Papal Address to Priests and Parents
"No Vocation Is a Private Issue"
ANCONA, Italy, SEPT. 12, 2011 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the address to priests and families that Benedict XVI gave Sunday during his visit to Ancona. He made a one-day trip to the Italian port city for the close of the 25th Italian National Eucharistic Congress.
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Dear priests and dear spouses,
The hill on which this cathedral is built has enabled us to have a most beautiful view of the city and the sea; but if one crosses the majestic portico, the soul is fascinated by the harmony of the Romanesque style, enriched by an interweaving of Byzantine influences and Gothic elements. Also in your presence, priests and married couples from various Italian dioceses, [we can] perceive the beauty of the harmony and complementarity of your different vocations. Mutual knowledge and esteem, and sharing the same faith, lead to appreciating the other's charism and to recognizing one another within the one "spiritual house" (1 Peter 2:5) that, having Jesus Christ himself as the cornerstone, grows well ordered to be a holy temple in the Lord (cf. Ephesians 2:20-21). Thank you, therefore, for this meeting: thank you to the beloved archbishop, Edoardo Menichelli, also for the kind words with which he presented this meeting, and to each one of you.
I would like to pause briefly on the need to lead holy orders and matrimony back to their unique Eucharistic source. Both states of life have -- in the love of Christ, who gives himself for the salvation of humanity -- the same root; they are called to a common mission: to give witness and to make present this love for the good of the community, for the building up of the People of God (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, No. 1534). This perspective makes it possible above all to surmount a reductive vision of the family, which considers it as a mere recipient of pastoral work. It is true that, in this difficult time, the family needs particular care. Not because of this, however, must its identity be diminished or its specific responsibility be denied. The family is richness for the spouses, most irreplaceable for children, the indispensable foundation of society, and a vital community for the journey of the Church.
At the ecclesial level, to appreciate the family means to recognize its importance in pastoral activity. The ministry born from the sacrament of matrimony is important for the life of the Church: The family is the privileged place for human and Christian education and continues to be, for this end, the best ally of the priestly ministry; it is a precious gift for the building up of the community. The priest's closeness to the family helps him in turn to become aware of his own profound reality and his own mission, fostering the development of a strong ecclesial sensitivity. No vocation is a private issue, and matrimony much less so, because its horizon is the whole Church. Hence, in pastoral work, it is a question of being able to integrate and harmonize the priestly ministry with "the authentic Gospel of matrimony and of the family" (encyclical "Familiaris Consortio," 8), for a real and fraternal communion. And the Eucharist is the center and the source of this unity, which animates all the action of the Church.
Dear priests, by the gift that you received at ordination, you are called to serve the ecclesial community as pastors, this community that is a "family of families," and, hence, you are called to love each one with a paternal heart, with genuine forgetfulness of yourselves, with full, continual and faithful dedication. You are the living sign that points to Christ Jesus, the only Good Shepherd. Conform yourselves to him, to his style of life, with that total and exclusive service of which celibacy is an expression. The priest also has a spousal dimension; it is to be lost in the heart of Christ the Spouse, who gives his life for the Church his Bride (cf. postsynodal apostolic exhortation "Sacramentum Caritatis," 24). Cultivate a profound familiarity with the Word of God, Light on your way. May the daily and faithful celebration of the Eucharist be the place to obtain the strength to give of yourselves every day in the ministry and to live constantly in the presence of God: He is your abode and heritage. You must be witnesses of this for the family and for every person that the Lord puts on your path, also in the most difficult circumstances (cf. ibid., 80). Encourage spouses, share their educational responsibilities, help them to continually renew the grace of their marriage. Make the family a protagonist in pastoral work. Be hospitable and merciful, also with those for whom it is most difficult to fulfill the commitments they assumed in the matrimonial bond and with all those who, unfortunately, have failed.
Dear spouses, your matrimony is rooted in the faith that "God is love" (1 John 4:8) and that to follow Christ means "to abide in love" (cf. John 15:9-10). Your union -- as the Apostle Paul teaches -- is a sacramental sign of the love of Christ for the Church (cf. Ephesians 5:32), a love that culminates on the cross and which is "signified and made present in the Eucharist" (apostolic exhortation "Sacramentum Caritatis," 29). May the Eucharistic Mystery influence ever more profoundly your daily life: You will draw inspiration and strength from this sacrament for your conjugal relationship and for the educational mission to which you are called. Build your families in unity, a gift that comes from on high and which nourishes your commitment in the Church and in promoting a just and fraternal world. Love your priests, express to them your appreciation for the service they carry out. May you be able also to bear with their limitations, without ever ceasing to ask them to be exemplary ministers among you, who speak to you of God and who lead you to him. Your fellowship is for them a valuable spiritual help and support in the trials of life.
