Homily of Pope Francis read by H.E. Cardinal Angelo De Donatis

This evening, we receive the imposition of the holy ashes. This brings to mind the memory of what we are, but also the hope of what we will be. The ashes remind us that we are dust, but they also set us on a journey towards the hope to which we are called. For Jesus descended to the dust of the earth and, by his Resurrection, has drawn us with himself into the Father’s heart.

Thus the Lenten journey towards Easter unfolds amidst the remembrance of our fragility and the hope that, at the end of the road, the Risen Lord is waiting for us.

First, we must remember. We bow our heads in order to receive the ashes as if to look at ourselves, to look within ourselves. Indeed, the ashes help to remind us that our lives are fragile and insignificant: we are dust, from dust we were created, and to dust we shall return. Moreover, there are so many times when, looking at ourselves or at the reality that surrounds us, we realise that “everyone stands as a mere breath [...] for nothing they are in turmoil; they heap up, and do not know who will gather” (Ps 39:5-6).

We learn this above all through the experience of our own fragility: our weariness, the weaknesses we have to come to terms with, the fears that dwell in us, the failures that consume us, the fleetingness of our dreams and the realisation that what we possess is ephemeral. Made of ashes and earth, we experience fragility through illness, poverty, and the hardships that can suddenly befall us and our families. We also experience it when, in the social and political realities of our time, we find ourselves exposed to the “fine dust” that pollutes our world: ideological opposition, the abuse of power, the re-emergence of old ideologies based on identity that advocate exclusion, the exploitation of the earth’s resources, violence in all its forms and war between peoples. This “toxic dust” clouds the air of our planet impeding peaceful coexistence, while uncertainty and the fear of the future continue to increase.

Furthermore, the condition of fragility reminds us of the tragedy of death. In many ways, we try to banish death from our societies, so dependent on appearances, and even remove it from our language. Death, however, imposes itself as a reality with which we have to reckon, a sign of the precariousness and brevity of our lives.

Despite the masks we wear and the cleverly crafted ploys meant to distract us, the ashes remind us of who we are. This is good for us. It reshapes us, reduces the severity of our narcissism, brings us back to reality and makes us more humble and open to one another: none of us is God; we are all on a journey.

Lent, however, is also an invitation to rekindle our hope. Although we receive the ashes with our heads bowed in remembrance of who we are, the Lenten season does not end there. On the contrary, we are invited to lift our eyes to the One who rises from the depths of death and brings us from the ashes of sin and death to the glory of eternal life.

The ashes remind us of the hope to which we are called in Jesus, the Son of God, who has taken upon himself the dust of the earth and raised it to the heights of heaven. He descended into the abyss of dust, dying for us and reconciling us to the Father, as we heard from Saint Paul: “For our sake, he made him to be sin who knew no sin” (2 Cor 5:21).

This, brothers and sisters, is the hope that restores to life the “ashes” of our lives. Without such hope, we are doomed passively to endure the fragility of our human condition. Particularly when faced with the experience of death, a lack of hope can lead us to fall into sadness and desolation, and we end up reasoning like fools: “Short and sorrowful is our life, and there is no remedy when a life comes to its end [...] the body will turn to ashes, and the spirit will dissolve like empty air” (Wis 2:1-3). Yet the hope of Easter that we journey towards reassures us of God’s forgiveness. Even while submerged in the ashes of sin, hope opens us up to the joyful acknowledgment of life: “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth” (Job 19:25). Let us remember this: “Man is dust and to dust he shall return, but dust is precious in God’s eyes because God created man, destining him to immortality” (Benedict XVI, General Audience, 17 February 2010).

Brothers and sisters, having received the ashes, we walk towards the hope of Easter. Let us turn back to God. Let us return to him with all our hearts (cf. Joel 2:12). Let us place him at the centre of our lives, so that the memory of what we are — fragile and mortal as ashes scattered upon the wind — may finally be filled with the hope of the Risen Lord. Let us direct our lives towards him, becoming a sign of hope for the world. Let us learn from almsgiving to go beyond ourselves, sharing each other’s needs and nurturing the hope of a fairer world. Let us learn from prayer to discover our need for God or, as Jacques Maritain put it, that we are “beggars for heaven”, and so foster the hope that beyond our frailties there is a Father waiting for us with open arms at the end of our earthly pilgrimage. Finally, let us learn from fasting that we do not live merely to satisfy our needs, but that, hungry for love and truth, only the love of God and of one another can truly satisfy us and give us hope for a better future.

