Augustyn Pelanowski OSPPE
Trudno zapewne uwierzyć w to wszystko, co Jezus zapowiedział o znakach poprzedzających Jego przyjście, tym, którzy ciągle żyją w błogiej nieświadomości prawd objawionych. Nie da się sprowadzić zapowiedzi Jezusa jedynie do metafory. W czasach, w których raz po raz słyszymy o tsunami, wzmianka o trwodze narodów wobec szumu morza nie wydaje się już czymś fantastycznym. Rozumiemy także ostrzeżenie Jezusa o znakach na słońcu czy księżycu lub gwiazdach, gdy coraz częściej słyszymy o możliwości zderzenia się z Ziemią asteroidów średnicy kilkudziesięciu kilometrów.
W czasie ostatniego lata ludzie mdleli nie tylko ze strachu, ale i z upałów. Jeśli działanie promieni słońca doprowadziło do tysięcy zgonów ludzi chorych na serce, to co się stanie, gdy Słońce Sprawiedliwości, czyli Jezus Chrystus, rozbłyśnie nad naszym niebem? Ileż ludzi o duchowo chorym sercu nie wytrzyma tego „upału”? Przyroda wykroczyła ze swych granic podobnie jak człowiek, który przekroczył granice przykazań. Zdaje się, że możemy spodziewać się dalszej eskalacji zjawisk w świecie fizycznym, bo i człowiek posuwa się w swych nienormalnych, a nawet perwersyjnych pomysłach. W tym rozszalałym moralnie i fizycznie świecie mamy zachowywać mimo wszystko wstrzemięźliwość przed złem. Mimo presji społecznej, mimo mody i trendów kulturowych. Obżarstwo, pijaństwo, troski o komfort życia sprawiają, że serce jest ociężałe, pozbawione czujności duchowej sumienia. Można przegapić najważniejsze nawiedzenie ludzkości: powtórne przyjście Chrystusa. Jezus wzywa do modlitwy, bo dzień Jego przyjścia będzie tak niespodziewany i wstrząsający, że dla wielu stanie się potrzaskiem, atakiem serca, tsunami duszy. Objawienie się Syna Bożego będzie też jednoczesnym wydobyciem z naszego wnętrza wszystkiego, co w sobie ukrywamy. Wszystkie sprawy wyjdą na jaw. Gdy Bóg objawi się, my też doznamy objawienia się nas samych i tego, czym naprawdę jesteśmy! Nagłe objawienie się prawdy Boga spowoduje prześwietlenie wszystkich sumień i wielu ludzi nie wytrzyma objawienia się zawartości ich duszy, która okaże się obliczem wykrzywionym w grymasie podłości i wyniosłości, a nie uśmiechniętą maską dobroci.
Opowiadano mi swego czasu tragiczną historię o pewnej artystce, która uległa poparzeniu i musiała być poddana operacji plastycznej. Jej twarz została zeszpecona, ale dopóki leżała w łóżku szpitalnym z obandażowaną twarzą, przyjmowała odwiedzających ją przyjaciół oraz rodzinę i spotkania były pełne radości i coraz lepszego samopoczucia. Pewnego dnia mogła wstać i zdjęto jej opatrunki z twarzy. Stanęła przed lustrem. Widok oblicza był dla niej takim wstrząsem, że z rozpaczy odebrała sobie życie. Myślę o tym wydarzeniu, ponieważ takim właśnie dniem prawdy o obliczu naszej duszy będzie Dzień Pański. Nie wszyscy wytrzymają zderzenie z prawdą o samych sobie. Mogą znaleźć się tacy, którzy samych siebie odrzucą, nie zgodzą się na oblicze swej duszy i zapadną się w otchłań samoodrzucenia. Nie to jest prawdą o nas, co o sobie myślimy, lecz to, co się objawi w świetle Dnia Pańskiego
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Uroczystosc Chrystusa Krola B
Klęska, czyli triumf
Augustyn Pelanowski OSPPE
To, co wydarzyło się z Głową Kościoła, czyli z samym Chrystusem, zdaje się, że musi spotkać również całe Ciało, czyli Kościół.
Mojżesz, jak mówi Biblia, został porzucony przez matkę w rzecznym sitowiu, w koszu. Wszystko wskazywało na beznadziejność jego położenia i zapewne matka, która go wrzuciła do Nilu, spodziewała się już tylko cudu, bo według wszelkiego prawdopodobieństwa powinien iść na dno. Byłby zapewne tam utonął. Po wielu latach ten sam Mojżesz przeprowadził dnem wiele tysięcy ludzi. Miejsce, w którym tego dokonał, nazywało się JAM SUF, czyli wody sitowia. To, co sam przeżył, stało się przeżyciem całego Izraela. Jeremiasz, zanim powiedział, że Sedecjasz pogrąży się w błocie, sam spędził jakiś czas w cysternie wypełnionej błotem.
Jeśli chwile osądu Chrystusa przez Piłata, a potem Jego śmierci i pogrzebania były chwilami bezpośrednio przygotowującymi zmartwychwstanie i triumf nad śmiercią, grzechem i szatanem, to niewykluczone, że czas głoszenia śmierci Boga, śmierci chrześcijaństwa, pogrzebania wiary, zamknięcia kościołów, wyrzucenia krzyży i usunięcia słowa „Bóg” z wszelkich konstytucji będzie znakiem zapowiadającym zmartwychwstanie i triumf całego chrześcijaństwa, czyli Nowego Izraela. Razem z Piłatem stoją więc w szeregu Wolter, Nietzsche, Freud, Marks, Sartre i wszyscy, którzy osądzili chrześcijaństwo jako przegrane i jako zjawisko zamierające w dziejach. Byli i tacy, którzy nie tylko osądzili, ale też wykonywali totalitarne wyroki, wysadzając w powietrze świątynie albo umieszczając naczynia liturgiczne w muzeach ateizmu. Są i tacy, którzy traktują Kościół jak cmentarz. Inni wyśmiewają najmniejsze przejawy religijności chrześcijańskiej albo fałszują Kościół przez wymyślanie zakodowanych filmowo bzdur. Ale właśnie moment chwilowego triumfu sił ciemno-ści jest znakiem dla nas, byśmy oczekiwali już rychłego zmartwychwstania nieśmiertelnego Ciała Kościoła. Talmud mówił, że Mesjasz przyjdzie do pokolenia, które będzie całkowicie sprawiedliwe albo do pozbawionego jakiejkolwiek zasługi. Czas odkupienia był przewidywany w takim momencie historii, gdy Izrael będzie na skraju zupełnego rozkładu moralnego i martwoty życia duchowego. Gdy wszystko będzie wskazywało na klęskę, nagle okaże się zwycięstwem.
Liturgia porównu-je przyprowadzenie Je-zusa przed Piłata z podchodzeniem Syna Człowieczego do tronu Przedwiecznego Ojca. Wydaje się, że ta sama chwila, która wydawała się triumfem szatana, jest również tą samą, w której Synowi Człowieczemu zostaną oddane panowanie i władza, chwała i narody, i języki. Ci, którzy przebili Mu serce, będą przebici Jego widokiem triumfu. On jest pierworodnym umarłych, czyli pierwszym, który przez śmierć przeszedł jak przez nowe narodziny. Skoro tak, to dla całego chrześcijaństwa uśmiercenie Go przez światowe potęgi będzie pierwszym krokiem do powstania z jeszcze większą siłą i niezwyciężoną mocą. Umarły będzie tylko ten, dla którego Bóg umarł.
Augustyn Pelanowski OSPPE
To, co wydarzyło się z Głową Kościoła, czyli z samym Chrystusem, zdaje się, że musi spotkać również całe Ciało, czyli Kościół.
Mojżesz, jak mówi Biblia, został porzucony przez matkę w rzecznym sitowiu, w koszu. Wszystko wskazywało na beznadziejność jego położenia i zapewne matka, która go wrzuciła do Nilu, spodziewała się już tylko cudu, bo według wszelkiego prawdopodobieństwa powinien iść na dno. Byłby zapewne tam utonął. Po wielu latach ten sam Mojżesz przeprowadził dnem wiele tysięcy ludzi. Miejsce, w którym tego dokonał, nazywało się JAM SUF, czyli wody sitowia. To, co sam przeżył, stało się przeżyciem całego Izraela. Jeremiasz, zanim powiedział, że Sedecjasz pogrąży się w błocie, sam spędził jakiś czas w cysternie wypełnionej błotem.
Jeśli chwile osądu Chrystusa przez Piłata, a potem Jego śmierci i pogrzebania były chwilami bezpośrednio przygotowującymi zmartwychwstanie i triumf nad śmiercią, grzechem i szatanem, to niewykluczone, że czas głoszenia śmierci Boga, śmierci chrześcijaństwa, pogrzebania wiary, zamknięcia kościołów, wyrzucenia krzyży i usunięcia słowa „Bóg” z wszelkich konstytucji będzie znakiem zapowiadającym zmartwychwstanie i triumf całego chrześcijaństwa, czyli Nowego Izraela. Razem z Piłatem stoją więc w szeregu Wolter, Nietzsche, Freud, Marks, Sartre i wszyscy, którzy osądzili chrześcijaństwo jako przegrane i jako zjawisko zamierające w dziejach. Byli i tacy, którzy nie tylko osądzili, ale też wykonywali totalitarne wyroki, wysadzając w powietrze świątynie albo umieszczając naczynia liturgiczne w muzeach ateizmu. Są i tacy, którzy traktują Kościół jak cmentarz. Inni wyśmiewają najmniejsze przejawy religijności chrześcijańskiej albo fałszują Kościół przez wymyślanie zakodowanych filmowo bzdur. Ale właśnie moment chwilowego triumfu sił ciemno-ści jest znakiem dla nas, byśmy oczekiwali już rychłego zmartwychwstania nieśmiertelnego Ciała Kościoła. Talmud mówił, że Mesjasz przyjdzie do pokolenia, które będzie całkowicie sprawiedliwe albo do pozbawionego jakiejkolwiek zasługi. Czas odkupienia był przewidywany w takim momencie historii, gdy Izrael będzie na skraju zupełnego rozkładu moralnego i martwoty życia duchowego. Gdy wszystko będzie wskazywało na klęskę, nagle okaże się zwycięstwem.
Liturgia porównu-je przyprowadzenie Je-zusa przed Piłata z podchodzeniem Syna Człowieczego do tronu Przedwiecznego Ojca. Wydaje się, że ta sama chwila, która wydawała się triumfem szatana, jest również tą samą, w której Synowi Człowieczemu zostaną oddane panowanie i władza, chwała i narody, i języki. Ci, którzy przebili Mu serce, będą przebici Jego widokiem triumfu. On jest pierworodnym umarłych, czyli pierwszym, który przez śmierć przeszedł jak przez nowe narodziny. Skoro tak, to dla całego chrześcijaństwa uśmiercenie Go przez światowe potęgi będzie pierwszym krokiem do powstania z jeszcze większą siłą i niezwyciężoną mocą. Umarły będzie tylko ten, dla którego Bóg umarł.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Zaćmienie wiary - XXXIII B Homily
Augustyn Pelanowski OSPPE
Byłem dzieckiem, kiedy zobaczyłem coś, co mnie zaskoczyło: wziąłem liść brzozy do ręki. Ze zdumieniem spostrzegłem, że małe żyłki na małym listku przypominają gałęzie, a zielone blaszki do złudzenia są podobne do tysięcy liści na drzewie. Pomyślałem, że to nie przypadek, że najmniejszy listek z brzozy jest jakąś miniaturową mapą całego drzewa. Potem sięgnąłem po liść innego drzewa i znowu zdumiałem się, że kształtem przypomina właśnie ten gatunek drzewa. Z nauki biologii przypomniałem sobie, że każda ludzka komórka nerwowa wygląda jak drzewo. Stąd już mi było blisko do opowieści biblijnej o drzewie poznania złego i dobrego, i tego wszystkiego, co było napisane o Adamie i Ewie, którzy oderwali owoc od drzewa. Z różnych mitów pozachrześcijańskich wiedziałem, że większość ludów wyobrażała sobie świat jako kosmiczne drzewo. Owoc oderwany od drzewa to może po prostu człowiek oderwany od drzewa, wytrącony ze struktury zaplanowanej przez Boga!