Dear priests and dear spouses, may you be able to find always in Holy Mass the strength to live your membership in Christ and his Church, in forgiveness and in the gift of self and in gratitude. May your daily work have its origin and center in sacramental communion, so that all is done for the glory of God. In this way, Christ's sacrifice of love will transform you, until it makes you in him "one body and one Spirit" (cf. Ephesians 4:4-6). Educating new generations in the faith is linked to your coherence too. Give them a witness of the demanding beauty of Christian life, with the trust and patience of the one who knows the power of the seed thrown to the earth. As in the evangelical passage we have heard (Mark 5:21-24.35-43), be for all those entrusted to your responsibility a sign of the benevolence and tenderness of Jesus: He makes visible how the God who loves life is not foreign to or distant from human vicissitudes, but is the friend who never abandons. And in the moments when the temptation is insinuated that all educational commitment is vain, obtain from the Eucharist the light to reinforce faith, certain that the grace and power of Jesus Christ can reach man in every situation, including the most difficult.
Dear friends, I entrust you all to the protection of Mary, venerated in this cathedral with the title "Queen of All Saints." Tradition joins her image to the ex-voto of a sailor, in thanksgiving for the salvation of his son, who came through a storm at sea unharmed. May the maternal gaze of the Mother also accompany your steps in holiness to a port of peace.
[Translation by ZENIT]
On the Prayer of Psalm 22
"Death and Life Have Met in an Inseparable Mystery, and Life Has Triumphed"
VATICAN CITY, SEPT. 14, 2011 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the Italian-language catechesis Benedict XVI gave today during the general audience held in Paul VI Hall. The Pope continued his series of catecheses on prayer, with a reflection on Psalm 22.
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Dear brothers and sisters,
In today's catechesis I would like to talk about a psalm with strong Christological implications, which continually emerges in the accounts of the Passion of Jesus with its twofold dimension of humiliation and of glory, of death and of life. It is Psalm 22 according to the Hebrew tradition; [Psalm] 21 according to the Greek–Latin tradition. [It is] a heartfelt and touching prayer, of a human depth and theological richness that make it one of the most prayed and studied psalms in the Psalter. It is a lengthy poetic composition, and we will reflect in particular on its first part, which is focused on lament, in order to deepen our understanding of some of the significant dimensions of the prayer of supplication to God.
This psalm presents the figure of an innocent man who is persecuted and surrounded by enemies who want his death; and he turns to God in a painful lamentation, which in the certainty of faith opens mysteriously to praise. In his prayer, the distressing reality of the present and the consoling memory of the past alternate in an anguished awareness of his own desperate situation, yet this does not cause him to give up hope. His initial cry is an appeal addressed to an apparently distant God who does not respond and who seems to have abandoned him:
"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
Why art thou so far from helping me,
From the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry by day, but thou dost not answer;
and by night, but find no rest" (Verses 1-2).
God remains silent, and this silence pierces the heart of the man who prays, who incessantly calls out, but who finds no response. The days and nights pass in an unwearied search for a word, for help that does not come. God seems so distant, so unmindful, so absent. Prayer asks for listening and for a response; it invites contact; it seeks a relationship that can give comfort and salvation. But if God does not respond, the cry for help vanishes into the void, and the solitude becomes unbearable. And yet, the man praying our psalm three times cries out, calling the Lord "my" God in an extraordinary act of trust and of faith. Despite all appearances, the psalmist cannot believe that his bond with the Lord has been completely broken; and while he asks the reason for his present incomprehensible abandonment, he affirms that "his" God cannot abandon him.
It is well known that the psalm's initial cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou abandoned me?" is reported in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark as the cry Jesus uttered as He was dying on the cross (cf. Matthew 27:46; Mark 15:34). This [cry] expresses all the desolation of the Messiah, the Son of God, as He faces the drama of death -- a reality utterly opposed to the Lord of life. Abandoned by nearly all those who were His own, betrayed and denied by His disciples, surrounded by those who insult Him, Jesus is placed under the crushing weight of a mission that must pass through humiliation and abnegation. He therefore cries out to the Father, and His suffering takes on the painful words of the psalm.
