Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!

Today I am postponing the usual catechesis and I would like to pause with you to think about the people who - even at this moment - are crossing seas and deserts to reach a land where they can live in peace and security.

Sea and desert: these two words recur in so many testimonies I receive, both from migrants and from those who volunteer to help them. And when I say "sea," in the context of migration, I also mean ocean, lake, river—all the perilous bodies of water that so many brothers and sisters around the world are forced to cross to reach their destination. And "desert" is not only the desert of sand and dunes, or of rocks, but also all those inaccessible and dangerous territories, such as forests, jungles, and steppes where migrants walk alone, abandoned to their fate. Migrants, sea, and desert. Today's migration routes are often marked by crossings of seas and deserts which, for many—far too many!—prove fatal. That is why today I want to talk with you about this tragedy, this suffering. Some of these routes are better known because they are often in the spotlight; Others, most of them, are little known, but no less frequently traveled.

I have often spoken of the Mediterranean, because I am the Bishop of Rome and because it is emblematic: the mare nostrum, a place of communication between peoples and civilizations, has become a cemetery. And the tragedy is that many, most of these deaths, could have been saved. It must be said clearly: there are those who systematically work, by every means possible, to push back migrants—to push back migrants. And this, knowingly and responsibly, is a grave sin. Let us not forget what the Bible says: “You shall not mistreat or oppress a stranger” (Exodus 22:20). The orphan, the widow, and the stranger are the poor par excellence, whom God always defends and commands us to defend.

Even some deserts, sadly, are becoming cemeteries for migrants. And even there, these are often not "natural" deaths. No. Sometimes, they were brought there and abandoned in the desert. We all know the photo of Pato's wife and daughter, who died of hunger and thirst in the desert. In the age of satellites and drones, there are migrant men, women, and children whom no one is supposed to see: they are hidden away. Only God sees them and hears their cries. And that is a cruelty of our civilization.

Indeed, the sea and the desert are also biblical places imbued with symbolic value. They are very important scenes in the story of the Exodus, the great migration of the people led by God, through Moses, from Egypt to the Promised Land. These places bear witness to the drama of a people fleeing oppression and slavery. They are places of suffering, fear, and despair, but at the same time, they are places of passage toward liberation—and how many people cross seas and deserts today to find liberation!—they are places of passage for redemption, toward freedom and the fulfillment of God's promises (cf. Message for the World Day of Migrants and Refugees 2024 ).

A psalm, addressed to the Lord, says: “Your paths went through the sea, your ways through the deep waters” (77 (76):20). And another sings: “He who led his people through the desert, his love endures forever” (136 (135):16). These holy words tell us that, to accompany the people on the path to freedom, God himself crosses the sea and the desert; God does not remain aloof, no, he shares the plight of migrants, God is with them, with the migrants, he suffers with them, with the migrants, he weeps and hopes with them, with the migrants. It will do us good today to think: the Lord is with our migrants in the sea, the Lord is with them, not with those who reject them.

Brothers and sisters, we could all agree on one thing: in these deadly seas and deserts, today's migrants should not be—and yet, sadly, they are. But we will not achieve this through more restrictive laws, the militarization of borders, or rejection. Rather, we will achieve this by expanding safe and legal pathways for migrants, by facilitating the reception of those fleeing wars, violence, persecution, and countless calamities; we will achieve this by fostering, in every way possible, global migration governance based on justice, fraternity, and solidarity. And by joining forces to combat human trafficking, to stop the criminal traffickers who ruthlessly exploit the misery of others.

Dear brothers and sisters, think of so many migrant tragedies: how many die in the Mediterranean. Think of Lampedusa, of Crotone—how many hideous and sad things. And I would like to conclude by acknowledging and praising the efforts of so many good Samaritans, who do everything in their power to rescue and save injured and abandoned migrants on the roads of despair, on all five continents. These courageous men and women are a sign of a humanity that refuses to be contaminated by the harmful culture of indifference and rejection: what kills migrants is our indifference and our attitude of rejection. And those who cannot be like them “on the front lines”—I am thinking of so many people of goodwill who are there, on the front lines, of Mediterranea Saving Humans and so many other organizations—are not excluded from such a fight for civilization: we cannot be on the front lines, but we are not excluded. There are many ways to contribute, and first and foremost, prayer. And I ask you: do you pray for the migrants, for those who come to our lands to save their lives? And yet you want to drive them out.

Dear brothers and sisters, let us unite our hearts and our strengths so that the seas and deserts are not cemeteries, but spaces where God can open paths of freedom and brotherhood.