Jest naznaczony koniec tego świata, w którym dojrzewamy do zaowocowania w świecie przyszłym. Zanim jednak to nastąpi, Jezus zapowiada bardzo trudny okres ucisku, który będzie bezpośrednio poprzedzał ostateczne przyjście i osądzenie świata. Po raz pierwszy przyszedł i został osądzony przez nas, po raz drugi przyjedzie jako sądzący nas wszystkich. Każda minuta decyduje o wieczności. Każde „teraz” tworzy nasze „na wieki wieków”.
Nastąpi „zaćmienie słońca, brak blasku księżyca i strącone gwiazdy oraz wstrząśnięte moce nieba”. Słońce jest w Biblii symbolem światła samego Boga. Jezus na Górze Przemienienia odsłonił przed uczniami oblicze, które jaśniało jak słońce (Mt 17,2). Księżyc też wcale nie jest w tym miejscu jedynie ciałem niebieskim, gdyż w sensie symbolicznym odnosi się również do pełni władzy Mesjasza (por. Ps 72). Gwiazdy są symbolem autorytetów duchowych, potomstwa Abrahama, ludzi zawierzenia, a nawet apostołów. Toteż zaćmienie słońca, utrata blasku księżyca i upadek gwiazd to epoka zaćmienia wiary, destrukcji chrześcijaństwa, odejścia wielu autorytetów życia duchowego, zarówno kapłanów, jak i ludzi, którzy wysoko zaszli w swym rozwoju duchowym. Biblia sugeruje, że o wiele trudniejsze niż prześladowanie chrześcijaństwa będzie to, że straci ono swój blask, swoją żywotność duchową, stając się systemem martwych rytuałów, a wielu chrześcijan odejdzie od wiary w stronę martwych praktyk lub zupełnie opuści mury świątyń. Moce w niebiosach zostaną zachwiane, gdyż miliony ludzi zostanie zachwianych w swych przekonaniach z powodu panowania ciemności. Nie wtedy chrześcijaństwo przeżywać będzie najgorsze chwile, gdy będzie za nie groziła śmierć, lecz gdy będzie się wydawało, że nie da się w nim żyć. Po znakach możemy się domyśleć, czy to już są chwile ostatnie z ostatnich. Czas tego świata jest jak czas drzewa figowego. Gałęzie jego miękną i zapowiada to wypuszczenie liści, a później owoców, bo zbliża się nowa pora roku. Podobnie gdy gałęzie wiary zmiękną i nawet miliony ludzi nie będzie miało w sobie już pierwotnej gorliwości, będzie to być może ostatnia chwila tego, co oglądamy.
Byłem dzieckiem, kiedy zobaczyłem coś, co mnie zaskoczyło: wziąłem liść brzozy do ręki. Ze zdumieniem spostrzegłem, że małe żyłki na małym listku przypominają gałęzie, a zielone blaszki do złudzenia są podobne do tysięcy liści na drzewie. Pomyślałem, że to nie przypadek, że najmniejszy listek z brzozy jest jakąś miniaturową mapą całego drzewa. Potem sięgnąłem po liść innego drzewa i znowu zdumiałem się, że kształtem przypomina właśnie ten gatunek drzewa. Z nauki biologii przypomniałem sobie, że każda ludzka komórka nerwowa wygląda jak drzewo. Stąd już mi było blisko do opowieści biblijnej o drzewie poznania złego i dobrego, i tego wszystkiego, co było napisane o Adamie i Ewie, którzy oderwali owoc od drzewa. Z różnych mitów pozachrześcijańskich wiedziałem, że większość ludów wyobrażała sobie świat jako kosmiczne drzewo. Owoc oderwany od drzewa to może po prostu człowiek oderwany od drzewa, wytrącony ze struktury zaplanowanej przez Boga!
Jest naznaczony koniec tego świata, w którym dojrzewamy do zaowocowania w świecie przyszłym. Zanim jednak to nastąpi, Jezus zapowiada bardzo trudny okres ucisku, który będzie bezpośrednio poprzedzał ostateczne przyjście i osądzenie świata. Po raz pierwszy przyszedł i został osądzony przez nas, po raz drugi przyjedzie jako sądzący nas wszystkich. Każda minuta decyduje o wieczności. Każde „teraz” tworzy nasze „na wieki wieków”.
Nastąpi „zaćmienie słońca, brak blasku księżyca i strącone gwiazdy oraz wstrząśnięte moce nieba”. Słońce jest w Biblii symbolem światła samego Boga. Jezus na Górze Przemienienia odsłonił przed uczniami oblicze, które jaśniało jak słońce (Mt 17,2). Księżyc też wcale nie jest w tym miejscu jedynie ciałem niebieskim, gdyż w sensie symbolicznym odnosi się również do pełni władzy Mesjasza (por. Ps 72). Gwiazdy są symbolem autorytetów duchowych, potomstwa Abrahama, ludzi zawierzenia, a nawet apostołów. Toteż zaćmienie słońca, utrata blasku księżyca i upadek gwiazd to epoka zaćmienia wiary, destrukcji chrześcijaństwa, odejścia wielu autorytetów życia duchowego, zarówno kapłanów, jak i ludzi, którzy wysoko zaszli w swym rozwoju duchowym. Biblia sugeruje, że o wiele trudniejsze niż prześladowanie chrześcijaństwa będzie to, że straci ono swój blask, swoją żywotność duchową, stając się systemem martwych rytuałów, a wielu chrześcijan odejdzie od wiary w stronę martwych praktyk lub zupełnie opuści mury świątyń. Moce w niebiosach zostaną zachwiane, gdyż miliony ludzi zostanie zachwianych w swych przekonaniach z powodu panowania ciemności. Nie wtedy chrześcijaństwo przeżywać będzie najgorsze chwile, gdy będzie za nie groziła śmierć, lecz gdy będzie się wydawało, że nie da się w nim żyć. Po znakach możemy się domyśleć, czy to już są chwile ostatnie z ostatnich. Czas tego świata jest jak czas drzewa figowego. Gałęzie jego miękną i zapowiada to wypuszczenie liści, a później owoców, bo zbliża się nowa pora roku. Podobnie gdy gałęzie wiary zmiękną i nawet miliony ludzi nie będzie miało w sobie już pierwotnej gorliwości, będzie to być może ostatnia chwila tego, co oglądamy.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Benedict XVI on Paul's teaching on the Holy Spirit
Dear Brothers and Sisters:
Today, as in the two preceding catecheses, we again speak of St. Paul and his thought. We are before a giant, not only at the level of the concrete apostolate, but also at the level of theological doctrine, extraordinarily profound and stimulating. After having meditated on the last occasion on what Paul wrote about the central place that Jesus Christ occupies in our life of faith, let us see today what he tells us about the Holy Spirit and his presence in us, as in this also the Apostle has something very important to teach us.
We know what St. Luke tells us about the Holy Spirit in the Acts of the Apostles, on describing the event of Pentecost. The Pentecostal Spirit imprints a vigorous drive to assume the commitment of the mission to witness the Gospel on the paths of the world. In fact, the book of the Acts of the Apostles recounts a whole series of missions carried out by the apostles, first in Samaria, then in the strip of the coast of Palestine, as I already recalled in a previous Wednesday meeting.
However, in his letters St. Paul also speaks to us of the Spirit from another point of view. He does not limit himself to illustrate only the dynamic and operative dimension of the Third Person of the Most Holy Trinity, but also analyzes his presence in the life of the Christian, whose identity is marked by him. That is, Paul reflects on the Spirit showing his influence not only on the Christian's action but over his very being. In fact, he says that the Spirit of God dwells in us (cf. Romans 8:9; 2 Corinthians 3:16) and that "God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts" (Galatians 4:6).
For Paul, therefore, the Spirit penetrates our most intimate personal depths. In this connection, these words have a relevant meaning: "For the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus has freed you from the law of sin and death. ... For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, 'Abba, Father!'" (Romans 8:2,15), given that we are children, we can call God "Father."
We can see, therefore, that the Christian, even before acting, already possesses a rich and fecund interiority, which has been given to him in the sacraments of baptism and confirmation, an interiority that introduces him in an objective and original relationship of being a child of God. Our great dignity consists in this: We are not only images but children of God. And this constitutes an invitation to live our filiation, to be ever more conscious that we are adoptive children in the great family of God. It is an invitation to transform this objective gift into a subjective reality, determinant for our way of thinking, for our acting, for our being. God considers us his children, as he has raised us to a similar, though not equal, dignity to that of Jesus himself, the only one who is fully true Son. In him we are given or restored the filial condition and trusting freedom in our relationship with the Father.
In this way we discover that for the Christian the Spirit is no longer the "Spirit of God," as is usually said in the Old Testament and as Christian language repeats (cf. Genesis 41:38; Exodus 31:3; 1 Corinthians 2:11.12; Philippians 3:3; etc.). And he is not just a "Holy Spirit," understood generically according to the manner of expression of the Old Testament (cf. Isaiah 63:10,11; Psalm 51:13), and of Judaism itself in its writings (Qumran, rabbinism).
Proper to the Christian faith is the confession of a participation of this Spirit in the Risen Lord, who himself has become the "life-giving Spirit" (1 Corinthians 15:45). Precisely for this reason St. Paul speaks directly of the "Spirit of Christ" (Romans 8:9), of the "Spirit of his Son" (Galatians 4:6) or of the "Spirit of Jesus Christ" (Philippians 1:19). It seems as if he wished to say that not only God the Father is visible in the Son (cf. John 14:9), but also the Spirit of God is expressed in the life and action of the crucified and risen Lord.
Paul also teaches us another important thing. He says that there can be no authentic prayer without the presence of the Spirit in us. In fact, he writes: "In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God's will" (Romans 8:26-27).
It is as if saying that the Holy Spirit, namely, the Spirit of the Father and of the Son, becomes the soul of our soul, the most secret part of our being, from which rises incessantly to God a movement of prayer, of which we cannot even specify the terms. The Spirit, in fact, ever awake in us, makes up for our deficiencies and offers the Father our adoration, along with our most profound aspirations. Obviously this calls for a level of great vital communion with the Spirit. It is an invitation to be ever more sensitive, more attentive to this presence of the Spirit in us, to transform it into prayer, to experience this presence and to learn in this way to pray, to speak with the Father as children in the Holy Spirit.
There is, moreover, another typical aspect of the Spirit that St. Paul has taught us: his relationship with love. The Apostle writes thus: "Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us" (Romans 5:5). In my encyclical letter, "Deus Caritas Est," I quoted a highly eloquent phrase of St. Augustine: "If you see charity, you see the Trinity" (No. 19), and then I explained: "The Spirit […] is that interior power which harmonizes their [believers'] hearts with Christ's heart and moves them to love their brethren as Christ loved them" (ibid.).
The Spirit places us in the very rhythm of divine life, which is a life of love, making us participate personally in the relations that exist between the Father and the Son. It is highly significant that Paul, when he enumerates the different elements of the fruits of the Spirit, mentions love first: " the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace," etc. (Galatians 5:22). And, given that by definition love unifies, the Spirit is above all creator of communion within the Christian community, as we say at the beginning of the Mass with an expression of St. Paul "... the communion of the Holy Spirit [namely, that by which he acts] be with you all" (2 Corinthians 13:13).