But His is not a desperate cry, nor was that of the psalmist, who in his supplication journeys along a path of torment that nonetheless opens to a vista of praise and trust in the divine victory. And since according to Jewish use, to cite the beginning of a psalm implied a reference to the whole poem, Jesus' heartrending prayer -- while full of unspeakable suffering -- opens to the certainty of glory. "Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory?" (Luke 24:26) the Risen One will say to the disciples on the road to Emmaus. During His passion, in obedience to the Father, the Lord Jesus passes through abandonment and death in order to attain life and to grant it to those who believe.
In painful contrast, Psalm 22's initial cry of supplication is followed by the memory of the past:
"In thee our fathers trusted;
They trusted, and thou didst deliver them.
To thee they cried, and were saved;
In thee they trusted, and were not disappointed" (Verses 4-5).
The God who today appears so distant to the psalmist, is nevertheless the merciful Lord who Israel knew and experienced throughout her history. The man praying belongs to a people that was the object of God's love and that could witness to His fidelity to that love. Beginning with the patriarchs, then in Egypt and in their long sojourn in the desert, in their stay in the Promised Land in contact with aggressive and hostile peoples, to the darkness of exile, the whole of biblical history was a story of the people crying out for help, and of God's saving responses. And the psalmist here makes reference to the unwavering faith of his fathers, who "trusted" -- this word is repeated three times -- without ever being disappointed. Now however, it appears that this chain of trustful invocation and divine response has been broken; the psalmist's situation appears to contradict the whole history of salvation, making the present reality all the more painful.
But God cannot contradict Himself, and so the prayer returns to describing the painful situation of the man praying, in order to persuade God to have mercy and to intervene, as He had always done in times past. The psalmist calls himself "a worm and not a man; scorned by men, and despised by the people" (Verse 6); he is mocked and scoffed at (Verse 7) and wounded precisely for his faith: "He committed his cause to the Lord; let him deliver him, let him rescue him, for he delights in him!" (Verse 8), they say. Under the mocking blows of irony and contempt, it seems as though the persecuted one has lost all human semblance, like the suffering servant described in the Book of Isaiah (cf. Isaiah 52:14; 53:2b-3). And like the just one oppressed in the Book of Wisdom (cf. 2:12-20), like Jesus on Calvary (cf. Matthew 27:39-43), the psalmist sees his relationship with the Lord called into question, in the cruel and sarcastic emphasis on what is making him suffer: the silence of God, His apparent absence.
And yet, God was present in the life of the one praying with an undeniable closeness and tenderness. The psalmist reminds God of this: "Yet thou art He who took me from the womb; thou didst keep me safe upon my mother's breasts. Upon thee was I cast from my birth, and since my mother bore me thou hast been my God" (Verses 9-10). The Lord is the God of life who brings to birth and welcomes the newborn, caring for him with a father's love. And if he previously remembered God's fidelity throughout the course of his people's history, now the man praying calls to mind his own personal history and relationship with the Lord, tracing it back to the particularly significant moment of the beginning of his life. And there, despite his current desolation, the psalmist recognizes a closeness and a divine love so radical that he can now exclaim, in a confession full of faith and hope: "Since my mother bore me, thou hast been my God" (Verse 10b).
The prayer of lament now becomes an anguished plea: "Be not far from me, for trouble is near and there is none to help" (Verse 11). The only closeness the psalmist perceives -- and which frightens him -- is that of his enemies. It is necessary, then, that God draw near and help, because the enemies of the man praying surround him, they encompass him like strong bulls that open wide their mouths to roar and tear him to pieces (cf. Verses 12-13). Anguish changes the perception of the danger, magnifying it. His adversaries seem invincible; they have become ferocious and dangerous animals, while the psalmist is like a little worm, powerless and utterly without defense.
But these images used by the psalmist also serve to illustrate [the truth] that when man becomes brutal and attacks his brother, something animal-like takes over in him, and he seems to lose every human semblance; violence always carries within itself something beastly, and only God's saving intervention can restore man to his humanity. For the psalmist, who has become the object of such fierce aggression, there now seems to be no escape, and death begins to take hold of him: "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint […] my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue cleaves to my jaws […] they divide my garments among them, and for my raiment they cast lots" (Verses 14-15; 18). With dramatic images that we find again in the accounts of Christ's passion, the breaking of the body of the condemned is described, along with the unbearable burning thirst that torments the dying, and which is echoed in Jesus' request "I thirst" (cf. John 19:28), culminating finally in the definitive gesture of the torturers who, like the soldiers beneath the cross, divide the garments of the victim, who is looked upon as already dead (Matthew 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:34; John 19:23-24).