Let us persevere in the certainty that ever since the Lord took upon himself the ashes of humanity, “the history of the earth is the history of heaven. God and man are bound together in a single destiny” (C. Carretto, Il deserto nella città, Roma 1986, 55), and he will forever sweep away the ashes of death and make us shine with newness of life.

With this hope in our hearts, let us begin our journey. Let us be reconciled with God.

05.03.25

Pope Francis  March 2025

For families in crisis

Let us pray that broken families might discover the cure for their wounds through forgiveness, rediscovering each other’s gifts, even in their differences.

We all dream about a beautiful, perfect family. But there’s no such thing as a perfect family. Every family has its own problems, as well as its tremendous joys.

Every member of the family is important because each member is different than the others, each person is unique. But these differences can also cause conflict and painful wounds.

And the best medicine to heal the pain of a wounded family is forgiveness.

Forgiveness means giving another chance. God does this with us all the time. God’s patience is infinite. He forgives us, lifts us up, gives us a new start. Forgiveness always renews the family, making it look forward with hope.

Even when there’s no possibility of the “happy ending” we’d like, God’s grace gives us the strength to forgive, and it brings peace, because it frees us from sadness, and, above all, from resentment.

Let us pray that broken families might discover the cure for their wounds through forgiveness, rediscovering each other’s gifts, even in their differences

March  2025

Pope Francis Message for the 58th World Day of Peace 01.01.25

Pope Francis  

Message for Lent 2025

Excerpt below, for the full transcript click on the picture link above

Let us journey together in hope

Dear brothers and sisters,

We begin our annual pilgrimage of Lent in faith and hope with the penitential rite of the imposition of ashes. The Church, our mother and teacher, invites us to open our hearts to God’s grace, so that we can celebrate with great joy the paschal victory of Christ the Lord over sin and death, which led Saint Paul to exclaim: “Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Cor15:54-55). Indeed, Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, is the heart of our faith and the pledge of our hope in the Father’s great promise, already fulfilled in his beloved Son: life eternal (cf.Jn10:28; 17:3).[1]

This Lent, as we share in the grace of the Jubilee Year, I would like to propose a few reflections on what it means tojourney together in hope, and on the summons to conversion that God in his mercy addresses to all of us, as individuals and as a community.

First of all,to journey. The Jubilee motto, “Pilgrims of Hope”, evokes the lengthy journey of the people of Israel to the Promised Land, as recounted in the Book of Exodus. This arduous path from slavery to freedom was willed and guided by the Lord, who loves his people and remains ever faithful to them. It is hard to think of the biblical exodus without also thinking of those of our brothers and sisters who in our own day are fleeing situations of misery and violence in search of a better life for themselves and their loved ones. A first call to conversion thus comes from the realization that all of us are pilgrims in this life; each of us is invited to stop and ask how our lives reflect this fact. Am I really on a journey, or am I standing still, not moving, either immobilized by fear and hopelessness or reluctant to move out of my comfort zone? Am I seeking ways to leave behind the occasions of sin and situations that degrade my dignity? It would be a good Lenten exercise for us to compare our daily life with that of some migrant or foreigner, to learn how to sympathize with their experiences and in this way discover what God is asking of us so that we can better advance on our journey to the house of the Father. This would be a good “examination of conscience” for all of us wayfarers.

Second, to journeytogether. The Church is called to walk together, to be synoda[2]Christians are called to walk at the side of others, and never as lone travellers. The Holy Spirit impels us not to remain self-absorbed, but to leave ourselves behind and keep walking towards God and our brothers and sisters.[3]Journeying together means consolidating the unity grounded in our common dignity as children of God (cf.Gal3:26-28). It means walking side-by-side, without shoving or stepping on others, without envy or hypocrisy, without letting anyone be left behind or excluded. Let us all walk in the same direction, tending towards the same goal, attentive to one another in love and patience.