However, moreover, it is also true that the Spirit stimulates us to engage in relationships of charity with all people. In this way, when we love we make room for the Spirit, we allow him to express himself in fullness. Thus we understand the reason why Paul unites these two exhortations on the same page of the Letter to the Romans: "Be fervent in spirit" and "Do not repay anyone evil for evil" (Romans 12:11,17).
Finally, according to St. Paul, the Spirit is a generous pledge which God himself has given us ahead of time and at the same time guarantee of our future inheritance (cf. 2 Corinthians 1:22; 5:5; Ephesians 1:13-14). Thus let us learn from Paul that the action of the Spirit orients our life toward the great values of love, joy, communion and hope. It is for us to experience this every day, seconding the interior suggestions of the Spirit, helped in discernment by the illuminating guidance of the Apostle.
Today, as in the two preceding catecheses, we again speak of St. Paul and his thought. We are before a giant, not only at the level of the concrete apostolate, but also at the level of theological doctrine, extraordinarily profound and stimulating. After having meditated on the last occasion on what Paul wrote about the central place that Jesus Christ occupies in our life of faith, let us see today what he tells us about the Holy Spirit and his presence in us, as in this also the Apostle has something very important to teach us.
We know what St. Luke tells us about the Holy Spirit in the Acts of the Apostles, on describing the event of Pentecost. The Pentecostal Spirit imprints a vigorous drive to assume the commitment of the mission to witness the Gospel on the paths of the world. In fact, the book of the Acts of the Apostles recounts a whole series of missions carried out by the apostles, first in Samaria, then in the strip of the coast of Palestine, as I already recalled in a previous Wednesday meeting.
However, in his letters St. Paul also speaks to us of the Spirit from another point of view. He does not limit himself to illustrate only the dynamic and operative dimension of the Third Person of the Most Holy Trinity, but also analyzes his presence in the life of the Christian, whose identity is marked by him. That is, Paul reflects on the Spirit showing his influence not only on the Christian's action but over his very being. In fact, he says that the Spirit of God dwells in us (cf. Romans 8:9; 2 Corinthians 3:16) and that "God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts" (Galatians 4:6).
For Paul, therefore, the Spirit penetrates our most intimate personal depths. In this connection, these words have a relevant meaning: "For the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus has freed you from the law of sin and death. ... For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, 'Abba, Father!'" (Romans 8:2,15), given that we are children, we can call God "Father."
We can see, therefore, that the Christian, even before acting, already possesses a rich and fecund interiority, which has been given to him in the sacraments of baptism and confirmation, an interiority that introduces him in an objective and original relationship of being a child of God. Our great dignity consists in this: We are not only images but children of God. And this constitutes an invitation to live our filiation, to be ever more conscious that we are adoptive children in the great family of God. It is an invitation to transform this objective gift into a subjective reality, determinant for our way of thinking, for our acting, for our being. God considers us his children, as he has raised us to a similar, though not equal, dignity to that of Jesus himself, the only one who is fully true Son. In him we are given or restored the filial condition and trusting freedom in our relationship with the Father.
In this way we discover that for the Christian the Spirit is no longer the "Spirit of God," as is usually said in the Old Testament and as Christian language repeats (cf. Genesis 41:38; Exodus 31:3; 1 Corinthians 2:11.12; Philippians 3:3; etc.). And he is not just a "Holy Spirit," understood generically according to the manner of expression of the Old Testament (cf. Isaiah 63:10,11; Psalm 51:13), and of Judaism itself in its writings (Qumran, rabbinism).
Proper to the Christian faith is the confession of a participation of this Spirit in the Risen Lord, who himself has become the "life-giving Spirit" (1 Corinthians 15:45). Precisely for this reason St. Paul speaks directly of the "Spirit of Christ" (Romans 8:9), of the "Spirit of his Son" (Galatians 4:6) or of the "Spirit of Jesus Christ" (Philippians 1:19). It seems as if he wished to say that not only God the Father is visible in the Son (cf. John 14:9), but also the Spirit of God is expressed in the life and action of the crucified and risen Lord.
Paul also teaches us another important thing. He says that there can be no authentic prayer without the presence of the Spirit in us. In fact, he writes: "In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God's will" (Romans 8:26-27).
It is as if saying that the Holy Spirit, namely, the Spirit of the Father and of the Son, becomes the soul of our soul, the most secret part of our being, from which rises incessantly to God a movement of prayer, of which we cannot even specify the terms. The Spirit, in fact, ever awake in us, makes up for our deficiencies and offers the Father our adoration, along with our most profound aspirations. Obviously this calls for a level of great vital communion with the Spirit. It is an invitation to be ever more sensitive, more attentive to this presence of the Spirit in us, to transform it into prayer, to experience this presence and to learn in this way to pray, to speak with the Father as children in the Holy Spirit.
There is, moreover, another typical aspect of the Spirit that St. Paul has taught us: his relationship with love. The Apostle writes thus: "Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us" (Romans 5:5). In my encyclical letter, "Deus Caritas Est," I quoted a highly eloquent phrase of St. Augustine: "If you see charity, you see the Trinity" (No. 19), and then I explained: "The Spirit […] is that interior power which harmonizes their [believers'] hearts with Christ's heart and moves them to love their brethren as Christ loved them" (ibid.).
The Spirit places us in the very rhythm of divine life, which is a life of love, making us participate personally in the relations that exist between the Father and the Son. It is highly significant that Paul, when he enumerates the different elements of the fruits of the Spirit, mentions love first: " the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace," etc. (Galatians 5:22). And, given that by definition love unifies, the Spirit is above all creator of communion within the Christian community, as we say at the beginning of the Mass with an expression of St. Paul "... the communion of the Holy Spirit [namely, that by which he acts] be with you all" (2 Corinthians 13:13).
However, moreover, it is also true that the Spirit stimulates us to engage in relationships of charity with all people. In this way, when we love we make room for the Spirit, we allow him to express himself in fullness. Thus we understand the reason why Paul unites these two exhortations on the same page of the Letter to the Romans: "Be fervent in spirit" and "Do not repay anyone evil for evil" (Romans 12:11,17).
Finally, according to St. Paul, the Spirit is a generous pledge which God himself has given us ahead of time and at the same time guarantee of our future inheritance (cf. 2 Corinthians 1:22; 5:5; Ephesians 1:13-14). Thus let us learn from Paul that the action of the Spirit orients our life toward the great values of love, joy, communion and hope. It is for us to experience this every day, seconding the interior suggestions of the Spirit, helped in discernment by the illuminating guidance of the Apostle.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Bez grosza przy duszy - XXXII B Homily
Augustyn Pelanowski OSPPE
Oddać ostatni grosz to nie tylko zdać się na kogoś, ale po prostu pozby ć się złudzeń, że jesteśmy cokolwiek warci. Zanim staniemy się bezcenni w Bożych oczach, musimy pozbyć się złudzeń co do tego, że na coś nas stać, albo że jesteśmy lepsi od innych. Czasem trzeba nawet pozbyć się rzeczywistych darów, bo wyrzeczenie jest pomnożeniem. Wdowa z Sarepty, dopóki nie oddała ostatniego podpłomyka Eliaszowi, nie doznała codziennej obfitości mąki i oliwy, z której mogła czynić setki podpłomyków.
Arogancja ducha objawia się również w tym, że oczekujemy efektów w swoim postępie duchowym. Jezus powiedział do św. Katarzyny Sieneńskiej: „Czy wiesz, Córko moja, Kto Ja Jestem? A czy wiesz, kim ty jesteś? Ja Jestem Tym, Który Jestem, a ty jesteś tym, co nie jest. Tym poznaniem osiągniesz zbawienie”. Św. Jan Klimak napisał, że pyszni z powodu wielkiego pragnienia doznawania czci i szacunku i przywiązania do pochwał udają nieraz to, czego nie mają, na przykład wyższość intelektualną, erudycję, chwalą się dziełami, których nie dokonali, znajomościami słynnych ludzi, zaletami ducha i sumienia, majątkiem, pięknem ciała. Podobnie ci, którzy mają prawdziwą pokorę, niekiedy zachowują się jakby podobnie i dla większego poniżenia przypisują sobie wady, których nie mają, aby nie doznać szacunku lub uznania, o których dobrze wiedzieli, że są bardziej niebezpiecznymi pokusami niż pokusy zmysłowe. Św. Franciszek specjalnie wszedł gołymi stopami w błoto, brudząc je, byleby nie być zaproszonym na bogatą ucztę.
Dwa pieniążki to naprawdę niewiele, ale nawet tyle trzeba oddać Bogu. W przypowieści o talentach trzeci sługa nie potrafił oddać jednego talentu, choć inni oddali pięć i dwa, i to go właśnie zgubiło. Gdyby św. Albert Chmielowski nie oddał swojego talentu plastycznego Bogu, nie udałoby mu się nigdy odmalować w sumieniach tych, którym pomagał, podobieństwa do Chrystusa. Niekiedy Bóg daje nam talenty po to, byśmy wyrzekając się ich, mogli Mu oddać chwałę, a to coś wspanialszego niż zdobyć chwałę dla siebie! Wszystko, co jest w nas dobre, jest własnością Boga, sami z siebie nic nie mamy i niczym jesteśmy. „Czuwajmy, troszczmy się o drobiazgowe wady, dopóki są drobiazgami, ażeby nie urosły. I świętość, i grzech zaczyna się od rzeczy małych, a zdąża do większych i bądź dobrych, bądź złych” (św. Doroteusz).
Gdy już jesteśmy pokornie pozbawieni wszystkiego, stajemy przed ostatnią pokusą: podziwu za naszą pokorę i ubóstwo. „Pragnąć pochwał za pokorę nie jest cnotą, lecz przewrotnością i zniszczeniem pokory” – głosi święty Bernard. Wdowa została bez grosza, ta z Sarepty w pewnej chwili też już nie miała nawet garści mąki i nawet kropli oliwy. To jest moment przełomowy w życiu duchowym. Ogołocenie. Takiego samego dokonał Jezus, oddając ostatnią kroplę krwi za każdego z nas. Oddał też swoją chwałę, gdy został osądzony i uznany za najgorszego bluźniercę i opętanego. Nie walczył o swój prestiż. „Nie sądź, że postąpiłeś w dobrym, jeśli nie uważasz się za najgorszego ze wszystkich” (św. Tomasz ŕ Kempis).
Oddać ostatni grosz to nie tylko zdać się na kogoś, ale po prostu pozby ć się złudzeń, że jesteśmy cokolwiek warci. Zanim staniemy się bezcenni w Bożych oczach, musimy pozbyć się złudzeń co do tego, że na coś nas stać, albo że jesteśmy lepsi od innych. Czasem trzeba nawet pozbyć się rzeczywistych darów, bo wyrzeczenie jest pomnożeniem. Wdowa z Sarepty, dopóki nie oddała ostatniego podpłomyka Eliaszowi, nie doznała codziennej obfitości mąki i oliwy, z której mogła czynić setki podpłomyków.
Arogancja ducha objawia się również w tym, że oczekujemy efektów w swoim postępie duchowym. Jezus powiedział do św. Katarzyny Sieneńskiej: „Czy wiesz, Córko moja, Kto Ja Jestem? A czy wiesz, kim ty jesteś? Ja Jestem Tym, Który Jestem, a ty jesteś tym, co nie jest. Tym poznaniem osiągniesz zbawienie”. Św. Jan Klimak napisał, że pyszni z powodu wielkiego pragnienia doznawania czci i szacunku i przywiązania do pochwał udają nieraz to, czego nie mają, na przykład wyższość intelektualną, erudycję, chwalą się dziełami, których nie dokonali, znajomościami słynnych ludzi, zaletami ducha i sumienia, majątkiem, pięknem ciała. Podobnie ci, którzy mają prawdziwą pokorę, niekiedy zachowują się jakby podobnie i dla większego poniżenia przypisują sobie wady, których nie mają, aby nie doznać szacunku lub uznania, o których dobrze wiedzieli, że są bardziej niebezpiecznymi pokusami niż pokusy zmysłowe. Św. Franciszek specjalnie wszedł gołymi stopami w błoto, brudząc je, byleby nie być zaproszonym na bogatą ucztę.