Then once again, we hear an urgent cry for help: "But thou, O Lord, be not far off! O thou my help, hasten to my aid […] Save me" (Verses 19, 21a). This is a cry that opens the heavens, because it proclaims a faith and a certainty that surpasses every doubt, every darkness and every experience of desolation. And the lamentation is transformed; it gives way to praise in the welcoming of salvation: "You have answered me. I will tell of thy name to my brethren; in the midst of the congregation I will praise thee" (Verses 21c-22). Thus, the psalm breaks forth into thanksgiving, into the great final hymn that involves the whole people, the Lord's faithful, the liturgical assembly, the future generations (cf. Verses 23-21). The Lord has come to his help. He has saved the poor one and has shown him His merciful Face. Death and life have met in an inseparable mystery, and life has triumphed. The God of salvation has shown Himself to be the uncontested Lord, whom all the ends of the earth will celebrate, and before whom all the families of peoples will bow down in worship. It is the victory of faith, which is able to transform death into a gift of life -- the abyss of suffering into a source of hope.
Beloved brothers and sisters, this psalm has taken us to Golgotha, to the foot of Jesus' cross, in order to relive His passion and to share the fruitful joy of the resurrection. Let us allow ourselves to be flooded by the light of the paschal mystery, even in [times] of God's seeming absence, even in God's silence, and like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, let us learn to discern the true reality that surpasses all appearances, by recognizing the path of exaltation precisely in humiliation and the full revelation of life in death, in the cross. By thus placing all of our trust and hope in God the Father, in every anxiety we too will be able to pray to Him in faith, and our cry for help will be transformed into a hymn of praise. Thank you.
[Translation by Diane Montagna]
[The Holy Father then greeted pilgrims in several languages. In English, he said:]
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Today we reflect on Psalm Twenty-two, a heartfelt prayer of lamentation from one who feels abandoned by God. Surrounded by enemies who are persecuting him, the psalmist cries out by day and by night for help, and yet God seems to remain silent. In the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, the opening line of this psalm is placed on the lips of Jesus as he calls upon the Father from the Cross. He too seems to have been abandoned to a cruel fate, while his enemies mock him, attacking him like ravenous and roaring lions, dividing his clothing among them as if he were already dead. The psalmist recalls how, in the past, the people of Israel called trustingly upon the Lord in times of trial, and he answered their prayer. He remembers the tenderness with which the Lord cared for him personally in his earlier life, as a child in his mother's womb, as an infant in his mother's arms, and yet now God seems strangely distant. Despite such adverse circumstances, though, the psalmist's faith and trust in the Lord remains. The psalm ends on a note of confidence, as God's name is praised before all the nations. The shadow of the Cross gives way to the bright hope of the Resurrection. We too, when we call upon him in times of trial, must place our trust in the God who brings salvation, who conquers death with the gift of eternal life.
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I am pleased to welcome the English-speaking visitors and pilgrims present at today's Audience, including the groups from Great Britain, Scandinavia, Asia and North America. I extend a special greeting to the delegates of the International Catholic Charismatic Renewal Services and to the Patrons of the Arts in the Vatican Museums. Upon all of you, and upon your families and loved ones, I invoke God's abundant blessings.
© Copyright 2011 - Libreria Editrice Vaticana
[In Italian, he said:]
Lastly, my thoughts go to young people, to the sick and to newlyweds. Today, the liturgy allows us to meditate on the mystery of the Lord's cross, and tomorrow on the sorrows of His Mother. May the cross of Christ and the example of Mary the Sorrowful Virgin illumine your lives, dear young people; may they sustain you in daily trials, dear sick; and may they urge you on, dear newlyweds, to live a courageous family life consistent with the principles of the Gospel.
[Translation by Diane Montagna]
On Psalm 3
"He Listens, He Responds and He Saves According to His Ways"
VATICAN CITY, SEPT. 7, 2011 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the Italian-language catechesis Benedict XVI gave today during the general audience held in St. Peter's Square. The Pope continued his series of catecheses on prayer with a reflection on Psalm 3.
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Dear brothers and sisters,
Today we return to the audiences in St. Peter's square, and in the "school of prayer" that we are experiencing together in these Wednesday catecheses, I would like to begin to meditate on some of the psalms, which -- as I said last June -- form the "prayerbook" par excellence.
The first psalm I wish to consider is a psalm of lament and supplication imbued with profound trust, in which the certainty of God's presence forms the basis of a prayer arising from the extremely difficult condition in which the man praying finds himself. It is Psalm 3, attributed by the Hebrew tradition to David in the moment he fled from Absalom his son (cf. Verse 1): This is one of the most dramatic and anguished episodes in the king's life, when his son usurps his royal throne, forcing him to leave Jerusalem in order to save his life (cf. 2 Samuel 15ff). The perilous and anguished situation David experiences serves as the backdrop to this prayer, and it helps us to understand it, by presenting itself as the typical situation in which such a psalm might be recited. Every man can recognize in the psalmist's cry feelings of pain and bitterness together with a trust in God that -- according to the biblical account -- accompanied David as he fled the city.
