mass together and then set out, carrying the Blessed Sacrament through the streets of our city. We will sing, pray and finally gather in front of the Basilica of Saint Mary Major to implore the Lord’s blessing on our homes, our families and all humanity. May this celebration be a sign of our daily commitment to set out from the altar and the tabernacle, going forth as bearers of communion and peace for others, in a spirit of solidarity and charity.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo Holy Mass 15.06.25
Most Holy Trinity
Jubilee of Sport
Dear brothers and sisters,
In the first reading we heard these words: “Thus says the wisdom of God: The Lord possessed me, the beginning of his ways, the forerunner of his prodigies of long ago … When the Lord established the heavens I was there … then was I beside him as his craftsman, and I was his delight day by day, playing before him all the while, playing on the surface of his earth; and I found delight in the human race” (Prov 8: 22, 27, 30-31) For Saint Augustine, the Trinity and wisdom are intimately connected. Divine wisdom is revealed in the Most Holy Trinity, and wisdom always leads us to truth.
While we are celebrating today the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, we are also marking the Jubilee of Sport. This combination of Trinity and Sport is somewhat unusual, yet the juxtaposition is not inappropriate. Every good and worthwhile human activity is in some way a reflection of God’s infinite beauty, and sport is certainly one of these. For God is not immobile and closed in on himself, but activity, communion, a dynamic relationship between the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, which opens up to humanity and to the world. Theologians speak of perichoresis: the life of God is a kind of “dance”: a dance of mutual love.
This dynamism of God’s inner life gives birth to life. We were created by a God who finds joy in giving existence to his creatures, who “delights” in our world, as the we heard in the first reading (cf. Prov 8:30-31). Some Fathers of the Church go so far as to speak of a Deus ludens, a God who “plays” (cf. SAINT SALONIUS OF GENEVA, In Parabolas Salomonis expositio mystica; SAINT GREGORY NAZIANZEN, Carmina, I, 2, 589). Sport can thus help us to encounter the Triune God, because it challenges us to relate to others and with others, not only outwardly but also, and above all, interiorly. Otherwise, sport becomes nothing more than an empty competition of inflated egos.
Here in Italy, spectators at sporting events often cheer athletes on by shouting out, “Dai!” (Come one!). The Italian word, however, means, literally, “Give!” This can give us cause to reflect. Sports are not only about physical achievements, however extraordinary, but also about giving of ourselves, putting ourselves “in play”. It is about giving of ourselves for others – for our personal improvement, for our athletic supporters, for our loved ones, our coaches and colleagues, for the greater public, and even for our opponents. Being a “good sport” is more important than winning or not. Saint John Paul II – himself, as we know, a sportsman – put it this way: “Sport is joy of life, a game, a celebration. As such, it must be fostered... by recovering its sheer gratuity, its ability to forge bonds of friendship, to encourage dialogue and openness towards others... quite apart from the harsh laws of production and consumption and all other purely utilitarian and hedonistic approaches to life” (Homily for the Jubilee of Sports, 12 April 1984).
From this standpoint, let us reflect on three particular things that make sport, nowadays, a precious means for training in human and Christian virtues.
First, in a society marked by solitude, where radical individualism has shifted the emphasis from “us” to “me”, resulting in a deficit of real concern for others, sport – especially team sports – teaches the value of cooperating, working together and sharing. These, as we said, are at the very heart of God’s own life (cf. Jn 16:14-15). Sport can thus become an important means of reconciliation and encounter: between peoples and within communities, schools, workplaces and families.
Second, in an increasingly digital society, where technology brings distant people closer together, yet often creates distances between those who are physically close, sport proves a valuable and concrete means of bringing individuals together, providing a healthier sense of the body, of space, effort and real time. It counters the temptation to escape into virtual worlds and it helps to preserve a healthy contact with nature and with real life, where genuine love is experienced (cf. 1 Jn 3:18).
Third, in our competitive society, where it seems that only the strong and winners deserve to live, sport also teaches us how to lose. It forces us, in learning the art of losing, to confront one of the deepest truths of our human condition: our fragility, our limitations and our imperfections. This is important, because it is through the experience of these limits that we open our hearts to hope. Athletes who never make mistakes, who never lose, do not exist. Champions are not perfectly functioning machines, but real men and women, who, when they fall, find the courage to get back on their feet. Saint John Paul II hit the mark when he said that Jesus is “the true athlete of God” because he defeated the world not by strength, but by the fidelity of love (cf. Homily at the Mass for the Jubilee of Sportsmen and Sportswomen, 29 October 2000).
It is no coincidence that sport has played a significant role in the lives of many saints in our day, both as a personal discipline and as a means of evangelization. We can think of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, the patron saint of athletes, who will be canonized later this year on 7 September. His straightforward and luminous life reminds us that, just as no one is born a champion, no one is born a saint. It is daily training in love that brings us closer to final victory (cf. Rom 5:3-5) and enables us to contribute to the building of a new world. Saint Paul VI also observed this, twenty years after the end of the Second World War, when he reminded the members of a Catholic athletic association how much sports had helped to restore peace and hope in a society devastated by the consequences of war (cf. Address to the members of the C.S.I., 20 March 1965). He went on to say: “Your efforts are directed at the formation of a new society..., in the recognition that sport, by virtue of the sound educational values it promotes, can be a most useful means for the spiritual elevation of the human person, the primary and indispensable condition for an orderly, peaceful and constructive society.”
Dear athletes, the Church entrusts you with a beautiful mission: to reflect in all your activities the love of the Triune God, for your own good and for that of your brothers and sisters. Carry out this mission with enthusiasm: as athletes, as trainers, as associations and groups, and within your families. Pope Francis liked to point out that the Gospel presents the Virgin Mary as ever active, on the move, even “running” (cf. Lk 1:39), ever ready, as mothers are, to set out at a sign from God to help her children (cf. Address to the Volunteers of World Youth Day, 6 August 2023). Let us ask her to accompany our effort and enthusiasm, and to guide it always toward the greatest victory of all: the prize of eternal life on that playing-field where games will never end and our joy will be complete (cf. 1 Cor 9:24-25; 2 Tim 4:7-8).
Pope Francis Homilies
Most Holy Trinity
Jubilee of Sport
Dear brothers and sisters,
In the first reading we heard these words: “Thus says the wisdom of God: The Lord possessed me, the beginning of his ways, the forerunner of his prodigies of long ago … When the Lord established the heavens I was there … then was I beside him as his craftsman, and I was his delight day by day, playing before him all the while, playing on the surface of his earth; and I found delight in the human race” (Prov 8: 22, 27, 30-31) For Saint Augustine, the Trinity and wisdom are intimately connected. Divine wisdom is revealed in the Most Holy Trinity, and wisdom always leads us to truth.
While we are celebrating today the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, we are also marking the Jubilee of Sport. This combination of Trinity and Sport is somewhat unusual, yet the juxtaposition is not inappropriate. Every good and worthwhile human activity is in some way a reflection of God’s infinite beauty, and sport is certainly one of these. For God is not immobile and closed in on himself, but activity, communion, a dynamic relationship between the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, which opens up to humanity and to the world. Theologians speak of perichoresis: the life of God is a kind of “dance”: a dance of mutual love.
This dynamism of God’s inner life gives birth to life. We were created by a God who finds joy in giving existence to his creatures, who “delights” in our world, as the we heard in the first reading (cf. Prov 8:30-31). Some Fathers of the Church go so far as to speak of a Deus ludens, a God who “plays” (cf. SAINT SALONIUS OF GENEVA, In Parabolas Salomonis expositio mystica; SAINT GREGORY NAZIANZEN, Carmina, I, 2, 589). Sport can thus help us to encounter the Triune God, because it challenges us to relate to others and with others, not only outwardly but also, and above all, interiorly. Otherwise, sport becomes nothing more than an empty competition of inflated egos.
Here in Italy, spectators at sporting events often cheer athletes on by shouting out, “Dai!” (Come one!). The Italian word, however, means, literally, “Give!” This can give us cause to reflect. Sports are not only about physical achievements, however extraordinary, but also about giving of ourselves, putting ourselves “in play”. It is about giving of ourselves for others – for our personal improvement, for our athletic supporters, for our loved ones, our coaches and colleagues, for the greater public, and even for our opponents. Being a “good sport” is more important than winning or not. Saint John Paul II – himself, as we know, a sportsman – put it this way: “Sport is joy of life, a game, a celebration. As such, it must be fostered... by recovering its sheer gratuity, its ability to forge bonds of friendship, to encourage dialogue and openness towards others... quite apart from the harsh laws of production and consumption and all other purely utilitarian and hedonistic approaches to life” (Homily for the Jubilee of Sports, 12 April 1984).
From this standpoint, let us reflect on three particular things that make sport, nowadays, a precious means for training in human and Christian virtues.
First, in a society marked by solitude, where radical individualism has shifted the emphasis from “us” to “me”, resulting in a deficit of real concern for others, sport – especially team sports – teaches the value of cooperating, working together and sharing. These, as we said, are at the very heart of God’s own life (cf. Jn 16:14-15). Sport can thus become an important means of reconciliation and encounter: between peoples and within communities, schools, workplaces and families.
Second, in an increasingly digital society, where technology brings distant people closer together, yet often creates distances between those who are physically close, sport proves a valuable and concrete means of bringing individuals together, providing a healthier sense of the body, of space, effort and real time. It counters the temptation to escape into virtual worlds and it helps to preserve a healthy contact with nature and with real life, where genuine love is experienced (cf. 1 Jn 3:18).
Third, in our competitive society, where it seems that only the strong and winners deserve to live, sport also teaches us how to lose. It forces us, in learning the art of losing, to confront one of the deepest truths of our human condition: our fragility, our limitations and our imperfections. This is important, because it is through the experience of these limits that we open our hearts to hope. Athletes who never make mistakes, who never lose, do not exist. Champions are not perfectly functioning machines, but real men and women, who, when they fall, find the courage to get back on their feet. Saint John Paul II hit the mark when he said that Jesus is “the true athlete of God” because he defeated the world not by strength, but by the fidelity of love (cf. Homily at the Mass for the Jubilee of Sportsmen and Sportswomen, 29 October 2000).
It is no coincidence that sport has played a significant role in the lives of many saints in our day, both as a personal discipline and as a means of evangelization. We can think of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, the patron saint of athletes, who will be canonized later this year on 7 September. His straightforward and luminous life reminds us that, just as no one is born a champion, no one is born a saint. It is daily training in love that brings us closer to final victory (cf. Rom 5:3-5) and enables us to contribute to the building of a new world. Saint Paul VI also observed this, twenty years after the end of the Second World War, when he reminded the members of a Catholic athletic association how much sports had helped to restore peace and hope in a society devastated by the consequences of war (cf. Address to the members of the C.S.I., 20 March 1965). He went on to say: “Your efforts are directed at the formation of a new society..., in the recognition that sport, by virtue of the sound educational values it promotes, can be a most useful means for the spiritual elevation of the human person, the primary and indispensable condition for an orderly, peaceful and constructive society.”
Dear athletes, the Church entrusts you with a beautiful mission: to reflect in all your activities the love of the Triune God, for your own good and for that of your brothers and sisters. Carry out this mission with enthusiasm: as athletes, as trainers, as associations and groups, and within your families. Pope Francis liked to point out that the Gospel presents the Virgin Mary as ever active, on the move, even “running” (cf. Lk 1:39), ever ready, as mothers are, to set out at a sign from God to help her children (cf. Address to the Volunteers of World Youth Day, 6 August 2023). Let us ask her to accompany our effort and enthusiasm, and to guide it always toward the greatest victory of all: the prize of eternal life on that playing-field where games will never end and our joy will be complete (cf. 1 Cor 9:24-25; 2 Tim 4:7-8).
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo Holy Mass 08.06.25
Pentecost Sunday
Dear brothers and sisters,
“The day has dawned upon us when..., glorified by his ascension into heaven following his resurrection, the Lord Jesus Christ sent the Holy Spirit” (Saint Augustine, Serm. 271, 1). Today, too, what took place in the Upper Room takes place anew in our midst. Like a mighty wind that overtakes us, like a crash that startles us, like a fire that illuminates us, the gift of the Holy Spirit descends upon us (cf. Acts 2:1-11).
As we heard in the first reading, the Spirit accomplished something extraordinary in the lives of the Apostles. Following Jesus’ death, they had retreated behind closed doors, in fear and sadness. Now they receive a new way of seeing things, an interior understanding that helps them to interpret the events that occurred and to experience intimately the presence of the Risen Lord. The Holy Spirit overcomes their fear, shatters their inner chains, heals their wounds, anoints them with strength and grants them the courage to go out to all and to proclaim God’s mighty works.
The reading from the Acts of the Apostles tells us that in Jerusalem at that time there was a multitude of people from various backgrounds, yet “each one heard them speaking in his own native tongue” (v. 6). In a word, at Pentecost, the doors of the Upper Room were opened because the Spirit opens borders. As Benedict XVI explained: “The Holy Spirit bestows understanding. The Spirit overcomes the ‘breach’ that began in Babel, the confusion of mind and heart that sets us one against the other. The Spirit opens borders... The Church must always become anew what she already is. She must open the borders between peoples and break down the barriers between class and race. In her, there cannot be those who are neglected or disdained. In the Church there are only free men and women, brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ” (Homily for Pentecost, 15 May 2005).
Here we have an eloquent image of Pentecost, one that I would like to pause for a moment and reflect upon with you.
The Spirit opens borders, first of all, in our hearts. He is the Gift that opens our lives to love. His presence breaks down our hardness of heart, our narrowness of mind, our selfishness, the fears that enchain us and the narcissism that makes us think only of ourselves. The Holy Spirit comes to challenge us, to make us confront the possibility that our lives are shrivelling up, trapped in the vortex of individualism. Sadly, oddly enough, in a world of burgeoning “social” media, we risk being ever more alone. Constantly connected, yet incapable of “networking”. Always immersed in a crowd, yet confused and solitary travellers.
The Spirit of God allows us to find a new way of approaching and experiencing life. He puts us in touch with our inmost self, beneath all the masks we wear. He leads us to an encounter with the Lord by teaching us to experience the joy that is his gift. He convinces us, as we just heard in Jesus’ words, that only by abiding in love, will we receive the strength to remain faithful to his word and to let it transform us. The Spirit opens our interior borders, so that our lives can become places of welcome and refreshment.
The Spirit also opens borders in our relationship with others. Jesus tells us that this Gift is the love between him and the Father that comes to dwell within us. We then become capable of opening our hearts to our brothers and sisters, overcoming our rigidity, moving beyond our fear of those who are different, and mastering the passions that stir within. The Spirit also transforms those deeper, hidden dangers that disturb our relationships, like suspicion, prejudice or the desire to manipulate others. I think too, with great pain, of those cases where relationships are marked by an unhealthy desire for domination, an attitude that often leads to violence, as is shown, tragically, by numerous recent cases of femicide.
The Holy Spirit, on the other hand, brings to maturity within us the fruits that enable us to cultivate good and healthy relationships: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” (Gal 5:22). In this way, the Spirit broadens the borders of our relationships and opens us to the joy of fraternity. This is also a critical yardstick for the Church. For we are truly the Church of the Risen Lord and disciples of Pentecost if there are no borders or divisions among us; if we are able to dialogue and accept one another in the Church, and to reconcile our diversities; and if, as Church, we become a welcoming and hospitable place for all.
Finally, the Spirit also opens borders between peoples. At Pentecost, the Apostles spoke the languages of those they met, and the confusion of Babel was finally resolved by the harmony brought about by the Spirit. Whenever God’s “breath” unites our hearts and makes us view others as our brothers and sisters, differences no longer become an occasion for division and conflict but rather a shared patrimony from which we can all draw, and which sets us all on journey together, in fraternity.
The Spirit breaks down barriers and tears down the walls of indifference and hatred because he “teaches us all things” and “reminds us of Jesus’ words” (cf. Jn 14:26). He teaches us, reminds us, and writes in our hearts before all else the commandment of love that the Lord has made the center and summit of everything. Where there is love, there is no room for prejudice, for “security” zones separating us from our neighbors, for the exclusionary mindset that, tragically, we now see emerging also in political nationalisms.
It was on the feast of Pentecost that Pope Francis observed: “In our world today, there is so much discord, such great division. We are all ‘connected’, yet find ourselves disconnected from one another, anesthetized by indifference and overwhelmed by solitude” (Homily, 28 May 2023). The wars plaguing our world are a tragic sign of this. Let us invoke the Spirit of love and peace, that he may open borders, break down walls, dispel hatred and help us to live as children of our one Father who is in heaven.
Brothers and sisters, Pentecost renews the Church and the world! May the strong wind of the Spirit come upon us and within us, open the borders of our hearts, grant us the grace of encounter with God, enlarge the horizons of our love and sustain our efforts to build a world in which peace reigns.
May Mary Most Holy, Woman of Pentecost, Virgin visited by the Spirit, Mother full of grace, accompany us and intercede for us.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pentecost Sunday
Dear brothers and sisters,
“The day has dawned upon us when..., glorified by his ascension into heaven following his resurrection, the Lord Jesus Christ sent the Holy Spirit” (Saint Augustine, Serm. 271, 1). Today, too, what took place in the Upper Room takes place anew in our midst. Like a mighty wind that overtakes us, like a crash that startles us, like a fire that illuminates us, the gift of the Holy Spirit descends upon us (cf. Acts 2:1-11).
As we heard in the first reading, the Spirit accomplished something extraordinary in the lives of the Apostles. Following Jesus’ death, they had retreated behind closed doors, in fear and sadness. Now they receive a new way of seeing things, an interior understanding that helps them to interpret the events that occurred and to experience intimately the presence of the Risen Lord. The Holy Spirit overcomes their fear, shatters their inner chains, heals their wounds, anoints them with strength and grants them the courage to go out to all and to proclaim God’s mighty works.
The reading from the Acts of the Apostles tells us that in Jerusalem at that time there was a multitude of people from various backgrounds, yet “each one heard them speaking in his own native tongue” (v. 6). In a word, at Pentecost, the doors of the Upper Room were opened because the Spirit opens borders. As Benedict XVI explained: “The Holy Spirit bestows understanding. The Spirit overcomes the ‘breach’ that began in Babel, the confusion of mind and heart that sets us one against the other. The Spirit opens borders... The Church must always become anew what she already is. She must open the borders between peoples and break down the barriers between class and race. In her, there cannot be those who are neglected or disdained. In the Church there are only free men and women, brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ” (Homily for Pentecost, 15 May 2005).
Here we have an eloquent image of Pentecost, one that I would like to pause for a moment and reflect upon with you.
The Spirit opens borders, first of all, in our hearts. He is the Gift that opens our lives to love. His presence breaks down our hardness of heart, our narrowness of mind, our selfishness, the fears that enchain us and the narcissism that makes us think only of ourselves. The Holy Spirit comes to challenge us, to make us confront the possibility that our lives are shrivelling up, trapped in the vortex of individualism. Sadly, oddly enough, in a world of burgeoning “social” media, we risk being ever more alone. Constantly connected, yet incapable of “networking”. Always immersed in a crowd, yet confused and solitary travellers.
The Spirit of God allows us to find a new way of approaching and experiencing life. He puts us in touch with our inmost self, beneath all the masks we wear. He leads us to an encounter with the Lord by teaching us to experience the joy that is his gift. He convinces us, as we just heard in Jesus’ words, that only by abiding in love, will we receive the strength to remain faithful to his word and to let it transform us. The Spirit opens our interior borders, so that our lives can become places of welcome and refreshment.
The Spirit also opens borders in our relationship with others. Jesus tells us that this Gift is the love between him and the Father that comes to dwell within us. We then become capable of opening our hearts to our brothers and sisters, overcoming our rigidity, moving beyond our fear of those who are different, and mastering the passions that stir within. The Spirit also transforms those deeper, hidden dangers that disturb our relationships, like suspicion, prejudice or the desire to manipulate others. I think too, with great pain, of those cases where relationships are marked by an unhealthy desire for domination, an attitude that often leads to violence, as is shown, tragically, by numerous recent cases of femicide.
The Holy Spirit, on the other hand, brings to maturity within us the fruits that enable us to cultivate good and healthy relationships: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” (Gal 5:22). In this way, the Spirit broadens the borders of our relationships and opens us to the joy of fraternity. This is also a critical yardstick for the Church. For we are truly the Church of the Risen Lord and disciples of Pentecost if there are no borders or divisions among us; if we are able to dialogue and accept one another in the Church, and to reconcile our diversities; and if, as Church, we become a welcoming and hospitable place for all.
Finally, the Spirit also opens borders between peoples. At Pentecost, the Apostles spoke the languages of those they met, and the confusion of Babel was finally resolved by the harmony brought about by the Spirit. Whenever God’s “breath” unites our hearts and makes us view others as our brothers and sisters, differences no longer become an occasion for division and conflict but rather a shared patrimony from which we can all draw, and which sets us all on journey together, in fraternity.
The Spirit breaks down barriers and tears down the walls of indifference and hatred because he “teaches us all things” and “reminds us of Jesus’ words” (cf. Jn 14:26). He teaches us, reminds us, and writes in our hearts before all else the commandment of love that the Lord has made the center and summit of everything. Where there is love, there is no room for prejudice, for “security” zones separating us from our neighbors, for the exclusionary mindset that, tragically, we now see emerging also in political nationalisms.
It was on the feast of Pentecost that Pope Francis observed: “In our world today, there is so much discord, such great division. We are all ‘connected’, yet find ourselves disconnected from one another, anesthetized by indifference and overwhelmed by solitude” (Homily, 28 May 2023). The wars plaguing our world are a tragic sign of this. Let us invoke the Spirit of love and peace, that he may open borders, break down walls, dispel hatred and help us to live as children of our one Father who is in heaven.
Brothers and sisters, Pentecost renews the Church and the world! May the strong wind of the Spirit come upon us and within us, open the borders of our hearts, grant us the grace of encounter with God, enlarge the horizons of our love and sustain our efforts to build a world in which peace reigns.
May Mary Most Holy, Woman of Pentecost, Virgin visited by the Spirit, Mother full of grace, accompany us and intercede for us.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo Holy Mass 01.06.25
Jubilee of Families, Children, Grandparents and the Elderly
The Gospel we have just heard shows us Jesus, at the Last Supper, praying on our behalf (cf. Jn 17:20). The Word of God, made man, as he nears the end of his earthly life, thinks of us, his brothers and sisters, and becomes a blessing, a prayer of petition and praise to the Father, in the power of the Holy Spirit. As we ourselves, full of wonder and trust, enter into Jesus’ prayer, we become, thanks to his love, part of a great plan that concerns all of humanity.
Christ prays that we may “all be one” (v. 21). This is the greatest good that we can desire, for this universal union brings about among his creatures the eternal communion of love that is God himself: the Father who gives life, the Son who receives it and the Spirit who shares it.
The Lord does not want us, in this unity, to be a nameless and faceless crowd. He wants us to be one: “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us” (v. 21). The unity for which Jesus prays is thus a communion grounded in the same love with which God loves, which brings life and salvation into the world. As such, it is firstly a gift that Jesus comes to bring. From his human heart, the Son of God prays to the Father in these words: “I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (v. 23).
Let us listen with amazement to these words. Jesus is telling us that God loves us as he loves himself. The Father does not love us any less than he loves his only-begotten Son. In other words, with an infinite love. God does not love less, because he loves first, from the very beginning! Christ himself bears witness to this when he says to the Father: “You loved me before the foundation of the world” (v. 24). And so it is: in his mercy, God has always desired to draw all people to himself. It is his life, bestowed upon us in Christ, that makes us one, uniting us with one another.