Dwa pieniążki to naprawdę niewiele, ale nawet tyle trzeba oddać Bogu. W przypowieści o talentach trzeci sługa nie potrafił oddać jednego talentu, choć inni oddali pięć i dwa, i to go właśnie zgubiło. Gdyby św. Albert Chmielowski nie oddał swojego talentu plastycznego Bogu, nie udałoby mu się nigdy odmalować w sumieniach tych, którym pomagał, podobieństwa do Chrystusa. Niekiedy Bóg daje nam talenty po to, byśmy wyrzekając się ich, mogli Mu oddać chwałę, a to coś wspanialszego niż zdobyć chwałę dla siebie! Wszystko, co jest w nas dobre, jest własnością Boga, sami z siebie nic nie mamy i niczym jesteśmy. „Czuwajmy, troszczmy się o drobiazgowe wady, dopóki są drobiazgami, ażeby nie urosły. I świętość, i grzech zaczyna się od rzeczy małych, a zdąża do większych i bądź dobrych, bądź złych” (św. Doroteusz).
Gdy już jesteśmy pokornie pozbawieni wszystkiego, stajemy przed ostatnią pokusą: podziwu za naszą pokorę i ubóstwo. „Pragnąć pochwał za pokorę nie jest cnotą, lecz przewrotnością i zniszczeniem pokory” – głosi święty Bernard. Wdowa została bez grosza, ta z Sarepty w pewnej chwili też już nie miała nawet garści mąki i nawet kropli oliwy. To jest moment przełomowy w życiu duchowym. Ogołocenie. Takiego samego dokonał Jezus, oddając ostatnią kroplę krwi za każdego z nas. Oddał też swoją chwałę, gdy został osądzony i uznany za najgorszego bluźniercę i opętanego. Nie walczył o swój prestiż. „Nie sądź, że postąpiłeś w dobrym, jeśli nie uważasz się za najgorszego ze wszystkich” (św. Tomasz ŕ Kempis).
Thursday, November 09, 2006
PRAYER OF A PRAYING MAN PRAYING
PRAYER OF A PRAYING MAN PRAYING
SILENT WORDS SPOKEN BROKEN THROUGH
THE TREASURY OF ABIDING LOVE UNSPOKEN
KNEELING NEXT TO HIM – MY ITALIAN NEXT-OF-KIN
AT THE STATUE OF THE ROSARY OF THE VIRGIN
SUBMERGING HIM DEEPER INTO THE MYSTERY
RIGHT NEXT TO ME
SUCH LOVE EXPANDING BETWEEN MAN AND STATUE
FELT THEM BOTH STANDING STARING STRAIGHT AT YOU
PRAYER OF A PRAYING MAN PRAYING
WITH EYES THE SIZE OF A TUNNEL
PASSING THROUGH TO THAT BETTER NEXT WORLD
WITH A LONG LOVING LOOK
KNEELING LIKE AN OPEN BOOK
TRANSFIXED AS IF CAUGHT ON A HOOK
IN THE HAND OF THE FISHER OF MEN ~ OH WHEN
WILL THE HESITATION WITHN ME LEAVE ME
SO WHEN PEOPLE LOOK THEY’LL BELIEVE ME
THAT THIS LOVE IS REAL AS THEY BEHOLD WITH THEIR EYES
THEY CAN REALIZE AND FEEL MERCY GIVEN TO REVEAL
FULLNESS OF LOVE TO KEEP US FREE
A POSSABILITY FOR YOU AND ME
WITH THE CONSEQUENCE OF THE FALL
WHILE FALLING WE KEEP RISING
BEYOND OUR NATURAL CAPACITY
WITH SPIRITUAL AUDACITY
LOVE FOR OUR HIGH CALLING
THROUGH THE PRAYER OF A PRAYING MAN PRAYING…
Fr. Stan Fortuna
SILENT WORDS SPOKEN BROKEN THROUGH
THE TREASURY OF ABIDING LOVE UNSPOKEN
KNEELING NEXT TO HIM – MY ITALIAN NEXT-OF-KIN
AT THE STATUE OF THE ROSARY OF THE VIRGIN
SUBMERGING HIM DEEPER INTO THE MYSTERY
RIGHT NEXT TO ME
SUCH LOVE EXPANDING BETWEEN MAN AND STATUE
FELT THEM BOTH STANDING STARING STRAIGHT AT YOU
PRAYER OF A PRAYING MAN PRAYING
WITH EYES THE SIZE OF A TUNNEL
PASSING THROUGH TO THAT BETTER NEXT WORLD
WITH A LONG LOVING LOOK
KNEELING LIKE AN OPEN BOOK
TRANSFIXED AS IF CAUGHT ON A HOOK
IN THE HAND OF THE FISHER OF MEN ~ OH WHEN
WILL THE HESITATION WITHN ME LEAVE ME
SO WHEN PEOPLE LOOK THEY’LL BELIEVE ME
THAT THIS LOVE IS REAL AS THEY BEHOLD WITH THEIR EYES
THEY CAN REALIZE AND FEEL MERCY GIVEN TO REVEAL
FULLNESS OF LOVE TO KEEP US FREE
A POSSABILITY FOR YOU AND ME
WITH THE CONSEQUENCE OF THE FALL
WHILE FALLING WE KEEP RISING
BEYOND OUR NATURAL CAPACITY
WITH SPIRITUAL AUDACITY
LOVE FOR OUR HIGH CALLING
THROUGH THE PRAYER OF A PRAYING MAN PRAYING…
Fr. Stan Fortuna
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Ochrona przed rozpadem - XXXI B Homily
Augustyn Pelanowski OSPPE
Bywa tak, że dobrze znane prawdy poznajemy dogłębnie i olśniewająco w jakimś wyjątkowym momencie życia, który działa jak reflektor wydobywający z ciemności kształty słów i głębię ich treści. Kilka słów zamienionych z Jezusem przez uczonego w Piśmie było jak ów blask zrozumienia.
Kochać Boga sercem, to nie kochać Go w lęku, lecz kochać miłością. W tym przykazaniu nie jest napisane, że mamy Go kochać, ponieważ On nas kocha. Dlatego należy zrozumieć to przykazanie w ten sposób: kochaj Go, nawet wtedy, gdy wszystko wskazuje, że On nie ma dla Ciebie miłości. My kochamy tylko tych, którzy nas kochają, ale Bóg oczekuje od nas miłości bez interesu, bez wzajemności, miłości, która kocha zawsze. Owszem, On nas kocha nieporównywalnie wspanialszą miłością, ale kochać Go mamy nawet wtedy, gdy nic z tej miłości nie dostrzegamy na ścieżce naszego życia. Poza tym nakaz kochania nie dotyczy sfery odczuwania emocji, tylko dotyka naszej woli. Chodzi o to, byśmy chcieli Go kochać, a nie tylko czuli, że Go kochamy. Czy można sobie nakazać miłość? Tak, wtedy, gdy ktoś, kogo zamierzamy kochać, jest godny tej miłości, a nie dlatego, że nam się podoba lub jest dla nas wyjątkowo przychylny. Możemy nakazać sobie miłość w tym znaczeniu, że pragniemy poczynić wszelkie możliwe kroki, by osiągnąć szczyt miłości i nigdy nie zrezygnować z dążenia do umiłowania Boga jeszcze mocniej niż dotychczas. Całym sercem, całą duszą, całym umysłem, całą mocą! Całym, czyli całkowicie, każdym detalem naszej natury, krótko mówiąc: totalnie!
Jest w tym ukryta tajemnica również naszej integralności: kto kocha Boga tak całkowicie, sam jest zintegrowany, scalony w swej duchowości i cielesności, zharmonizowany psychicznie i fizycznie. Miłość porządkuje istnienie. Poszczególne sfery ludzkiej natury zaczynają chodzić jak w zegarku, choć człowiek nie jest maszyną! Każda sytuacja i każda chwila, każde słowo i każdy gest powinny być okazją do poszukiwania miłości Boga. Ponieważ większość ludzi tak nie żyje, dlatego większość ludzi żyje w rozsypce. Wyobraźmy sobie orła, który wpatruje się w szczyt góry, zrywa się do lotu, porzuca gniazdo, jego skrzydła harmonijnie podporządkowują się celowi lotu, podkurcza swoje szpony, by nie stawiały oporu powietrzu i ułatwiły lot, wytęża wszystkie siły, ciągle wpatrując się w cel. Wszystkie jego mięśnie i kości wykonują ruchy posłuszne jednej myśli. Jego lot jest majestatyczny, ponieważ wszystkie części jego natury mają jeden jedyny cel. Gdyby jednocześnie chciał osiągnąć szczyt góry i siedzieć w gnieździe albo polować na jakieś zwierzę, lub spać, każda z części jego ciała wykonywałaby inną czynność, niezharmonizowaną z celem. Skończyłoby się to tragicznie. Podobnie człowiek, który jest zapatrzony w szczyt miłości Boga, porządkuje każdy swój ruch i każdy zryw, by osiągnąć ten cel. Takie życie jest majestatyczne. Kiedy jednocześnie chce kochać Boga i siebie, albo zapatrzony jest w stworzenie czy też pragnie wielu obiektów na raz, upatrując w nich cel swojego życia, wtedy rozsypuje się wewnętrznie.
Bywa tak, że dobrze znane prawdy poznajemy dogłębnie i olśniewająco w jakimś wyjątkowym momencie życia, który działa jak reflektor wydobywający z ciemności kształty słów i głębię ich treści. Kilka słów zamienionych z Jezusem przez uczonego w Piśmie było jak ów blask zrozumienia.
Kochać Boga sercem, to nie kochać Go w lęku, lecz kochać miłością. W tym przykazaniu nie jest napisane, że mamy Go kochać, ponieważ On nas kocha. Dlatego należy zrozumieć to przykazanie w ten sposób: kochaj Go, nawet wtedy, gdy wszystko wskazuje, że On nie ma dla Ciebie miłości. My kochamy tylko tych, którzy nas kochają, ale Bóg oczekuje od nas miłości bez interesu, bez wzajemności, miłości, która kocha zawsze. Owszem, On nas kocha nieporównywalnie wspanialszą miłością, ale kochać Go mamy nawet wtedy, gdy nic z tej miłości nie dostrzegamy na ścieżce naszego życia. Poza tym nakaz kochania nie dotyczy sfery odczuwania emocji, tylko dotyka naszej woli. Chodzi o to, byśmy chcieli Go kochać, a nie tylko czuli, że Go kochamy. Czy można sobie nakazać miłość? Tak, wtedy, gdy ktoś, kogo zamierzamy kochać, jest godny tej miłości, a nie dlatego, że nam się podoba lub jest dla nas wyjątkowo przychylny. Możemy nakazać sobie miłość w tym znaczeniu, że pragniemy poczynić wszelkie możliwe kroki, by osiągnąć szczyt miłości i nigdy nie zrezygnować z dążenia do umiłowania Boga jeszcze mocniej niż dotychczas. Całym sercem, całą duszą, całym umysłem, całą mocą! Całym, czyli całkowicie, każdym detalem naszej natury, krótko mówiąc: totalnie!
