Benedict XVI Homilies 66
66
Basilica of St John Lateran
Holy Thursday, 5 April 2007
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
In the Reading from the Book of Exodus which we have just heard, the celebration of the Passover of Israel is described, just as in Mosaic Law it found its definitive form.
At the outset, it might have been a spring feast for nomads. For Israel, however, it was transformed into a commemorative feast of thanksgiving and, at the same time, hope.
The centre of the Passover meal, regulated by specific liturgical provisions, was the lamb as the symbol of Israel's redemption from slavery in Egypt.
For this reason the paschal haggada was an integral part of the Passover meal based on lamb: the narrative commemoration of the fact that it had been God himself who set Israel free by "stretching out his hand".
He, the mysterious and hidden God, had shown himself to be stronger than Pharaoh, in spite of all the power that Pharaoh could muster.
Israel was never to forget that God had personally taken the history of his People in hand and that this history was based permanently on communion with God. Israel must not forget God.
The words of the commemoration were surrounded by words of praise and thanksgiving taken from the Psalms. Thanking and blessing God reached its culmination in the berakah, which in Greek is eulogia or eucaristia: praising God becomes a blessing for those who bless him. The offering given to God comes back blessed to man.
All this built a bridge from the past to the present and toward the future: Israel had not yet been liberated. The nation was still suffering, like a small people, in the sphere of tension between the great powers.
Thus, remembering with gratitude God's past action became at the same time supplication and hope: Bring to completion what you have begun! Grant us freedom once and for all!
It was on the eve of his Passion that Jesus together with his disciples celebrated this meal with its multiple meanings. This is the context in which we must understand the new Passover which he has given to us in the Blessed Eucharist.
There is an apparent discrepancy in the Evangelists' accounts, between John's Gospel on the one hand, and what on the other Mathew, Mark and Luke tell us.
According to John, Jesus died on the Cross at the very moment when the Passover lambs were being sacrificed in the temple. The death of Jesus and the sacrifice of the lambs coincided.
However, this means that he must have died the day before Easter and could not, therefore, have celebrated the Passover meal in person - this, at any rate, is how it appears.
According to the three Synoptic Gospels, the Last Supper of Jesus was instead a Passover meal into whose traditional form he integrated the innovation of the gift of his Body and Blood.
This contradiction seemed unsolvable until a few years ago. The majority of exegetes were of the opinion that John was reluctant to tell us the true historical date of Jesus' death, but rather chose a symbolic date to highlight the deeper truth: Jesus is the new, true Lamb who poured out his Blood for us all.
In the meantime, the discovery of the [Dead Sea] Scrolls at Qumran has led us to a possible and convincing solution which, although it is not yet accepted by everyone, is a highly plausible hypothesis. We can now say that John's account is historically precise.
Jesus truly shed his blood on the eve of Easter at the time of the immolation of the lambs.
In all likelihood, however, he celebrated the Passover with his disciples in accordance with the Qumran calendar, hence, at least one day earlier; he celebrated it without a lamb, like the Qumran community which did not recognize Herod's temple and was waiting for the new temple.
Consequently, Jesus celebrated the Passover without a lamb - no, not without a lamb: instead of the lamb he gave himself, his Body and his Blood. Thus, he anticipated his death in a manner consistent with his words: "No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord" (Jn 10,18).
At the time when he offered his Body and his Blood to the disciples, he was truly fulfilling this affirmation. He himself offered his own life. Only in this way did the ancient Passover acquire its true meaning.
In his Eucharistic catecheses, St John Chrysostom once wrote: Moses, what are you saying? Does the blood of a lamb purify men and women? Does it save them from death? How can the blood of an animal purify people, save people or have power over death? In fact, Chrysostom continues, the immolation of the lamb could be a merely symbolic act, hence, the expression of expectation and hope in One who could accomplish what the sacrifice of an animal was incapable of accomplishing.