Listening to this Gospel today, during the Jubilee of Families, Children, Grandparents and the Elderly, fills us with joy.
Dear friends, we received life before we ever desired it. As Pope Francis said: “all of us are sons and daughters, but none of us chose to be born” (Angelus, 1 January 2025). Not only that. As soon as we were born, we needed others in order to live; left to ourselves, we would not have survived. Someone else saved us by caring for us in body and spirit. All of us are alive today thanks to a relationship, a free and freeing relationship of human kindness and mutual care.
That human kindness is sometimes betrayed. As for example, whenever freedom is invoked not to give life, but to take it away, not to help, but to hurt. Yet even in the face of the evil that opposes and takes life, Jesus continues to pray to the Father for us. His prayer acts as a balm for our wounds; it speaks to us of forgiveness and reconciliation. That prayer makes fully meaningful our experience of love for one another as parents, grandparents, sons and daughters. That is what we want to proclaim to the world: we are here in order to be “one” as the Lord wants us to be “one,” in our families and in those places where we live, work and study. Different, yet one; many, yet one; always, in every situation and at every stage of life.
Dear friends, if we love one another in this way, grounded in Christ, who is “the Alpha and the Omega,” “the beginning and the end” (cf. Rev 22:13), we will be a sign of peace for everyone, in society and the world. Let us not forget: families are the cradle of the future of humanity.
In recent decades, we have received a sign that fills us with joy but also makes us think. It is the fact that several spouses have been beatified and canonized, not separately, but as married couples. I think of Louis and Zélie Martin, the parents of Saint Therese of the Child Jesus; and of Blessed Luigi and Maria Beltrame Quattrocchi, who raised a family in Rome in the last century. And let us not forget the Ulma family from Poland: parents and children, united in love and martyrdom. I said that this is a sign that makes us think. By pointing to them as exemplary witnesses of married life, the Church tells us that today’s world needs the marriage covenant in order to know and accept God’s love and to defeat, thanks to its unifying and reconciling power, the forces that break down relationships and societies.
For this reason, with a heart filled with gratitude and hope, I would remind all married couples that marriage is not an ideal but the measure of true love between a man and a woman: a love that is total, faithful and fruitful (cf. SAINT PAUL VI, Humanae Vitae, 9). This love makes you one flesh and enables you, in the image of God, to bestow the gift of life.
Pope Francis Homilies
Jubilee of Families, Children, Grandparents and the Elderly
The Gospel we have just heard shows us Jesus, at the Last Supper, praying on our behalf (cf. Jn 17:20). The Word of God, made man, as he nears the end of his earthly life, thinks of us, his brothers and sisters, and becomes a blessing, a prayer of petition and praise to the Father, in the power of the Holy Spirit. As we ourselves, full of wonder and trust, enter into Jesus’ prayer, we become, thanks to his love, part of a great plan that concerns all of humanity.
Christ prays that we may “all be one” (v. 21). This is the greatest good that we can desire, for this universal union brings about among his creatures the eternal communion of love that is God himself: the Father who gives life, the Son who receives it and the Spirit who shares it.
The Lord does not want us, in this unity, to be a nameless and faceless crowd. He wants us to be one: “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us” (v. 21). The unity for which Jesus prays is thus a communion grounded in the same love with which God loves, which brings life and salvation into the world. As such, it is firstly a gift that Jesus comes to bring. From his human heart, the Son of God prays to the Father in these words: “I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (v. 23).
Let us listen with amazement to these words. Jesus is telling us that God loves us as he loves himself. The Father does not love us any less than he loves his only-begotten Son. In other words, with an infinite love. God does not love less, because he loves first, from the very beginning! Christ himself bears witness to this when he says to the Father: “You loved me before the foundation of the world” (v. 24). And so it is: in his mercy, God has always desired to draw all people to himself. It is his life, bestowed upon us in Christ, that makes us one, uniting us with one another.
Listening to this Gospel today, during the Jubilee of Families, Children, Grandparents and the Elderly, fills us with joy.
Dear friends, we received life before we ever desired it. As Pope Francis said: “all of us are sons and daughters, but none of us chose to be born” (Angelus, 1 January 2025). Not only that. As soon as we were born, we needed others in order to live; left to ourselves, we would not have survived. Someone else saved us by caring for us in body and spirit. All of us are alive today thanks to a relationship, a free and freeing relationship of human kindness and mutual care.
That human kindness is sometimes betrayed. As for example, whenever freedom is invoked not to give life, but to take it away, not to help, but to hurt. Yet even in the face of the evil that opposes and takes life, Jesus continues to pray to the Father for us. His prayer acts as a balm for our wounds; it speaks to us of forgiveness and reconciliation. That prayer makes fully meaningful our experience of love for one another as parents, grandparents, sons and daughters. That is what we want to proclaim to the world: we are here in order to be “one” as the Lord wants us to be “one,” in our families and in those places where we live, work and study. Different, yet one; many, yet one; always, in every situation and at every stage of life.
Dear friends, if we love one another in this way, grounded in Christ, who is “the Alpha and the Omega,” “the beginning and the end” (cf. Rev 22:13), we will be a sign of peace for everyone, in society and the world. Let us not forget: families are the cradle of the future of humanity.
In recent decades, we have received a sign that fills us with joy but also makes us think. It is the fact that several spouses have been beatified and canonized, not separately, but as married couples. I think of Louis and Zélie Martin, the parents of Saint Therese of the Child Jesus; and of Blessed Luigi and Maria Beltrame Quattrocchi, who raised a family in Rome in the last century. And let us not forget the Ulma family from Poland: parents and children, united in love and martyrdom. I said that this is a sign that makes us think. By pointing to them as exemplary witnesses of married life, the Church tells us that today’s world needs the marriage covenant in order to know and accept God’s love and to defeat, thanks to its unifying and reconciling power, the forces that break down relationships and societies.
For this reason, with a heart filled with gratitude and hope, I would remind all married couples that marriage is not an ideal but the measure of true love between a man and a woman: a love that is total, faithful and fruitful (cf. SAINT PAUL VI, Humanae Vitae, 9). This love makes you one flesh and enables you, in the image of God, to bestow the gift of life.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo
25.05.25 Holy Mass, Basilica of St. John Lateran
6th Sunday of Easter - Year C
Formal Installation of Pope Leo XIV on the Episcopal See
Acts 15: 1-2, 22-29,
John 14: 23-29
I offer a cordial greeting to the Cardinals present, and particularly to the Cardinal Vicar, the auxiliary bishops, all the bishops and the priests – parish priests, parochial vicars and all those who in in various ways cooperate in the pastoral care of our communities. My greeting also goes to the deacons, the men and women religious, the civil authorities and all of you, the dear lay faithful.
The Church of Rome is heir to a great history, grounded in the witness of Peter, Paul and countless martyrs, and it has a unique mission, as we see from the inscription on the façade of this Cathedral: to be Mater omnium Ecclesiarum, Mother of all the Churches.
Pope Francis frequently encouraged us to reflect on the maternal dimension of the Church (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 46-49,139-141; Catechesis, 13 January 2016) and her defining qualities of tenderness, self-sacrifice and the capacity to listen. Those qualities enable her not only to assist others but often to anticipate their needs and expectations before they are even expressed. We hope that those qualities will be increasingly present in the people of God everywhere, including here, in our great diocesan family: in the faithful, in pastors, and, first of all, in myself. The readings we have heard can help us to reflect on these qualities.
The Acts of the Apostles (cf. 15:1-2, 22-29) in particular describe how the early Christian community faced the challenge of opening to the pagan world in its preaching of the Gospel. This was no easy matter; it called for much patience and mutual listening. This was the case in the community in Antioch, where the brethren, through dialogue – and even disagreements – resolved the question together. Paul and Barnabas then went up to Jerusalem. They did not settle the question on their own: they wanted to be in communion with the Mother Church and so they went there with humility.
In Jerusalem, they found Peter and the Apostles, who were prepared to listen to them. This was the beginning of a dialogue that, in the end, led to the right decision. Recognizing the difficulties of the new converts, they agreed not to impose excessive burdens on them, but rather to insist only on what was essential (cf. Acts 15:28-29). In this way, what might have seemed a problem became for everyone an opportunity for reflection and growth.
The biblical text, however, tells us something else, beyond the rich and interesting human dynamics of the event.
We see this in the words used by the brethren in Jerusalem to communicate their decisions to those in Antioch. They wrote: “For it has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us” (cf. Acts 15:28). In other words, they emphasized that the most important part of the entire event was listening to God’s voice, which made everything else possible. In this way, they remind us that communion is built primarily “on our knees,” through prayer and constant commitment to conversion. For only in this way can each of us hear within the voice of the Spirit crying out: “Abba! Father!” (Gal 4:6) and then, as a result, listen to and understand others as our brothers and sisters.
The Gospel reaffirms this point (cf. Jn 14:23-29). It assures us that we are not alone in making our decisions in life. The Spirit sustains us and shows us the way to follow, “teaching” us and “reminding” us of all that Jesus said to us (cf. Jn 14:26).
First, the Spirit teaches us the Lord’s words by impressing them deep within us, written, as the biblical image would have it, no longer on tablets of stone but in our hearts (cf. Jer 31:33). This gift helps us grow and become “a letter of Christ” (cf. 2 Cor 3:3) for one another. Naturally, the more we let ourselves be convinced and transformed by the Gospel — allowing the power of the Spirit to purify our heart, to make our words straightforward, our desires honest and clear, and our actions generous — the more capable we are of proclaiming its message.
Here, the other verb comes into play: we remember, that is, we reflect in our hearts upon what we have experienced and learned, in order to understand more fully its meaning and to savour its beauty.
I think in this regard of the challenging process of listening that the Diocese of Rome has undertaken in these years, a process carried out at various levels: listening to the world around us to respond to its challenges, and listening within our communities to understand needs and to propose sage and prophetic initiatives of evangelization and charity. This has been a challenging, ongoing journey meant to embrace a very rich and complex reality. Yet it is worthy of the history of this local Church, which has shown, time and again, that it is able to “think big”, unafraid to embark on bold projects and to confront new and challenging scenarios.
This is evident in the great efforts and many initiatives that the Diocese has made to welcome and provide for the needs of pilgrims during the present Jubilee. Thank you! These have made the city of Rome appear to visitors, some of whom have travelled from far away, as a wide, open and welcoming home, and above all as a place of deep faith.
For my part, I would like to express my firm desire to contribute to this great ongoing process by listening to everyone as much as possible, in order to learn, understand and decide things together, as Saint Augustine would say, “as a Christian with you and a Bishop for you” (cf. Serm. 340, 1). I would also ask you to support me in prayer and charity, mindful of the words of Saint Leo the Great: “All the good we do in the exercise of our ministry is the work of Christ and not our own, for we can do nothing without him. Yet we glory in him, from whom all the effectiveness of our work is derived” (Serm. 5, De Natali Ipsius, 4).
Let me conclude by adding the words with which Blessed John Paul I, whose joyful and serene face had already earned him the nickname of “the smiling Pope,” greeted his new diocesan family on 23 September 1978. “Saint Pius X,” he said, “upon entering Venice as patriarch, exclaimed in Saint Mark’s: ‘What would become of me, dear Venetians, if I did not love you?’ I would say something similar to you Romans: I assure you that I love you, that I desire only to enter into your service and to place my own poor abilities, the little I have and am, at the service of all” (Homily for the Taking of Possession of the Chair of the Bishop of Rome).
I too express my affection for you and my desire to share with you, on our journey together, our joys and sorrows, our struggles and hopes. I too offer you “the little I have and am,” entrusting it to the intercession of Saints Peter and Paul and of all those other brothers and sisters of ours whose holiness has illuminated the history of this Church and the streets of this city. May the Virgin Mary accompany us and intercede for us.
Pope Francis Homilies - Pope Leo - Holy Mass 25.05.25
25.05.25 Holy Mass, Basilica of St. John Lateran
6th Sunday of Easter - Year C
Formal Installation of Pope Leo XIV on the Episcopal See
Acts 15: 1-2, 22-29,
John 14: 23-29
I offer a cordial greeting to the Cardinals present, and particularly to the Cardinal Vicar, the auxiliary bishops, all the bishops and the priests – parish priests, parochial vicars and all those who in in various ways cooperate in the pastoral care of our communities. My greeting also goes to the deacons, the men and women religious, the civil authorities and all of you, the dear lay faithful.
The Church of Rome is heir to a great history, grounded in the witness of Peter, Paul and countless martyrs, and it has a unique mission, as we see from the inscription on the façade of this Cathedral: to be Mater omnium Ecclesiarum, Mother of all the Churches.
Pope Francis frequently encouraged us to reflect on the maternal dimension of the Church (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 46-49,139-141; Catechesis, 13 January 2016) and her defining qualities of tenderness, self-sacrifice and the capacity to listen. Those qualities enable her not only to assist others but often to anticipate their needs and expectations before they are even expressed. We hope that those qualities will be increasingly present in the people of God everywhere, including here, in our great diocesan family: in the faithful, in pastors, and, first of all, in myself. The readings we have heard can help us to reflect on these qualities.
The Acts of the Apostles (cf. 15:1-2, 22-29) in particular describe how the early Christian community faced the challenge of opening to the pagan world in its preaching of the Gospel. This was no easy matter; it called for much patience and mutual listening. This was the case in the community in Antioch, where the brethren, through dialogue – and even disagreements – resolved the question together. Paul and Barnabas then went up to Jerusalem. They did not settle the question on their own: they wanted to be in communion with the Mother Church and so they went there with humility.
In Jerusalem, they found Peter and the Apostles, who were prepared to listen to them. This was the beginning of a dialogue that, in the end, led to the right decision. Recognizing the difficulties of the new converts, they agreed not to impose excessive burdens on them, but rather to insist only on what was essential (cf. Acts 15:28-29). In this way, what might have seemed a problem became for everyone an opportunity for reflection and growth.
The biblical text, however, tells us something else, beyond the rich and interesting human dynamics of the event.
We see this in the words used by the brethren in Jerusalem to communicate their decisions to those in Antioch. They wrote: “For it has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us” (cf. Acts 15:28). In other words, they emphasized that the most important part of the entire event was listening to God’s voice, which made everything else possible. In this way, they remind us that communion is built primarily “on our knees,” through prayer and constant commitment to conversion. For only in this way can each of us hear within the voice of the Spirit crying out: “Abba! Father!” (Gal 4:6) and then, as a result, listen to and understand others as our brothers and sisters.
The Gospel reaffirms this point (cf. Jn 14:23-29). It assures us that we are not alone in making our decisions in life. The Spirit sustains us and shows us the way to follow, “teaching” us and “reminding” us of all that Jesus said to us (cf. Jn 14:26).
First, the Spirit teaches us the Lord’s words by impressing them deep within us, written, as the biblical image would have it, no longer on tablets of stone but in our hearts (cf. Jer 31:33). This gift helps us grow and become “a letter of Christ” (cf. 2 Cor 3:3) for one another. Naturally, the more we let ourselves be convinced and transformed by the Gospel — allowing the power of the Spirit to purify our heart, to make our words straightforward, our desires honest and clear, and our actions generous — the more capable we are of proclaiming its message.
Here, the other verb comes into play: we remember, that is, we reflect in our hearts upon what we have experienced and learned, in order to understand more fully its meaning and to savour its beauty.
I think in this regard of the challenging process of listening that the Diocese of Rome has undertaken in these years, a process carried out at various levels: listening to the world around us to respond to its challenges, and listening within our communities to understand needs and to propose sage and prophetic initiatives of evangelization and charity. This has been a challenging, ongoing journey meant to embrace a very rich and complex reality. Yet it is worthy of the history of this local Church, which has shown, time and again, that it is able to “think big”, unafraid to embark on bold projects and to confront new and challenging scenarios.
This is evident in the great efforts and many initiatives that the Diocese has made to welcome and provide for the needs of pilgrims during the present Jubilee. Thank you! These have made the city of Rome appear to visitors, some of whom have travelled from far away, as a wide, open and welcoming home, and above all as a place of deep faith.
For my part, I would like to express my firm desire to contribute to this great ongoing process by listening to everyone as much as possible, in order to learn, understand and decide things together, as Saint Augustine would say, “as a Christian with you and a Bishop for you” (cf. Serm. 340, 1). I would also ask you to support me in prayer and charity, mindful of the words of Saint Leo the Great: “All the good we do in the exercise of our ministry is the work of Christ and not our own, for we can do nothing without him. Yet we glory in him, from whom all the effectiveness of our work is derived” (Serm. 5, De Natali Ipsius, 4).
Let me conclude by adding the words with which Blessed John Paul I, whose joyful and serene face had already earned him the nickname of “the smiling Pope,” greeted his new diocesan family on 23 September 1978. “Saint Pius X,” he said, “upon entering Venice as patriarch, exclaimed in Saint Mark’s: ‘What would become of me, dear Venetians, if I did not love you?’ I would say something similar to you Romans: I assure you that I love you, that I desire only to enter into your service and to place my own poor abilities, the little I have and am, at the service of all” (Homily for the Taking of Possession of the Chair of the Bishop of Rome).
I too express my affection for you and my desire to share with you, on our journey together, our joys and sorrows, our struggles and hopes. I too offer you “the little I have and am,” entrusting it to the intercession of Saints Peter and Paul and of all those other brothers and sisters of ours whose holiness has illuminated the history of this Church and the streets of this city. May the Virgin Mary accompany us and intercede for us.
Pope Francis Homilies - Pope Leo - Holy Mass 25.05.25
Pope Leo
Holy Mass 18.05.25
For the Beginning of the Pontificate
Dear Brother Cardinals,
Brother Bishops and Priests,
Distinguished Authorities and Members of the Diplomatic Corps,
Greetings to the pilgrims who came on the occasion of the Jubilee of Confraternities!
Brothers and Sisters,
I greet all of you with a heart full of gratitude at the beginning of the ministry that has been entrusted to me. Saint Augustine wrote: “Lord, you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you” (Confessions, I: 1,1).
In these days, we have experienced intense emotions. The death of Pope Francis filled our hearts with sadness. In those difficult hours, we felt like the crowds that the Gospel says were “like sheep without a shepherd” (Mt 9:36). Yet on Easter Sunday, we received his final blessing and, in the light of the resurrection, we experienced the days that followed in the certainty that the Lord never abandons his people, but gathers them when they are scattered and guards them “as a shepherd guards his flock” (Jer 31:10).
In this spirit of faith, the College of Cardinals met for the conclave. Coming from different backgrounds and experiences, we placed in God’s hands our desire to elect the new Successor of Peter, the Bishop of Rome, a shepherd capable of preserving the rich heritage of the Christian faith and, at the same time, looking to the future, in order to confront the questions, concerns and challenges of today’s world. Accompanied by your prayers, we could feel the working of the Holy Spirit, who was able to bring us into harmony, like musical instruments, so that our heartstrings could vibrate in a single melody.
I was chosen, without any merit of my own, and now, with fear and trembling, I come to you as a brother, who desires to be the servant of your faith and your joy, walking with you on the path of God’s love, for he wants us all to be united in one family.
Love and unity: these are the two dimensions of the mission entrusted to Peter by Jesus.
We see this in today’s Gospel, which takes us to the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus began the mission he received from the Father: to be a “fisher” of humanity in order to draw it up from the waters of evil and death. Walking along the shore, he had called Peter and the other first disciples to be, like him, “fishers of men”. Now, after the resurrection, it is up to them to carry on this mission, to cast their nets again and again, to bring the hope of the Gospel into the “waters” of the world, to sail the seas of life so that all may experience God’s embrace.
How can Peter carry out this task? The Gospel tells us that it is possible only because his own life was touched by the infinite and unconditional love of God, even in the hour of his failure and denial. For this reason, when Jesus addresses Peter, the Gospel uses the Greek verb agapáo, which refers to the love that God has for us, to the offering of himself without reserve and without calculation. Whereas the verb used in Peter’s response describes the love of friendship that we have for one another.
Consequently, when Jesus asks Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” (Jn 21:16), he is referring to the love of the Father. It is as if Jesus said to him, “Only if you have known and experienced this love of God, which never fails, will you be able to feed my lambs. Only in the love of God the Father will you be able to love your brothers and sisters with that same ‘more’, that is, by offering your life for your brothers and sisters.”
Peter is thus entrusted with the task of “loving more” and giving his life for the flock. The ministry of Peter is distinguished precisely by this self-sacrificing love, because the Church of Rome presides in charity and its true authority is the charity of Christ. It is never a question of capturing others by force, by religious propaganda or by means of power. Instead, it is always and only a question of loving as Jesus did.
The Apostle Peter himself tells us that Jesus “is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, and has become the cornerstone” (Acts 4:11). Moreover, if the rock is Christ, Peter must shepherd the flock without ever yielding to the temptation to be an autocrat, lording it over those entrusted to him (cf. 1 Pet 5:3). On the contrary, he is called to serve the faith of his brothers and sisters, and to walk alongside them, for all of us are “living stones” (1 Pet 2:5), called through our baptism to build God’s house in fraternal communion, in the harmony of the Spirit, in the coexistence of diversity. In the words of Saint Augustine: “The Church consists of all those who are in harmony with their brothers and sisters and who love their neighbour” (Serm. 359,9).
Brothers and sisters, I would like that our first great desire be for a united Church, a sign of unity and communion, which becomes a leaven for a reconciled world.
In this our time, we still see too much discord, too many wounds caused by hatred, violence, prejudice, the fear of difference, and an economic paradigm that exploits the Earth’s resources and marginalises the poorest. For our part, we want to be a small leaven of unity, communion and fraternity within the world. We want to say to the world, with humility and joy: Look to Christ! Come closer to him!
Welcome his word that enlightens and consoles! Listen to his offer of love and become his one family: in the one Christ, we are one. This is the path to follow together, among ourselves but also with our sister Christian churches, with those who follow other religious paths, with those who are searching for God, with all women and men of good will, in order to build a new world where peace reigns!
This is the missionary spirit that must animate us; not closing ourselves off in our small groups, nor feeling superior to the world. We are called to offer God’s love to everyone, in order to achieve that unity which does not cancel out differences but values the personal history of each person and the social and religious culture of every people.
Brothers and sisters, this is the hour for love! The heart of the Gospel is the love of God that makes us brothers and sisters. With my predecessor Leo XIII, we can ask ourselves today: If this criterion “were to prevail in the world, would not every conflict cease and peace return?” (Rerum Novarum, 21).
With the light and the strength of the Holy Spirit, let us build a Church founded on God’s love, a sign of unity, a missionary Church that opens its arms to the world, proclaims the word, allows itself to be made “restless” by history, and becomes a leaven of harmony for humanity.
Together, as one people, as brothers and sisters, let us walk towards God and love one another.
Pope Francis Homilies
Holy Mass 18.05.25
For the Beginning of the Pontificate
Dear Brother Cardinals,
Brother Bishops and Priests,
Distinguished Authorities and Members of the Diplomatic Corps,
Greetings to the pilgrims who came on the occasion of the Jubilee of Confraternities!
Brothers and Sisters,
I greet all of you with a heart full of gratitude at the beginning of the ministry that has been entrusted to me. Saint Augustine wrote: “Lord, you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you” (Confessions, I: 1,1).
In these days, we have experienced intense emotions. The death of Pope Francis filled our hearts with sadness. In those difficult hours, we felt like the crowds that the Gospel says were “like sheep without a shepherd” (Mt 9:36). Yet on Easter Sunday, we received his final blessing and, in the light of the resurrection, we experienced the days that followed in the certainty that the Lord never abandons his people, but gathers them when they are scattered and guards them “as a shepherd guards his flock” (Jer 31:10).