Jest w tym ukryta tajemnica również naszej integralności: kto kocha Boga tak całkowicie, sam jest zintegrowany, scalony w swej duchowości i cielesności, zharmonizowany psychicznie i fizycznie. Miłość porządkuje istnienie. Poszczególne sfery ludzkiej natury zaczynają chodzić jak w zegarku, choć człowiek nie jest maszyną! Każda sytuacja i każda chwila, każde słowo i każdy gest powinny być okazją do poszukiwania miłości Boga. Ponieważ większość ludzi tak nie żyje, dlatego większość ludzi żyje w rozsypce. Wyobraźmy sobie orła, który wpatruje się w szczyt góry, zrywa się do lotu, porzuca gniazdo, jego skrzydła harmonijnie podporządkowują się celowi lotu, podkurcza swoje szpony, by nie stawiały oporu powietrzu i ułatwiły lot, wytęża wszystkie siły, ciągle wpatrując się w cel. Wszystkie jego mięśnie i kości wykonują ruchy posłuszne jednej myśli. Jego lot jest majestatyczny, ponieważ wszystkie części jego natury mają jeden jedyny cel. Gdyby jednocześnie chciał osiągnąć szczyt góry i siedzieć w gnieździe albo polować na jakieś zwierzę, lub spać, każda z części jego ciała wykonywałaby inną czynność, niezharmonizowaną z celem. Skończyłoby się to tragicznie. Podobnie człowiek, który jest zapatrzony w szczyt miłości Boga, porządkuje każdy swój ruch i każdy zryw, by osiągnąć ten cel. Takie życie jest majestatyczne. Kiedy jednocześnie chce kochać Boga i siebie, albo zapatrzony jest w stworzenie czy też pragnie wielu obiektów na raz, upatrując w nich cel swojego życia, wtedy rozsypuje się wewnętrznie.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Benedict XVI's Address on Forthcoming Encyclical
VATICAN CITY, JAN. 23, 2006
"I Wished to Show the Humanity of Faith"
The cosmic excursion in which Dante wants to involve the reader in his "Divine Comedy" ends before the everlasting Light that is God himself, before that Light which at the same time is the love "which moves the sun and the other stars ("Paradise" XXXIII, verse 145). Light and love are but one thing. They are the primordial creative power that moves the universe.
If these words of the poet reveal the thought of Aristotle, who saw in the "eros" the power that moves the world, Dante's gaze, however, perceives something totally new and unimaginable for the Greek philosopher.
Eternal Light not only is presented with the three circles of which he speaks with those profound verses that we know: "Eternal Light, You only dwell within Yourself, and only You know You; Self-knowing, Self-known, You love and smile upon Yourself!" ("Paradise," XXXIII, verses 124-126). In reality, the perception of a human face -- the face of Jesus Christ -- which Dante sees in the central circle of light is even more overwhelming than this revelation of God as Trinitarian circle of knowledge and love.
God, infinite Light, whose incommensurable mystery had been intuited by the Greek philosopher, this God has a human face and -- we can add -- a human heart. In this vision of Dante is shown, on one hand, the continuity between the Christian faith in God and the search promoted by reason and by the realm of religions; at the same time, however, in it is also appreciated the novelty that exceeds all human search, the novelty that only God himself could reveal to us: the novelty of a love that has led God to assume a human face, more than that, to assume the flesh and blood, the whole of the human being.
God's "eros" is not only a primordial cosmic force, it is love that has created man and that bends before him, as the Good Samaritan bent before the wounded man, victim of thieves, who was lying on the side of the road that went from Jerusalem to Jericho.
Today the word "love" is so tarnished, so spoiled and so abused, that one is almost afraid to pronounce it with one's lips. And yet it is a primordial word, expression of the primordial reality; we cannot simply abandon it, we must take it up again, purify it and give back to it its original splendor so that it might illuminate our life and lead it on the right path. This awareness led me to choose love as the theme of my first encyclical.
I wished to express to our time and to our existence something of what Dante audaciously recapitulated in his vision. He speaks of his "sight" that "was enriched" when looking at it, changing him interiorly [The textual quotation in English is: "But through the sight, that fortified itself in me by looking, one appearance only to me was ever changing as I changed" (cf. "Paradise," XXXIII, verses 112-114)]. It is precisely this: that faith might become a vision-comprehension that transforms us.
I wished to underline the centrality of faith in God, in that God who has assumed a human face and a human heart. Faith is not a theory that one can take up or lay aside. It is something very concrete: It is the criterion that decides our lifestyle. In an age in which hostility and greed have become superpowers, an age in which we witness the abuse of religion to the point of culminating in hatred, neutral rationality on its own is unable to protect us. We are in need of the living God who has loved us unto death.
Thus, in this encyclical, the subjects "God," "Christ" and "Love" are welded, as the central guide of the Christian faith. I wished to show the humanity of faith, of which "eros" forms part, man's "yes" to his corporeal nature created by God, a "yes" that in the indissoluble marriage between man and woman finds its rooting in creation. And in it, "eros" is transformed into "agape," love for the other that no longer seeks itself but that becomes concern for the other, willingness to sacrifice oneself for him and openness to the gift of a new human life.
The Christian "agape," love for one's neighbor in the following of Christ, is not something foreign, put to one side or something that even goes against the "eros"; on the contrary, with the sacrifice Christ made of himself for man he offered a new dimension, which has developed ever more in the history of the charitable dedication of Christians to the poor and the suffering.
A first reading of the encyclical might perhaps give the impression that it is divided in two parts, that it is not greatly related within itself: a first, theoretical part that talks about the essence of love, and a second part that addresses ecclesial charity, with charitable organizations. However, what interested me was precisely the unity of the two topics, which can only be properly understood if they are seen as only one thing.
Above all, it was necessary to show that man is created to love and that this love, which in the first instance is manifested above all as "eros" between man and woman, must be transformed interiorly later into "agape," in gift of self to the other to respond precisely to the authentic nature of the "eros." With this foundation, it had then to be clarified that the essence of the love of God and of one's neighbor described in the Bible is the center of Christian life, it is the fruit of faith.
Then, it was necessary to underline in a second part that the totally personal act of the "agape" cannot remain as something merely individual, but, on the contrary, it must also become an essential act of the Church as community: that is, an institutional form is also needed that expresses itself in the communal action of the Church. The ecclesial organization of charity is not a form of social assistance that is superimposed by accident on the reality of the Church, an initiative that others could also take.
On the contrary, it forms part of the nature of the Church. Just as to the divine "Logos" corresponds the human announcement, the word of faith, so also to the "Agape," which is God, must correspond the "agape" of the Church, her charitable activity. This activity, in addition to its first very concrete meaning of help to the neighbor, also communicates to others the love of God, which we ourselves have received. In a certain sense, it must make the living God visible. In the charitable organization, God and Christ must not be strange words; in fact, they indicate the original source of ecclesial charity. The strength of "Caritas" depends on the strength of faith of all its members and collaborators.
The spectacle of suffering man touches our heart. But charitable commitment has a meaning that goes well beyond mere philanthropy. God himself pushes us in our interior to alleviate misery. In this way, in a word, we take him to the suffering world. The more we take him consciously and clearly as gift, the more effectively will our love change the world and awaken hope, a hope that goes beyond death.
"I Wished to Show the Humanity of Faith"
The cosmic excursion in which Dante wants to involve the reader in his "Divine Comedy" ends before the everlasting Light that is God himself, before that Light which at the same time is the love "which moves the sun and the other stars ("Paradise" XXXIII, verse 145). Light and love are but one thing. They are the primordial creative power that moves the universe.
If these words of the poet reveal the thought of Aristotle, who saw in the "eros" the power that moves the world, Dante's gaze, however, perceives something totally new and unimaginable for the Greek philosopher.
Eternal Light not only is presented with the three circles of which he speaks with those profound verses that we know: "Eternal Light, You only dwell within Yourself, and only You know You; Self-knowing, Self-known, You love and smile upon Yourself!" ("Paradise," XXXIII, verses 124-126). In reality, the perception of a human face -- the face of Jesus Christ -- which Dante sees in the central circle of light is even more overwhelming than this revelation of God as Trinitarian circle of knowledge and love.
God, infinite Light, whose incommensurable mystery had been intuited by the Greek philosopher, this God has a human face and -- we can add -- a human heart. In this vision of Dante is shown, on one hand, the continuity between the Christian faith in God and the search promoted by reason and by the realm of religions; at the same time, however, in it is also appreciated the novelty that exceeds all human search, the novelty that only God himself could reveal to us: the novelty of a love that has led God to assume a human face, more than that, to assume the flesh and blood, the whole of the human being.
God's "eros" is not only a primordial cosmic force, it is love that has created man and that bends before him, as the Good Samaritan bent before the wounded man, victim of thieves, who was lying on the side of the road that went from Jerusalem to Jericho.
Today the word "love" is so tarnished, so spoiled and so abused, that one is almost afraid to pronounce it with one's lips. And yet it is a primordial word, expression of the primordial reality; we cannot simply abandon it, we must take it up again, purify it and give back to it its original splendor so that it might illuminate our life and lead it on the right path. This awareness led me to choose love as the theme of my first encyclical.
I wished to express to our time and to our existence something of what Dante audaciously recapitulated in his vision. He speaks of his "sight" that "was enriched" when looking at it, changing him interiorly [The textual quotation in English is: "But through the sight, that fortified itself in me by looking, one appearance only to me was ever changing as I changed" (cf. "Paradise," XXXIII, verses 112-114)]. It is precisely this: that faith might become a vision-comprehension that transforms us.
I wished to underline the centrality of faith in God, in that God who has assumed a human face and a human heart. Faith is not a theory that one can take up or lay aside. It is something very concrete: It is the criterion that decides our lifestyle. In an age in which hostility and greed have become superpowers, an age in which we witness the abuse of religion to the point of culminating in hatred, neutral rationality on its own is unable to protect us. We are in need of the living God who has loved us unto death.
Thus, in this encyclical, the subjects "God," "Christ" and "Love" are welded, as the central guide of the Christian faith. I wished to show the humanity of faith, of which "eros" forms part, man's "yes" to his corporeal nature created by God, a "yes" that in the indissoluble marriage between man and woman finds its rooting in creation. And in it, "eros" is transformed into "agape," love for the other that no longer seeks itself but that becomes concern for the other, willingness to sacrifice oneself for him and openness to the gift of a new human life.
The Christian "agape," love for one's neighbor in the following of Christ, is not something foreign, put to one side or something that even goes against the "eros"; on the contrary, with the sacrifice Christ made of himself for man he offered a new dimension, which has developed ever more in the history of the charitable dedication of Christians to the poor and the suffering.
A first reading of the encyclical might perhaps give the impression that it is divided in two parts, that it is not greatly related within itself: a first, theoretical part that talks about the essence of love, and a second part that addresses ecclesial charity, with charitable organizations. However, what interested me was precisely the unity of the two topics, which can only be properly understood if they are seen as only one thing.
Above all, it was necessary to show that man is created to love and that this love, which in the first instance is manifested above all as "eros" between man and woman, must be transformed interiorly later into "agape," in gift of self to the other to respond precisely to the authentic nature of the "eros." With this foundation, it had then to be clarified that the essence of the love of God and of one's neighbor described in the Bible is the center of Christian life, it is the fruit of faith.
Then, it was necessary to underline in a second part that the totally personal act of the "agape" cannot remain as something merely individual, but, on the contrary, it must also become an essential act of the Church as community: that is, an institutional form is also needed that expresses itself in the communal action of the Church. The ecclesial organization of charity is not a form of social assistance that is superimposed by accident on the reality of the Church, an initiative that others could also take.