The Lamb and Temple
Jesus celebrated the Passover without a lamb and without a temple; yet, not without a lamb and not without a temple. He himself was the awaited Lamb, the true Lamb, just as John the Baptist had foretold at the beginning of Jesus' public ministry: "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" (Jn 1,29).
And he himself was the true Temple, the living Temple where God dwells and where we can encounter God and worship him. His Blood, the love of the One who is both Son of God and true man, one of us, is the Blood that can save. His love, that love in which he gave himself freely for us, is what saves us. The nostalgic, in a certain sense, ineffectual gesture which was the sacrifice of an innocent and perfect lamb, found a response in the One who for our sake became at the same time Lamb and Temple.
Thus, the Cross was at the centre of the new Passover of Jesus. From it came the new gift brought by him, and so it lives on for ever in the Blessed Eucharist in which, down the ages, we can celebrate the new Passover with the Apostles.
From Christ's Cross comes the gift. "No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord". He now offers it to us.
The paschal haggada, the commemoration of God's saving action, has become a memorial of the Cross and Resurrection of Christ - a memorial that does not simply recall the past but attracts us within the presence of Christ's love.
Thus, the berakah, Israel's prayer of blessing and thanksgiving, has become our Eucharistic celebration in which the Lord blesses our gifts - the bread and wine - to give himself in them.
Let us pray to the Lord that he will help us to understand this marvellous mystery ever more profoundly, to love it more and more, and in it, to love the Lord himself ever more.
Let us pray that he will increasingly draw us to himself with Holy Communion. Let us pray that he will help us not to keep our life for ourselves but to give it to him and thus to work with him so that people may find life: the true life which can only come from the One who himself is the Way, the Truth and the Life. Amen.
67
Saint Peter's Basilica
Holy Saturday, 7 April 2007
Dear Brothers and Sisters!
From ancient times the liturgy of Easter day has begun with the words: Resurrexi et adhuc tecum sum – I arose, and am still with you; you have set your hand upon me. The liturgy sees these as the first words spoken by the Son to the Father after his resurrection, after his return from the night of death into the world of the living. The hand of the Father upheld him even on that night, and thus he could rise again.
These words are taken from Psalm 138, where originally they had a different meaning. That Psalm is a song of wonder at God’s omnipotence and omnipresence, a hymn of trust in the God who never allows us to fall from his hands. And his hands are good hands. The Psalmist imagines himself journeying to the farthest reaches of the cosmos – and what happens to him? “If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me. If I say, ‘Let only darkness cover me’…, even the darkness is not dark to you…; for darkness is as light with you” (Ps 138[139]:8-12).
On Easter day the Church tells us that Jesus Christ made that journey to the ends of the universe for our sake. In the Letter to the Ephesians we read that he descended to the depths of the earth, and that the one who descended is also the one who has risen far above the heavens, that he might fill all things (cf. 4:9ff.). The vision of the Psalm thus became reality. In the impenetrable gloom of death Christ came like light – the night became as bright as day and the darkness became as light. And so the Church can rightly consider these words of thanksgiving and trust as words spoken by the Risen Lord to his Father: “Yes, I have journeyed to the uttermost depths of the earth, to the abyss of death, and brought them light; now I have risen and I am upheld for ever by your hands.” But these words of the Risen Christ to the Father have also become words which the Lord speaks to us: “I arose and now I am still with you,” he says to each of us. My hand upholds you. Wherever you may fall, you will always fall into my hands. I am present even at the door of death. Where no one can accompany you further, and where you can bring nothing, even there I am waiting for you, and for you I will change darkness into light.