In this spirit of faith, the College of Cardinals met for the conclave. Coming from different backgrounds and experiences, we placed in God’s hands our desire to elect the new Successor of Peter, the Bishop of Rome, a shepherd capable of preserving the rich heritage of the Christian faith and, at the same time, looking to the future, in order to confront the questions, concerns and challenges of today’s world. Accompanied by your prayers, we could feel the working of the Holy Spirit, who was able to bring us into harmony, like musical instruments, so that our heartstrings could vibrate in a single melody.
I was chosen, without any merit of my own, and now, with fear and trembling, I come to you as a brother, who desires to be the servant of your faith and your joy, walking with you on the path of God’s love, for he wants us all to be united in one family.
Love and unity: these are the two dimensions of the mission entrusted to Peter by Jesus.
We see this in today’s Gospel, which takes us to the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus began the mission he received from the Father: to be a “fisher” of humanity in order to draw it up from the waters of evil and death. Walking along the shore, he had called Peter and the other first disciples to be, like him, “fishers of men”. Now, after the resurrection, it is up to them to carry on this mission, to cast their nets again and again, to bring the hope of the Gospel into the “waters” of the world, to sail the seas of life so that all may experience God’s embrace.
How can Peter carry out this task? The Gospel tells us that it is possible only because his own life was touched by the infinite and unconditional love of God, even in the hour of his failure and denial. For this reason, when Jesus addresses Peter, the Gospel uses the Greek verb agapáo, which refers to the love that God has for us, to the offering of himself without reserve and without calculation. Whereas the verb used in Peter’s response describes the love of friendship that we have for one another.
Consequently, when Jesus asks Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” (Jn 21:16), he is referring to the love of the Father. It is as if Jesus said to him, “Only if you have known and experienced this love of God, which never fails, will you be able to feed my lambs. Only in the love of God the Father will you be able to love your brothers and sisters with that same ‘more’, that is, by offering your life for your brothers and sisters.”
Peter is thus entrusted with the task of “loving more” and giving his life for the flock. The ministry of Peter is distinguished precisely by this self-sacrificing love, because the Church of Rome presides in charity and its true authority is the charity of Christ. It is never a question of capturing others by force, by religious propaganda or by means of power. Instead, it is always and only a question of loving as Jesus did.
The Apostle Peter himself tells us that Jesus “is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, and has become the cornerstone” (Acts 4:11). Moreover, if the rock is Christ, Peter must shepherd the flock without ever yielding to the temptation to be an autocrat, lording it over those entrusted to him (cf. 1 Pet 5:3). On the contrary, he is called to serve the faith of his brothers and sisters, and to walk alongside them, for all of us are “living stones” (1 Pet 2:5), called through our baptism to build God’s house in fraternal communion, in the harmony of the Spirit, in the coexistence of diversity. In the words of Saint Augustine: “The Church consists of all those who are in harmony with their brothers and sisters and who love their neighbour” (Serm. 359,9).
Brothers and sisters, I would like that our first great desire be for a united Church, a sign of unity and communion, which becomes a leaven for a reconciled world.
In this our time, we still see too much discord, too many wounds caused by hatred, violence, prejudice, the fear of difference, and an economic paradigm that exploits the Earth’s resources and marginalises the poorest. For our part, we want to be a small leaven of unity, communion and fraternity within the world. We want to say to the world, with humility and joy: Look to Christ! Come closer to him!
Welcome his word that enlightens and consoles! Listen to his offer of love and become his one family: in the one Christ, we are one. This is the path to follow together, among ourselves but also with our sister Christian churches, with those who follow other religious paths, with those who are searching for God, with all women and men of good will, in order to build a new world where peace reigns!
This is the missionary spirit that must animate us; not closing ourselves off in our small groups, nor feeling superior to the world. We are called to offer God’s love to everyone, in order to achieve that unity which does not cancel out differences but values the personal history of each person and the social and religious culture of every people.
Brothers and sisters, this is the hour for love! The heart of the Gospel is the love of God that makes us brothers and sisters. With my predecessor Leo XIII, we can ask ourselves today: If this criterion “were to prevail in the world, would not every conflict cease and peace return?” (Rerum Novarum, 21).
With the light and the strength of the Holy Spirit, let us build a Church founded on God’s love, a sign of unity, a missionary Church that opens its arms to the world, proclaims the word, allows itself to be made “restless” by history, and becomes a leaven of harmony for humanity.
Together, as one people, as brothers and sisters, let us walk towards God and love one another.
Pope Francis Homilies
May 11, 2025
Pope Leo Regina Caeli
Good Shepherd Sunday
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
I consider it a gift from God that the first Sunday of my service as Bishop of Rome is Good Shepherd Sunday, the fourth Sunday of Easter. On this Sunday, we always hear proclaimed at Mass a passage from the tenth chapter from the Gospel of John, where Jesus reveals himself as the true Shepherd: who knows and loves his sheep and gives his life for them.
This Sunday also marks the World Day of Prayer for Vocations, which we have celebrated for the last sixty-two years. Rome is also hosting the Jubilee of Bands and Popular Entertainment today. I greet all these pilgrims with affection and thank them because, with their music and performances, they enliven the feast of Christ the Good Shepherd: the One who guides the Church with his Holy Spirit.
In the Gospel, Jesus says that he knows his sheep and that they listen to his voice and follow him (cf. Jn 10:27). Indeed, as Pope Saint Gregory the Great teaches, people “respond to the love of those who love them” (Homily 14:3-6).
Today brothers and sisters, I therefore have the joy of praying with you and all the People of God for vocations, especially those to the priesthood and consecrated life. The Church has such a great need for them! It is important that young men and women on their vocational journey find acceptance, listening and encouragement in their communities, and that they can look up to credible models of generous dedication to God and to their brothers and sisters.
Let us take up the invitation that Pope Francis left us in his Message for today: the invitation to welcome and accompany young people. And let us ask our heavenly Father to assist us in living in service to one another, each according to his or her state of life, shepherds after his own heart (cf. Jer 3:15) capable of helping one another to walk in love and truth. And to young people, I say: “Do not be afraid! Accept the invitation of the Church and of Christ the Lord!”
May the Virgin Mary, whose entire life was a response to the Lord’s call, always accompany us in following Jesus.
(After the Regina Caeli)
Dear brothers and sisters,
The immense tragedy of the Second World War ended eighty years ago, on 8 May, after having claimed sixty million victims. In today’s dramatic scenario of a piecemeal third world war, as Pope Francis stated many times, I too address the world’s leaders, repeating the ever-timely appeal: “Never again war!”.
I carry in my heart the sufferings of the beloved Ukrainian people. May everything possible be done to reach an authentic, just and lasting peace, as soon as possible. Let all the prisoners be freed and the children return to their own families.
I am deeply saddened by what is happening in the Gaza Strip: may there be an immediate ceasefire! Let humanitarian aid be provided to the stricken civil population, and let all the hostages be freed.
On the other hand, I have welcomed with satisfaction the announcement of the ceasefire between India and Pakistan, and I hope that through the upcoming negotiations, a lasting accord may be reached soon.
But how many other conflicts there are in the world! I entrust this heartfelt appeal to the Queen of Peace, so that she may present it to the Lord Jesus to obtain for us the miracle of peace.
And now I affectionately greet you all, Romans and pilgrims from various countries. I greet the members of the British and Foreign Bible Society, the group of doctors from Granada (Spain), the faithful of Malta, Panama, Dallas (Texas), Valladolid, Torrelodones (Madrid), Montesilvano, and Cinisi (Palermo).
I greet the participants in the “Let’s choose life” demonstration, the young people of the Fraternity of Blessed Mary Immaculate and Saint Francis of Assisi, of Reggio Emilia.
Today in Italy and in other countries we celebrate Mother’s Day. I send a fond greeting to all mothers, with a prayer for them, and for those who are already in Heaven.
Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers!
Thank you all, a happy Sunday to everyone!
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Leo Regina Caeli
Good Shepherd Sunday
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
I consider it a gift from God that the first Sunday of my service as Bishop of Rome is Good Shepherd Sunday, the fourth Sunday of Easter. On this Sunday, we always hear proclaimed at Mass a passage from the tenth chapter from the Gospel of John, where Jesus reveals himself as the true Shepherd: who knows and loves his sheep and gives his life for them.
This Sunday also marks the World Day of Prayer for Vocations, which we have celebrated for the last sixty-two years. Rome is also hosting the Jubilee of Bands and Popular Entertainment today. I greet all these pilgrims with affection and thank them because, with their music and performances, they enliven the feast of Christ the Good Shepherd: the One who guides the Church with his Holy Spirit.
In the Gospel, Jesus says that he knows his sheep and that they listen to his voice and follow him (cf. Jn 10:27). Indeed, as Pope Saint Gregory the Great teaches, people “respond to the love of those who love them” (Homily 14:3-6).
Today brothers and sisters, I therefore have the joy of praying with you and all the People of God for vocations, especially those to the priesthood and consecrated life. The Church has such a great need for them! It is important that young men and women on their vocational journey find acceptance, listening and encouragement in their communities, and that they can look up to credible models of generous dedication to God and to their brothers and sisters.
Let us take up the invitation that Pope Francis left us in his Message for today: the invitation to welcome and accompany young people. And let us ask our heavenly Father to assist us in living in service to one another, each according to his or her state of life, shepherds after his own heart (cf. Jer 3:15) capable of helping one another to walk in love and truth. And to young people, I say: “Do not be afraid! Accept the invitation of the Church and of Christ the Lord!”
May the Virgin Mary, whose entire life was a response to the Lord’s call, always accompany us in following Jesus.
(After the Regina Caeli)
Dear brothers and sisters,
The immense tragedy of the Second World War ended eighty years ago, on 8 May, after having claimed sixty million victims. In today’s dramatic scenario of a piecemeal third world war, as Pope Francis stated many times, I too address the world’s leaders, repeating the ever-timely appeal: “Never again war!”.
I carry in my heart the sufferings of the beloved Ukrainian people. May everything possible be done to reach an authentic, just and lasting peace, as soon as possible. Let all the prisoners be freed and the children return to their own families.
I am deeply saddened by what is happening in the Gaza Strip: may there be an immediate ceasefire! Let humanitarian aid be provided to the stricken civil population, and let all the hostages be freed.
On the other hand, I have welcomed with satisfaction the announcement of the ceasefire between India and Pakistan, and I hope that through the upcoming negotiations, a lasting accord may be reached soon.
But how many other conflicts there are in the world! I entrust this heartfelt appeal to the Queen of Peace, so that she may present it to the Lord Jesus to obtain for us the miracle of peace.
And now I affectionately greet you all, Romans and pilgrims from various countries. I greet the members of the British and Foreign Bible Society, the group of doctors from Granada (Spain), the faithful of Malta, Panama, Dallas (Texas), Valladolid, Torrelodones (Madrid), Montesilvano, and Cinisi (Palermo).
I greet the participants in the “Let’s choose life” demonstration, the young people of the Fraternity of Blessed Mary Immaculate and Saint Francis of Assisi, of Reggio Emilia.
Today in Italy and in other countries we celebrate Mother’s Day. I send a fond greeting to all mothers, with a prayer for them, and for those who are already in Heaven.
Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers!
Thank you all, a happy Sunday to everyone!
Pope Francis Homilies
27.04.25 Holy Mass, St. Peter's Square, Divine Mercy Sunday, Second Sunday of Easter,
presided by Cardinal Pietro Parolin,
in suffrage for Pope Francis
John 20: 19-31
Homily of Cardinal Pietro Parolin
Dear brothers and sisters,
The risen Jesus appears to his disciples while they are in the Upper Room where they have fearfully shut themselves in, with the doors locked (Jn 20:19). Their state of mind is disturbed and their hearts are full of sadness, because the Master and Shepherd they had followed, leaving everything behind, has been nailed to the cross. They experienced terrible things and feel orphaned, alone, lost, threatened and helpless.
The opening image that the Gospel offers us on this Sunday can also well represent the state of mind of all of us, of the Church, and of the entire world. The shepherd whom the Lord gave to his people, Pope Francis, has ended his earthly life and has left us. The grief at his departure, the sense of sadness that assails us, the turmoil we feel in our hearts, the sense of bewilderment: we are experiencing all of this, like the apostles grieving over the death of Jesus.
Yet, the Gospel tells us that it is precisely in these moments of darkness that the Lord comes to us with the light of the resurrection, to illuminate our hearts. Pope Francis reminded us of this since his election and often repeated it to us, placing at the centre of his pontificate that joy of the Gospel which, as he wrote in Evangelii Gaudium, “fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus. Those who accept his offer of salvation are set free from sin, sorrow, inner emptiness and loneliness. With Christ joy is constantly born anew” (n. 1).
The joy of Easter, which sustains us in this time of trial and sadness, is something that can almost be touched in this square today; you can see it etched above all in your faces, dear children and young people who have come from all over the world to celebrate the Jubilee. You come from so many places: from all of the dioceses of Italy, from Europe, from the United States to Latin America, from Africa to Asia, from the United Arab Emirates… with you here, the whole world is truly present!
I address a special greeting to you, with the desire to make you feel the embrace of the Church and the affection of Pope Francis, who would have liked to meet you, to look into your eyes, and to pass among you to greet you.
In light of the many challenges you are called to confront - I think, for example, of the technology and artificial intelligence that characterise our age in a particular way - never forget to nourish your lives with the true hope that has the face of Jesus Christ. Nothing will be too great or too challenging with him! With him you will never be alone or abandoned, not even in the worst of times! He comes to meet you where you are, to give you the courage to live, to share your experiences, your thoughts, your gifts, and your dreams. He comes to you in the face of those near or far, a brother and sister to love, to whom you have so much to give and from whom so much to receive, to help you to be generous, faithful and responsible as you move forward in life. He wants to help you to understand what is most valuable in life: the love that encompasses all things and hopes all things (cf. 1 Cor 13:7).
Today, on the Second Sunday of Easter, Dominica in Albis, we celebrate the Feast of Divine Mercy.
It is precisely the Father’s mercy, which is greater than our limitations and calculations, that characterised the Magisterium of Pope Francis and his intense apostolic activity. Likewise the eagerness to proclaim and share God’s mercy with all - the proclamation of the Good News, evangelisation - was the principal theme of his pontificate. He reminded us that “mercy” is the very name of God, and, therefore, no one can put a limit on his merciful love with which he wants to raise us up and make us new people.
It is important to welcome as a precious treasure this principle on which Pope Francis insisted so much. And - allow me to say - our affection for him, which is being manifested in this time, must not remain a mere emotion of the moment; we must welcome his legacy and make it part of our lives, opening ourselves to God’s mercy and also being merciful to one another.
Mercy takes us back to the heart of faith. It reminds us that we do not have to interpret our relationship with God and our being Church according to human or worldly categories. The good news of the Gospel is first and foremost the discovery of being loved by a God who has compassionate and tender feelings for each one of us, regardless of our merits. It also reminds us that our life is woven with mercy: we can only get back up after our falls and look to the future if we have someone who loves us without limits and forgives us. Therefore, we are called to the commitment of living our relationships no longer according to the criteria of calculation or blinded by selfishness, but by opening ourselves to dialogue with others, welcoming those we meet along the way and forgiving their weaknesses and mistakes. Only mercy heals and creates a new world, putting out the fires of distrust, hatred and violence: this is the great teaching of Pope Francis.
Jesus shows us this merciful face of God in his preaching and in the deeds he performs. Furthermore, as we have heard, when he presents himself in the Upper Room after the resurrection, he offers the gift of peace and says: “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained” (Jn 20:23). Thus, the risen Lord directs his disciples, his Church, to be instruments of mercy for humanity for those willing to accept God’s love and forgiveness. Pope Francis was a shining witness of a Church that bends down with tenderness towards those who are wounded and heals with the balm of mercy. He reminded us that there can be no peace without the recognition of the other, without attention to those who are weaker and, above all, there can never be peace if we do not learn to forgive one another, showing each another the same mercy that God shows us.
Brothers and sisters, precisely on Divine Mercy Sunday we remember our beloved Pope Francis with affection. Indeed, such memories are particularly vivid among the employees and faithful of Vatican City, many of whom are present here, and whom I would like to thank for the service they perform every day. To you, to all of us, to the whole world, Pope Francis extends his embrace from Heaven.
We entrust ourselves to the Blessed Virgin Mary, to whom he was so devoted that he chose to be buried in the Basilica of Saint Mary Major. May she protect us, intercede for us, watch over the Church, and support the journey of humanity in peace and fraternity. Amen.
Pope Francis Homilies
Holy Mass 13.04.25
Palm Sunday: Passion of the Lord
Homily of Pope Francis read by H.E. Cardinal Leonardo Sandri
“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord” (Lk 19:38). So the crowd greeted Jesus as he entered Jerusalem. The Messiah entered through the gate of the holy city, thrown open to welcome the one who, a few days later, would leave through the same gate, this time cursed and condemned, bearing the cross.
Today we too have followed Jesus, first in a festive procession and then along a path of pain and sorrow, as we enter upon this Holy Week of preparation for the commemoration of the Lord’s passion, death and resurrection.
As we look at the faces of the soldiers and the tears of the women in the crowd, our attention is drawn to an unknown person whose name suddenly appears in the Gospel: Simon of Cyrene. He was the man seized by the soldiers who then “laid the cross on him, and made him carry it behind Jesus” (Lk 23:26). At that moment, he was coming in from the countryside. He happened to be passing by when he unexpectedly found himself caught up in a drama that overwhelmed him, like the heavy wood that was placed on his shoulders.
As we make our own way towards Calvary, let us reflect for a moment on Simon’s actions, try to look into his heart, and follow in his footsteps at the side of Jesus.
First of all, Simon’s actions were ambivalent. On the one hand, he was forced to carry the cross. He did not help Jesus out of conviction, but out of coercion. On the other hand, he then becomes personally involved in the Lord’s passion. Jesus’ cross becomes Simon’s cross. He was not the Simon, called Peter, who had promised to follow the Master at all times. That Simon disappeared on the night of betrayal, even after he had exclaimed: “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death” (Lk 22:33). The one who now follows Jesus is not that disciple, but this man from Cyrene. Yet the Master had clearly taught: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Lk 9:23). Simon of Galilee spoke but did not act. Simon of Cyrene acts but does not speak. Between him and Jesus, there is no dialogue; not a single word is spoken. Between him and Jesus, there is only the wood of the cross.
If we would know whether Simon of Cyrene helped or hated Jesus, in whose suffering he now had to share, whether he “took up” the Lord’s cross or simply carried it, we must look into his heart. While God’s heart is ever open, pierced by a pain that reveals his mercy, the human heart remains closed. We do not know what went on in Simon’s heart. Let us imagine ourselves in his place: would we feel anger or pity, compassion or annoyance? When we think of what Simon did for Jesus, we should also think of what Jesus did for Simon — what he did for me, for you, for each of us: he redeemed the world. The cross of wood that Simon of Cyrene bore is the cross of Christ, who himself bore the sins of all humanity. He bore them for love of us, in obedience to the Father (cf. Lk 22:42); he suffered with us and for us. In this unexpected and astonishing way, Simon of Cyrene becomes part of the history of salvation, in which no one is a stranger, no one a foreigner.
Let us follow, then, in Simon’s footsteps, for he teaches us that Jesus comes to meet everyone, in every situation. When we see the great crowds of men and women whom hatred and violence are compelling to walk the road to Calvary, let us remember that God has made this road a place of redemption, for he walked it himself, giving his life for us. How many Simons of Cyrene are there in our own day, bearing the cross of Christ on their shoulders! Can we recognize them? Can we see the Lord in their faces, marred by the burden of war and deprivation? Faced with the appalling injustice of evil, we never carry the cross of Christ in vain; on the contrary, it is the most tangible way for us to share in his redemptive love.
Jesus’ passion becomes compassion whenever we hold out our hand to those who feel they cannot go on, when we lift up those who have fallen, when we embrace those who are discouraged. Brothers and sisters, in order to experience this great miracle of mercy, let us decide how we are meant to carry our own cross during this Holy Week: if not on our shoulders, in our hearts. And not only our cross, but also the cross of those who suffer all around us; perhaps even the cross of some unknown person whom chance — but is it really chance? — has placed on our way. Let us prepare for the Lord’s paschal mystery by becoming each of us, for one another, a Simon of Cyrene.
Pope Francis Homilies
Palm Sunday: Passion of the Lord
Homily of Pope Francis read by H.E. Cardinal Leonardo Sandri
“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord” (Lk 19:38). So the crowd greeted Jesus as he entered Jerusalem. The Messiah entered through the gate of the holy city, thrown open to welcome the one who, a few days later, would leave through the same gate, this time cursed and condemned, bearing the cross.
Today we too have followed Jesus, first in a festive procession and then along a path of pain and sorrow, as we enter upon this Holy Week of preparation for the commemoration of the Lord’s passion, death and resurrection.
As we look at the faces of the soldiers and the tears of the women in the crowd, our attention is drawn to an unknown person whose name suddenly appears in the Gospel: Simon of Cyrene. He was the man seized by the soldiers who then “laid the cross on him, and made him carry it behind Jesus” (Lk 23:26). At that moment, he was coming in from the countryside. He happened to be passing by when he unexpectedly found himself caught up in a drama that overwhelmed him, like the heavy wood that was placed on his shoulders.
As we make our own way towards Calvary, let us reflect for a moment on Simon’s actions, try to look into his heart, and follow in his footsteps at the side of Jesus.
First of all, Simon’s actions were ambivalent. On the one hand, he was forced to carry the cross. He did not help Jesus out of conviction, but out of coercion. On the other hand, he then becomes personally involved in the Lord’s passion. Jesus’ cross becomes Simon’s cross. He was not the Simon, called Peter, who had promised to follow the Master at all times. That Simon disappeared on the night of betrayal, even after he had exclaimed: “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death” (Lk 22:33). The one who now follows Jesus is not that disciple, but this man from Cyrene. Yet the Master had clearly taught: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Lk 9:23). Simon of Galilee spoke but did not act. Simon of Cyrene acts but does not speak. Between him and Jesus, there is no dialogue; not a single word is spoken. Between him and Jesus, there is only the wood of the cross.
If we would know whether Simon of Cyrene helped or hated Jesus, in whose suffering he now had to share, whether he “took up” the Lord’s cross or simply carried it, we must look into his heart. While God’s heart is ever open, pierced by a pain that reveals his mercy, the human heart remains closed. We do not know what went on in Simon’s heart. Let us imagine ourselves in his place: would we feel anger or pity, compassion or annoyance? When we think of what Simon did for Jesus, we should also think of what Jesus did for Simon — what he did for me, for you, for each of us: he redeemed the world. The cross of wood that Simon of Cyrene bore is the cross of Christ, who himself bore the sins of all humanity. He bore them for love of us, in obedience to the Father (cf. Lk 22:42); he suffered with us and for us. In this unexpected and astonishing way, Simon of Cyrene becomes part of the history of salvation, in which no one is a stranger, no one a foreigner.
Let us follow, then, in Simon’s footsteps, for he teaches us that Jesus comes to meet everyone, in every situation. When we see the great crowds of men and women whom hatred and violence are compelling to walk the road to Calvary, let us remember that God has made this road a place of redemption, for he walked it himself, giving his life for us. How many Simons of Cyrene are there in our own day, bearing the cross of Christ on their shoulders! Can we recognize them? Can we see the Lord in their faces, marred by the burden of war and deprivation? Faced with the appalling injustice of evil, we never carry the cross of Christ in vain; on the contrary, it is the most tangible way for us to share in his redemptive love.