On the contrary, it forms part of the nature of the Church. Just as to the divine "Logos" corresponds the human announcement, the word of faith, so also to the "Agape," which is God, must correspond the "agape" of the Church, her charitable activity. This activity, in addition to its first very concrete meaning of help to the neighbor, also communicates to others the love of God, which we ourselves have received. In a certain sense, it must make the living God visible. In the charitable organization, God and Christ must not be strange words; in fact, they indicate the original source of ecclesial charity. The strength of "Caritas" depends on the strength of faith of all its members and collaborators.
The spectacle of suffering man touches our heart. But charitable commitment has a meaning that goes well beyond mere philanthropy. God himself pushes us in our interior to alleviate misery. In this way, in a word, we take him to the suffering world. The more we take him consciously and clearly as gift, the more effectively will our love change the world and awaken hope, a hope that goes beyond death.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
JPII on inculturation
“Eccleasia In Africa” #87.
Inculturation, through which the faith penetrates the life of individuals and their primary communities, is also a path to holiness. Just as in the Incarnation Christ assumed human nature in everything but sin, analogously through inculturation the Christian message assimilates the values of the society to which it is proclaimed, rejecting whatever is marked by sin. To the extent that an ecclesial community can integrate the positive values of a specific culture, inculturation becomes an instrument by which the community opens itself to the riches of Christian holiness. An inculturation wisely carried out purifies and elevates the cultures of the various peoples.
Inculturation, through which the faith penetrates the life of individuals and their primary communities, is also a path to holiness. Just as in the Incarnation Christ assumed human nature in everything but sin, analogously through inculturation the Christian message assimilates the values of the society to which it is proclaimed, rejecting whatever is marked by sin. To the extent that an ecclesial community can integrate the positive values of a specific culture, inculturation becomes an instrument by which the community opens itself to the riches of Christian holiness. An inculturation wisely carried out purifies and elevates the cultures of the various peoples.
Benedict XVI On Baptism
"We Are All Children of God in Christ Jesus"
Dear Brothers and Sisters!
On this Sunday following the solemnity of the Epiphany, we celebrate the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which ends the liturgical time of Christmas. Today we contemplate Jesus who, at the age of about 30, had John baptize him in the Jordan River. It was a baptism of penance, which used the symbol of water to express the purification of heart and life.
John, called the "Baptist"" that is, he who baptizes, preached this baptism to Israel to prepare for the imminent coming of the Messiah; and he told all that after him another would come, greater than he, who would not baptize with water but with the Holy Spirit (cf. Mark 1:7-8). When Jesus was baptized in the Jordan, the Holy Spirit descended, rested on him with the corporal appearance of a dove, and John the Baptist recognized that he was the Christ, the "Lamb of God," who came to take away the sins of the world (cf. John 1:29).
Therefore, the baptism in the Jordan is also an "epiphany," a manifestation of the messianic identity of the Lord and of his redeeming work, which will culminate with another "baptism," that of his death and resurrection, through which the whole world will be purified in the fire of divine mercy (cf. Luke 12:49-50).
On this feast, Pope John Paul II usually administered the sacrament of baptism to some children. For the first time, this morning, I also had the joy of baptizing 10 newborns in the Sistine Chapel. I renew with affection my greeting to these little ones, to their families, as well as to the godfathers and godmothers.
The baptism of children expresses and realizes the mystery of the new birth to divine life in Christ: Believing parents take their children to the baptismal font, representation of the "womb" of the Church, from whose blessed waters the children of God are begotten. The gift received by the newborns calls for its being accepted by them, once they become adults, in a free and responsible way: This process of maturation will lead them later to receive the sacrament of confirmation, which in fact will confirm their baptism and will confer on them the "seal" of the Holy Spirit.
Dear Brothers and Sisters, may today's solemnity be a propitious opportunity for all Christians to discover the joy and beauty of their baptism that, lived with faith, is an ever present reality: It continually renews us in the image of the new man, in holiness of thoughts and deeds. Baptism, moreover, unites Christians of all creeds. Insofar as baptized, we are all children of God in Christ Jesus, our master and Lord. May the virgin Mary obtain for us the grace to understand ever more the value of our baptism and to witness to it with a worthy conduct of life.
Dear Brothers and Sisters!
On this Sunday following the solemnity of the Epiphany, we celebrate the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which ends the liturgical time of Christmas. Today we contemplate Jesus who, at the age of about 30, had John baptize him in the Jordan River. It was a baptism of penance, which used the symbol of water to express the purification of heart and life.
John, called the "Baptist"" that is, he who baptizes, preached this baptism to Israel to prepare for the imminent coming of the Messiah; and he told all that after him another would come, greater than he, who would not baptize with water but with the Holy Spirit (cf. Mark 1:7-8). When Jesus was baptized in the Jordan, the Holy Spirit descended, rested on him with the corporal appearance of a dove, and John the Baptist recognized that he was the Christ, the "Lamb of God," who came to take away the sins of the world (cf. John 1:29).
Therefore, the baptism in the Jordan is also an "epiphany," a manifestation of the messianic identity of the Lord and of his redeeming work, which will culminate with another "baptism," that of his death and resurrection, through which the whole world will be purified in the fire of divine mercy (cf. Luke 12:49-50).
On this feast, Pope John Paul II usually administered the sacrament of baptism to some children. For the first time, this morning, I also had the joy of baptizing 10 newborns in the Sistine Chapel. I renew with affection my greeting to these little ones, to their families, as well as to the godfathers and godmothers.
The baptism of children expresses and realizes the mystery of the new birth to divine life in Christ: Believing parents take their children to the baptismal font, representation of the "womb" of the Church, from whose blessed waters the children of God are begotten. The gift received by the newborns calls for its being accepted by them, once they become adults, in a free and responsible way: This process of maturation will lead them later to receive the sacrament of confirmation, which in fact will confirm their baptism and will confer on them the "seal" of the Holy Spirit.
Dear Brothers and Sisters, may today's solemnity be a propitious opportunity for all Christians to discover the joy and beauty of their baptism that, lived with faith, is an ever present reality: It continually renews us in the image of the new man, in holiness of thoughts and deeds. Baptism, moreover, unites Christians of all creeds. Insofar as baptized, we are all children of God in Christ Jesus, our master and Lord. May the virgin Mary obtain for us the grace to understand ever more the value of our baptism and to witness to it with a worthy conduct of life.
Benedict XVI on Feast of Epiphany
"The Magi's Worship: Fulfillment of Scriptures"
Dear Brothers and Sisters!
Today we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord, namely, his manifestation to the Gentiles, represented by the Wise Men, mysterious people who came from the East, of which the Gospel according to Matthew speaks (Matthew 2:1-12). The Magi's worship of Jesus was recognized immediately as fulfillment of the prophetic Scriptures. "And nations shall come to your light," we read in the Book of Isaiah, "and kings to the brightness of your rising. … They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord" (Isaiah 60:3,6). The light of Christ, which the cave of Bethlehem contained, today expands in all its universal splendor. My thoughts go particularly to the beloved brothers and sisters of the Oriental Churches who, following the Julian calendar, celebrate today holy Christmas: I address to them my most cordial greetings of peace and goodness in the Lord.
It seems spontaneous to recall today World Youth Day. Last August, it gathered in Cologne more than 1 million young people, who raised as their motto the Magi's words in reference to Jesus: "We Have Come to Worship Him" (Matthew 2:2). How many times we have heard and repeated them! Now we cannot hear them without returning spiritually to that memorable event that represented a genuine "epiphany." In fact, the pilgrimage of young people in its most profound dimension, can be seen as an itinerary guided by the light of a "star," by the light of faith. And today I want to extend to the whole Church the message that I then proposed to young people gathered on the banks of the Rhine River: "Open wide your hearts to God; let yourselves be astonished by Christ! Open the doors of your freedom to his merciful love! Show Christ your joys and sorrows, allowing him to illuminate your mind with his light and touch your hearts with his grace" (Address of Aug. 18, 2005).
I would like the entire Church to breathe, as in Cologne, the atmosphere of "epiphany," and of genuine missionary commitment aroused by the manifestation of Christ, light of the world, sent by God the Father to reconcile and unify humanity with the force of love. With this spirit, let us pray with fervor for full Christian unity so that their testimony will become the leaven of communion for the whole world. For this reason, let us invoke the intercession of Mary Most Holy, Mother of Christ and Mother of the Church.
Dear Brothers and Sisters!
Today we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord, namely, his manifestation to the Gentiles, represented by the Wise Men, mysterious people who came from the East, of which the Gospel according to Matthew speaks (Matthew 2:1-12). The Magi's worship of Jesus was recognized immediately as fulfillment of the prophetic Scriptures. "And nations shall come to your light," we read in the Book of Isaiah, "and kings to the brightness of your rising. … They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord" (Isaiah 60:3,6). The light of Christ, which the cave of Bethlehem contained, today expands in all its universal splendor. My thoughts go particularly to the beloved brothers and sisters of the Oriental Churches who, following the Julian calendar, celebrate today holy Christmas: I address to them my most cordial greetings of peace and goodness in the Lord.
It seems spontaneous to recall today World Youth Day. Last August, it gathered in Cologne more than 1 million young people, who raised as their motto the Magi's words in reference to Jesus: "We Have Come to Worship Him" (Matthew 2:2). How many times we have heard and repeated them! Now we cannot hear them without returning spiritually to that memorable event that represented a genuine "epiphany." In fact, the pilgrimage of young people in its most profound dimension, can be seen as an itinerary guided by the light of a "star," by the light of faith. And today I want to extend to the whole Church the message that I then proposed to young people gathered on the banks of the Rhine River: "Open wide your hearts to God; let yourselves be astonished by Christ! Open the doors of your freedom to his merciful love! Show Christ your joys and sorrows, allowing him to illuminate your mind with his light and touch your hearts with his grace" (Address of Aug. 18, 2005).
I would like the entire Church to breathe, as in Cologne, the atmosphere of "epiphany," and of genuine missionary commitment aroused by the manifestation of Christ, light of the world, sent by God the Father to reconcile and unify humanity with the force of love. With this spirit, let us pray with fervor for full Christian unity so that their testimony will become the leaven of communion for the whole world. For this reason, let us invoke the intercession of Mary Most Holy, Mother of Christ and Mother of the Church.
Benedict XVI on Feast of St. Stephen
"Professing the Christian Faith Demands the Heroism of the Martyrs\"
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Yesterday, after solemnly celebrating Christ's Birth, today we are commemorating the birth in Heaven of St Stephen, the first martyr. A special bond links these two feasts and it is summed up well in the Ambrosian liturgy by this affirmation: "Yesterday, the Lord was born on earth, that Stephen might be born in Heaven" (At the breaking of the bread).
Just as Jesus on the Cross entrusted himself to the Father without reserve and pardoned those who killed him, at the moment of his death St. Stephen prayed: "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit"; and further: "Lord, do not hold this sin against them" (cf. Acts 7:59-60). Stephen was a genuine disciple of Jesus and imitated him perfectly. With Stephen began that long series of martyrs who sealed their faith by offering their lives, proclaiming with their heroic witness that God became man to open the Kingdom of Heaven to humankind.
In the atmosphere of Christmas joy, the reference to the martyr St. Stephen does not seem out of place. Indeed, the shadow of the Cross was already extending over the manger in Bethlehem.
It was foretold by the poverty of the stable in which the infant wailed, the prophecy of Simeon concerning the sign that would be opposed and the sword destined to pierce the heart of the Virgin, and Herod's persecution that would make necessary the flight to Egypt.
It should not come as a surprise that this Child, having grown to adulthood, would one day ask his disciples to follow him with total trust and faithfulness on the Way of the Cross.
Already at the dawn of the Church, many Christians, attracted by his example and sustained by his love, were to witness to their faith by pouring out their blood. The first martyrs would be followed by others down the centuries to our day.
How can we not recognize that professing the Christian faith demands the heroism of the Martyrs in our time too, in various parts of the world? Moreover, how can we not say that everywhere, even where there is no persecution, there is a high price to pay for consistently living the Gospel?