These words of the Psalm, read as a dialogue between the Risen Christ and ourselves, also explain what takes place at Baptism. Baptism is more than a bath, a purification. It is more than becoming part of a community. It is a new birth. A new beginning in life. The passage of the Letter to the Romans which we have just read says, in words filled with mystery, that in Baptism we have been “grafted” onto Christ by likeness to his death. In Baptism we give ourselves over to Christ – he takes us unto himself, so that we no longer live for ourselves, but through him, with him and in him; so that we live with him and thus for others. In Baptism we surrender ourselves, we place our lives in his hands, and so we can say with Saint Paul, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” If we offer ourselves in this way, if we accept, as it were, the death of our very selves, this means that the frontier between death and life is no longer absolute. On either side of death we are with Christ and so, from that moment forward, death is no longer a real boundary. Paul tells us this very clearly in his Letter to the Philippians: “For me to live is Christ. To be with him (by dying) is gain. Yet if I remain in this life, I can still labour fruitfully. And so I am hard pressed between these two things. To depart – by being executed – and to be with Christ; that is far better. But to remain in this life is more necessary on your account” (cf. 1:21ff.). On both sides of the frontier of death, Paul is with Christ – there is no longer a real difference. Yes, it is true: “Behind and before you besiege me, your hand ever laid upon me” (Ps 138 [139]: 5). To the Romans Paul wrote: “No one … lives to himself and no one dies to himself… Whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s” (Rom 14:7ff.).
Dear candidates for Baptism, this is what is new about Baptism: our life now belongs to Christ, and no longer to ourselves. As a result we are never alone, even in death, but are always with the One who lives for ever. In Baptism, in the company of Christ, we have already made that cosmic journey to the very abyss of death. At his side and, indeed, drawn up in his love, we are freed from fear. He enfolds us and carries us wherever we may go – he who is Life itself.
Let us return once more to the night of Holy Saturday. In the Creed we say about Christ’s journey that he “descended into hell.” What happened then? Since we have no knowledge of the world of death, we can only imagine his triumph over death with the help of images which remain very inadequate. Yet, inadequate as they are, they can help us to understand something of the mystery. The liturgy applies to Jesus’ descent into the night of death the words of Psalm 23[24]: “Lift up your heads, O gates; be lifted up, O ancient doors!” The gates of death are closed, no one can return from there. There is no key for those iron doors. But Christ has the key. His Cross opens wide the gates of death, the stern doors. They are barred no longer. His Cross, his radical love, is the key that opens them. The love of the One who, though God, became man in order to die – this love has the power to open those doors. This love is stronger than death. The Easter icons of the Oriental Church show how Christ enters the world of the dead. He is clothed with light, for God is light. “The night is bright as the day, the darkness is as light” (cf. Ps 138[139]12). Entering the world of the dead, Jesus bears the stigmata, the signs of his passion: his wounds, his suffering, have become power: they are love that conquers death. He meets Adam and all the men and women waiting in the night of death. As we look at them, we can hear an echo of the prayer of Jonah: “Out of the belly of Sheol I cried, and you heard my voice” (Jn 2,2). In the incarnation, the Son of God became one with human beings – with Adam. But only at this moment, when he accomplishes the supreme act of love by descending into the night of death, does he bring the journey of the incarnation to its completion. By his death he now clasps the hand of Adam, of every man and woman who awaits him, and brings them to the light.
But we may ask: what is the meaning of all this imagery? What was truly new in what happened on account of Christ? The human soul was created immortal – what exactly did Christ bring that was new? The soul is indeed immortal, because man in a unique way remains in God’s memory and love, even after his fall. But his own powers are insufficient to lift him up to God. We lack the wings needed to carry us to those heights. And yet, nothing else can satisfy man eternally, except being with God. An eternity without this union with God would be a punishment. Man cannot attain those heights on his own, yet he yearns for them. “Out of the depths I cry to you…” Only the Risen Christ can bring us to complete union with God, to the place where our own powers are unable to bring us. Truly Christ puts the lost sheep upon his shoulders and carries it home. Clinging to his Body we have life, and in communion with his Body we reach the very heart of God. Only thus is death conquered, we are set free and our life is hope.