Jesus’ passion becomes compassion whenever we hold out our hand to those who feel they cannot go on, when we lift up those who have fallen, when we embrace those who are discouraged. Brothers and sisters, in order to experience this great miracle of mercy, let us decide how we are meant to carry our own cross during this Holy Week: if not on our shoulders, in our hearts. And not only our cross, but also the cross of those who suffer all around us; perhaps even the cross of some unknown person whom chance — but is it really chance? — has placed on our way. Let us prepare for the Lord’s paschal mystery by becoming each of us, for one another, a Simon of Cyrene.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Francis
Angelus message 06.04.25
Dear brothers and sisters,
The Gospel of this fifth Sunday of Lent presents to us the episode of the woman caught in adultery (Jn 8:1-11). While the scribes and the pharisees want to stone her, Jesus restores the lost beauty to this woman. She has fallen in the dust; Jesus passes his finger on this dust and writes a new story for her. It is the “finger of God”, who saves His children (cf. Ex 8:15) and frees them from evil (cf. Lk 11:20).
Dear friends,
As during my hospitalization, even now in my convalescence I feel the “finger of God” and experience His caring touch. On the day of the Jubilee of the sick and the world of healthcare, I ask the Lord that this touch of His love may reach those who suffer and encourage those who care for them. And I pray for doctors, nurses and health workers, who are not always helped to work in adequate conditions and are sometimes even victims of aggression. Their mission is not easy and must be supported and respected. I hope that the necessary resources will be invested in treatment and research, so that health systems are inclusive and attentive to the most fragile and the poorest.
I thank the inmates of Rebibbia women’s prison for the note they have sent to me. I pray for them and for their families.
On International Day of Sport for Development and Peace, I hope that sport may be a sign of hope for so many people who need peace and social inclusion, and I thank the sporting associations that educate in fraternity in practical way.
Let us continue to pray for peace: in tormented Ukraine, stricken by attacks that are claiming many civilian victims, including a lot of children. And the same is happening in Gaza, where people are reduced to living in unimaginable conditions, without shelter, without food, without clean water. May the weapons be silenced and dialogue resumed; may all the hostages be freed and aid brought to the population. Let us pray for peace throughout the Middle East; in Sudan and South Sudan; in the Democratic Republic of the Congo; in Myanmar, hard hit by the earthquake; and in Haiti, where violence rages, and two religious sisters were killed a few days ago.
May the Virgin Mary protect us and intercede for us.
Pope Francis Homilies
Angelus message 06.04.25
Dear brothers and sisters,
The Gospel of this fifth Sunday of Lent presents to us the episode of the woman caught in adultery (Jn 8:1-11). While the scribes and the pharisees want to stone her, Jesus restores the lost beauty to this woman. She has fallen in the dust; Jesus passes his finger on this dust and writes a new story for her. It is the “finger of God”, who saves His children (cf. Ex 8:15) and frees them from evil (cf. Lk 11:20).
Dear friends,
As during my hospitalization, even now in my convalescence I feel the “finger of God” and experience His caring touch. On the day of the Jubilee of the sick and the world of healthcare, I ask the Lord that this touch of His love may reach those who suffer and encourage those who care for them. And I pray for doctors, nurses and health workers, who are not always helped to work in adequate conditions and are sometimes even victims of aggression. Their mission is not easy and must be supported and respected. I hope that the necessary resources will be invested in treatment and research, so that health systems are inclusive and attentive to the most fragile and the poorest.
I thank the inmates of Rebibbia women’s prison for the note they have sent to me. I pray for them and for their families.
On International Day of Sport for Development and Peace, I hope that sport may be a sign of hope for so many people who need peace and social inclusion, and I thank the sporting associations that educate in fraternity in practical way.
Let us continue to pray for peace: in tormented Ukraine, stricken by attacks that are claiming many civilian victims, including a lot of children. And the same is happening in Gaza, where people are reduced to living in unimaginable conditions, without shelter, without food, without clean water. May the weapons be silenced and dialogue resumed; may all the hostages be freed and aid brought to the population. Let us pray for peace throughout the Middle East; in Sudan and South Sudan; in the Democratic Republic of the Congo; in Myanmar, hard hit by the earthquake; and in Haiti, where violence rages, and two religious sisters were killed a few days ago.
May the Virgin Mary protect us and intercede for us.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Francis Angelus message 30.03.25
Dear brothers and sisters, Happy Sunday!
In today's Gospel (Lk 15:1-3, 11-32) Jesus notices that the Pharisees are scandalized and murmur behind His back, instead of being happy because sinners come to Him. So Jesus tells them about a father who has two sons: one leaves home, but then, having been reduced to poverty, he returns and is welcomed with joy. The other, the ‘obedient’ son, is indignant at his father and does not want to enter the feast. This is how Jesus reveals the heart of God: He is always merciful towards all; he heals our wounds so that we can love each other as brothers.
Dearest friends, let us live this Lent as a time of healing, all the more as it is the Jubilee. I too am experiencing it this way, in my soul and in my body. That is why I give heartfelt thanks to all those who, in the image of the Saviour, are instruments of healing for their neighbour with their word and their knowledge, with kindness and with prayer. Frailty and illness are experiences we all have in common; all the more, however, we are brothers in the salvation Christ has given us.
Trusting in the mercy of God the Father, we continue to pray for peace: in martyred Ukraine, in Palestine, Israel, Lebanon, the Democratic Republic of Congo and Myanmar, which is also suffering so much because of the earthquake.
I am following the situation in South Sudan with concern. I renew my heartfelt appeal to all leaders to do their utmost to lower the tension in the country. We must put aside our differences and, with courage and responsibility, sit around a table and engage in constructive dialogue. Only in this way will it be possible to alleviate the suffering of the beloved South Sudanese people and to build a future of peace and stability.
And in Sudan, the war continues to claim innocent victims.
I urge the parties concerned in the conflict to put the safeguarding of the lives of their civilian brothers and sisters first; and I hope that new negotiations will begin as soon as possible, capable of securing a lasting solution to the crisis. May the international community increase its efforts to address the appalling humanitarian catastrophe.
Thanks be to God, there are also positive events: for example, the ratification of the Agreement on the demarcation of the border between Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, which is an excellent diplomatic achievement.
I encourage both countries to continue on this path.
May Mary, Mother of Mercy, help the human family to be reconciled in peace.
Pope Francis Homilies
Dear brothers and sisters, Happy Sunday!
In today's Gospel (Lk 15:1-3, 11-32) Jesus notices that the Pharisees are scandalized and murmur behind His back, instead of being happy because sinners come to Him. So Jesus tells them about a father who has two sons: one leaves home, but then, having been reduced to poverty, he returns and is welcomed with joy. The other, the ‘obedient’ son, is indignant at his father and does not want to enter the feast. This is how Jesus reveals the heart of God: He is always merciful towards all; he heals our wounds so that we can love each other as brothers.
Dearest friends, let us live this Lent as a time of healing, all the more as it is the Jubilee. I too am experiencing it this way, in my soul and in my body. That is why I give heartfelt thanks to all those who, in the image of the Saviour, are instruments of healing for their neighbour with their word and their knowledge, with kindness and with prayer. Frailty and illness are experiences we all have in common; all the more, however, we are brothers in the salvation Christ has given us.
Trusting in the mercy of God the Father, we continue to pray for peace: in martyred Ukraine, in Palestine, Israel, Lebanon, the Democratic Republic of Congo and Myanmar, which is also suffering so much because of the earthquake.
I am following the situation in South Sudan with concern. I renew my heartfelt appeal to all leaders to do their utmost to lower the tension in the country. We must put aside our differences and, with courage and responsibility, sit around a table and engage in constructive dialogue. Only in this way will it be possible to alleviate the suffering of the beloved South Sudanese people and to build a future of peace and stability.
And in Sudan, the war continues to claim innocent victims.
I urge the parties concerned in the conflict to put the safeguarding of the lives of their civilian brothers and sisters first; and I hope that new negotiations will begin as soon as possible, capable of securing a lasting solution to the crisis. May the international community increase its efforts to address the appalling humanitarian catastrophe.
Thanks be to God, there are also positive events: for example, the ratification of the Agreement on the demarcation of the border between Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, which is an excellent diplomatic achievement.
I encourage both countries to continue on this path.
May Mary, Mother of Mercy, help the human family to be reconciled in peace.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Francis Angelus message,
Greeting and Blessing 23.03.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
The parable in today’s Gospel tells us about the patience of God, who urges us to make our life a time of conversion. Jesus uses the image of a barren fig tree, which has not borne the anticipated fruit and which, nevertheless, the farmer does not want to cut down: he wants to fertilize it again since “it may bear fruit in the future” (Lk 13:9). This patient farmer is the Lord, who works the soil of our lives with care and waits confidently for our return to Him.
In this long period of my hospitalization, I have had the opportunity to experience the Lord’s patience, which I also see reflected in the tireless care of the doctors and healthcare workers, as well as in the care and hopes of the relatives of the sick. This trusting patience, anchored in God’s unfailing love, is indeed necessary in our lives, especially when facing the most difficult and painful situations.
I am saddened by the resumption of heavy Israeli bombing on the Gaza Strip, causing many deaths and injuries. I call for an immediate halt to the weapons; and for the courage to resume dialogue, so that all hostages may be released and a final ceasefire reached. In the Strip, the humanitarian situation is again very serious and requires urgent commitment from the conflicting parties and the international community.
On the other hand, I am pleased that Armenia and Azerbaijan have agreed on the final text of the peace agreement. I hope that it may be signed as soon as possible, and may thus contribute to establishing lasting peace in the South Caucasus.
You are continuing to pray for me with great patience and perseverance: thank you very much! I pray for you too. And together, let us pray for an end to wars and for peace, especially in tormented Ukraine, Palestine, Israel, Lebanon, Myanmar, Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
May the Virgin Mary keep you and continue to accompany us on our journey towards Easter.
Pope Francis Homilies
Greeting and Blessing 23.03.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
The parable in today’s Gospel tells us about the patience of God, who urges us to make our life a time of conversion. Jesus uses the image of a barren fig tree, which has not borne the anticipated fruit and which, nevertheless, the farmer does not want to cut down: he wants to fertilize it again since “it may bear fruit in the future” (Lk 13:9). This patient farmer is the Lord, who works the soil of our lives with care and waits confidently for our return to Him.
In this long period of my hospitalization, I have had the opportunity to experience the Lord’s patience, which I also see reflected in the tireless care of the doctors and healthcare workers, as well as in the care and hopes of the relatives of the sick. This trusting patience, anchored in God’s unfailing love, is indeed necessary in our lives, especially when facing the most difficult and painful situations.
I am saddened by the resumption of heavy Israeli bombing on the Gaza Strip, causing many deaths and injuries. I call for an immediate halt to the weapons; and for the courage to resume dialogue, so that all hostages may be released and a final ceasefire reached. In the Strip, the humanitarian situation is again very serious and requires urgent commitment from the conflicting parties and the international community.
On the other hand, I am pleased that Armenia and Azerbaijan have agreed on the final text of the peace agreement. I hope that it may be signed as soon as possible, and may thus contribute to establishing lasting peace in the South Caucasus.
You are continuing to pray for me with great patience and perseverance: thank you very much! I pray for you too. And together, let us pray for an end to wars and for peace, especially in tormented Ukraine, Palestine, Israel, Lebanon, Myanmar, Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
May the Virgin Mary keep you and continue to accompany us on our journey towards Easter.
Pope Francis Homilies
Pope Francis Angelus message 16.03.25
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today, the second Sunday of Lent, the Gospel tells us about the Transfiguration of Jesus (Lk 9:28-36). Having climbed to the top of a mountain with Peter, James and John, Jesus immerses Himself in prayer and becomes radiant with light. In this way, He shows the disciples what is hidden behind the gestures He performs in their midst: the light of His infinite love.
I am sharing these thoughts with you while I am facing a period of trial, and I join with so many brothers and sisters who are sick: fragile, at this time, like me. Our bodies are weak but, even like this, nothing can prevent us from loving, praying, giving ourselves, being for each other, in faith, shining signs of hope. How much light shines, in this sense, in hospitals and places of care! How much loving care illuminates the rooms, the corridors, the clinics, the places where the humblest services are performed! That is why I would like to invite you, today, to join me in praising the Lord, who never abandons us and who, in times of sorrow, places people beside us who reflect a ray of His love.
I thank you all for your prayers, and I thank those who assist me with such dedication. I know that many children are praying for me; some of them came here today to “Gemelli” as a sign of closeness. Thank you, dearest children! The Pope loves you and is always waiting to meet you.
Let us continue to pray for peace, especially in the countries wounded by war: tormented Ukraine, Palestine, Israel, Lebanon, Myanmar, Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
And let us also pray for the Church, required to translate into concrete choices the discernment made in the recent Synodal Assembly. I thank the General Secretariat of the Synod, which over the coming three years will accompany the local Churches in this undertaking.
May the Virgin Mary keep you and help you to be, like Her, bearers of Christ’s light and peace.
16.03.25
Pope Francis Homilies
Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!
Today, the second Sunday of Lent, the Gospel tells us about the Transfiguration of Jesus (Lk 9:28-36). Having climbed to the top of a mountain with Peter, James and John, Jesus immerses Himself in prayer and becomes radiant with light. In this way, He shows the disciples what is hidden behind the gestures He performs in their midst: the light of His infinite love.
I am sharing these thoughts with you while I am facing a period of trial, and I join with so many brothers and sisters who are sick: fragile, at this time, like me. Our bodies are weak but, even like this, nothing can prevent us from loving, praying, giving ourselves, being for each other, in faith, shining signs of hope. How much light shines, in this sense, in hospitals and places of care! How much loving care illuminates the rooms, the corridors, the clinics, the places where the humblest services are performed! That is why I would like to invite you, today, to join me in praising the Lord, who never abandons us and who, in times of sorrow, places people beside us who reflect a ray of His love.
I thank you all for your prayers, and I thank those who assist me with such dedication. I know that many children are praying for me; some of them came here today to “Gemelli” as a sign of closeness. Thank you, dearest children! The Pope loves you and is always waiting to meet you.
Let us continue to pray for peace, especially in the countries wounded by war: tormented Ukraine, Palestine, Israel, Lebanon, Myanmar, Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
And let us also pray for the Church, required to translate into concrete choices the discernment made in the recent Synodal Assembly. I thank the General Secretariat of the Synod, which over the coming three years will accompany the local Churches in this undertaking.
May the Virgin Mary keep you and help you to be, like Her, bearers of Christ’s light and peace.
16.03.25
Pope Francis Homilies
1st Sunday of Lent Year C
Luke 4: 1-13
Dear brothers and sisters,
The Gospel of the Liturgy today, first Sunday of Lent, takes us into the desert, where Jesus is led by the Holy Spirit, for forty days, to be tempted by the devil (cf. Lk 4:1-13). Jesus too was tempted by the devil, and He accompanies us, every one of us, in our temptations. The desert symbolizes the fight against the seductions of evil, to learn to choose true freedom. Indeed, Jesus lives the experience of the desert just before beginning his public mission. It is precisely through this spiritual combat that he decisively affirms what type of Messiah he intends to be. Not this type of Messiah, but that one: I would say that this is indeed the declaration of Jesus’ messianic identity, the messianic way of Jesus. “I am the Messiah, but on this path”. Let us then look closely at the temptations he is battling.
Twice the devil addresses him, saying: “If you are the Son of God…” (vv. 3, 9). He is thus proposing to him to exploit his position: first to satisfy the material needs he feels, hunger (cf. v. 3), then to increase his power (cf. vv. 6-7); and, finally, to have a prodigious sign from God (cf. vv. 9-11). Three temptations. It is as if he were saying, “If you are Son of God, take advantage of it!”. How often this happens to us: “But if you are in that position, take advantage of it! Don’t lose the opportunity, the chance”, that is, “think of your benefit”. It is a seductive proposal, but it leads you to the enslavement of the heart: it makes us obsessed with the desire to have, it reduces everything to the possession of things, power, fame. This is the core of the temptations. It is the “poison of the passions” in which evil is rooted. Look within ourselves, and we will find that our temptations always have this mindset, this way of acting.
But Jesus opposes the attractions of evil in a winning way. How does he do this? By responding to temptations with the Word of God, which says not to take advantage, not to use God, others and things for oneself, not to take advantage of one’s own position to obtain privileges. Because true happiness and true freedom are not found in possessing, but in sharing; not in taking advantage of others, but in loving them; not in the obsession of power, but in the joy of service.
Brothers and sisters, these temptations also accompany us on the journey of life. We must be vigilant – do not be afraid, it happens to everyone – and be vigilant, because they often present themselves under an apparent form of good. In fact, the devil, who is cunning, always uses deception. He wanted Jesus to believe that his proposals were useful to prove that he was really the Son of God. And he does so with us too: he often arrives “with sweet eyes”, “with an angelic face”; he even knows how to disguise himself with sacred, apparently religious motives!
And I would like to emphasize something. Jesus does not converse with the devil: he never conversed with the devil. Either he banished him, when he healed the possessed, or in this case, when he has to respond, he does so with the Word of God, never with his own word. Brothers and sisters, never enter into dialogue with the devil: he is more cunning than we are. Never! Cling to the Word of God like Jesus, and at most answer always with the Word of God. And on this path, we will never go wrong.
The devil does this with us: he often comes “with gentle eyes”, “with an angelic face”; he even knows how to disguise himself with sacred, apparently religious motives! If we give in to his flattery, we end up justifying our falsehood by disguising it with good intentions. For instance, how often have we heard “I have done strange things, but I have helped the poor”; “I have taken advantage of my role – as a politician, a governor, a priest, a bishop – but also for good”; “I have given in to my instincts, but in the end, I did no harm to anyone”, these justifications, and so on, one after the other. Please: no compromises with evil! No dialogue with the devil! We must not enter into dialogue with temptation, we must not fall into that slumber of the conscience that makes us say: “But after all, it's not serious, everyone does it”! Let us look at Jesus, who does not seek accommodation, does not make agreements with evil. He opposes the devil with the Word of God, who is stronger than the devil, and thus overcomes temptation.
May this time of Lent also be a time of the desert for us. Let us take time for silence and prayer – just a little, it will do us good – in these spaces let us stop and look at what is stirring in our hearts, our inner truth, that which we know cannot be justified. Let us find inner clarity, placing ourselves before the Word of God in prayer, so that a positive fight against the evil that enslaves us, a fight for freedom, may take place within us.
Let us ask the Blessed Virgin to accompany us in the Lenten desert and to help us on our way of conversion.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
Luke 4: 1-13
Dear brothers and sisters,
The Gospel of the Liturgy today, first Sunday of Lent, takes us into the desert, where Jesus is led by the Holy Spirit, for forty days, to be tempted by the devil (cf. Lk 4:1-13). Jesus too was tempted by the devil, and He accompanies us, every one of us, in our temptations. The desert symbolizes the fight against the seductions of evil, to learn to choose true freedom. Indeed, Jesus lives the experience of the desert just before beginning his public mission. It is precisely through this spiritual combat that he decisively affirms what type of Messiah he intends to be. Not this type of Messiah, but that one: I would say that this is indeed the declaration of Jesus’ messianic identity, the messianic way of Jesus. “I am the Messiah, but on this path”. Let us then look closely at the temptations he is battling.
Twice the devil addresses him, saying: “If you are the Son of God…” (vv. 3, 9). He is thus proposing to him to exploit his position: first to satisfy the material needs he feels, hunger (cf. v. 3), then to increase his power (cf. vv. 6-7); and, finally, to have a prodigious sign from God (cf. vv. 9-11). Three temptations. It is as if he were saying, “If you are Son of God, take advantage of it!”. How often this happens to us: “But if you are in that position, take advantage of it! Don’t lose the opportunity, the chance”, that is, “think of your benefit”. It is a seductive proposal, but it leads you to the enslavement of the heart: it makes us obsessed with the desire to have, it reduces everything to the possession of things, power, fame. This is the core of the temptations. It is the “poison of the passions” in which evil is rooted. Look within ourselves, and we will find that our temptations always have this mindset, this way of acting.
But Jesus opposes the attractions of evil in a winning way. How does he do this? By responding to temptations with the Word of God, which says not to take advantage, not to use God, others and things for oneself, not to take advantage of one’s own position to obtain privileges. Because true happiness and true freedom are not found in possessing, but in sharing; not in taking advantage of others, but in loving them; not in the obsession of power, but in the joy of service.
Brothers and sisters, these temptations also accompany us on the journey of life. We must be vigilant – do not be afraid, it happens to everyone – and be vigilant, because they often present themselves under an apparent form of good. In fact, the devil, who is cunning, always uses deception. He wanted Jesus to believe that his proposals were useful to prove that he was really the Son of God. And he does so with us too: he often arrives “with sweet eyes”, “with an angelic face”; he even knows how to disguise himself with sacred, apparently religious motives!
And I would like to emphasize something. Jesus does not converse with the devil: he never conversed with the devil. Either he banished him, when he healed the possessed, or in this case, when he has to respond, he does so with the Word of God, never with his own word. Brothers and sisters, never enter into dialogue with the devil: he is more cunning than we are. Never! Cling to the Word of God like Jesus, and at most answer always with the Word of God. And on this path, we will never go wrong.
The devil does this with us: he often comes “with gentle eyes”, “with an angelic face”; he even knows how to disguise himself with sacred, apparently religious motives! If we give in to his flattery, we end up justifying our falsehood by disguising it with good intentions. For instance, how often have we heard “I have done strange things, but I have helped the poor”; “I have taken advantage of my role – as a politician, a governor, a priest, a bishop – but also for good”; “I have given in to my instincts, but in the end, I did no harm to anyone”, these justifications, and so on, one after the other. Please: no compromises with evil! No dialogue with the devil! We must not enter into dialogue with temptation, we must not fall into that slumber of the conscience that makes us say: “But after all, it's not serious, everyone does it”! Let us look at Jesus, who does not seek accommodation, does not make agreements with evil. He opposes the devil with the Word of God, who is stronger than the devil, and thus overcomes temptation.
May this time of Lent also be a time of the desert for us. Let us take time for silence and prayer – just a little, it will do us good – in these spaces let us stop and look at what is stirring in our hearts, our inner truth, that which we know cannot be justified. Let us find inner clarity, placing ourselves before the Word of God in prayer, so that a positive fight against the evil that enslaves us, a fight for freedom, may take place within us.
Let us ask the Blessed Virgin to accompany us in the Lenten desert and to help us on our way of conversion.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
8th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
Luke 6: 39-45
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
In the Gospel of today’s Liturgy, Jesus invites us to reflect on the way we look and the way we speak. Our gaze and our speech.
First of all, our gaze. The risk we run, the Lord says, is that we concentrate on looking at the mote in our brother’s eye without noticing the beam in our own (cf. Lk 6: 41). In other words, being very attentive to the faults of others, even those as small as a speck, serenely overlooking our own, according them little weight. What Jesus says is true: we always find reasons for blaming others and justifying ourselves. And very often we complain about things that are wrong in society, in the Church, in the world, without first questioning ourselves and without making an effort to change ourselves first. Every fruitful, positive change must begin from ourselves. Otherwise, there will be no change. But, Jesus explains, by doing this, our gaze is blind. And if we are blind, we cannot claim to be guides and teachers for others: indeed, a blind man cannot lead another blind man, says the Lord (cf. v. 39).