Contemplating the divine Child in Mary's arms and looking to the example of St Stephen, let us ask God for the grace to live our faith consistently, ever ready to answer those who ask us to account for the hope that is in us (cf. 1 Peter 3:15).
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Yesterday, after solemnly celebrating Christ's Birth, today we are commemorating the birth in Heaven of St Stephen, the first martyr. A special bond links these two feasts and it is summed up well in the Ambrosian liturgy by this affirmation: "Yesterday, the Lord was born on earth, that Stephen might be born in Heaven" (At the breaking of the bread).
Just as Jesus on the Cross entrusted himself to the Father without reserve and pardoned those who killed him, at the moment of his death St. Stephen prayed: "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit"; and further: "Lord, do not hold this sin against them" (cf. Acts 7:59-60). Stephen was a genuine disciple of Jesus and imitated him perfectly. With Stephen began that long series of martyrs who sealed their faith by offering their lives, proclaiming with their heroic witness that God became man to open the Kingdom of Heaven to humankind.
In the atmosphere of Christmas joy, the reference to the martyr St. Stephen does not seem out of place. Indeed, the shadow of the Cross was already extending over the manger in Bethlehem.
It was foretold by the poverty of the stable in which the infant wailed, the prophecy of Simeon concerning the sign that would be opposed and the sword destined to pierce the heart of the Virgin, and Herod's persecution that would make necessary the flight to Egypt.
It should not come as a surprise that this Child, having grown to adulthood, would one day ask his disciples to follow him with total trust and faithfulness on the Way of the Cross.
Already at the dawn of the Church, many Christians, attracted by his example and sustained by his love, were to witness to their faith by pouring out their blood. The first martyrs would be followed by others down the centuries to our day.
How can we not recognize that professing the Christian faith demands the heroism of the Martyrs in our time too, in various parts of the world? Moreover, how can we not say that everywhere, even where there is no persecution, there is a high price to pay for consistently living the Gospel?
Contemplating the divine Child in Mary's arms and looking to the example of St Stephen, let us ask God for the grace to live our faith consistently, ever ready to answer those who ask us to account for the hope that is in us (cf. 1 Peter 3:15).
Benedict XVI on the Mother of God and the World Day of Peace
"We Must Open Ourselves to the Truth"
Dear Brothers and Sisters!
On this first day of the year, the Church contemplates the heavenly Mother of God, who holds in her arms the Child Jesus, source of all blessings. "Hail, holy Mother, you have given birth to the King who rules heaven and earth for ever and ever."
The announcement of the angels in Bethlehem echoed in Mary's maternal heart, filling it with wonder: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!" (Luke 2:14). And the Gospel adds that Mary "kept all these things, pondering them in her heart" (Luke 2:19). Like her, the Church also keeps and meditates on the Word of God, applying it with the different and changing situations she finds on her way.
Contemplating Christ, who came on earth to give us peace, we celebrate with the new year the World Day of Peace, which began by decision of Pope Paul VI thirty-eight years ago. In my first message on this occasion, I wanted to take up this year a constant theme in the magisterium of my venerated predecessors, beginning with the memorable encyclical of Blessed Pope John XXIII, "Pacem in Terris": the theme of truth as the foundation of authentic peace: "In Truth, Peace" is the motto that I present for the reflection of every person of good will.
When man allows himself to be illuminated by the splendor of truth, he becomes interiorly a courageous architect of peace. The liturgical time we are living gives us a great lesson: To welcome the gift of peace we must open ourselves to the truth that has been revealed in the person of Jesus, who taught us the "content" and at the same time the "method" of peace, that is, love.
God, in fact, who is perfect and subsistent love, revealed himself in Jesus, assuming our human condition. In this way he has also indicated to us the way of peace: dialogue, forgiveness, solidarity. This is the only way that leads to authentic peace.
Let us turn our gaze to Mary Most Holy, who today blesses the whole world showing her divine Son, the "Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:5). With trust, let us invoke her powerful intercession so that the human family, by opening itself to the evangelical message, might spend the year which begins today in fraternity and peace. With these sentiments I express to all of you here present, and to all those who are united to us through radio and television, my most cordial wishes for peace and goodness."
Dear Brothers and Sisters!
On this first day of the year, the Church contemplates the heavenly Mother of God, who holds in her arms the Child Jesus, source of all blessings. "Hail, holy Mother, you have given birth to the King who rules heaven and earth for ever and ever."
The announcement of the angels in Bethlehem echoed in Mary's maternal heart, filling it with wonder: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!" (Luke 2:14). And the Gospel adds that Mary "kept all these things, pondering them in her heart" (Luke 2:19). Like her, the Church also keeps and meditates on the Word of God, applying it with the different and changing situations she finds on her way.
Contemplating Christ, who came on earth to give us peace, we celebrate with the new year the World Day of Peace, which began by decision of Pope Paul VI thirty-eight years ago. In my first message on this occasion, I wanted to take up this year a constant theme in the magisterium of my venerated predecessors, beginning with the memorable encyclical of Blessed Pope John XXIII, "Pacem in Terris": the theme of truth as the foundation of authentic peace: "In Truth, Peace" is the motto that I present for the reflection of every person of good will.
When man allows himself to be illuminated by the splendor of truth, he becomes interiorly a courageous architect of peace. The liturgical time we are living gives us a great lesson: To welcome the gift of peace we must open ourselves to the truth that has been revealed in the person of Jesus, who taught us the "content" and at the same time the "method" of peace, that is, love.
God, in fact, who is perfect and subsistent love, revealed himself in Jesus, assuming our human condition. In this way he has also indicated to us the way of peace: dialogue, forgiveness, solidarity. This is the only way that leads to authentic peace.
Let us turn our gaze to Mary Most Holy, who today blesses the whole world showing her divine Son, the "Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:5). With trust, let us invoke her powerful intercession so that the human family, by opening itself to the evangelical message, might spend the year which begins today in fraternity and peace. With these sentiments I express to all of you here present, and to all those who are united to us through radio and television, my most cordial wishes for peace and goodness."
Benedict XVI comments on Psalm 143 (144): 1-8
"Lord, What Is Man That You Care for Him?"
1. Our journey through the Psalter used by the Liturgy of Vespers now brings us to a royal hymn, Psalm 143(144), of which the first part was proclaimed: In fact, the liturgy proposes this hymn dividing it in two sections.
The first part (cf. verses 1 to 8) reveals clearly the literary characteristic of this composition: The psalmist uses quotations from other texts of the Psalms, articulated in a new hymn and prayer.
Given that the psalm belongs to a later period, it is easy to imagine that the king who is exalted no longer has the features of the Davidic sovereign, since Jewish royalty ended with the Babylonian exile in the sixth century B.C., but rather those of the luminous and glorious figure of the Messiah, whose victory is no longer a martial-political event, but an intervention of liberation against evil. The "messiah," Greek word that indicated the "anointed one," is replaced by the "Messiah" par excellence, who in Christian literature has the face of Jesus Christ, "the son of David, the son of Abraham" (Matthew 1:1).
2. The hymn begins with a blessing, that is, with an exclamation of praise addressed to the Lord, celebrated with a little litany of salvific titles: He is the sure and stable rock, he is loving grace, he is the protected fortress, the refuge of defense, liberation, the shield that forestalls every evil assault (cf. Psalm 143[144]:1-2). Also appearing is the martial image of God who trains his faithful in the struggle so that he will be able to face the hostilities of the environment, the dark powers of the world.
Despite his royal dignity, before the Almighty Lord, the psalmist feels weak and fragile. Then he expresses a profession of humility that is formulated, as he already said, with the words of Psalms 8 and 38. He feels like "a breath," like "a passing shadow," inconsistent, submerged in the flux of time that passes, marked by the limitation proper to the creature (cf. Psalm 143[114]:4).
3. The question then arises: Why is God concerned about this very miserable and decrepit creature? To this question (cf. verse 3) the grandiose divine apparition responds, the so-called theophany that is accompanied by a procession of cosmic elements and historical events, oriented to celebrate the transcendence of the supreme King of being, of the universe and of history.
Thus, mention is made of mountains that spew forth smoke with volcanic eruptions (cf. verse 5), of flashes of lightning that seem like arrows flung against evildoers (cf. verse 6), of "many" oceanic "waters," symbol of the chaos from which the king is saved by the power of the same divine hand (cf. verse 7). In the background are the foreign foes who "speak untruth" and whose "[right hands are raised in lying oaths]" (cf. verses 7-8), a concrete representation, according to the Semitic style, of idolatry, moral perversion, of the evil that is truly opposed to God and to his faithful.
4. In our meditation, we now pause for a moment on the profession of humility expressed by the psalmist and we will make use of Origen's words, whose commentary on our text has come to us through St. Jerome's Latin version. "The psalmist speaks of the fragility of the body and of the human condition," as in virtue of the human condition, man is nothing. "Vanity of vanities; all is vanity," says Ecclesiastes. The question again arises of wonder and thanksgiving: "'Lord, what is man that you care for him? … It is a great happiness for man to know his own Creator. In this we are distinguished from beasts and other animals, as we know we have a Creator, while they do not know it."
It is worthwhile to meditate for a moment on these words of Origen, who sees the fundamental difference between man and the rest of animals in the fact that man is able to know God, his Creator, in the fact that man is capable of truth, of a knowledge that becomes a relationship, a friendship. In our time, it is important that we not forget God, along with the other knowledge that we have acquired in the meantime, which is so much! Such knowledge becomes problematic -- what is more, dangerous -- if the fundamental knowledge is lacking that gives meaning and orientation to everything, if knowledge of God the Creator is lacking.
Let us return to Origen. He says: "You will not be able to save this misery, which is man, if you yourself do not carry him on your shoulders. 'Bow thy heavens, O Lord, and come down.' Your abandoned sheep will not be able to cure itself if you do not carry it on your shoulders. … These words are addressed to the Son: 'Bow thy heavens, O Lord, and come down.' … You have come down, you have bowed the heavens and you have stretched out your hand from on high, and you have deigned to carry the flesh of man on your shoulders, and many believed in you" (Origen-Jerome, "74 Omelie sul Libro dei Salmi," Milan, 1993, pp. 512-515).
For us Christians, God is no longer, as in the philosophy prior to Christianity, a theory but a reality, as God has "bowed the heavens and come down." He himself is heaven, and has come down among us. With reason, Origen sees in the parable of the lost sheep, which the shepherd carries on his shoulders, the parable of the Incarnation of God. If, in the Incarnation, he has come down and has carried our flesh on his shoulders, he has carried us on his shoulders. In this way, the knowledge of God has become a reality, it has become friendship, communion. We give thanks to the Lord, as "he has bowed his heaven and come down," has carried our flesh on his shoulders and leads us on the paths of our life.
The psalm, which begins with the discovery that we are weak and removed from the divine splendor, at the end comes to this great surprise of the divine action: With us is the God-Emmanuel, which for Christianity has the loving face of Jesus Christ, God made man, made one of us.
1. Our journey through the Psalter used by the Liturgy of Vespers now brings us to a royal hymn, Psalm 143(144), of which the first part was proclaimed: In fact, the liturgy proposes this hymn dividing it in two sections.
The first part (cf. verses 1 to 8) reveals clearly the literary characteristic of this composition: The psalmist uses quotations from other texts of the Psalms, articulated in a new hymn and prayer.
Given that the psalm belongs to a later period, it is easy to imagine that the king who is exalted no longer has the features of the Davidic sovereign, since Jewish royalty ended with the Babylonian exile in the sixth century B.C., but rather those of the luminous and glorious figure of the Messiah, whose victory is no longer a martial-political event, but an intervention of liberation against evil. The "messiah," Greek word that indicated the "anointed one," is replaced by the "Messiah" par excellence, who in Christian literature has the face of Jesus Christ, "the son of David, the son of Abraham" (Matthew 1:1).