This is the joy of the Easter Vigil: we are free. In the resurrection of Jesus, love has been shown to be stronger than death, stronger than evil. Love made Christ descend, and love is also the power by which he ascends. The power by which he brings us with him. In union with his love, borne aloft on the wings of love, as persons of love, let us descend with him into the world’s darkness, knowing that in this way we will also rise up with him. On this night, then, let us pray: Lord, show us that love is stronger than hatred, that love is stronger than death. Descend into the darkness and the abyss of our modern age, and take by the hand those who await you. Bring them to the light! In my own dark nights, be with me to bring me forth! Help me, help all of us, to descend with you into the darkness of all those people who are still waiting for you, who out of the depths cry unto you! Help us to bring them your light! Help us to say the “yes” of love, the love that makes us descend with you and, in so doing, also to rise with you. Amen!
MASS OF THANKSGIVING IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE POPE'S 80th BIRTHDAY
St Peter's Square
Second Sunday of Easter, 15 April 2007
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
This Sunday is called "in Albis", in accordance with an old tradition. On this day, neophytes of the Easter Vigil were still wearing their white garment, the symbol of the light which the Lord gave them in Baptism. Later, they would take off the white garment but would have to introduce into their daily lives the new brightness communicated to them.
They were to diligently keep alight the delicate flame of truth and good which the Lord had kindled within them, in order to bring to this world a gleam of God's splendour and goodness.
The Holy Father, John Paul II, wanted this Sunday to be celebrated as the Feast of Divine Mercy: in the word "mercy", he summed up and interpreted anew for our time the whole mystery of Redemption. He had lived under two dictatorial regimes, and in his contact with poverty, neediness and violence he had a profound experience of the powers of darkness which also threaten the world of our time.
But he had an equally strong experience of the presence of God who opposed all these forces with his power, which is totally different and divine: with the power of mercy. It is mercy that puts an end to evil. In it is expressed God's special nature - his holiness, the power of truth and love.
Two years ago now, after the First Vespers of this Feast, John Paul II ended his earthly life. In dying, he entered the light of Divine Mercy, of which, beyond death and starting from God, he now speaks to us in a new way.
Have faith, he tells us, in Divine Mercy! Become day after day men and women of God's mercy. Mercy is the garment of light which the Lord has given to us in Baptism. We must not allow this light to be extinguished; on the contrary, it must grow within us every day and thus bring to the world God's glad tidings.
In these days illumined in particular by the light of divine mercy, a coincidence occurs that is significant to me: I can look back over 80 years of life.
I greet all those who have gathered here to celebrate this birthday with me. I greet first of all the Cardinals, with a special, grateful thought for the Dean of the College of Cardinals, Cardinal Angelo Sodano, who has made himself an authoritative interpreter of your common sentiments. I greet the Archbishops and Bishops, including the Auxiliaries of the Diocese of Rome, of my Diocese; I greet the Prelates and other members of the Clergy, the men and women Religious and all the faithful present here.
I also offer respectful and grateful thoughts to the political figures and members of the Diplomatic Corps who have desired to honour me with their presence.
Lastly, I greet with fraternal affection His Eminence Ioannis, Metropolitan of Pergamon, personal envoy of the Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I. To him I express my appreciation for this kind gesture and the hope that the Catholic-Orthodox dialogue may proceed with new enthusiasm.
We are gathered here to reflect on the completion of a long period of my life. Obviously, the liturgy itself must not be used to speak of oneself, of myself; yet, one's own life can serve to proclaim God's mercy.
"Come and hear, all you who fear God, and I will tell what he has done for me", a Psalm says (66[65]: 16). I have always considered it a great gift of Divine Mercy to have been granted birth and rebirth, so to speak, on the same day, in the sign of the beginning of Easter. Thus, I was born as a member of my own family and of the great family of God on the same day.