Dear brothers and sisters, the Lord invites us to clean up our gaze. To clean up our gaze. He first asks us to look within ourselves to recognize our failings. Because if we are not capable of seeing our own defects, we will always be inclined to magnify those of others. If instead we acknowledge our own mistakes and our own flaws, the door of mercy opens up to us. And after looking within ourselves, Jesus invites us to look at others as he does – this is the secret, to look at others as he does – looking first not at evil, but at goodness. God looks at us in this way: he does not see irredeemable errors in us, but children who make mistakes. It is a change in outlook: he does not concentrate on the mistakes, but on the children who make mistakes. God always distinguishes the person from his errors. He always saves the person. He always believes in the person and is always ready to forgive errors. We know that God always forgives. And he invites us to do likewise: not to look for evil in others, but good.
After our way of looking, today Jesus invites us to reflect on our speech. The Lord explains that “out of the abundance of the heart [the] mouth speaks” (v. 45). It is true, from the way a person speaks, you can tell straight away what is in their heart. The words we use say who we are. At times, though, we pay scarce attention to our words and we use them superficially. But words carry weight: they enable us to express thoughts and feelings, to give voice to the fears we have and the plans we intend to realize, to bless God and others. Unfortunately, though, through language we can also feed prejudices, raise barriers, harm and even destroy; we can destroy our brothers with language. Gossip hurts and slander can be sharper than a knife! These days, especially in the digital world, words travel fast; but too many of them convey anger and aggression, feed false news and take advantage of collective fears to propagate distorted ideas. A diplomat, who was the Secretary General of the United Nations, said that “'to abuse words is to scorn the human being' (D. HAMMARSKJÖLD, Waymarks, Magnano BI 1992, 131).
Let us then ask ourselves what type of words we use: words that express care, respect, understanding, closeness, compassion, or words that aim mainly to make us look good in front of others? And then, do we speak mildly or do we pollute the world by spreading venom: criticizing, complaining, feeding widespread aggression?
May Our Lady, Mary, whose humility God has watched over, the Virgin of silence to whom we now pray, help us purify our gaze and our speech.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
Luke 6: 39-45
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
In the Gospel of today’s Liturgy, Jesus invites us to reflect on the way we look and the way we speak. Our gaze and our speech.
First of all, our gaze. The risk we run, the Lord says, is that we concentrate on looking at the mote in our brother’s eye without noticing the beam in our own (cf. Lk 6: 41). In other words, being very attentive to the faults of others, even those as small as a speck, serenely overlooking our own, according them little weight. What Jesus says is true: we always find reasons for blaming others and justifying ourselves. And very often we complain about things that are wrong in society, in the Church, in the world, without first questioning ourselves and without making an effort to change ourselves first. Every fruitful, positive change must begin from ourselves. Otherwise, there will be no change. But, Jesus explains, by doing this, our gaze is blind. And if we are blind, we cannot claim to be guides and teachers for others: indeed, a blind man cannot lead another blind man, says the Lord (cf. v. 39).
Dear brothers and sisters, the Lord invites us to clean up our gaze. To clean up our gaze. He first asks us to look within ourselves to recognize our failings. Because if we are not capable of seeing our own defects, we will always be inclined to magnify those of others. If instead we acknowledge our own mistakes and our own flaws, the door of mercy opens up to us. And after looking within ourselves, Jesus invites us to look at others as he does – this is the secret, to look at others as he does – looking first not at evil, but at goodness. God looks at us in this way: he does not see irredeemable errors in us, but children who make mistakes. It is a change in outlook: he does not concentrate on the mistakes, but on the children who make mistakes. God always distinguishes the person from his errors. He always saves the person. He always believes in the person and is always ready to forgive errors. We know that God always forgives. And he invites us to do likewise: not to look for evil in others, but good.
After our way of looking, today Jesus invites us to reflect on our speech. The Lord explains that “out of the abundance of the heart [the] mouth speaks” (v. 45). It is true, from the way a person speaks, you can tell straight away what is in their heart. The words we use say who we are. At times, though, we pay scarce attention to our words and we use them superficially. But words carry weight: they enable us to express thoughts and feelings, to give voice to the fears we have and the plans we intend to realize, to bless God and others. Unfortunately, though, through language we can also feed prejudices, raise barriers, harm and even destroy; we can destroy our brothers with language. Gossip hurts and slander can be sharper than a knife! These days, especially in the digital world, words travel fast; but too many of them convey anger and aggression, feed false news and take advantage of collective fears to propagate distorted ideas. A diplomat, who was the Secretary General of the United Nations, said that “'to abuse words is to scorn the human being' (D. HAMMARSKJÖLD, Waymarks, Magnano BI 1992, 131).
Let us then ask ourselves what type of words we use: words that express care, respect, understanding, closeness, compassion, or words that aim mainly to make us look good in front of others? And then, do we speak mildly or do we pollute the world by spreading venom: criticizing, complaining, feeding widespread aggression?
May Our Lady, Mary, whose humility God has watched over, the Virgin of silence to whom we now pray, help us purify our gaze and our speech.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
7th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
Luke 6: 27-38
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
In the Gospel of today’s Liturgy, Jesus gives some basic life guidance to the disciples. The Lord refers to the most difficult situations, those that constitute the litmus test for us, those that confront us with those who are enemies and hostile to us, those who are always trying to do us harm. In such cases, the disciple of Jesus is called not to give in to instinct and hatred, but to go further, much further. Go beyond instinct, go beyond hatred. Jesus says: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you” (Lk 6:27). And even more concretely: “To him who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also” (v. 29). When we hear this, it seems that the Lord is asking the impossible. And then, why love your enemies? If you do not react to the bullies, every abuse of power is given free rein, and this is not right. But is it really so? Does the Lord really ask impossible and indeed even unjust things of us? Is it so?
Let us consider first and foremost that sense of injustice that we feel in “turning the other cheek”. And let us think of Jesus. During the passion, in his unjust trial before the high priest, at one point he receives a slap from one of the guards. And how does He react? He does not insult him, no: he says to the guard, “If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness to the wrong; but if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” (Jn 18:23). He asks for an account of the wrong done to him. Turning the other cheek does not mean suffering in silence, giving in to injustice. Jesus, with his question, denounces what is unjust. But he does so without anger, without violence, indeed with kindness. He does not wish to spark off an argument, but rather to defuse resentment, this is important: to extinguish hatred and injustice together, seeking to restore the guilty brother. This is not easy, but Jesus did it and he tells us to do likewise. This is turning the other cheek: Jesus’ mildness is a stronger response to the slap he received. Turning the other cheek is not the withdrawal of the loser, but the action of one who has a greater inner strength. Turning the other cheek means defeating evil with the goodness that opens up a breach in the heart of the enemy, unmasking the absurdity of his hatred. And this attitude, this turning the other cheek, is dictated not by calculation or by hatred, but by love. Dear brothers and sisters, it is the freely given, undeserved love we receive from Jesus that generates in the heart a way of doing things that is similar to his, that rejects all vengeance. We are accustomed to revenge: “You did this to me, I will do that to you”, or to bearing a grudge in our heart, resentment that harms, destroys the person.
Let us come to another objection: is it possible for a person to come to love his or her enemies? If it depended only on us, it would be impossible. But let us recall that, when the Lord asks for something, he wishes to give it. The Lord never asks for something he has not already given us first. When he tells me to love my enemies, he wants to give me the capacity to do so. Without that ability, we would not be capable, but he tells you to “love your enemy” and gives you the capacity to love. Saint Augustine prayed in this way – listen to this beautiful prayer: Lord, “give what you command, and command what you will” (Confessions, X, 29.40), because you have already given it to me. What should we ask of him? What is God happy to give us? The strength to love, which is not a thing, but rather the Holy Spirit. The strength to love is the Holy Spirit, and with the Spirit of Jesus, we can respond to evil with good, we can love those who do us harm. This is what Christians do. How sad it is, when people and populations proud to be Christians see others as enemies and think to wage war against each other! It is very sad.
And us, shall we try to live following Jesus’ invitations? Think of someone who has wronged us. Each one of you, think of a person. It is common for us to be hurt by someone; think of that person. Perhaps we hold a grudge within. So, let us set alongside this resentment the image of Jesus, meek, during the trial, after the slap. And then let us ask the Holy Spirit to act in our heart. Finally, let us pray for that person: let us pray for those who have done us harm (see Lk 6:28). When people harm us, we immediately go and tell others and we feel we are victims. Let us stop, and pray to the Lord for that person, that he might help him or her, and so this feeling of resentment will be dispelled. Praying for those who have wronged us is the first step to transforming evil into good. Prayer. May the Virgin Mary help us be workers of peace towards everyone, especially those who are hostile to us and whom we do not like.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
Luke 6: 27-38
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
In the Gospel of today’s Liturgy, Jesus gives some basic life guidance to the disciples. The Lord refers to the most difficult situations, those that constitute the litmus test for us, those that confront us with those who are enemies and hostile to us, those who are always trying to do us harm. In such cases, the disciple of Jesus is called not to give in to instinct and hatred, but to go further, much further. Go beyond instinct, go beyond hatred. Jesus says: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you” (Lk 6:27). And even more concretely: “To him who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also” (v. 29). When we hear this, it seems that the Lord is asking the impossible. And then, why love your enemies? If you do not react to the bullies, every abuse of power is given free rein, and this is not right. But is it really so? Does the Lord really ask impossible and indeed even unjust things of us? Is it so?
Let us consider first and foremost that sense of injustice that we feel in “turning the other cheek”. And let us think of Jesus. During the passion, in his unjust trial before the high priest, at one point he receives a slap from one of the guards. And how does He react? He does not insult him, no: he says to the guard, “If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness to the wrong; but if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” (Jn 18:23). He asks for an account of the wrong done to him. Turning the other cheek does not mean suffering in silence, giving in to injustice. Jesus, with his question, denounces what is unjust. But he does so without anger, without violence, indeed with kindness. He does not wish to spark off an argument, but rather to defuse resentment, this is important: to extinguish hatred and injustice together, seeking to restore the guilty brother. This is not easy, but Jesus did it and he tells us to do likewise. This is turning the other cheek: Jesus’ mildness is a stronger response to the slap he received. Turning the other cheek is not the withdrawal of the loser, but the action of one who has a greater inner strength. Turning the other cheek means defeating evil with the goodness that opens up a breach in the heart of the enemy, unmasking the absurdity of his hatred. And this attitude, this turning the other cheek, is dictated not by calculation or by hatred, but by love. Dear brothers and sisters, it is the freely given, undeserved love we receive from Jesus that generates in the heart a way of doing things that is similar to his, that rejects all vengeance. We are accustomed to revenge: “You did this to me, I will do that to you”, or to bearing a grudge in our heart, resentment that harms, destroys the person.
Let us come to another objection: is it possible for a person to come to love his or her enemies? If it depended only on us, it would be impossible. But let us recall that, when the Lord asks for something, he wishes to give it. The Lord never asks for something he has not already given us first. When he tells me to love my enemies, he wants to give me the capacity to do so. Without that ability, we would not be capable, but he tells you to “love your enemy” and gives you the capacity to love. Saint Augustine prayed in this way – listen to this beautiful prayer: Lord, “give what you command, and command what you will” (Confessions, X, 29.40), because you have already given it to me. What should we ask of him? What is God happy to give us? The strength to love, which is not a thing, but rather the Holy Spirit. The strength to love is the Holy Spirit, and with the Spirit of Jesus, we can respond to evil with good, we can love those who do us harm. This is what Christians do. How sad it is, when people and populations proud to be Christians see others as enemies and think to wage war against each other! It is very sad.
And us, shall we try to live following Jesus’ invitations? Think of someone who has wronged us. Each one of you, think of a person. It is common for us to be hurt by someone; think of that person. Perhaps we hold a grudge within. So, let us set alongside this resentment the image of Jesus, meek, during the trial, after the slap. And then let us ask the Holy Spirit to act in our heart. Finally, let us pray for that person: let us pray for those who have done us harm (see Lk 6:28). When people harm us, we immediately go and tell others and we feel we are victims. Let us stop, and pray to the Lord for that person, that he might help him or her, and so this feeling of resentment will be dispelled. Praying for those who have wronged us is the first step to transforming evil into good. Prayer. May the Virgin Mary help us be workers of peace towards everyone, especially those who are hostile to us and whom we do not like.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
6th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
Luke 6: 17, 20-26
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
At the centre of the Gospel of today’s Liturgy are the Beatitudes (cf. Lk 6:20-23). It is interesting to note that Jesus, despite being surrounded by a great crowd, proclaims them by addressing them to “his disciples” (v. 20). He speaks to the disciples. Indeed, the Beatitudes define the identity of the disciple of Jesus. They may sound strange, almost incomprehensible to those who are not disciples; whereas, if we ask ourselves what a disciple of Jesus is like, the answer is precisely the Beatitudes. “Blessed are you poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God” (v. 20). Blessed are you poor. Jesus says two things to his people: that they are blessed and they are poor; indeed, that they are blessed because they are poor.
In what sense? In the sense that disciples Jesus do not find their joy in money, power, or other material goods; but in the gifts they receive every day from God: life, creation, brothers and sisters, and so on. These are gifts of life. They are content to share even the goods they possess, because they live according to the logic of God. And what is the logic of God? Gratuitousness. The disciple has learned to live in gratuitousness. This poverty is also an attitude towards the meaning of life, because Jesus’ disciples do not think about possessing it, about already knowing everything, but rather they know they must learn every day. And this is poverty: the awareness of having to learn every day. The disciple of Jesus, since he or she has this attitude, is a humble, open person, far from prejudice and inflexibility.
There was a good example in last Sunday’s Gospel reading: Simon Peter, an expert fisherman, accepts Jesus’ invitation to cast his nets at an unusual hour, and then, full of wonder at the miraculous catch, leaves the boat and all his goods to follow the Lord. Peter shows himself to be docile by leaving everything, and in this way, he becomes a disciple. Instead, those who are too attached to their own ideas and their own securities, find it difficult to truly follow Jesus. They follow him a little, only in those things in which “I agree with him and he agrees with me”, but then, as far as the rest is concerned, it goes no further. And this is not a disciple. Perhaps they listen to him, but they do not follow him. And so, they fall into sadness. They become sad because the accounts do not add up, because reality escapes their mentality and they find they are dissatisfied. Disciples, on the other hand, know how to question themselves, how to humbly seek God every day, and this allows them to delve into reality, grasping its richness and complexity.
In other words, the disciple accepts the paradox of the Beatitudes: they declare that those who are poor, who lack many goods and recognize this, are blessed, that is, happy. Humanly speaking, we are inclined to think in another way: happy are those who are rich, with many goods, who receive plaudits and are the envy of many, who have all the certainties. But this is a worldly mindset, it is not the way of thinking of the Beatitudes! Jesus, on the contrary, declares worldly success to be a failure, since it is based on a selfishness that inflates and then leaves the heart empty. Faced with the paradox of the Beatitudes, disciples allow themselves to be challenged, aware that it is not God who must enter into our logic, but we into his. This requires a journey, sometimes wearisome, but always accompanied by joy. Because the disciple of Jesus is joyful, with the joy that comes from Jesus. Because, let us remember, the first word Jesus says is: blessed, beati, which gives us the name of the Beatitudes. This is the synonym of being disciples of Jesus. The Lord, by freeing us from the slavery of self-centredness, breaks our locks, dissolves our hardness, and opens up to us true happiness, which is often found where we do not expect it to be. It is he who guides our life, not us, with our preconceptions and our demands. Disciples, in the end, are those who let themselves be led by Jesus, who open their heart to Jesus, who listen to him and follow his path.
We might then ask ourselves: do I – each one of us – have the disciple’s readiness? Or do I behave with the rigidity of one who believes him- or herself to be right, who feels decent, who feels they have already arrived? Do I allow myself to be “inwardly unhinged” by the paradox of the Beatitudes, or do I stay within the confines of my own ideas? And then, with the logic of the Beatitudes, setting aside the hardships and difficulties, do I feel the joy of following Jesus? This is the decisive trait of the disciple: the joy of the heart. Let’s not forget – the joy of the heart. This is the touchstone for knowing if a person is a disciple: does he or she have joy in the heart? Do I have joy in my heart? This is the point.
May Our Lady, first disciple of the Lord, help us live as open and joyful disciples.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
Luke 6: 17, 20-26
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
At the centre of the Gospel of today’s Liturgy are the Beatitudes (cf. Lk 6:20-23). It is interesting to note that Jesus, despite being surrounded by a great crowd, proclaims them by addressing them to “his disciples” (v. 20). He speaks to the disciples. Indeed, the Beatitudes define the identity of the disciple of Jesus. They may sound strange, almost incomprehensible to those who are not disciples; whereas, if we ask ourselves what a disciple of Jesus is like, the answer is precisely the Beatitudes. “Blessed are you poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God” (v. 20). Blessed are you poor. Jesus says two things to his people: that they are blessed and they are poor; indeed, that they are blessed because they are poor.
In what sense? In the sense that disciples Jesus do not find their joy in money, power, or other material goods; but in the gifts they receive every day from God: life, creation, brothers and sisters, and so on. These are gifts of life. They are content to share even the goods they possess, because they live according to the logic of God. And what is the logic of God? Gratuitousness. The disciple has learned to live in gratuitousness. This poverty is also an attitude towards the meaning of life, because Jesus’ disciples do not think about possessing it, about already knowing everything, but rather they know they must learn every day. And this is poverty: the awareness of having to learn every day. The disciple of Jesus, since he or she has this attitude, is a humble, open person, far from prejudice and inflexibility.
There was a good example in last Sunday’s Gospel reading: Simon Peter, an expert fisherman, accepts Jesus’ invitation to cast his nets at an unusual hour, and then, full of wonder at the miraculous catch, leaves the boat and all his goods to follow the Lord. Peter shows himself to be docile by leaving everything, and in this way, he becomes a disciple. Instead, those who are too attached to their own ideas and their own securities, find it difficult to truly follow Jesus. They follow him a little, only in those things in which “I agree with him and he agrees with me”, but then, as far as the rest is concerned, it goes no further. And this is not a disciple. Perhaps they listen to him, but they do not follow him. And so, they fall into sadness. They become sad because the accounts do not add up, because reality escapes their mentality and they find they are dissatisfied. Disciples, on the other hand, know how to question themselves, how to humbly seek God every day, and this allows them to delve into reality, grasping its richness and complexity.
In other words, the disciple accepts the paradox of the Beatitudes: they declare that those who are poor, who lack many goods and recognize this, are blessed, that is, happy. Humanly speaking, we are inclined to think in another way: happy are those who are rich, with many goods, who receive plaudits and are the envy of many, who have all the certainties. But this is a worldly mindset, it is not the way of thinking of the Beatitudes! Jesus, on the contrary, declares worldly success to be a failure, since it is based on a selfishness that inflates and then leaves the heart empty. Faced with the paradox of the Beatitudes, disciples allow themselves to be challenged, aware that it is not God who must enter into our logic, but we into his. This requires a journey, sometimes wearisome, but always accompanied by joy. Because the disciple of Jesus is joyful, with the joy that comes from Jesus. Because, let us remember, the first word Jesus says is: blessed, beati, which gives us the name of the Beatitudes. This is the synonym of being disciples of Jesus. The Lord, by freeing us from the slavery of self-centredness, breaks our locks, dissolves our hardness, and opens up to us true happiness, which is often found where we do not expect it to be. It is he who guides our life, not us, with our preconceptions and our demands. Disciples, in the end, are those who let themselves be led by Jesus, who open their heart to Jesus, who listen to him and follow his path.
We might then ask ourselves: do I – each one of us – have the disciple’s readiness? Or do I behave with the rigidity of one who believes him- or herself to be right, who feels decent, who feels they have already arrived? Do I allow myself to be “inwardly unhinged” by the paradox of the Beatitudes, or do I stay within the confines of my own ideas? And then, with the logic of the Beatitudes, setting aside the hardships and difficulties, do I feel the joy of following Jesus? This is the decisive trait of the disciple: the joy of the heart. Let’s not forget – the joy of the heart. This is the touchstone for knowing if a person is a disciple: does he or she have joy in the heart? Do I have joy in my heart? This is the point.
May Our Lady, first disciple of the Lord, help us live as open and joyful disciples.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
5th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
Luke 5: 1-11
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
The Gospel of today’s Liturgy takes us to the banks of the Sea of Galilee. The crowd is gathering around Jesus, while some disappointed fishermen, including Simon Peter, are washing their nets after a night of fishing that went badly. And so it is that Jesus climbs into Simon's boat; then he invites him to go out to sea and cast his nets again (cf. Lk 5:1-4). Let us pause on these two actions of Jesus: first he climbs into the boat and then, the second, he invites him to put out into the open water. It was a night that went badly, without fish, but Peter is trustful and sets out into open water.
First of all, Jesus gets into Simon’s boat. To do what? To teach. He asks for that very boat, which is not full of fish but rather has returned to the shore empty, after a night of toil and disillusionment. It is a beautiful image for us too. Every day the boat of our life leaves the shores of our home to sail out into the sea of daily activities; every day we try to “fish from the sea”, to cultivate dreams, to pursue projects, to experience love in our relationships. But often, like Peter, we experience the “night of empty nets” – the night of empty nets – the disappointment of trying so hard and not seeing the desired results: “We toiled all night and took nothing” (v. 5), says Simon. How often we too are left with a sense of defeat, while disappointment and bitterness arise in our hearts. Two very dangerous woodworms.
What does the Lord do then? He chooses to climb into our boat. From there he wants to proclaim the Gospel. It is precisely that empty boat, the symbol of our incapacity, that becomes Jesus’ “cathedra”, the pulpit from which he proclaims the Word. And this is what the Lord loves to do – the Lord is the Lord of surprises, of miracles in surprises: to climb into the boat of our lives when we have nothing to offer him; to enter our voids and fill them with his presence; to make use of our poverty to proclaim his wealth, our miseries to proclaim his mercy. Let us remember this: God does not want a cruise ship: a poor “ramshackle” boat is enough for him, as long as we welcome him. This yes, to welcome him; the boat doesn’t matter, but that we welcome him. But, I wonder, do we let him into the boat of our lives? Do we make available to him the little we have? Sometimes we feel unworthy of Him because we are sinners. But this is an excuse that the Lord does not like, because it distances Him from us! He is the God of closeness, compassion, tenderness, and he does not seek perfectionism: he seeks our welcome. He says to you too: “Let me get into the boat of your life”, “But Lord, look..” – “Like that, let me in, just as it is”. Think about this.
In this way, the Lord reconstructs Peter’s trust. When he climbs into the boat, after preaching, he says: “Put out a little from the land” (v. 4). It was not a good time of the day for fishing, in broad daylight, but Peter trusts in Jesus. He does not base his trust on the strategies of fishermen, which he knows well, but rather he founds it on the newness of Jesus. That wonder that moved him to do what Jesus told him. It is the same for us too: if we welcome the Lord into our boat, we can put out to sea. With Jesus, we navigate the sea of life without fear, without giving in to disappointment when we catch nothing, and without giving up and saying “there is nothing more to be done”. Always, in personal life as well as in the life of the Church and society, there is something beautiful and courageous that can be done, always. We can always start again – the Lord always invites us to get back on our feet because He opens up new possibilities. So let us accept the invitation: let us chase away pessimism and mistrust, and put out to sea with Jesus! Our little empty boat, too, will witness a miraculous catch.
Let us pray to Mary: who like no other welcomed the Lord into the boat of her life. May she encourage us and intercede for us.
https://www.popefrancishomilies.com/luke-chapter-3-6
Luke 5: 1-11
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
The Gospel of today’s Liturgy takes us to the banks of the Sea of Galilee. The crowd is gathering around Jesus, while some disappointed fishermen, including Simon Peter, are washing their nets after a night of fishing that went badly. And so it is that Jesus climbs into Simon's boat; then he invites him to go out to sea and cast his nets again (cf. Lk 5:1-4). Let us pause on these two actions of Jesus: first he climbs into the boat and then, the second, he invites him to put out into the open water. It was a night that went badly, without fish, but Peter is trustful and sets out into open water.