2. The hymn begins with a blessing, that is, with an exclamation of praise addressed to the Lord, celebrated with a little litany of salvific titles: He is the sure and stable rock, he is loving grace, he is the protected fortress, the refuge of defense, liberation, the shield that forestalls every evil assault (cf. Psalm 143[144]:1-2). Also appearing is the martial image of God who trains his faithful in the struggle so that he will be able to face the hostilities of the environment, the dark powers of the world.
Despite his royal dignity, before the Almighty Lord, the psalmist feels weak and fragile. Then he expresses a profession of humility that is formulated, as he already said, with the words of Psalms 8 and 38. He feels like "a breath," like "a passing shadow," inconsistent, submerged in the flux of time that passes, marked by the limitation proper to the creature (cf. Psalm 143[114]:4).
3. The question then arises: Why is God concerned about this very miserable and decrepit creature? To this question (cf. verse 3) the grandiose divine apparition responds, the so-called theophany that is accompanied by a procession of cosmic elements and historical events, oriented to celebrate the transcendence of the supreme King of being, of the universe and of history.
Thus, mention is made of mountains that spew forth smoke with volcanic eruptions (cf. verse 5), of flashes of lightning that seem like arrows flung against evildoers (cf. verse 6), of "many" oceanic "waters," symbol of the chaos from which the king is saved by the power of the same divine hand (cf. verse 7). In the background are the foreign foes who "speak untruth" and whose "[right hands are raised in lying oaths]" (cf. verses 7-8), a concrete representation, according to the Semitic style, of idolatry, moral perversion, of the evil that is truly opposed to God and to his faithful.
4. In our meditation, we now pause for a moment on the profession of humility expressed by the psalmist and we will make use of Origen's words, whose commentary on our text has come to us through St. Jerome's Latin version. "The psalmist speaks of the fragility of the body and of the human condition," as in virtue of the human condition, man is nothing. "Vanity of vanities; all is vanity," says Ecclesiastes. The question again arises of wonder and thanksgiving: "'Lord, what is man that you care for him? … It is a great happiness for man to know his own Creator. In this we are distinguished from beasts and other animals, as we know we have a Creator, while they do not know it."
It is worthwhile to meditate for a moment on these words of Origen, who sees the fundamental difference between man and the rest of animals in the fact that man is able to know God, his Creator, in the fact that man is capable of truth, of a knowledge that becomes a relationship, a friendship. In our time, it is important that we not forget God, along with the other knowledge that we have acquired in the meantime, which is so much! Such knowledge becomes problematic -- what is more, dangerous -- if the fundamental knowledge is lacking that gives meaning and orientation to everything, if knowledge of God the Creator is lacking.
Let us return to Origen. He says: "You will not be able to save this misery, which is man, if you yourself do not carry him on your shoulders. 'Bow thy heavens, O Lord, and come down.' Your abandoned sheep will not be able to cure itself if you do not carry it on your shoulders. … These words are addressed to the Son: 'Bow thy heavens, O Lord, and come down.' … You have come down, you have bowed the heavens and you have stretched out your hand from on high, and you have deigned to carry the flesh of man on your shoulders, and many believed in you" (Origen-Jerome, "74 Omelie sul Libro dei Salmi," Milan, 1993, pp. 512-515).
For us Christians, God is no longer, as in the philosophy prior to Christianity, a theory but a reality, as God has "bowed the heavens and come down." He himself is heaven, and has come down among us. With reason, Origen sees in the parable of the lost sheep, which the shepherd carries on his shoulders, the parable of the Incarnation of God. If, in the Incarnation, he has come down and has carried our flesh on his shoulders, he has carried us on his shoulders. In this way, the knowledge of God has become a reality, it has become friendship, communion. We give thanks to the Lord, as "he has bowed his heaven and come down," has carried our flesh on his shoulders and leads us on the paths of our life.
The psalm, which begins with the discovery that we are weak and removed from the divine splendor, at the end comes to this great surprise of the divine action: With us is the God-Emmanuel, which for Christianity has the loving face of Jesus Christ, God made man, made one of us.
Benedict XVI comments on Psalm 138 (139): 13-24
On the Embryo "God Has Already Turned His Loving Eyes"
1. At this general audience on Wednesday of the octave of Christmas, the liturgical feast of the Holy Innocents, let us resume our meditation on Psalm 138(139), proposed in the Liturgy of Vespers in two distinct stages. After contemplating in the first part (verses 112) the omniscient and omnipotent God, the Lord of being and history, this sapiential hymn of intense beauty and deep feeling now focuses on the loftiest, most marvelous reality of the entire universe: man, whose being is described as a "wonder" of God (verse 14).
Indeed, this topic is deeply in tune with the Christmas atmosphere we are living in these days in which we celebrate the great mystery of the Son of God who became man, indeed, became a Child, for our salvation.
After pondering on the gaze and presence of the Creator that sweeps across the whole cosmic horizon, in the second part of the Psalm on which we are meditating today Goel' turns his loving gaze upon the human being, whose full and complete beginning is reflected upon.
He is still an "unformed substance" in his mother's womb: The Hebrew term used has been understood by several biblical experts as referring to an "embryo," described in that term as a small, oval, curled-up reality, but on which God has already turned his benevolent and loving eyes (verse 16).
2. To describe the divine action within the maternal womb, the psalmist has recourse to classical biblical images, comparing the productive cavity of the mother to the "depths of the earth," that is, the constant vitality of great mother earth (verse 15).
First of all, there is the symbol of the potter and of the sculptor who "fashions" and moulds his artistic creation, his masterpiece, just as it is said about the creation of man in the Book of Genesis: "the Lord God formed man out of the clay of the ground" (Genesis 2:7).
Then there is a "textile" symbol that evokes the delicacy of the skin, the flesh, the nerves, "threaded" onto the bony skeleton. Job also recalled forcefully these and other images to exalt that masterpiece which the human being is, despite being battered and bruised by suffering: "Your hands have formed me and fashioned me. … Remember that you fashioned me from clay ...! Did you not pour me out as milk and thicken me like cheese? With skin and flesh you clothed me, with bones and sinews knit me together" (Job 10:8-11).
3. The idea in our psalm that God already sees the entire future of that embryo, still an "unformed substance," is extremely powerful. The days which that creature will live and fill with deeds throughout his earthly existence are already written in the Lord's book of life.
Thus, once again the transcendent greatness of divine knowledge emerges, embracing not only humanity's past and present but also the span, still hidden, of the future. However, the greatness of this little unborn human creature, formed by God\'s hands and surrounded by his love, also appears: a biblical tribute to the human being from the first moment of his existence.
Let us now entrust ourselves to the reflection that St. Gregory the Great in his Homilies on Ezekiel has interwoven with the sentence of the psalm on which we commented earlier: "Your eyes beheld my unformed substance; in your book were written every one of them [my days]" (verse 16). On those words the Pontiff and Father of the Church composed an original and delicate meditation concerning all those in the Christian community who falter on their spiritual journey.
And he says that those who are weak in faith and in Christian life are part of the architecture of the Church. "They are nonetheless added ... by virtue of good will. It is true, they are imperfect and little, yet as far as they are able to understand, they love God and their neighbor and do not neglect to do all the good that they can. Even if they do not yet attain spiritual gifts so as to open their soul to perfect action and ardent contemplation, yet they do not fall behind in love of God and neighbor, to the extent that they can comprehend it.
"Therefore, it happens that they too contribute to building the Church because, although their position is less important, although they lag behind in teaching, prophecy, the grace of miracles and complete distaste for the world, yet they are based on foundations of awe and love, in which they find their solidity\" (2, 3, 12-13, "Opere di Gregorio Magno," IIV 2, Rome, 1993, pp. 79, 81).
St. Gregory's message, therefore, becomes a great consolation to all of us who often struggle wearily along on the path of spiritual and ecclesial life. The Lord knows us and surrounds us all with his love.
1. At this general audience on Wednesday of the octave of Christmas, the liturgical feast of the Holy Innocents, let us resume our meditation on Psalm 138(139), proposed in the Liturgy of Vespers in two distinct stages. After contemplating in the first part (verses 112) the omniscient and omnipotent God, the Lord of being and history, this sapiential hymn of intense beauty and deep feeling now focuses on the loftiest, most marvelous reality of the entire universe: man, whose being is described as a "wonder" of God (verse 14).
Indeed, this topic is deeply in tune with the Christmas atmosphere we are living in these days in which we celebrate the great mystery of the Son of God who became man, indeed, became a Child, for our salvation.
After pondering on the gaze and presence of the Creator that sweeps across the whole cosmic horizon, in the second part of the Psalm on which we are meditating today Goel' turns his loving gaze upon the human being, whose full and complete beginning is reflected upon.
He is still an "unformed substance" in his mother's womb: The Hebrew term used has been understood by several biblical experts as referring to an "embryo," described in that term as a small, oval, curled-up reality, but on which God has already turned his benevolent and loving eyes (verse 16).
2. To describe the divine action within the maternal womb, the psalmist has recourse to classical biblical images, comparing the productive cavity of the mother to the "depths of the earth," that is, the constant vitality of great mother earth (verse 15).
First of all, there is the symbol of the potter and of the sculptor who "fashions" and moulds his artistic creation, his masterpiece, just as it is said about the creation of man in the Book of Genesis: "the Lord God formed man out of the clay of the ground" (Genesis 2:7).
Then there is a "textile" symbol that evokes the delicacy of the skin, the flesh, the nerves, "threaded" onto the bony skeleton. Job also recalled forcefully these and other images to exalt that masterpiece which the human being is, despite being battered and bruised by suffering: "Your hands have formed me and fashioned me. … Remember that you fashioned me from clay ...! Did you not pour me out as milk and thicken me like cheese? With skin and flesh you clothed me, with bones and sinews knit me together" (Job 10:8-11).
3. The idea in our psalm that God already sees the entire future of that embryo, still an "unformed substance," is extremely powerful. The days which that creature will live and fill with deeds throughout his earthly existence are already written in the Lord's book of life.
Thus, once again the transcendent greatness of divine knowledge emerges, embracing not only humanity's past and present but also the span, still hidden, of the future. However, the greatness of this little unborn human creature, formed by God\'s hands and surrounded by his love, also appears: a biblical tribute to the human being from the first moment of his existence.
Let us now entrust ourselves to the reflection that St. Gregory the Great in his Homilies on Ezekiel has interwoven with the sentence of the psalm on which we commented earlier: "Your eyes beheld my unformed substance; in your book were written every one of them [my days]" (verse 16). On those words the Pontiff and Father of the Church composed an original and delicate meditation concerning all those in the Christian community who falter on their spiritual journey.
And he says that those who are weak in faith and in Christian life are part of the architecture of the Church. "They are nonetheless added ... by virtue of good will. It is true, they are imperfect and little, yet as far as they are able to understand, they love God and their neighbor and do not neglect to do all the good that they can. Even if they do not yet attain spiritual gifts so as to open their soul to perfect action and ardent contemplation, yet they do not fall behind in love of God and neighbor, to the extent that they can comprehend it.
"Therefore, it happens that they too contribute to building the Church because, although their position is less important, although they lag behind in teaching, prophecy, the grace of miracles and complete distaste for the world, yet they are based on foundations of awe and love, in which they find their solidity\" (2, 3, 12-13, "Opere di Gregorio Magno," IIV 2, Rome, 1993, pp. 79, 81).
St. Gregory's message, therefore, becomes a great consolation to all of us who often struggle wearily along on the path of spiritual and ecclesial life. The Lord knows us and surrounds us all with his love.
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