Yes, I thank God because I have been able to experience what "family" means; I have been able to experience what "fatherhood" means, so that the words about God as Father were made understandable to me from within; on the basis of human experience, access was opened to me to the great and benevolent Father who is in Heaven.
We have a responsibility to him, but at the same time he gives us trust so that the mercy and goodness with which he accepts even our weakness and sustains us may always shine out in his justice, and that we can gradually learn to walk righteously.
I thank God for enabling me to have a profound experience of the meaning of motherly goodness, ever open to anyone who seeks shelter and in this very way able to give me freedom.
I thank God for my sister and my brother, who with their help have been close to me faithfully throughout my life. I thank God for the companions I have met on my way and for the advisers and friends he has given to me.
I am especially grateful to him because, from the very first day of my life, I have been able to enter and to develop in the great community of believers in which the barriers between life and death, between Heaven and earth, are flung open. I give thanks for being able to learn so many things, drawing from the wisdom of this community which not only embraces human experiences from far off times: the wisdom of this community is not only human wisdom; through it, the very wisdom of God - eternal wisdom - reaches us.
In this Sunday's First Reading we are told that at the dawn of the newborn Church, people used to take the sick out into the squares so that when Peter passed by his shadow might fall on them: to this shadow they attributed a healing power. This shadow, in fact, was cast by the light of Christ and thus in itself retained something of the power of divine goodness.
From the very first, through the community of the Catholic Church, Peter's shadow has covered my life and I have learned that it is a good shadow - a healing shadow precisely because it ultimately comes from Christ himself.
Peter was a man with all the human weaknesses, but he was above all a man full of passionate faith in Christ, full of love for him. It was through his faith and love that the healing power of Christ and his unifying force reached humanity, although it was mingled with all Peter's shortcomings. Let us seek Peter's shadow today in order to stand in the light of Christ!
Birth and rebirth, an earthly family and the great family of God: this is the great gift of God's multiple mercies, the foundation which supports us. As I continued on my path through life, I encountered a new and demanding gift: the call to the priestly ministry.
On the Feast of Sts Peter and Paul in 1951, as I faced this task, when we were lying prostrate on the floor of the Cathedral of Freising - we were more than 40 companions - and above us all the saints were invoked, I was troubled by an awareness of the poverty of my life.
Yes, it was a consolation that the protection of God's saints, of the living and the dead, was invoked upon us. I knew that I would not be left on my own. And what faith the words of Jesus, which we heard subsequently on the lips of the Bishop during the Ordination liturgy, inspire in us! "No longer do I call you servants, but my friends...". I have been able to experience this deeply: he, the Lord, is not only the Lord but also a friend. He has placed his hand upon me and will not leave me.
These words were spoken in the context of the conferral of the faculty for the administration of the Sacrament of Reconciliation and thus, in Christ's Name, to forgive sins. We heard the same thing in today's Gospel: the Lord breathes upon his disciples. He grants them his Spirit - the Holy Spirit: "If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven...".
The Spirit of Jesus Christ is the power of forgiveness. He is the power of Divine Mercy. He makes it possible to start all over again - ever anew. The friendship of Jesus Christ is the friendship of the One who makes us people who forgive, the One who also forgives us, raises us ceaselessly from our weakness and in this very way educates us, instils in us an awareness of the inner duty of love, of the duty to respond with our faithfulness to his trust.
In the Gospel passage for today we also heard the story of the Apostle Thomas' encounter with the Risen Lord: the Apostle is permitted to touch his wounds and thereby recognizes him - over and above the human identity of Jesus of Nazareth, Thomas recognizes him in his true and deepest identity: "My Lord and my God!" (Jn 20,28).
The Lord took his wounds with him to eternity. He is a wounded God; he let himself be injured through his love for us. His wounds are a sign for us that he understands and allows himself to be wounded out of love for us.