First of all, Jesus gets into Simon’s boat. To do what? To teach. He asks for that very boat, which is not full of fish but rather has returned to the shore empty, after a night of toil and disillusionment. It is a beautiful image for us too. Every day the boat of our life leaves the shores of our home to sail out into the sea of daily activities; every day we try to “fish from the sea”, to cultivate dreams, to pursue projects, to experience love in our relationships. But often, like Peter, we experience the “night of empty nets” – the night of empty nets – the disappointment of trying so hard and not seeing the desired results: “We toiled all night and took nothing” (v. 5), says Simon. How often we too are left with a sense of defeat, while disappointment and bitterness arise in our hearts. Two very dangerous woodworms.
What does the Lord do then? He chooses to climb into our boat. From there he wants to proclaim the Gospel. It is precisely that empty boat, the symbol of our incapacity, that becomes Jesus’ “cathedra”, the pulpit from which he proclaims the Word. And this is what the Lord loves to do – the Lord is the Lord of surprises, of miracles in surprises: to climb into the boat of our lives when we have nothing to offer him; to enter our voids and fill them with his presence; to make use of our poverty to proclaim his wealth, our miseries to proclaim his mercy. Let us remember this: God does not want a cruise ship: a poor “ramshackle” boat is enough for him, as long as we welcome him. This yes, to welcome him; the boat doesn’t matter, but that we welcome him. But, I wonder, do we let him into the boat of our lives? Do we make available to him the little we have? Sometimes we feel unworthy of Him because we are sinners. But this is an excuse that the Lord does not like, because it distances Him from us! He is the God of closeness, compassion, tenderness, and he does not seek perfectionism: he seeks our welcome. He says to you too: “Let me get into the boat of your life”, “But Lord, look..” – “Like that, let me in, just as it is”. Think about this.
In this way, the Lord reconstructs Peter’s trust. When he climbs into the boat, after preaching, he says: “Put out a little from the land” (v. 4). It was not a good time of the day for fishing, in broad daylight, but Peter trusts in Jesus. He does not base his trust on the strategies of fishermen, which he knows well, but rather he founds it on the newness of Jesus. That wonder that moved him to do what Jesus told him. It is the same for us too: if we welcome the Lord into our boat, we can put out to sea. With Jesus, we navigate the sea of life without fear, without giving in to disappointment when we catch nothing, and without giving up and saying “there is nothing more to be done”. Always, in personal life as well as in the life of the Church and society, there is something beautiful and courageous that can be done, always. We can always start again – the Lord always invites us to get back on our feet because He opens up new possibilities. So let us accept the invitation: let us chase away pessimism and mistrust, and put out to sea with Jesus! Our little empty boat, too, will witness a miraculous catch.
Let us pray to Mary: who like no other welcomed the Lord into the boat of her life. May she encourage us and intercede for us.
https://www.popefrancishomilies.com/luke-chapter-3-6
Feast of the Presentation of the Lord
World Day For Consecrated Life
Luke 2: 22-40
While the people waited for the Lord’s salvation the prophets announced his coming, as the prophet Malachi proclaims, “the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple; the messenger of the covenant in whom you delight, behold, he is coming.” (3:1). Simeon and Anna are the image and figure of this longing. Upon seeing the Lord enter his temple, they are enlightened by the Holy Spirit and recognize him as the child whom Mary carries in her arms. They had been waiting for him all their lives: Simeon, “righteous and devout, looking for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him” (Lk 2:25); Anna, who “did not depart from the temple” (Lk 2:37).
It is good for us to look at these two elders who were waiting patiently, vigilant in spirit and persevering in prayer. Their hearts have stayed awake, like an eternal flame. They are advanced in age, but young at heart. They do not let the days wear them down, for their eyes remain fixed on God in expectation (cf. Ps 145:15). Fixed on God in expectation, always in expectation. Along life’s journey, they have experienced hardships and disappointments, but they have not given in to defeat: they have not “retired” hope. As they contemplate the child, they recognize that the time has come, the prophecy has been fulfilled, the One they sought and yearned for, the Messiah of the nations, has arrived. By staying awake in expectation of the Lord, they are able to welcome him in the newness of his coming.
Brothers and sisters, waiting for God is also important for us, for our faith journey. Every day the Lord visits us, speaks to us, reveals himself in unexpected ways and, at the end of life and time, he will come. He himself exhorts us to stay awake, to be vigilant, to persevere in waiting. Indeed, the worst thing that can happen to us is to let “our spirit doze off”, to let the heart fall sleep, to anesthetize the soul, to lock hope away in the dark corners of disappointment and resignation.
I think of you, consecrated sisters and brothers, and of the gift that you are; I think of us Christians today: are we still capable of waiting? Are we not at times too caught up in ourselves, in things and in the intense rhythm of daily life to the point of forgetting God who always comes? Are we not too enraptured by our good works, which runs the risk of turning even religious and Christian life into having “many things to do” and neglecting the daily search for the Lord? Don’t we sometimes risk planning personal and community life by calculating the odds of success, instead of cultivating the small seed entrusted to us with joy and humility, with the patience of those who sow without expecting anything and those who know how to wait for God’s time and let him surprise us? We must recognize at times that we have lost the ability to wait. This is due to several obstacles, of which I would like to highlight two.
The first obstacle that makes us lose the ability to wait is neglect of the interior life. This is what happens when weariness prevails over amazement, when habit takes the place of enthusiasm, when we lose perseverance on the spiritual journey, when negative experiences, conflicts or seemingly delayed fruits turn us into bitter and embittered people. It is not good to ruminate on bitterness, because in a religious family, as in any community and family, bitter and “sour-faced” people are deflating, people who seem to have vinegar in their hearts. It is necessary then to recover the lost grace: to go back and, through an intense interior life, return to the spirit of joyful humility, of silent gratitude. This is nourished by adoration, by the work of the knees and the heart, by concrete prayer that struggles and intercedes, capable of reawakening a longing for God, that initial love, that amazement of the first day, that taste of waiting.
The second obstacle is adapting to a worldly lifestyle, which ends up taking the place of the Gospel. Ours is a world that often runs at great speed, that exalts “everything and now,” that is consumed in activism and seeks to exorcise life’s fears and anxieties in the pagan temples of consumerism or in entertainment at all costs. In such a context, where silence is banished and lost, waiting is not easy, for it requires an attitude of healthy passivity, the courage to slow our pace, to not be overwhelmed by activities, to make room within ourselves for God’s action. These are lessons of Christian mysticism. Let us be careful, then, that the spirit of the world does not enter our religious communities, ecclesial life and our individual journey, otherwise we will not bear fruit. The Christian life and apostolic mission need the experience of waiting. Matured in prayer and daily fidelity, waiting frees us from the myth of efficiency, from the obsession with performance and, above all, from the pretense of pigeonholing God, because he always comes in unpredictable ways, he always comes at times that we do not choose and in ways that we do not expect.
As the French mystic and philosopher Simone Weil states, we are the bride waiting in the night for the arrival of the bridegroom, and: “The role of the future wife is to wait…. To long for God and to renounce all the rest, that alone can save us” (Waiting for God, Milan 1991, 196). Sisters, brothers, let us cultivate in prayer the spirit of waiting for the Lord and learn about the proper “passivity of the Spirit”: thus, we will be able to open ourselves to the newness of God.
Like Simeon, let us also pick up this child, the God of newness and surprises. By welcoming the Lord, the past opens up to the future, the old in us opens up to the new that he awakens. This is not easy, we know this, because, in religious life as in the life of every Christian, it is difficult to go against the “force of the old”. “It is not easy for the old man in us to welcome the child, the new one – to welcome the new one, in our old age to welcome the new one – … The newness of God presents itself as a child and we, with all our habits, fears, misgivings, envies, – let us think of envies! – worries, come face to face with this child. Will we embrace the child, welcome the child, make room for the child? Will this newness really enter our lives or will we rather try to combine old and new, trying to let ourselves be disturbed as little as possible by the presence of God’s newness?” (C.M. MARTINI, Something So Personal. Meditations on Prayer, Milan 2009, 32-33).
Brothers and sisters, these questions are for us, for each of us, for our communities and for the Church. Let us be restless, let us be moved by the Spirit, like Simeon and Anna. If, like them, we live in expectation, safeguarding our interior life and in conformity with the Gospel, if, like them, we live in expectation, we will embrace Jesus, who is the light and hope of life.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 2
World Day For Consecrated Life
Luke 2: 22-40
While the people waited for the Lord’s salvation the prophets announced his coming, as the prophet Malachi proclaims, “the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple; the messenger of the covenant in whom you delight, behold, he is coming.” (3:1). Simeon and Anna are the image and figure of this longing. Upon seeing the Lord enter his temple, they are enlightened by the Holy Spirit and recognize him as the child whom Mary carries in her arms. They had been waiting for him all their lives: Simeon, “righteous and devout, looking for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him” (Lk 2:25); Anna, who “did not depart from the temple” (Lk 2:37).
It is good for us to look at these two elders who were waiting patiently, vigilant in spirit and persevering in prayer. Their hearts have stayed awake, like an eternal flame. They are advanced in age, but young at heart. They do not let the days wear them down, for their eyes remain fixed on God in expectation (cf. Ps 145:15). Fixed on God in expectation, always in expectation. Along life’s journey, they have experienced hardships and disappointments, but they have not given in to defeat: they have not “retired” hope. As they contemplate the child, they recognize that the time has come, the prophecy has been fulfilled, the One they sought and yearned for, the Messiah of the nations, has arrived. By staying awake in expectation of the Lord, they are able to welcome him in the newness of his coming.
Brothers and sisters, waiting for God is also important for us, for our faith journey. Every day the Lord visits us, speaks to us, reveals himself in unexpected ways and, at the end of life and time, he will come. He himself exhorts us to stay awake, to be vigilant, to persevere in waiting. Indeed, the worst thing that can happen to us is to let “our spirit doze off”, to let the heart fall sleep, to anesthetize the soul, to lock hope away in the dark corners of disappointment and resignation.
I think of you, consecrated sisters and brothers, and of the gift that you are; I think of us Christians today: are we still capable of waiting? Are we not at times too caught up in ourselves, in things and in the intense rhythm of daily life to the point of forgetting God who always comes? Are we not too enraptured by our good works, which runs the risk of turning even religious and Christian life into having “many things to do” and neglecting the daily search for the Lord? Don’t we sometimes risk planning personal and community life by calculating the odds of success, instead of cultivating the small seed entrusted to us with joy and humility, with the patience of those who sow without expecting anything and those who know how to wait for God’s time and let him surprise us? We must recognize at times that we have lost the ability to wait. This is due to several obstacles, of which I would like to highlight two.
The first obstacle that makes us lose the ability to wait is neglect of the interior life. This is what happens when weariness prevails over amazement, when habit takes the place of enthusiasm, when we lose perseverance on the spiritual journey, when negative experiences, conflicts or seemingly delayed fruits turn us into bitter and embittered people. It is not good to ruminate on bitterness, because in a religious family, as in any community and family, bitter and “sour-faced” people are deflating, people who seem to have vinegar in their hearts. It is necessary then to recover the lost grace: to go back and, through an intense interior life, return to the spirit of joyful humility, of silent gratitude. This is nourished by adoration, by the work of the knees and the heart, by concrete prayer that struggles and intercedes, capable of reawakening a longing for God, that initial love, that amazement of the first day, that taste of waiting.
The second obstacle is adapting to a worldly lifestyle, which ends up taking the place of the Gospel. Ours is a world that often runs at great speed, that exalts “everything and now,” that is consumed in activism and seeks to exorcise life’s fears and anxieties in the pagan temples of consumerism or in entertainment at all costs. In such a context, where silence is banished and lost, waiting is not easy, for it requires an attitude of healthy passivity, the courage to slow our pace, to not be overwhelmed by activities, to make room within ourselves for God’s action. These are lessons of Christian mysticism. Let us be careful, then, that the spirit of the world does not enter our religious communities, ecclesial life and our individual journey, otherwise we will not bear fruit. The Christian life and apostolic mission need the experience of waiting. Matured in prayer and daily fidelity, waiting frees us from the myth of efficiency, from the obsession with performance and, above all, from the pretense of pigeonholing God, because he always comes in unpredictable ways, he always comes at times that we do not choose and in ways that we do not expect.
As the French mystic and philosopher Simone Weil states, we are the bride waiting in the night for the arrival of the bridegroom, and: “The role of the future wife is to wait…. To long for God and to renounce all the rest, that alone can save us” (Waiting for God, Milan 1991, 196). Sisters, brothers, let us cultivate in prayer the spirit of waiting for the Lord and learn about the proper “passivity of the Spirit”: thus, we will be able to open ourselves to the newness of God.
Like Simeon, let us also pick up this child, the God of newness and surprises. By welcoming the Lord, the past opens up to the future, the old in us opens up to the new that he awakens. This is not easy, we know this, because, in religious life as in the life of every Christian, it is difficult to go against the “force of the old”. “It is not easy for the old man in us to welcome the child, the new one – to welcome the new one, in our old age to welcome the new one – … The newness of God presents itself as a child and we, with all our habits, fears, misgivings, envies, – let us think of envies! – worries, come face to face with this child. Will we embrace the child, welcome the child, make room for the child? Will this newness really enter our lives or will we rather try to combine old and new, trying to let ourselves be disturbed as little as possible by the presence of God’s newness?” (C.M. MARTINI, Something So Personal. Meditations on Prayer, Milan 2009, 32-33).
Brothers and sisters, these questions are for us, for each of us, for our communities and for the Church. Let us be restless, let us be moved by the Spirit, like Simeon and Anna. If, like them, we live in expectation, safeguarding our interior life and in conformity with the Gospel, if, like them, we live in expectation, we will embrace Jesus, who is the light and hope of life.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 2
Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
Sunday of the Word of God
Nehemiah 8: 2-4a, 5-6, 8-10,
Luke 1: 1-4, 4: 14-21
In the first reading and in the Gospel, we find two parallel acts. Ezra the priest lifts up the book of the law of God, opens it and reads it aloud before the people. Jesus, in the synagogue of Nazareth, opens the scroll of the Sacred Scripture and reads a passage of the prophet Isaiah in the presence of all. Both scenes speak to us of a fundamental reality: at the heart of the life of God’s holy people and our journey of faith are not ourselves and our own words. At its heart is God and his word.
Everything started with the word that God spoke to us. In Christ, his eternal Word, the Father “chose us before the foundation of the world” (Eph 1:4). By that Word, he created the universe: “he spoke, and it came to be” (Ps 33:9). From of old, he spoke to us through the prophets (cf. Heb 1:1), and finally, in the fullness of time (cf. Gal 4:4), he sent us that same Word, his only-begotten Son. That is why, in the Gospel, after reading from Isaiah, Jesus says something completely unexpected: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled” (Lk 4:21). Fulfilled: the word of God is no longer a promise, but is now fulfilled. In Jesus, it has taken flesh. By the power of the Holy Spirit, it has come to dwell among us and it desires to continue to dwell in our midst, in order to fulfil our expectations and to heal our wounds.
Sisters and brothers, let us keep our gaze fixed on Jesus, like those in the synagogue of Nazareth (cf. v. 20). They kept looking at him, for he was one of them, and asking, “What is this novelty? What will he do, this one, about whom everyone is speaking?” And let us embrace his word. Today let us reflect on two interconnected aspects of this: the word reveals God and the word leads us to man. The word is at the centre: it reveals God and leads us to man.
First, the word reveals God. Jesus, at the beginning of his mission, commenting on the words of the prophet Isaiah, announces a clear decision: he has come to liberate the poor and the oppressed (cf. v. 18). In this way, precisely through the scriptures, he reveals the face of God as one who cares for our poverty and takes to heart our destiny. God is not an overlord (padrone), aloof and on high – an ugly but untrue image of God – but a Father (Padre) who follows our every step. He is no cold bystander, detached and impassible, a “God of mathematics”. He is God-with-us, passionately concerned about our lives and engaged in them, even sharing our tears. He is no neutral and indifferent god, but the Spirit, the lover of mankind, who defends us, counsels us, defends us, sustains us and partakes of our pain. He is always present. This is the “good news” (v. 18) that Jesus proclaims to the amazement of all: God is close at hand, and he wants to care for me and for you, for everyone. That is how God is: close. He even defines himself as closeness. In Deuteronomy, he says to the people: “What other people has gods as close to them as I am to you?” (cf. Deut 4:7). A God of closeness, of compassionate and tender closeness. He wants to relieve the burdens that crush you, to warm your wintry coldness, to brighten your daily dreariness and to support your faltering steps. This he does by his word, by the word he speaks to rekindle hope amid the ashes of your fears, to help you rediscover joy in the labyrinths of your sorrows, to fill with hope your feelings of solitude. He makes you move forward, not in a labyrinth, but on a daily journey to find him.
Brothers and sisters: let us ask ourselves: do we bear within our hearts this liberating image of God, the God of closeness, compassion and tenderness, or do we think of him as a merciless judge, an accountant who keeps a record of every moment of our lives? Is ours a faith that generates hope and joy, or, among us, a faith still weighed down by fear, a fearful faith? What is the face of God that we proclaim in the Church? The Saviour who liberates and heals, or the Terrifying God who burdens us with feelings of guilt? In order to convert us to the true God, Jesus shows us where to start: from his word. That word, by telling us the story of God’s love for us, liberates us from the fears and preconceptions about him that stifle the joy of faith. That word overthrows false idols, unmasks our projections, destroys our all too human images of God and brings us back to see his true face, his mercy. The word of God nurtures and renews faith: let us put it back at the centre of our prayer and our spiritual life! Let us put at the centre the word that reveals to us what God is like. The word that draws us close to God.
Now the second aspect: the word leads us to man. To God and to man. Precisely when we discover that God is compassionate love, we overcome the temptation to shut ourselves up in a religiosity reduced to external worship, one that fails to touch and transform our lives. This is idolatry, hidden and refined, but idolatry all the same. God’s word drives us to go forth from ourselves and to encounter our brothers and sisters solely with the quiet power of God’s liberating love. That is exactly what Jesus shows us in the synagogue of Nazareth: he has been sent forth to the poor – all of us – to set them free. He has not come to deliver a set of rules or to officiate at some religious ceremony; rather, he has descended to the streets of our world in order to encounter our wounded humanity, to caress faces furrowed by suffering, to bind up broken hearts and to set us free from chains that imprison the soul. In this way, he shows us the worship most pleasing to God: caring for our neighbour. We need to come back to this. Whenever in the Church there are temptations to rigidity, which is a perversion, whenever we think that finding God means becoming more rigid, with more rules, right things, clear things… it is not the way. When we see proposals of rigidity, let us think immediately: this is an idol, it is not God. Our God is not that way.
Sisters and brothers, the word of God changes us. Rigidity does not change us, it hides us; the word of God changes us. It penetrates our soul like a sword (cf. Heb 4:12). If, on the one hand it consoles us by showing us the face of God, on the other, it challenges and disturbs us, reminding us of our inconsistencies. It shakes us up. It does not bring us peace at the price of accepting a world rent by injustice and hunger, where the price is always paid by the weakest. They always end up paying. God’s word challenges the self-justification that makes us blame everything that goes wrong on other persons and situations. How much pain do we feel in seeing our brothers and sisters dying at sea because no one will let them come ashore! And some people do this in God’s name. The word of God invites us to come out into the open, not to hide behind the complexity of problems, behind the excuse that “nothing can be done about it” or “it’s somebody else’s problem”, or “what can I do?”, “leave them there”. The word of God urges us to act, to combine worship of God and care for man. For sacred scripture has not been given to us for our entertainment, to coddle us with an angelic spirituality, but to make us go forth and encounter others, drawing near to their wounds. I spoke of rigidity, that modern pelagianism that is one of the temptations of the Church. And this other temptation, that of seeking an angelic spirituality, is to some extent the other temptation today: gnostic movements, a gnosticism, that proposes a word of God that puts you “in orbit” and does not make you touch reality. The Word that became flesh (cf. Jn 1:14) wishes to become flesh in us. His word does not remove us from life, but plunges us into life, into everyday life, into listening to the sufferings of others and the cry of the poor, into the violence and injustice that wound society and our world. It challenges us, as Christians, not to be indifferent, but active, creative Christians, prophetic Christians.
“Today” – says Jesus – “this scripture has been fulfilled” (Lk 4:21). The Word wishes to take flesh today, in the times in which we are living, not in some ideal future. A French mystic of the last century, who chose to experience the Gospel in the peripheries, wrote that the word of God is not “a ‘dead letter’; it is spirit and life… The listening that the word of the Lord demands of us is our ‘today’: the circumstances of our daily life and the needs of our neighbour” (Madeleine Delbrêl, La joie de croire, Paris, 1968). Let us ask, then: do we want to imitate Jesus, to become ministers of liberation and consolation for others, putting the word into action? Are we a Church that is docile to the word? A Church inclined to listen to others, engaged in reaching out to raise up our brothers and sisters from all that oppresses them, to undo the knots of fear, to liberate those most vulnerable from the prisons of poverty, from interior ennui and the sadness that stifles life? Isn’t that what we want?
In this celebration, some of our brothers and sisters will be instituted as readers and catechists. They are called to the important work of serving the Gospel of Jesus, of proclaiming him, so that his consolation, his joy and his liberation can reach everyone. That is also the mission of each one of us: to be credible messengers, prophets of God’s word in the world. Consequently, let us grow passionate about sacred scripture, let us be willing to dig deep within the word that reveals God’s newness and leads us tirelessly to love others. Let us put the word of God at the centre of the Church’s life and pastoral activity! In this way, we will be liberated from all rigid pelagianism, from all rigidity, set free from the illusion of a spirituality that puts you “in orbit”, unconcerned about caring for our brothers and sisters. Let us put the word of God at the centre of the Church’s life and pastoral activity. Let us listen to that word, pray with it, and put it into practice.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke
Sunday of the Word of God
Nehemiah 8: 2-4a, 5-6, 8-10,
Luke 1: 1-4, 4: 14-21
In the first reading and in the Gospel, we find two parallel acts. Ezra the priest lifts up the book of the law of God, opens it and reads it aloud before the people. Jesus, in the synagogue of Nazareth, opens the scroll of the Sacred Scripture and reads a passage of the prophet Isaiah in the presence of all. Both scenes speak to us of a fundamental reality: at the heart of the life of God’s holy people and our journey of faith are not ourselves and our own words. At its heart is God and his word.
Everything started with the word that God spoke to us. In Christ, his eternal Word, the Father “chose us before the foundation of the world” (Eph 1:4). By that Word, he created the universe: “he spoke, and it came to be” (Ps 33:9). From of old, he spoke to us through the prophets (cf. Heb 1:1), and finally, in the fullness of time (cf. Gal 4:4), he sent us that same Word, his only-begotten Son. That is why, in the Gospel, after reading from Isaiah, Jesus says something completely unexpected: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled” (Lk 4:21). Fulfilled: the word of God is no longer a promise, but is now fulfilled. In Jesus, it has taken flesh. By the power of the Holy Spirit, it has come to dwell among us and it desires to continue to dwell in our midst, in order to fulfil our expectations and to heal our wounds.
