Discerning the hidden good that is growing

Portrait of Saint Francis of Assisi, by the master Cimabue (1240–1301), in the Lower Basilica of Assisi.

The Gospel we have just heard is preceded by the account of a difficult moment in Jesus’ mission, which we might describe as a moment of ‘pastoral desolation’: John the Baptist doubts that he is truly the Messiah; many of the towns he has passed through, despite the miracles he has performed, have not been converted; people accuse him of being a glutton and a drunkard, whereas only a short while earlier they had complained about the Baptist because he was too austere (cf. Mt 11:2–24). However, we see that Jesus does not allow himself to be overcome by sadness, but lifts his eyes to heaven and blesses the Father because he has revealed the mysteries of the Kingdom of God to the simple: ‘I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little ones’ (Mt 11:25). In moments of desolation, therefore, Jesus has a vision capable of seeing beyond: he praises the Father’s wisdom and is able to discern the hidden good that is growing, the seed of the Word welcomed by the simple, the light of the Kingdom of God which makes its way even through the night.

Dear brother cardinals, brother bishops, sisters and brothers, we are at the opening of the Synodal Assembly. And we do not need an immanent perspective, based on human strategies, political calculations or ideological battles – whether the Synod will grant this or that permission, or open this or that door – we do not need that. We are not here to hold a parliamentary session or to draw up a reform plan. The Synod, dear brothers and sisters, is not a parliament. The protagonist is the Holy Spirit. No. We are not here to hold a parliamentary session, but to walk together with the gaze of Jesus, who blesses the Father and welcomes all who are weary and oppressed. Let us therefore begin with the gaze of Jesus, which is a gaze of blessing and welcome.

1. Let us consider the first aspect: a gaze of blessing. Although he experienced rejection and saw so much hardness of heart around him, Christ does not allow himself to be held captive by disappointment; he does not become bitter; he does not stifle praise; his heart, grounded in the primacy of the Father, remains serene even in the storm.

This blessing gaze of the Lord also invites us to be a Church which, with a joyful spirit, contemplates God’s action and discerns the present. And which, amidst the sometimes turbulent waves of our time, does not lose heart, does not seek ideological flaws, does not barricade itself behind established convictions, does not give in to easy solutions, and does not allow the world to dictate its agenda. Such is the spiritual wisdom of the Church, summarised with serenity by Saint John XXIII: “First and foremost, the Church must never turn her gaze away from the sacred heritage of truth received from the ancients; and at the same time, she must also look to the present, which has brought new situations and new ways of life, and which has opened up new paths for the apostolate” (Address for the solemn opening of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, 11 October 1962).

Jesus’ blessing gaze invites us to be a Church that does not face today’s challenges and problems with a spirit of division and conflict, but which, on the contrary, turns its eyes to God, who is communion, and which, with reverence and humility, blesses and worships him, recognising him as its one and only Lord. We belong to him and – let us not forget – we exist solely to bring him to the world. As the Apostle Paul told us, we have no other ‘glory than that of the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ’ (Gal 6:14). That is enough for us; he is enough for us. We do not seek earthly glory; we do not wish to adorn ourselves in the eyes of the world, but to go out to others with the consolation of the Gospel, so that we may bear witness more effectively—to everyone—to God’s infinite love. Indeed, as Benedict XVI so aptly put it when addressing a synodal assembly, “the question before us is this: God has spoken; he has truly broken the great silence; he has revealed himself; but how can we ensure that this reality reaches people today, so that it may become salvation?” (Meditation during the first General Congregation of the XIIIth Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, 8 October 2012). This is the fundamental question. And this is the Synod’s primary task: to refocus our gaze on God, to be a Church that looks upon humanity with mercy. A united and fraternal Church – or at least one that strives to be so – which listens and engages in dialogue; a Church that blesses and encourages, that helps those seeking the Lord, that gives a salutary jolt to the indifferent, that opens up paths to introduce people to the beauty of the faith. A Church that has God at its centre and which, consequently, is not divided within and is never harsh towards others. A Church that takes risks with Jesus. This is how Jesus wants the Church to be; this is how he wants his Bride to be.