The psalm begins with an invocation to the Lord:
"O Lord, how many are my foes!
Many are rising against me;
many are saying of me,
there is no help for him in God!" (Verses 1-2)
The prayer's description of his situation is marked by strongly dramatic tones. Three times he repeats the idea of the multitude -- "numerous," "many," "how many" -- which in the original text is said with the same Hebrew root, in order to underline even more the immensity of the danger in a repeated, almost relentless way. This insistence on the number and greatness of the foe serves to express the psalmist's perception of the absolute disproportion there is between himself and his persecutors -- a disproportion that justifies and forms the basis of the urgency of his request for help; the aggressors are many; they have the upper hand, while the man praying is alone and defenseless, at the mercy of his assailants.
And yet, the first word the psalmist pronounces is "Lord"; his cry begins with an invocation to God. A multitude looms over and arises against him, producing a fear that magnifies the threat, making it appear even greater and more terrifying; but the man praying does not allow himself to be conquered by this vision of death; he remains steadfast in his relationship with the God of life, and the first thing he does is turn to Him for help.
However, his enemies also attempt to break this bond with God and to destroy their victim's faith. They insinuate that the Lord cannot intervene; they maintain that not even God can save him. The assault, then, is not only physical but also touches the spiritual dimension: "The Lord cannot save him" -- they say -- even the core of the psalmist's soul is attacked.
This is the great temptation to which the believer is subjected -- the temptation to lose faith, to lose trust in the nearness of God. The just man overcomes this ultimate test; he remains steadfast in the faith, in the certainty of the truth and in full confidence in God, and it is precisely in this way that he finds life and truth. It seems to me that here the psalm touches us very personally; in so many problems we are tempted to think that perhaps not even God can save me, that He doesn't know me, that perhaps it is not possible for Him; the temptation against faith is the enemy's final assault, and this we must resist -- in so doing, we find God and we find life.
The man praying our psalm is therefore called to respond with faith to the attacks of the impious: The enemy -- as I said -- denies that God is able to save him; but he instead calls out to Him, he calls on His name, "Lord"; he then turns to Him with an emphatic "You" that expresses an unshakeable, solid relationship, and within himself he holds on to the certainty of a divine response:
"But thou, O Lord, art a shield about me,
my glory, and the lifter of my head.
I cry aloud to the Lord,
and he answers me from his holy mountain" (Verses 4-5).
The vision of the enemy now disappears; they have not defeated him because he who believes in God is certain that God is his friend: There remains only the "You" of God -- the "many" are contrasted now by one alone, who is far greater and more powerful than many adversaries. The Lord is help, defense, salvation; as a shield He protects the one who entrusts himself to Him, and He raises up his head in a gesture of triumph and of victory. The man is no longer alone, his enemies are not as invincible as they once seemed, because the Lord hears the cry of the oppressed and responds from the place of His presence, from His holy mount. The man cries out in anguish, in danger, and in pain; the man asks for help, and God responds.
This interweaving of the human cry and the divine response is the dialectic of prayer and the key to reading the whole of salvation history. The cry expresses the need for help and it appeals to the faithfulness of the other; to cry out means to express faith in the nearness of God and in His readiness to listen. Prayer expresses certainty in a divine presence already experienced and believed in, [a presence] manifested most fully by God's saving response. This is significant: that in our prayer the certainty of God's presence be important, that it be present. Thus, the psalmist, who feels himself besieged by death, confesses his faith in the God of life who as a shield wraps him with invulnerable protection; he who thought himself already lost can now lift up his head, for the Lord saves him; the man who prays -- threatened and scorned -- is in glory, because God is his glory.
The divine response that receives his prayer gives the psalmist complete assurance; fear is also gone, and his cry calms and quiets in peace, in a deep interior tranquility:
"I lie down and sleep;
I wake again, for the Lord sustains me.
I am not afraid of ten thousands of people
who have set themselves against me round about" (Verses 5-6).