Sisters and brothers, let us keep our gaze fixed on Jesus, like those in the synagogue of Nazareth (cf. v. 20). They kept looking at him, for he was one of them, and asking, “What is this novelty? What will he do, this one, about whom everyone is speaking?” And let us embrace his word. Today let us reflect on two interconnected aspects of this: the word reveals God and the word leads us to man. The word is at the centre: it reveals God and leads us to man.
First, the word reveals God. Jesus, at the beginning of his mission, commenting on the words of the prophet Isaiah, announces a clear decision: he has come to liberate the poor and the oppressed (cf. v. 18). In this way, precisely through the scriptures, he reveals the face of God as one who cares for our poverty and takes to heart our destiny. God is not an overlord (padrone), aloof and on high – an ugly but untrue image of God – but a Father (Padre) who follows our every step. He is no cold bystander, detached and impassible, a “God of mathematics”. He is God-with-us, passionately concerned about our lives and engaged in them, even sharing our tears. He is no neutral and indifferent god, but the Spirit, the lover of mankind, who defends us, counsels us, defends us, sustains us and partakes of our pain. He is always present. This is the “good news” (v. 18) that Jesus proclaims to the amazement of all: God is close at hand, and he wants to care for me and for you, for everyone. That is how God is: close. He even defines himself as closeness. In Deuteronomy, he says to the people: “What other people has gods as close to them as I am to you?” (cf. Deut 4:7). A God of closeness, of compassionate and tender closeness. He wants to relieve the burdens that crush you, to warm your wintry coldness, to brighten your daily dreariness and to support your faltering steps. This he does by his word, by the word he speaks to rekindle hope amid the ashes of your fears, to help you rediscover joy in the labyrinths of your sorrows, to fill with hope your feelings of solitude. He makes you move forward, not in a labyrinth, but on a daily journey to find him.
Brothers and sisters: let us ask ourselves: do we bear within our hearts this liberating image of God, the God of closeness, compassion and tenderness, or do we think of him as a merciless judge, an accountant who keeps a record of every moment of our lives? Is ours a faith that generates hope and joy, or, among us, a faith still weighed down by fear, a fearful faith? What is the face of God that we proclaim in the Church? The Saviour who liberates and heals, or the Terrifying God who burdens us with feelings of guilt? In order to convert us to the true God, Jesus shows us where to start: from his word. That word, by telling us the story of God’s love for us, liberates us from the fears and preconceptions about him that stifle the joy of faith. That word overthrows false idols, unmasks our projections, destroys our all too human images of God and brings us back to see his true face, his mercy. The word of God nurtures and renews faith: let us put it back at the centre of our prayer and our spiritual life! Let us put at the centre the word that reveals to us what God is like. The word that draws us close to God.
Now the second aspect: the word leads us to man. To God and to man. Precisely when we discover that God is compassionate love, we overcome the temptation to shut ourselves up in a religiosity reduced to external worship, one that fails to touch and transform our lives. This is idolatry, hidden and refined, but idolatry all the same. God’s word drives us to go forth from ourselves and to encounter our brothers and sisters solely with the quiet power of God’s liberating love. That is exactly what Jesus shows us in the synagogue of Nazareth: he has been sent forth to the poor – all of us – to set them free. He has not come to deliver a set of rules or to officiate at some religious ceremony; rather, he has descended to the streets of our world in order to encounter our wounded humanity, to caress faces furrowed by suffering, to bind up broken hearts and to set us free from chains that imprison the soul. In this way, he shows us the worship most pleasing to God: caring for our neighbour. We need to come back to this. Whenever in the Church there are temptations to rigidity, which is a perversion, whenever we think that finding God means becoming more rigid, with more rules, right things, clear things… it is not the way. When we see proposals of rigidity, let us think immediately: this is an idol, it is not God. Our God is not that way.
Sisters and brothers, the word of God changes us. Rigidity does not change us, it hides us; the word of God changes us. It penetrates our soul like a sword (cf. Heb 4:12). If, on the one hand it consoles us by showing us the face of God, on the other, it challenges and disturbs us, reminding us of our inconsistencies. It shakes us up. It does not bring us peace at the price of accepting a world rent by injustice and hunger, where the price is always paid by the weakest. They always end up paying. God’s word challenges the self-justification that makes us blame everything that goes wrong on other persons and situations. How much pain do we feel in seeing our brothers and sisters dying at sea because no one will let them come ashore! And some people do this in God’s name. The word of God invites us to come out into the open, not to hide behind the complexity of problems, behind the excuse that “nothing can be done about it” or “it’s somebody else’s problem”, or “what can I do?”, “leave them there”. The word of God urges us to act, to combine worship of God and care for man. For sacred scripture has not been given to us for our entertainment, to coddle us with an angelic spirituality, but to make us go forth and encounter others, drawing near to their wounds. I spoke of rigidity, that modern pelagianism that is one of the temptations of the Church. And this other temptation, that of seeking an angelic spirituality, is to some extent the other temptation today: gnostic movements, a gnosticism, that proposes a word of God that puts you “in orbit” and does not make you touch reality. The Word that became flesh (cf. Jn 1:14) wishes to become flesh in us. His word does not remove us from life, but plunges us into life, into everyday life, into listening to the sufferings of others and the cry of the poor, into the violence and injustice that wound society and our world. It challenges us, as Christians, not to be indifferent, but active, creative Christians, prophetic Christians.
“Today” – says Jesus – “this scripture has been fulfilled” (Lk 4:21). The Word wishes to take flesh today, in the times in which we are living, not in some ideal future. A French mystic of the last century, who chose to experience the Gospel in the peripheries, wrote that the word of God is not “a ‘dead letter’; it is spirit and life… The listening that the word of the Lord demands of us is our ‘today’: the circumstances of our daily life and the needs of our neighbour” (Madeleine Delbrêl, La joie de croire, Paris, 1968). Let us ask, then: do we want to imitate Jesus, to become ministers of liberation and consolation for others, putting the word into action? Are we a Church that is docile to the word? A Church inclined to listen to others, engaged in reaching out to raise up our brothers and sisters from all that oppresses them, to undo the knots of fear, to liberate those most vulnerable from the prisons of poverty, from interior ennui and the sadness that stifles life? Isn’t that what we want?
In this celebration, some of our brothers and sisters will be instituted as readers and catechists. They are called to the important work of serving the Gospel of Jesus, of proclaiming him, so that his consolation, his joy and his liberation can reach everyone. That is also the mission of each one of us: to be credible messengers, prophets of God’s word in the world. Consequently, let us grow passionate about sacred scripture, let us be willing to dig deep within the word that reveals God’s newness and leads us tirelessly to love others. Let us put the word of God at the centre of the Church’s life and pastoral activity! In this way, we will be liberated from all rigid pelagianism, from all rigidity, set free from the illusion of a spirituality that puts you “in orbit”, unconcerned about caring for our brothers and sisters. Let us put the word of God at the centre of the Church’s life and pastoral activity. Let us listen to that word, pray with it, and put it into practice.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke
2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
John 2: 1-11
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
The Gospel of today’s liturgy recounts the episode of the wedding at Cana, where, to the couple’s delight, Jesus transformed water into wine. This is the way the account ends: “This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory; and his disciples believed in him” (Jn 2:11). We notice that the evangelist John does not speak of a miracle, that is, of a powerful and extraordinary deed that provokes wonder. He writes that a sign took place at Cana, a sign that sparked the faith of his disciples. We can, then, ask ourselves: What is a “sign” according to the Gospel?
It is a sign that gives a clue that reveals God’s love, that does not call attention to the power of the action, but to the love that caused it. It teaches us something about God’s love that is always near, tender and compassionate. Jesus’ first sign took place when a couple faced a difficulty on the most important day of their lives. Right in the middle of the feast, an essential element for a feast, the wine, is missing and their joy risked being snuffed out due to the criticism and dissatisfaction of the guests. Imagine how a wedding feast could go ahead only with water. How terrible! What a bad impression the couple would make.
It is Our Lady who became aware of the problem and discretely brought it to Jesus’ attention. And he intervened without fanfare, almost without making it obvious. Everything took place reservedly, everything took place “behind the scenes” – Jesus told the servants to fill the jars with water, then it became wine. This is how God acts, near to us and discretely. Jesus’ disciples understood this: they saw that, thanks to him, the wedding banquet became even more beautiful. And they saw the way Jesus acted as well – the way he served hiddenly (this is Jesus – he helps us, he serves us hiddenly) in that moment so much so that it was the groom who was complimented for the good wine. Nobody was aware of it, only the servants. This is how the seed of faith began to develop within them – that is, they believed that God, God’s love, was present in Jesus.
How beautiful it is to think that the first sign Jesus accomplished was not an extraordinary healing or something prodigious in the temple of Jerusalem, but an action that responded to a simple and concrete need of common people, a domestic gesture. Let us put it this way – a miracle done on tip toes, discretely, silently. Jesus is ready to help us, to lift us up. And then, if we are attentive to these “signs”, we will be conquered by his love and we will become his disciples.
But there is another distinctive characteristic about the sign at Cana. Generally, the wine provided at the end of the feast was not as good – this is still done today. At that point, people don’t distinguish as well if it is good wine or wine that’s been diluted a little. Jesus, instead, acts in such a way that the feast ends with better wine. Symbolically, this tells us that God wants what is better for us, he wants us to be happy. He does not set limits and he does not ask us for incentives. There is no place for ulterior motives or demands placed on the couple. No, the joy Jesus brought to their hearts was complete and disinterested joy, a joy that was not diluted, no!
So, I want to suggest an exercise to you that would be very good for us. Today, let us try to rummage through our memories, looking for the signs the Lord has accomplished in my life. Let each of us say: in my life, what are the signs the Lord has accomplished? What are the hints of his presence, the signs he has done to show that he loves us? Let us think about that difficult moment in which God allowed me to experience his love… And let us ask ourselves: what are the discrete and loving signs through which he has allowed me to feel his tenderness? When have I felt the Lord nearer to me? When have I felt his tenderness and his compassion more? Every one of us has these moments in our personal history. Let us go in search of these signs, let us remember them. How have I discovered his nearness and how did it fill my heart with great joy? Let us relive the moments in which we have experienced his presence and Mary’s intercession. May she, the Mother who is always attentive as at Cana, help us treasure the signs of God’s presence in our lives.
Pope Francis Homilies - John
John 2: 1-11
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
The Gospel of today’s liturgy recounts the episode of the wedding at Cana, where, to the couple’s delight, Jesus transformed water into wine. This is the way the account ends: “This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory; and his disciples believed in him” (Jn 2:11). We notice that the evangelist John does not speak of a miracle, that is, of a powerful and extraordinary deed that provokes wonder. He writes that a sign took place at Cana, a sign that sparked the faith of his disciples. We can, then, ask ourselves: What is a “sign” according to the Gospel?
It is a sign that gives a clue that reveals God’s love, that does not call attention to the power of the action, but to the love that caused it. It teaches us something about God’s love that is always near, tender and compassionate. Jesus’ first sign took place when a couple faced a difficulty on the most important day of their lives. Right in the middle of the feast, an essential element for a feast, the wine, is missing and their joy risked being snuffed out due to the criticism and dissatisfaction of the guests. Imagine how a wedding feast could go ahead only with water. How terrible! What a bad impression the couple would make.
It is Our Lady who became aware of the problem and discretely brought it to Jesus’ attention. And he intervened without fanfare, almost without making it obvious. Everything took place reservedly, everything took place “behind the scenes” – Jesus told the servants to fill the jars with water, then it became wine. This is how God acts, near to us and discretely. Jesus’ disciples understood this: they saw that, thanks to him, the wedding banquet became even more beautiful. And they saw the way Jesus acted as well – the way he served hiddenly (this is Jesus – he helps us, he serves us hiddenly) in that moment so much so that it was the groom who was complimented for the good wine. Nobody was aware of it, only the servants. This is how the seed of faith began to develop within them – that is, they believed that God, God’s love, was present in Jesus.
How beautiful it is to think that the first sign Jesus accomplished was not an extraordinary healing or something prodigious in the temple of Jerusalem, but an action that responded to a simple and concrete need of common people, a domestic gesture. Let us put it this way – a miracle done on tip toes, discretely, silently. Jesus is ready to help us, to lift us up. And then, if we are attentive to these “signs”, we will be conquered by his love and we will become his disciples.
But there is another distinctive characteristic about the sign at Cana. Generally, the wine provided at the end of the feast was not as good – this is still done today. At that point, people don’t distinguish as well if it is good wine or wine that’s been diluted a little. Jesus, instead, acts in such a way that the feast ends with better wine. Symbolically, this tells us that God wants what is better for us, he wants us to be happy. He does not set limits and he does not ask us for incentives. There is no place for ulterior motives or demands placed on the couple. No, the joy Jesus brought to their hearts was complete and disinterested joy, a joy that was not diluted, no!
So, I want to suggest an exercise to you that would be very good for us. Today, let us try to rummage through our memories, looking for the signs the Lord has accomplished in my life. Let each of us say: in my life, what are the signs the Lord has accomplished? What are the hints of his presence, the signs he has done to show that he loves us? Let us think about that difficult moment in which God allowed me to experience his love… And let us ask ourselves: what are the discrete and loving signs through which he has allowed me to feel his tenderness? When have I felt the Lord nearer to me? When have I felt his tenderness and his compassion more? Every one of us has these moments in our personal history. Let us go in search of these signs, let us remember them. How have I discovered his nearness and how did it fill my heart with great joy? Let us relive the moments in which we have experienced his presence and Mary’s intercession. May she, the Mother who is always attentive as at Cana, help us treasure the signs of God’s presence in our lives.
Pope Francis Homilies - John
Feast of the Baptism of the Lord Year C
Luke 3: 15-16, 21-22
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
The Gospel of today’s Liturgy shows us the scene with which Jesus’ public life begins: he, who is the Son of God and the Messiah, goes to the banks of the Jordan River to be baptized by John the Baptist. After about thirty years of hidden life, Jesus does not present himself with a miracle, or by rising to the podium to teach. He lines up with the people who were going to receive baptism from John. Today’s liturgical hymn says that the people went to be baptized with a bare soul and bare feet, humbly. This is a beautiful attitude, with a bare soul and bare feet. And Jesus shares the plight of us sinners, he comes down towards us; he descends into the river, and at the same time into the wounded history of humanity, he immerses himself in our waters to heal them, and he immerses himself with us, in our midst. He does not rise up above us, but rather comes down towards us with a bare soul, with bare feet, like the people. He does not come by himself, nor does he come with a select, privileged group. No: he comes with the people. He belongs to the people and he comes with them to be baptized, with these humble people.
Let us reflect on an important point: at the moment in which Jesus receives Baptism, the text says that he “was praying” (Lk 3:21). It is good for us to contemplate this: Jesus prays. But why? He, the Lord, the Son of God, prays like us? Yes, Jesus – the Gospels repeat this many times – spends a lot of time in prayer: at the beginning of every day, often at night, before making important decisions… His prayer is a dialogue, a relationship with the Father. Thus, in today’s Gospel, we can see the “two moments” in the life of Jesus: on the one hand, he descends towards us into the waters of the Jordan; on the other, he raises his eyes and his heart, praying to the Father.
It is a tremendous lesson for us: we are all immersed in the problems of life and in many complicated situations, called upon to face difficult moments and choices that get us down. But, if we do not want to be crushed, we need to raise everything upwards. And this is exactly what prayer does. It is not an escape route; prayer is not a magic ritual or a repetition of memorized jingles. No. Prayer is the way we allow God to act in us, to understand what he wants to communicate to us even in the most difficult situations, prayer is having the strength to go forward. Many people feel they can’t go on, and pray: “Lord, give me the strength to continue”. We too, very often, have done this. Prayer helps us because it unites us to God, it opens us up to encountering him. Yes, prayer is the key that opens our heart to the Lord. It is dialoguing with God, it is listening to his Word, it is worshipping: remaining in silence, entrusting to him what we are experiencing. And at times it is also crying out with him like Job, other times it is venting with Him. Crying out like Job; He is the father, He understands well. He never gets angry with us. And Jesus prays.
Prayer – to use a beautiful image from today’s Gospel – “opens the heavens” (cf. v. 21). Prayer opens the heavens: it gives life oxygen, a breath of fresh air amidst life’s troubles and allows us to see things from a broader perspective. Above all, it enables us to have the same experience of Jesus by the Jordan River: it makes us feel like beloved children of the Father. When we pray, the Father says to us too, as he does to Jesus in the Gospel: “You are my beloved child” (cf. v. 22). Being God’s children began on the day of our Baptism, which immersed us in Christ and, as members of the people of God, we became beloved children of the Father. Let us not forget the date of our Baptism! If I were to ask each one of you now: what is the date of your Baptism? Perhaps some of you don’t remember. This is a beautiful thing: remembering the date of your baptism, because it is our rebirth, the moment in which we became children of God with Jesus! And when you return home – if you don’t know – ask your mother, your aunt, your grandmother or your grandfather: “When was I baptized?”, and remember that date so as to celebrate it, to thank the Lord. And today, at this moment, let us ask ourselves: how is my prayer going?
Do I pray out of habit, do I pray unwillingly, just reciting formulas, or is my prayer an encounter with God? I, a sinner, always with the people of God, never isolated? Do I cultivate intimacy with God, dialogue with Him, listen to his Word? Among the many things we do each day, let us not neglect prayer: let us dedicate time to it, let us use short invocations to be repeated often, let us read the Gospel every day. The prayer that opens the heavens.
And now, let us turn to Our Lady, the prayerful Virgin, who made her life into a hymn in praise of God.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
Luke 3: 15-16, 21-22
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
The Gospel of today’s Liturgy shows us the scene with which Jesus’ public life begins: he, who is the Son of God and the Messiah, goes to the banks of the Jordan River to be baptized by John the Baptist. After about thirty years of hidden life, Jesus does not present himself with a miracle, or by rising to the podium to teach. He lines up with the people who were going to receive baptism from John. Today’s liturgical hymn says that the people went to be baptized with a bare soul and bare feet, humbly. This is a beautiful attitude, with a bare soul and bare feet. And Jesus shares the plight of us sinners, he comes down towards us; he descends into the river, and at the same time into the wounded history of humanity, he immerses himself in our waters to heal them, and he immerses himself with us, in our midst. He does not rise up above us, but rather comes down towards us with a bare soul, with bare feet, like the people. He does not come by himself, nor does he come with a select, privileged group. No: he comes with the people. He belongs to the people and he comes with them to be baptized, with these humble people.
Let us reflect on an important point: at the moment in which Jesus receives Baptism, the text says that he “was praying” (Lk 3:21). It is good for us to contemplate this: Jesus prays. But why? He, the Lord, the Son of God, prays like us? Yes, Jesus – the Gospels repeat this many times – spends a lot of time in prayer: at the beginning of every day, often at night, before making important decisions… His prayer is a dialogue, a relationship with the Father. Thus, in today’s Gospel, we can see the “two moments” in the life of Jesus: on the one hand, he descends towards us into the waters of the Jordan; on the other, he raises his eyes and his heart, praying to the Father.
It is a tremendous lesson for us: we are all immersed in the problems of life and in many complicated situations, called upon to face difficult moments and choices that get us down. But, if we do not want to be crushed, we need to raise everything upwards. And this is exactly what prayer does. It is not an escape route; prayer is not a magic ritual or a repetition of memorized jingles. No. Prayer is the way we allow God to act in us, to understand what he wants to communicate to us even in the most difficult situations, prayer is having the strength to go forward. Many people feel they can’t go on, and pray: “Lord, give me the strength to continue”. We too, very often, have done this. Prayer helps us because it unites us to God, it opens us up to encountering him. Yes, prayer is the key that opens our heart to the Lord. It is dialoguing with God, it is listening to his Word, it is worshipping: remaining in silence, entrusting to him what we are experiencing. And at times it is also crying out with him like Job, other times it is venting with Him. Crying out like Job; He is the father, He understands well. He never gets angry with us. And Jesus prays.
Prayer – to use a beautiful image from today’s Gospel – “opens the heavens” (cf. v. 21). Prayer opens the heavens: it gives life oxygen, a breath of fresh air amidst life’s troubles and allows us to see things from a broader perspective. Above all, it enables us to have the same experience of Jesus by the Jordan River: it makes us feel like beloved children of the Father. When we pray, the Father says to us too, as he does to Jesus in the Gospel: “You are my beloved child” (cf. v. 22). Being God’s children began on the day of our Baptism, which immersed us in Christ and, as members of the people of God, we became beloved children of the Father. Let us not forget the date of our Baptism! If I were to ask each one of you now: what is the date of your Baptism? Perhaps some of you don’t remember. This is a beautiful thing: remembering the date of your baptism, because it is our rebirth, the moment in which we became children of God with Jesus! And when you return home – if you don’t know – ask your mother, your aunt, your grandmother or your grandfather: “When was I baptized?”, and remember that date so as to celebrate it, to thank the Lord. And today, at this moment, let us ask ourselves: how is my prayer going?
Do I pray out of habit, do I pray unwillingly, just reciting formulas, or is my prayer an encounter with God? I, a sinner, always with the people of God, never isolated? Do I cultivate intimacy with God, dialogue with Him, listen to his Word? Among the many things we do each day, let us not neglect prayer: let us dedicate time to it, let us use short invocations to be repeated often, let us read the Gospel every day. The prayer that opens the heavens.
And now, let us turn to Our Lady, the prayerful Virgin, who made her life into a hymn in praise of God.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
4th Sunday of Advent Year C
Luke 1: 39-45
Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!
The Gospel of the Liturgy of today, fourth Sunday of Advent, tells of Mary’s visit to Elizabeth (cf. Lk 1: 39-45). After receiving the annunciation of the angel, the Virgin does not stay at home, thinking over what has happened and considering the problems and pitfalls, which were certainly not lacking: because, poor girl, she did not know what to do with this news, with the culture of that age… She did not understand… On the contrary, she first thinks of someone in need; instead of being absorbed in her own problems, she thinks about someone in need, she thinks about Elizabeth, her relative, who was of advanced years and with child, something strange and miraculous. Mary sets out on with generosity, without letting herself be put off by the discomforts of the journey, responding to an inner impulse that called her to be close and to help. A long road, kilometre after kilometre, and there was no bus to go there: she went on foot. She went out to help. How? By sharing her joy. Mary gives Elizabeth the joy of Jesus, the joy she carried in her heart and in her womb. She goes to her and proclaims her feelings, and this proclamation of feelings then became a prayer, the Magnificat, which we all know. And the text says that Our Lady “arose and went with haste” (v. 39).
She arose and went. In the last stretch of the journey of Advent, let us be guided by these two verbs. To arise and to go in haste: these are the two movements that Mary made and that she invites us also to make as Christmas approaches. First of all, arise. After the angel’s announcement, a difficult period loomed ahead for the Virgin: her unexpected pregnancy exposed her to misunderstandings and even severe punishment, even stoning, in the culture of that time. Imagine how many concerns and worries she had! Nevertheless, she did not become discouraged, she was not disheartened: she arose. She did not look down at her problems, but up to God. And she did not think about whom to ask for help, but to whom to bring help. She always thinks about others: that is Mary, always thinking of the needs of others. She will do the same later, at the wedding in Cana, when she realizes that there is no more wine. It is a problem for other people, but she thinks about this and looks for a solution. Mary always thinks about others. She also thinks of us.
Let us learn from Our Lady this way of reacting: to get up, especially when difficulties threaten to crush us. To arise, so as not to get bogged down in problems, sinking into self-pity or falling into a sadness that paralyses us. But why get up? Because God is great and is ready to lift us up if we reach out to Him. So let us cast away the negative thoughts, the fears that block every impulse and that prevent us from moving forward. And then let’s do as Mary did: let's look around and look for someone to whom we can be of help! Is there an elderly person I know to whom I can give a little help, company? Everyone, think about it. Or to offer a service to someone, a kindness, a phone call? But who can I help? I get up and I help. By helping others, we help ourselves to rise up from difficulties.