This Lent, God is asking us to examine whether in our lives, in our families, in the places where we work and spend our time, we are capable of walking together with others, listening to them, resisting the temptation to become self-absorbed and to think only of our own needs. Let us ask ourselves in the presence of the Lord whether, as bishops, priests, consecrated persons and laity in the service of the Kingdom of God, we cooperate with others. Whether we show ourselves welcoming, with concrete gestures, to those both near and far. Whether we make others feel a part of the community or keep them at a distance.[4]This, then, is a second call to conversion: a summons to synodality.

Third, let us journey togetherin hope, for we have been given a promise. Maythe hope that does not disappoint(cf.Rom5:5), the central message of the Jubilee,[5]be the focus of our Lenten journey towards the victory of Easter. As Pope Benedict XVI taught us in the EncyclicalSpe Salvi, “the human being needs unconditional love. He needs the certainty which makes him say: ‘neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord’ (Rom8:38-39)”.[6]Christ, my hope, has risen![7]He lives and reigns in glory. Death has been transformed into triumph, and the faith and great hope of Christians rests in this: the resurrection of Christ!

This, then, is the third call to conversion: a call to hope, to trust in God and his great promise of eternal life. Let us ask ourselves: Am I convinced that the Lord forgives my sins? Or do I act as if I can save myself? Do I long for salvation and call upon God’s help to attain it? Do I concretely experience the hope that enables me to interpret the events of history and inspires in me a commitment to justice and fraternity, to care for our common home and in such a way that no one feels excluded?

Sisters and brothers, thanks to God’s love in Jesus Christ, we are sustained in the hope that does not disappoint (cf.Rom5:5). Hope is the “sure and steadfast anchor of the soul”.[8]It moves the Church to pray for “everyone to be saved” (1 Tim2:4) and to look forward to her being united with Christ, her bridegroom, in the glory of heaven. This was the prayer of Saint Teresa of Avila: “Hope, O my soul, hope. You know neither the day nor the hour. Watch carefully, for everything passes quickly, even though your impatience makes doubtful what is certain, and turns a very short time into a long one” (The Exclamations of the Soul to God, 15:3).[9]

May the Virgin Mary, Mother of Hope, intercede for us and accompany us on our Lenten journey.

Rome, Saint John Lateran, 6 February 2025

Pope Francis  Angelus message 02.03.25

How do we receive the Word of God? The response is clear: As one receives Jesus Christ. The Church tells us that Jesus is present in the Scripture, in His Word.

Always carry a small Gospel with you in your purse, in your pocket, and read a passage from the Gospel during the day. Not so much to learn something, but mostly to find Jesus, because Jesus actually is in His Word, in His Gospel.  Every time I read the Gospel, I find Jesus.  - Pope Francis 01.09.14

Daily Readings - read the entire New Testament over a 2 year period (reading plan courtesy of Gideon International)

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Holy Mass 23.02.25

Jubilee of Deacons

Homily of Pope Francis read by H.E. Archbishop Rino Fisichella

The message of today’s readings can be summed up in a single word: “gratuity”. That is surely a word dear to you as deacons, gathered here for the Jubilee celebration. So, let us reflect on three specific aspects of this fundamental dimension of the Christian life in general and your ministry in particular: forgiveness, selfless service and communion.

First: forgiveness. The proclamation of forgiveness is an essential part of your ministry as deacons. Indeed, forgiveness is an indispensable element of every ecclesial vocation and a requirement of every human relationship. Jesus points to its necessity and importance when he says, “Love your enemies” (Lk 6:27). This is certainly true: if we are to grow together and to share in one another’s strengths and weaknesses, achievements and failures, we need to be able to forgive and to ask forgiveness, to rebuild relationships and even to choose not to withhold our love from those who hurt or betray us. A world that feels nothing but hatred towards its adversaries is a world without hope and without a future, doomed to endless war, divisions and vendettas. Sadly, this is what we are witnessing today, on many different levels and in all parts of the world. Forgiveness means preparing a welcoming and safe future for us and our communities. Deacons, personally charged with a ministry that carries them to the peripheries of our world, are committed to seeing – and teaching others to see – in everyone, even in those who do us wrong and cause us suffering, a hurting sister or brother, and hence one in greater need than anyone of reconciliation, guidance and help.