The man praying, even amid danger and battle, can lie tranquilly in an unequivocal attitude of trustful surrender. His adversaries encamp around him, they beleaguer him, they are many, they rise up against him, they deride him and attempt to make him fall; but he instead lies down and sleeps in tranquil serenity, assured of the presence of God. And when he awakes, he finds God still beside him, as a guardian who will neither slumber nor sleep (cf. Psalm 121:3-4), who sustains him, who holds his hand, who never abandons him. The fear of death is conquered by the presence of the One who never dies. And the night, filled with ancestral fears, the painful night of solitude and of anguished waiting, is now transformed: What evokes death becomes the presence of the Eternal One.
The enemy's visible, massive, imposing attack is contrasted by the invisible presence of God, with all His invincible power. And it is to Him that the psalmist once more -- following his two expressions of trust -- addresses this prayer: "Arise, O Lord! Deliver me, O my God!" (Verse 8). The foes "rise up" (cf. Verse 2) against their victim, [but] he who will "rise up" is the Lord, in order to strike them down. God will save him by responding to his cry. For this reason, the psalmist can conclude with a vision of liberation from the danger that kills and from the temptation that can make him perish.
After turning to the Lord and asking Him to rise up and save him, the man praying describes the divine victory: The foes -- who with their unjust and cruel oppression, are symbolic of all that is opposed to God and to His plan for salvation -- are defeated. Struck in the mouth, they can no longer attack with their destructive violence, nor can they insinuate the evil of doubt in the presence and action of God: Their senseless and blasphemous talk is definitively denied and reduced to silence by the Lord's saving intervention (cf. Verse 7bc). Thus may the psalmist conclude his prayer with a phrase with liturgical connotations, which celebrates, in gratitude and in praise, the Lord of life: "Deliverance belongs to the Lord; thy blessing be upon thy people!" (Verse 8).
Dear brothers and sisters, Psalm 3 presents us with a prayer full of trust and consolation. In praying this psalm, we can make the psalmist's sentiments our own -- [the psalmist] who is a figure of the just man who is persecuted, and who finds his fulfillment in Jesus. In suffering, in danger, in the bitterness of misunderstanding and offense, the psalmist's words open our hearts to the comforting certainty of faith. God is always near -- even in difficulties, in problems, in the darkness of life -- He listens, He responds and He saves according to His ways. But we need to know how to recognize His presence and to accept His ways, like David in his crushing escape from Absalom his son; like the just man who is persecuted in the Book of Wisdom; and finally and fully, like the Lord Jesus on Golgotha. And, when to the eyes of the impious, God seems not to intervene and the Son dies, precisely then are true glory and salvation's definitive realization manifested to all who believe. May the Lord grant us faith; may He come to the help of our weakness; and may He enable us to believe and to pray in every anxiety, in the painful nights of doubt and in the long days of suffering, by trustfully abandoning ourselves to Him who is our "shield" and our "glory." Thank you.
[Translation by Diane Montagna]
[The Holy Father then greeted pilgrims in several languages. In English, he said:]
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
We return today to our series of catecheses on prayer with a consideration of Psalm Three, in which the psalmist cries out to God to rescue him from the enemies who surround him. Traditionally the psalm is attributed to King David as he flees from the armies of his rebellious son Absalom. Assailed on every side by foes who seek his life, the psalmist calls on the name of the Lord, filled with faith in the presence and the power of God who alone can save him from the evils that threaten him. We are reminded of the plight of the just man in the Book of Wisdom, condemned to a shameful death by the wicked, who taunt him by arguing that God will surely come to his rescue. Our thoughts move on to Calvary, where the passers-by mocked Jesus, saying that God would deliver him from death if he were really who he claimed to be. And yet, we know that God truly hears the prayers of those who call upon him in faith. He answers from his holy mountain. The unseen God responds with great power, and he becomes our shield and our glory. Even though Jesus appears to be abandoned by the Father as he dies on Calvary, yet for the eyes of faith this is the crowning moment of salvation, the triumph of the Cross, the hour of our Saviour's glorification.
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I am pleased to welcome the English-speaking visitors and pilgrims present at today's Audience, including the groups from Britain and Ireland, Denmark and the United States of America. I extend a special greeting to the Missionary Sisters Servants of the Holy Spirit, who have come from Indonesia, and to the Ursuline Sisters. Commending all of you to the intercession of Saints Peter and Paul, I invoke God's blessings upon you.
© Copyright 2011 - Libreria Editrice Vaticana
[In Italian, he said:]
Lastly, I greet the youth, the sick and newlyweds. Dear young people, returning after vacation to the usual activities, may you know how to find time each day for conversation with God, and may you radiate His light and His peace to all those around you. May you, dear sick, find comfort in the Lord Jesus, who continues His work of redemption in the life of every person. And may you, dear newlyweds, learn to pray together, in the intimacy of domestic life, so that your love may be ever purer, ever more fruitful and lasting.