The second movement is to go in haste. This does not mean to proceed with agitation, in a hurried manner, no, it does not mean this. Instead, it means conducting our days with a joyful step, looking ahead with confidence, without dragging our feet, as slaves to complaints – these complaints ruin so many lives, because one starts complaining and complaining, and life drains away. Complaining leads you always to look for someone to blame. On her way to Elizabeth’s house, Mary proceeds with the quick step of one whose heart and life are full of God, full of his joy. So, let us ask ourselves, for our benefit: how is my “step”? Am I proactive or do I linger in melancholy, in sadness? Do I move forward with hope or do I stop and feel sorry for myself? If we proceed with the tired step of grumbling and talking, we will not bring God to anyone, we will only bring bitterness and dark things. Instead, it does great good to cultivate a healthy sense of humour, as did, for example, Saint Thomas More or Saint Philip Neri. We can also ask for this grace, this grace of a healthy sense of humour: it does so much good. Let us not forget that the first act of charity we can do for our neighbour is to offer him a serene and smiling face. It is to bring them the joy of Jesus, as Mary did with Elizabeth.
May the Mother of God take us by the hand, and may she help us to arise and to go in haste towards Christmas!
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke
Luke 1: 39-45
Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!
The Gospel of the Liturgy of today, fourth Sunday of Advent, tells of Mary’s visit to Elizabeth (cf. Lk 1: 39-45). After receiving the annunciation of the angel, the Virgin does not stay at home, thinking over what has happened and considering the problems and pitfalls, which were certainly not lacking: because, poor girl, she did not know what to do with this news, with the culture of that age… She did not understand… On the contrary, she first thinks of someone in need; instead of being absorbed in her own problems, she thinks about someone in need, she thinks about Elizabeth, her relative, who was of advanced years and with child, something strange and miraculous. Mary sets out on with generosity, without letting herself be put off by the discomforts of the journey, responding to an inner impulse that called her to be close and to help. A long road, kilometre after kilometre, and there was no bus to go there: she went on foot. She went out to help. How? By sharing her joy. Mary gives Elizabeth the joy of Jesus, the joy she carried in her heart and in her womb. She goes to her and proclaims her feelings, and this proclamation of feelings then became a prayer, the Magnificat, which we all know. And the text says that Our Lady “arose and went with haste” (v. 39).
She arose and went. In the last stretch of the journey of Advent, let us be guided by these two verbs. To arise and to go in haste: these are the two movements that Mary made and that she invites us also to make as Christmas approaches. First of all, arise. After the angel’s announcement, a difficult period loomed ahead for the Virgin: her unexpected pregnancy exposed her to misunderstandings and even severe punishment, even stoning, in the culture of that time. Imagine how many concerns and worries she had! Nevertheless, she did not become discouraged, she was not disheartened: she arose. She did not look down at her problems, but up to God. And she did not think about whom to ask for help, but to whom to bring help. She always thinks about others: that is Mary, always thinking of the needs of others. She will do the same later, at the wedding in Cana, when she realizes that there is no more wine. It is a problem for other people, but she thinks about this and looks for a solution. Mary always thinks about others. She also thinks of us.
Let us learn from Our Lady this way of reacting: to get up, especially when difficulties threaten to crush us. To arise, so as not to get bogged down in problems, sinking into self-pity or falling into a sadness that paralyses us. But why get up? Because God is great and is ready to lift us up if we reach out to Him. So let us cast away the negative thoughts, the fears that block every impulse and that prevent us from moving forward. And then let’s do as Mary did: let's look around and look for someone to whom we can be of help! Is there an elderly person I know to whom I can give a little help, company? Everyone, think about it. Or to offer a service to someone, a kindness, a phone call? But who can I help? I get up and I help. By helping others, we help ourselves to rise up from difficulties.
The second movement is to go in haste. This does not mean to proceed with agitation, in a hurried manner, no, it does not mean this. Instead, it means conducting our days with a joyful step, looking ahead with confidence, without dragging our feet, as slaves to complaints – these complaints ruin so many lives, because one starts complaining and complaining, and life drains away. Complaining leads you always to look for someone to blame. On her way to Elizabeth’s house, Mary proceeds with the quick step of one whose heart and life are full of God, full of his joy. So, let us ask ourselves, for our benefit: how is my “step”? Am I proactive or do I linger in melancholy, in sadness? Do I move forward with hope or do I stop and feel sorry for myself? If we proceed with the tired step of grumbling and talking, we will not bring God to anyone, we will only bring bitterness and dark things. Instead, it does great good to cultivate a healthy sense of humour, as did, for example, Saint Thomas More or Saint Philip Neri. We can also ask for this grace, this grace of a healthy sense of humour: it does so much good. Let us not forget that the first act of charity we can do for our neighbour is to offer him a serene and smiling face. It is to bring them the joy of Jesus, as Mary did with Elizabeth.
May the Mother of God take us by the hand, and may she help us to arise and to go in haste towards Christmas!
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke
3rd Sunday of Advent Year C
Luke 3: 10-18
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
The Gospel in today’s Liturgy, the Third Sunday of Advent, presents us with various groups of people – the crowd, the publicans and soldiers – who, touched by John the Baptist’s preaching, ask him: “What then should we do?” (Lk 3:10). What should we do? This is the question they asked. Let’s reflect a little on this question.
It does not stem from a sense of duty. Rather, the heart is touched by the Lord. It is the enthusiasm for His coming that leads them to ask: what should we do? Then John says: “The Lord is near." - " What should we do?” Let’s give an example: let’s think of a dear one who is coming to visit us. We joyfully and even impatiently await the person. To welcome the person, we will do what needs to be done: we will clean the house, we will prepare the best dinner possible, perhaps a gift… In short, there are things we will do. It is the same with the Lord. The joy of His coming makes us ask: what should we do? But God elevates this question to a higher level: what should I do with my life? What am I called to? What will I become?
By suggesting this question, the Gospel reminds us of something important: life has a task for us. Life is not meaningless; it is not left up to chance. No! It is a gift the Lord grants us, saying to us: discover who you are, and work hard to make the dream that is your life come true! Each of us – let’s not forget this – has a mission to accomplish. So, let’s not be afraid to ask the Lord: what should I do? Let us ask him this question repeatedly. It also recurs in the Bible: in the Acts of the Apostles, several people, hearing Peter who proclaimed Jesus’ resurrection, “were cut to the heart and said to Peter and to the other apostles, ‘Brothers, what should we do?’ ” (2:37). Let us ask ourselves as well: what would be good for me to do for myself and for my brothers and sisters? How can I contribute to this? How can I contribute to the good of the Church, to the good of society? The Advent Season is meant for this: to stop and ask ourselves how to prepare for Christmas. We are so busy with all the preparations, with gifts and things that pass. But let us ask ourselves what we should do for Jesus and for others! What should we do?
After the question, “what should we do?”, the Gospel lists John the Baptist’s responses that are different for each group. In fact, John recommends that those who have two tunics should share with those who have none; to the publicans who collect taxes, he says: “Collect no more than the amount prescribed” (Lk 3:13); to the soldiers: “Do not mistreat or extort money from anyone (cf. v. 14). He directs a specific word to each person that responds to their actual situation in life. This offers us a precious teaching: faith is incarnated in concrete life. It is not an abstract theory. Faith is not an abstract theory, a generalized theory – no! Faith touches us personally and transforms each of our lives. Let us think about the concreteness of our faith. Is my faith abstract, something abstract or concrete? Does it lead me toward serving others, helping out?
And so, in conclusion, let us ask ourselves: what should we do concretely in these days as we draw near to Christmas? How can I do my part? Let’s choose something concrete, even if it is small, that is adapted to our situation in life, and let’s continue doing it to prepare us for this Christmas. For example: I can call a person who is alone, visit that elderly person or that person who is ill, do something to serve a poor person, someone in need. Even still: maybe I need to ask forgiveness, grant forgiveness, clarify a situation, pay a debt. Perhaps I have neglected prayer and after so much time has elapsed, it’s time to ask the Lord for forgiveness. Brothers and sisters, let’s find something concrete and do it! May the Madonna help us, in whose womb God took on flesh.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
Luke 3: 10-18
Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!
The Gospel in today’s Liturgy, the Third Sunday of Advent, presents us with various groups of people – the crowd, the publicans and soldiers – who, touched by John the Baptist’s preaching, ask him: “What then should we do?” (Lk 3:10). What should we do? This is the question they asked. Let’s reflect a little on this question.
It does not stem from a sense of duty. Rather, the heart is touched by the Lord. It is the enthusiasm for His coming that leads them to ask: what should we do? Then John says: “The Lord is near." - " What should we do?” Let’s give an example: let’s think of a dear one who is coming to visit us. We joyfully and even impatiently await the person. To welcome the person, we will do what needs to be done: we will clean the house, we will prepare the best dinner possible, perhaps a gift… In short, there are things we will do. It is the same with the Lord. The joy of His coming makes us ask: what should we do? But God elevates this question to a higher level: what should I do with my life? What am I called to? What will I become?
By suggesting this question, the Gospel reminds us of something important: life has a task for us. Life is not meaningless; it is not left up to chance. No! It is a gift the Lord grants us, saying to us: discover who you are, and work hard to make the dream that is your life come true! Each of us – let’s not forget this – has a mission to accomplish. So, let’s not be afraid to ask the Lord: what should I do? Let us ask him this question repeatedly. It also recurs in the Bible: in the Acts of the Apostles, several people, hearing Peter who proclaimed Jesus’ resurrection, “were cut to the heart and said to Peter and to the other apostles, ‘Brothers, what should we do?’ ” (2:37). Let us ask ourselves as well: what would be good for me to do for myself and for my brothers and sisters? How can I contribute to this? How can I contribute to the good of the Church, to the good of society? The Advent Season is meant for this: to stop and ask ourselves how to prepare for Christmas. We are so busy with all the preparations, with gifts and things that pass. But let us ask ourselves what we should do for Jesus and for others! What should we do?
After the question, “what should we do?”, the Gospel lists John the Baptist’s responses that are different for each group. In fact, John recommends that those who have two tunics should share with those who have none; to the publicans who collect taxes, he says: “Collect no more than the amount prescribed” (Lk 3:13); to the soldiers: “Do not mistreat or extort money from anyone (cf. v. 14). He directs a specific word to each person that responds to their actual situation in life. This offers us a precious teaching: faith is incarnated in concrete life. It is not an abstract theory. Faith is not an abstract theory, a generalized theory – no! Faith touches us personally and transforms each of our lives. Let us think about the concreteness of our faith. Is my faith abstract, something abstract or concrete? Does it lead me toward serving others, helping out?
And so, in conclusion, let us ask ourselves: what should we do concretely in these days as we draw near to Christmas? How can I do my part? Let’s choose something concrete, even if it is small, that is adapted to our situation in life, and let’s continue doing it to prepare us for this Christmas. For example: I can call a person who is alone, visit that elderly person or that person who is ill, do something to serve a poor person, someone in need. Even still: maybe I need to ask forgiveness, grant forgiveness, clarify a situation, pay a debt. Perhaps I have neglected prayer and after so much time has elapsed, it’s time to ask the Lord for forgiveness. Brothers and sisters, let’s find something concrete and do it! May the Madonna help us, in whose womb God took on flesh.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
2nd Sunday of Advent Year C
Luke 3: 1-6
On this second Sunday of Advent, the word of God sets before us the figure of Saint John the Baptist. The Gospel highlights two important things: the place where John appears, which is the desert, and the content of his message, which is conversion. Desert and conversion. Today’s Gospel emphasizes these two words in such a way as to make us realize that they both concern us directly. Let us consider each of them closely.
The desert. The evangelist Luke introduces the scene in a particular way. He speaks of the solemn circumstances and the great men of that time, mentioning the fifteenth year of the Emperor Tiberius, the governor Pontius Pilate, King Herod and other contemporary political leaders. He then refers to the religious leaders, Annas and Caiaphas, who were serving in the Temple of Jerusalem (cf. Lk 3:1-2). At this point, Luke tells us: “The word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness” (3:2). But how did that word come? We might have expected God’s word to be spoken to one of the distinguished personages just mentioned. Instead, a subtle irony emerges between the lines of the Gospel: from the upper echelons of the powerful, suddenly we shift to the desert, to an unknown, solitary man. God surprises us. His ways surprise us, for they differ from our human expectations; they do not reflect the power and grandeur that we associate with him. Indeed, the Lord likes best what is small and lowly. Redemption did not begin in Jerusalem, Athens or Rome, but in the desert. This paradoxical approach tells us something beautiful: that being powerful, well-educated or famous is no guarantee of pleasing God, for those things could actually lead to pride and to rejecting him. Instead, we need to be interiorly poor, even as the desert is poor.
Let us think more deeply about the paradox of the desert. John the Baptist – the Precursor – prepares the coming of Christ in this inaccessible, inhospitable and dangerous place. Usually, those who wish to make an important announcement go to impressive places, where they can be readily seen and address great crowds. John, on the other hand, preaches in the desert. Precisely there, in an arid, empty waste, stretching as far as the eye can see, the glory of the Lord was revealed. As the Scriptures prophesied (cf. Is 40:3-4), God changes the desert into a sea, parched ground into springs of water (cf. Is 41:18). Here is yet another heartening message: then as now, God turns his gaze to wherever sadness and loneliness abound. We can experience this in our own lives: as long as we bask in success or think only of ourselves, the Lord is often unable to reach us; but especially in times of trial, he does. He comes to us in difficult situations; he fills our inner emptiness that makes room for him; he visits our existential deserts. The Lord visits us there.
Dear brothers and sisters, in our lives as individuals or nations, there will always be times when we feel that we are in the midst of a desert. Yet it is precisely there that the Lord makes his presence felt. Indeed, he is often welcomed not by the self-satisfied, but by those who feel helpless or inadequate. And he comes with words of closeness, compassion and tenderness: “Do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you” (Is 41:10). By preaching in the desert, John assures us that the Lord comes to set us free and to revive us in situations that seem irredeemable, hopeless, with no way out; he comes there. There is no place that God will not visit. Today we rejoice to see him choose the desert, to see him reach out with love to our littleness and to refresh our arid spirits. So, dear friends, do not fear littleness, since it is not about being small and few in number, but about being open to God and to others. And do not fear situations of dryness, because God is never afraid to visit us there!
Let us move on to the second word, which is conversion. The Baptist preached this insistently and forcefully (cf. Lk 3:7). This word too can be “uncomfortable”, for just as the desert is not the first place we would consider going to, so the summons to conversion is certainly not the first word we would like to hear. Talk of conversion can depress us; it can seem hard to reconcile with the Gospel of joy. Yet that is only the case if we think of conversion simply in terms of our own striving for moral perfection, as if that were something we could achieve as the result of our own effort. Therein lies the problem: we think everything is up to us. This is not good, for it leads to spiritual sadness and frustration. For we want to be converted, to become better, to overcome our faults and to change, but we realize that we are not fully capable of this, and, for all our good intentions, we constantly stumble and fall. We have the same experience as Saint Paul, who in these very lands wrote: “I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (Rom 7:18-19). If by ourselves, then, we are unable to do the good we would like, what does it mean for us to be converted?
Here your beautiful Greek language can help us by reminding us of the etymology of the verb “to convert”, metanoeίn, used in the Gospel. Composed of the preposition metá, which here means “beyond”, and the verb noéin, “to think”, it tells us that to convert is to “think beyond”, to go beyond our usual ways of thinking, beyond our habitual worldview. All those ways of thinking that reduce everything to ourselves, to our belief in our own self-sufficiency. Or those self-centred ways of thinking marked by rigidity and paralyzing fear, by the temptation to say “we have always done it this way, why change?”, by the idea that the deserts of life are places of death rather than places of God’s presence.
By calling us to conversion, John urges us to go “beyond” where we presently are; to go beyond what our instincts tell us and our thoughts register, for reality is much greater than that. It is much greater than our instincts or thoughts. The reality is that God is greater. To be converted, then, means not listening to the things that stifle hope, to those who keep telling us that nothing ever changes in life, the pessimists of all time. It means refusing to believe that we are destined to sink into the mire of mediocrity. It means not surrendering to our inner fears, which surface especially at times of trial in order to discourage us and tell us that we will not make it, that everything has gone wrong and that becoming saints is not for us. That is not the case, because God is always present. We have to trust him, for he is our beyond, our strength. Everything changes when we give first place to the Lord. That is what conversion is! As far as Christ is concerned, we need only open the door and let him enter in and work his wonders. Just as the desert and the preaching of John were all it took for Christ to come into the world. The Lord asks for nothing more.
Let us ask for the grace to believe that with God things really do change, that he will banish our fears, heal our wounds, turn our arid places into springs of water. Let us ask for the grace of hope, since hope revives our faith and rekindles our charity. It is for this hope that the deserts of today’s world are thirsting.
As our being together here renews us in the hope and joy of Jesus, and I rejoice in being in your midst, let us now ask Holy Mary our Mother to help us become, like her, witnesses of hope and sowers of joy all around us, for hope, dear brothers and sisters, never disappoints. Not only now, when we are all happy to be together, but every day, in whatever deserts we may dwell, for it is there, by God’s grace, that our life is called to be converted. There, in the multiplicity of existential or environmental deserts, there life is called to flourish. May the Lord give us the grace and courage to accept this truth.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6
Luke 3: 1-6
On this second Sunday of Advent, the word of God sets before us the figure of Saint John the Baptist. The Gospel highlights two important things: the place where John appears, which is the desert, and the content of his message, which is conversion. Desert and conversion. Today’s Gospel emphasizes these two words in such a way as to make us realize that they both concern us directly. Let us consider each of them closely.
The desert. The evangelist Luke introduces the scene in a particular way. He speaks of the solemn circumstances and the great men of that time, mentioning the fifteenth year of the Emperor Tiberius, the governor Pontius Pilate, King Herod and other contemporary political leaders. He then refers to the religious leaders, Annas and Caiaphas, who were serving in the Temple of Jerusalem (cf. Lk 3:1-2). At this point, Luke tells us: “The word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness” (3:2). But how did that word come? We might have expected God’s word to be spoken to one of the distinguished personages just mentioned. Instead, a subtle irony emerges between the lines of the Gospel: from the upper echelons of the powerful, suddenly we shift to the desert, to an unknown, solitary man. God surprises us. His ways surprise us, for they differ from our human expectations; they do not reflect the power and grandeur that we associate with him. Indeed, the Lord likes best what is small and lowly. Redemption did not begin in Jerusalem, Athens or Rome, but in the desert. This paradoxical approach tells us something beautiful: that being powerful, well-educated or famous is no guarantee of pleasing God, for those things could actually lead to pride and to rejecting him. Instead, we need to be interiorly poor, even as the desert is poor.
Let us think more deeply about the paradox of the desert. John the Baptist – the Precursor – prepares the coming of Christ in this inaccessible, inhospitable and dangerous place. Usually, those who wish to make an important announcement go to impressive places, where they can be readily seen and address great crowds. John, on the other hand, preaches in the desert. Precisely there, in an arid, empty waste, stretching as far as the eye can see, the glory of the Lord was revealed. As the Scriptures prophesied (cf. Is 40:3-4), God changes the desert into a sea, parched ground into springs of water (cf. Is 41:18). Here is yet another heartening message: then as now, God turns his gaze to wherever sadness and loneliness abound. We can experience this in our own lives: as long as we bask in success or think only of ourselves, the Lord is often unable to reach us; but especially in times of trial, he does. He comes to us in difficult situations; he fills our inner emptiness that makes room for him; he visits our existential deserts. The Lord visits us there.
Dear brothers and sisters, in our lives as individuals or nations, there will always be times when we feel that we are in the midst of a desert. Yet it is precisely there that the Lord makes his presence felt. Indeed, he is often welcomed not by the self-satisfied, but by those who feel helpless or inadequate. And he comes with words of closeness, compassion and tenderness: “Do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you” (Is 41:10). By preaching in the desert, John assures us that the Lord comes to set us free and to revive us in situations that seem irredeemable, hopeless, with no way out; he comes there. There is no place that God will not visit. Today we rejoice to see him choose the desert, to see him reach out with love to our littleness and to refresh our arid spirits. So, dear friends, do not fear littleness, since it is not about being small and few in number, but about being open to God and to others. And do not fear situations of dryness, because God is never afraid to visit us there!
Let us move on to the second word, which is conversion. The Baptist preached this insistently and forcefully (cf. Lk 3:7). This word too can be “uncomfortable”, for just as the desert is not the first place we would consider going to, so the summons to conversion is certainly not the first word we would like to hear. Talk of conversion can depress us; it can seem hard to reconcile with the Gospel of joy. Yet that is only the case if we think of conversion simply in terms of our own striving for moral perfection, as if that were something we could achieve as the result of our own effort. Therein lies the problem: we think everything is up to us. This is not good, for it leads to spiritual sadness and frustration. For we want to be converted, to become better, to overcome our faults and to change, but we realize that we are not fully capable of this, and, for all our good intentions, we constantly stumble and fall. We have the same experience as Saint Paul, who in these very lands wrote: “I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (Rom 7:18-19). If by ourselves, then, we are unable to do the good we would like, what does it mean for us to be converted?
Here your beautiful Greek language can help us by reminding us of the etymology of the verb “to convert”, metanoeίn, used in the Gospel. Composed of the preposition metá, which here means “beyond”, and the verb noéin, “to think”, it tells us that to convert is to “think beyond”, to go beyond our usual ways of thinking, beyond our habitual worldview. All those ways of thinking that reduce everything to ourselves, to our belief in our own self-sufficiency. Or those self-centred ways of thinking marked by rigidity and paralyzing fear, by the temptation to say “we have always done it this way, why change?”, by the idea that the deserts of life are places of death rather than places of God’s presence.
By calling us to conversion, John urges us to go “beyond” where we presently are; to go beyond what our instincts tell us and our thoughts register, for reality is much greater than that. It is much greater than our instincts or thoughts. The reality is that God is greater. To be converted, then, means not listening to the things that stifle hope, to those who keep telling us that nothing ever changes in life, the pessimists of all time. It means refusing to believe that we are destined to sink into the mire of mediocrity. It means not surrendering to our inner fears, which surface especially at times of trial in order to discourage us and tell us that we will not make it, that everything has gone wrong and that becoming saints is not for us. That is not the case, because God is always present. We have to trust him, for he is our beyond, our strength. Everything changes when we give first place to the Lord. That is what conversion is! As far as Christ is concerned, we need only open the door and let him enter in and work his wonders. Just as the desert and the preaching of John were all it took for Christ to come into the world. The Lord asks for nothing more.
Let us ask for the grace to believe that with God things really do change, that he will banish our fears, heal our wounds, turn our arid places into springs of water. Let us ask for the grace of hope, since hope revives our faith and rekindles our charity. It is for this hope that the deserts of today’s world are thirsting.
As our being together here renews us in the hope and joy of Jesus, and I rejoice in being in your midst, let us now ask Holy Mary our Mother to help us become, like her, witnesses of hope and sowers of joy all around us, for hope, dear brothers and sisters, never disappoints. Not only now, when we are all happy to be together, but every day, in whatever deserts we may dwell, for it is there, by God’s grace, that our life is called to be converted. There, in the multiplicity of existential or environmental deserts, there life is called to flourish. May the Lord give us the grace and courage to accept this truth.
Pope Francis Homilies - Luke Chapter 3-6