Today’s first reading speaks of this openness of heart, presenting us with David’s loyal and selfless love for Saul, his king but also his persecutor (cf. 1 Sam 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23). We see this again in the exemplary death of the deacon Stephen, who forgives those who are stoning him (cf. Acts 7:60). Above all, we find it exemplified in Jesus, the model of all diakonia, who, in “emptying” himself to the point of giving his life for us on the cross (cf. Phil 2:7), prays for those who crucify him and opens the gates of Paradise to the good thief (cf. Lk 23:34, 43).

This brings us to the second point: selfless service. The Lord describes it in the Gospel in words that are simple and clear: “Do good and lend, expecting nothing in return” (Lk 6:35). A phrase that is brief, yet evokes the beauty of friendship. First, God’s friendship towards us, but also our own friendship. For you as deacons, selfless service is not a secondary aspect of your activity, but an essential dimension of your very being. Indeed, through your ministry, you devote yourselves to being “sculptors” and “painters” of the merciful face of the Father, and witnesses to the mystery of the Triune God.

In many Gospel passages, Jesus speaks of himself in this light. He does so with Philip, in the Upper Room, when, shortly after washing the feet of the Twelve, he says: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (Jn 14:9). And again, when he institutes the Eucharist, he says: “I am among you as one who serves” (Lk 22:27). Yet even earlier, on the way to Jerusalem, when his disciples had argued among themselves about who was the greatest, he had explained that “the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many” (cf. Mk 10:45).

Brother deacons, the “gratuitous” work you carry out as an expression of your consecration to the charity of Christ thus becomes your primary proclamation of God’s word, a source of confidence and joy for those who encounter you. As often as possible, perform it with a smile, without complaining and without seeking recognition, supporting one another, also in your relationships with bishops and priests, “as the expression of a Church committed to growing in the service of the Kingdom by appreciating all the grades of the ordained ministry” (Italian Episcopal Conference, Permanent Deacons in the Church in Italy. Guidelines and Norms, 1993, 55). Through your cooperation and generosity, you will be a bridge linking the altar to the street and the Eucharist to people’s daily lives. Charity will be your most beautiful liturgy and the liturgy your humblest service.

Now, we come to the final point: gratuity as a source of communion. Giving and expecting nothing in return unites; it creates bonds because it expresses and nurtures a togetherness that has no other aim but the gift of self and the good of others. Saint Lawrence, your patron, when asked by his accusers to hand over the treasures of the Church, showed them the poor and said: “These are our treasures!” That is how communion is built: by telling your brothers and sisters by your words but above all by your actions, both individually and as a community: “You are important to us;” “We love you;” “We want you to be part of our journey and our life.” This is precisely what you do. Those of you who are permanent deacons do so as husbands, fathers and grandparents who, by your service, choose to extend your families to include the needy in all the places where you live.

Dear deacons, your mission sets you apart from society only to be re-immersed in it in order to enable it to be an ever more open and welcoming place for everyone. It is one of the finest expressions of a synodal Church, one that “goes forth.”

Soon some of you, in receiving the sacrament of Holy Orders, will “descend” the steps of the ministry. I deliberately say “descend,” and not “ascend,” because being ordained is not an ascent but a descent, whereby we make ourselves small. We lower ourselves and divest ourselves. In the words of Saint Paul, through service, we leave behind the “earthly man,” and put on, in charity, the “man of heaven” (cf. 1 Cor 15:45-49).

Let us all reflect on what we are about to do, even as we entrust ourselves to the Virgin Mary, the handmaid of the Lord, and to Saint Lawrence, your patron. May they help us to experience every expression of our ministry with a humble and loving heart, and to be, in “gratuity,” apostles of forgiveness, selfless servants of our brothers and sisters, and builders of communion.

23.02.25

Holy Mass 05.03.25  

Ash Wednesday