[Translation by Diane Montagna]
Fr. Z
On Beauty as a Way to God
Art "Is Like a Door Opened to the Infinite"
CASTEL GANDOLFO, Italy, AUG. 31, 2011 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the Italian-language catechesis Benedict XVI gave today during the general audience.
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Dear brothers and sisters,
On several occasions in recent months, I have recalled the need for every Christian to find time for God, for prayer, amidst our many daily activities.The Lord himself offers us many opportunities to remember Him. Today, I would like to consider briefly one of these channels that can lead us to God and also be helpful in our encounter with Him: It is the way of artistic expression, part of that "via pulchritudinis" -- "way of beauty" -- which I have spoken about on many occasions, and which modern man should recover in its most profound meaning.
Perhaps it has happened to you at one time or another -- before a sculpture, a painting, a few verses of poetry or a piece of music -- to have experienced deep emotion, a sense of joy, to have perceived clearly, that is, that before you there stood not only matter -- a piece of marble or bronze, a painted canvas, an ensemble of letters or a combination of sounds -- but something far greater, something that "speaks," something capable of touching the heart, of communicating a message, of elevating the soul.
A work of art is the fruit of the creative capacity of the human person who stands in wonder before the visible reality, who seeks to discover the depths of its meaning and to communicate it through the language of forms, colors and sounds. Art is capable of expressing, and of making visible, man's need to go beyond what he sees; it reveals his thirst and his search for the infinite. Indeed, it is like a door opened to the infinite, [opened] to a beauty and a truth beyond the every day. And a work of art can open the eyes of the mind and heart, urging us upward.
But there are artistic expressions that are true roads to God, the supreme Beauty -- indeed, they are a help [to us] in growing in our relationship with Him in prayer. We are referring to works of art that are born of faith, and that express the faith. We see an example of this whenever we visit a Gothic cathedral: We are ravished by the vertical lines that reach heavenward and draw our gaze and our spirit upward, while at the same time, we feel small and yet yearn to be filled. … Or when we enter a Romanesque church: We are invited quite naturally to recollection and prayer. We perceive that hidden within these splendid edifices is the faith of generations. Or again, when we listen to a piece of sacred music that makes the chords of our heart resound, our soul expands and is helped in turning to God. I remember a concert performance of the music of Johann Sebastian Bach -- in Munich in Bavaria -- conducted by Leonard Bernstein. At the conclusion of the final selection, one of the Cantate, I felt -- not through reasoning, but in the depths of my heart -- that what I had just heard had spoken truth to me, truth about the supreme composer, and it moved me to give thanks to God. Seated next to me was the Lutheran bishop of Munich. I spontaneously said to him: "Whoever has listened to this understands that faith is true" -- and the beauty that irresistibly expresses the presence of God's truth.
But how many times, paintings or frescos also, which are the fruit of the artist's faith -- in their forms, in their colors, and in their light -- move us to turn our thoughts to God, and increase our desire to draw from the Fount of all beauty. The words of the great artist, Marc Chagall, remain profoundly true -- that for centuries, painters dipped their brushes in that colored alphabet, which is the Bible.
How many times, then, can artistic expression be for us an occasion that reminds us of God, that assists us in our prayer or even in the conversion of our heart! In 1886, the famous French poet, playwright and diplomat Paul Claudel entered the Basilica of Notre Dame in Paris and there felt the presence of God precisely in listening to the singing of the Magnificat during the Christmas Mass. He had not entered the church for reasons of faith; indeed, he entered looking for arguments against Christianity, but instead the grace of God changed his heart.
Dear friends, I invite you to rediscover the importance of this way for prayer, for our living relationship with God. Cities and countries throughout the world house treasures of art that express the faith and call us to a relationship with God. Therefore, may our visits to places of art be not only an occasion for cultural enrichment -- also this -- but may they become, above all, a moment of grace that moves us to strengthen our bond and our conversation with the Lord, [that moves us] to stop and contemplate -- in passing from the simple external reality to the deeper reality expressed -- the ray of beauty that strikes us, that "wounds" us in the intimate recesses of our heart and invites us to ascend to God.
I will end with a prayer from one of the Psalms, Psalm 27: "One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple" (Verse 4). Let us hope that the Lord will help us to contemplate His beauty, both in nature as well as in works of art, so that we might be touched by the light of His face, and so also be light for our neighbor. Thank you.