2. After this gaze of blessing, we contemplate Christ’s welcoming gaze. Whilst those who consider themselves wise fail to recognise God’s work, he rejoices in the Father because he reveals himself to the little ones, the simple, and the poor in spirit. Once, there was a difficulty in a parish and people were talking about it, telling me things. And an old woman—a very old woman, a woman of the people, almost illiterate—spoke up like a theologian, with such gentleness and spiritual wisdom that she made her contribution. I remember that moment as a revelation from the Lord, even with joy, and it occurred to me to ask her: “Tell me, madam, where did you study this profound theology with Royo Marín?” The wise among the people possess this faith. Thus, throughout his life, he has cast this welcoming gaze upon the weakest, the suffering and the marginalised. It is to them, in particular, that he addresses the words we have heard: ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest’ (Mt 11:28).

This welcoming gaze of Jesus also invites us to be a hospitable Church, and not a Church with closed doors. In complex times such as ours, new cultural and pastoral challenges are emerging, which require a warm and gentle inner attitude, so that we may face them without fear. In synodal dialogue, in this beautiful “journey in the Holy Spirit” which we undertake together as the People of God, we can grow in unity and friendship with the Lord so as to view today’s challenges through his eyes; so that we may become, in the beautiful words of Saint Paul VI, a Church that “becomes a conversation” (Encyclical Letter *Ecclesiam suam*, n. 67). A Church with a “gentle yoke” (cf. Mt 11:30), which imposes no burdens and which repeats to all: “Come, all you who are weary and burdened; come, all you who have gone astray or feel distant; come, all you who have closed the doors of hope: the Church is here for you”. The Church of open doors is open to everyone, to everyone!

3. Brothers and sisters, holy people of God, in the face of the difficulties and challenges that lie ahead, Jesus’ blessing and welcoming gaze prevent us from falling into certain dangerous temptations: that of being a rigid Church – a customs post – which arms itself against the world and looks to the past; that of being a lukewarm Church, which yields to the fashions of the world; that of being a weary Church, turned in on itself. In the Book of Revelation, the Lord says: “I stand at the door and knock, so that someone may open to me”; but very often, brothers and sisters, he knocks at the door from within the Church, so that we may let the Lord go out with the Church to proclaim his Gospel.

Let us walk together, humbly, fervently and joyfully. Let us follow in the footsteps of Saint Francis of Assisi, the saint of poverty and peace, the ‘fool of God’ who bore the stigmata of Jesus on his body and who, in order to clothe himself in Him, stripped himself of everything. How difficult is this inner and outer stripping away for all of us, and even for institutions! St Bonaventure recounts that, whilst he was praying, the Crucified One said to him: “Go and repair my Church” (Legenda maior, II, 1). The Synod reminds us of this: our Mother the Church is always in need of purification, of being ‘repaired’, because we are all a People of forgiven sinners – both of us: forgiven sinners – who always need to return to the source that is Jesus and to set out once more on the paths of the Spirit in order to reach out to everyone with his Gospel. Francis of Assisi, at a time of great strife and division – between temporal and religious powers, between the institutional Church and heretical movements, between Christians and other believers – criticised no one and attacked no one, wielding only the weapons of the Gospel: namely, humility and unity, prayer and charity. Let us do the same! Humility and unity, prayer and charity.

And if God’s holy people, together with their pastors, who have come from all parts of the world, harbour expectations, hopes and even some fears regarding the Synod we are about to begin, let us nevertheless remember that this is not a political gathering, but a gathering in the Spirit; not a polarised parliament, but a place of grace and communion. The Holy Spirit often shatters our expectations to create something new that goes beyond our predictions and our negativity. Perhaps I might say that the most fruitful moments of the Synod are those of prayer, as well as the atmosphere of prayer, through which the Lord acts within us. Let us open ourselves to Him and call upon Him: He is the protagonist, the Holy Spirit. Let us allow Him to be the protagonist of the Synod! And with Him, let us walk, in trust and joy.

MASS WITH THE NEW CARDINALS AND THE COLLEGE OF CARDINALS

OPENING OF THE ORDINARY GENERAL ASSEMBLY OF THE SYNOD OF BISHOPS

HOMILY BY HIS HOLINESS POPE FRANCIS

St Peter’s Square

St Francis of Assisi – Wednesday 4 October 2023