[Translation by Diane Montagna]
[The Holy Father then greeted pilgrims in several languages. In English, he said:]
I am pleased to greet the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors here today, especially those from Scotland and Malta. Today we reflect on the need to draw near to God through the experience and appreciation of artistic beauty. Art is capable of making visible our need to go beyond what we see and it reveals our thirst for infinite beauty, for God. Dear friends, I invite you to be open to beauty and to allow it to move you to prayer and praise of the Lord. May Almighty God bless all of you!
© Copyright 2011 - Libreria Editrice Vaticana
[In Italian, he said:]
Lastly, I address a word of cordial welcome to the Italian-speaking pilgrims. In particular, I greet the bishops who are friends of the Community of Sant'Edigio, the faithful of the various parishes, who are accompanied by their parish priests, and newlyweds. I hope that this meeting strengthens each of you in a renewed adherence to God, fount of light, of hope and of peace.
[After the prayer:]
Thank you, a good day to you all. Thank you!
[Translation by Diane Montagna]
On Fraternal Correction
"There Is a Co-responsibility in the Journey of the Christian Life"
CASTEL GANDOLFO, Italy, SEPT. 4, 2011 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the address Benedict XVI gave today before praying the midday Angelus with crowds that gathered at Castel Gandolfo.
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Dear Brothers and Sisters,
The biblical readings for the Mass this Sunday center on the theme of fraternal charity in the community of believers, which has its source in the communion of the Trinity. The apostle Paul affirms that the whole Law of God has its fullness in love in such a way that in our relationships with others, the 10 Commandments and every precept are summed up thus: "You will love your neighbor as yourself" (cf. Romans 13:8-10). The Gospel text, taken from Matthew 18, which treats of the life of the Christian community, tells us that brotherly love also includes reciprocal responsibility, on account of which, if my brother sins against me, I must be charitable to him and, first of all, speak with him personally, showing him that that what he said or did is not good. This way of behaving is called fraternal correction: it is not a reaction to the offense I have suffered but a being moved by love for my brother. St. Augustine comments: "He who has offended you, in offending you, he has caused himself a grave injury, and will you not care for the wound of your brother? […] You must forget that you have been offended but not your brother’s wound" (Sermon 82, 7).
And what if my brother does not listen to me? In today's Gospel, Jesus indicates a gradual approach: first go back and talk to him with two or three other persons so as to help him better grasp what he has done; if despite this he rejects the observation, the community must be told; and if he does not listen to the community either, it is necessary to make him see the rupture that he himself has provoked, separating himself from the Church. All of this shows that there is a co-responsibility in the journey of the Christian life: everyone, conscious of his own limits and defects, is called to welcome fraternal correction and to help others with this particular service.
Another fruit of charity in the community is unified prayer. Jesus says: "If two of you on earth agree to ask for something, my Father who is in heaven will grant it. Because wherever two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in their midst" (Matthew 18:19-20). Personal prayer is certainly important, indeed indispensable, but the Lord assures his presence in the community that -- even if it is very small -- is united and of one accord, because it reflects the reality itself of God One-and-Three, perfect communion of love. Origen says that "we must play in this symphony" (Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew 14:11), that is, within this concord of the Christian community. We must participate both in fraternal correction, which requires much humility and simplicity of heart, and in prayer, that it might rise up to God from a community truly united in Christ.
Let us plead for all of this through the intercession of Mary Most Holy, Mother of the Church, and of St. Gregory the Great, Pope and Doctor, whom we commemorated in yesterday’s liturgy.
[Following the Angelus the Holy Father spoke to the pilgrims in several languages. In Italian he said:]
Today the 25th National Eucharistic Congress opens in Ancona, Italy, with Holy Mass presided over by my legate Cardinale Giovanni Battista Re. Next Sunday, God willing, I will have the joy of traveling to Ancona for the final day of the congress. In the meantime I offer my cordial greeting and benediction on those who are participating in this event of grace, who adore and praise Christ in the most holy sacrament of the Eucharist, the font of life and hope for every man and for the whole world.
[Translation by Joseph G. Trabbic]
[In English he said:]
I am pleased to welcome the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors present for this Angelus prayer. I greet the doctors gathered for the Matercare International Conference on the Dignity of Mothers and Obstetricians, as well as students present from the University of Mary, Rome Campus. Today’s Gospel passage reminds us that God is present when the Church gathers to worship in his name. May we always draw grace and strength from our prayerful encounters with God in communion with our brothers and sisters in the faith. May God bless all of you!
© Copyright 2011 - Libreria Editrice Vaticana
[Concluding in Italian he said:]
I wish everyone a good Sunday.