These wounds of his: how tangible they are to us in the history of our time! Indeed, time and again he allows himself to be wounded for our sake. What certainty of his mercy, what consolation do his wounds mean for us! And what security they give us regarding his identity: "My Lord and my God!". And what a duty they are for us, the duty to allow ourselves in turn to be wounded for him!
God's mercy accompanies us daily. To be able to perceive his mercy it suffices to have a heart that is alert. We are excessively inclined to notice only the daily effort that has been imposed upon us as children of Adam.
If, however, we open our hearts, then as well as immersing ourselves in them we can be constantly aware of how good God is to us; how he thinks of us precisely in little things, thus helping us to achieve important ones.
With the increasing burden of responsibility, the Lord has also brought new assistance to my life. I repeatedly see with grateful joy how large is the multitude of those who support me with their prayers; I see that with their faith and love they help me carry out my ministry; I see that they are indulgent with my shortcomings and also recognize in Peter's shadow the beneficial light of Jesus Christ.
At this moment, therefore, I would like to thank the Lord and all of you with all my heart. I wish to end this Homily with a prayer of the holy Pope, St Leo the Great, that prayer which precisely 30 years ago I had written on the souvenir cards for my ordination:
"Pray to our good God that in our day he will be so good as to reinforce faith, multiply love and increase peace. May he render me, his poor servant, adequate for his task and useful for your edification, and grant me to carry out this service so that together with the time given to me my dedication may grow. Amen".
68
Piazza Ducale, Vigevano
Saturday, 21 April 2007
"Cast the net... and you will find some" (Jn 21,6).
We have heard Jesus' words once again in the Gospel passage just proclaimed. They are part of the account of the third appearance of the Risen One to the disciples, on the shores of the Sea of Tiberias, which tells of the miraculous catch.
After the "scandal" of the Cross, the disciples had returned to their land and their work as fishermen, to the activities they had carried out before they met Jesus. They had returned to their previous life and this suggests the atmosphere of dispersion and bewilderment that prevailed in their communities (cf. Mk Mc 14,27 Mt 26,31).
It was difficult for the disciples to understand what had happened. But while everything seemed to have ended, once again, as on the road to Emmaus, it was Jesus who came to his friends. This time he met them by the lake, a place that evokes the trials and tribulations of life; he met them when day was breaking, after a futile night-long effort.
Their nets were empty. In a certain way, this seems to sum up their experience with Jesus: they had known him, they had been beside him, and he had promised them so many things. Nevertheless, they found themselves with empty nets and no fish.
Yet, here at dawn Jesus comes to meet them, even though they do not immediately recognize him (cf. v. 4).
"Daybreak" in the Bible often points to God's extraordinary interventions. In the Book of Exodus, for example, it was "in the morning watch" that the Lord intervened "in the pillar of fire and of cloud" to save his people in the flight to Egypt (cf. Ex Ex 14,24). And again it was dawn when Mary Magdalene and the other women who had hastened to the tomb met the Risen Lord.
In the Gospel passage on which we are meditating, night had also passed and the Lord said to the disciples, exhausted by their efforts and disappointed at having caught no fish: "Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some" (v. 6).
Fish usually fall into the net at night when it is dark and not in the morning, by which time the water is transparent. Yet the disciples trusted Jesus and the result was a miraculously abundant catch with such a quantity of fish that they were unable to haul in the net (cf. v. 6).
At this point John, enlightened by love, turned to Peter and said: "It is the Lord!" (v. 7). The perceptive look of the disciple whom Jesus loved - an image of the believer - recognized the Teacher present on the lake shore. "It is the Lord!": his spontaneous profession of faith is also an invitation to us to proclaim that the Risen Christ is the Lord of our life.
Dear brothers and sisters, may the Church in Vigevano repeat this evening with John's enthusiasm: Jesus Christ "is the Lord!". And may your diocesan Community be able to listen to the Lord, who through my words repeats to you: "Cast the net, Church of Vigevano, and you will find some!".
Indeed, I have come among you above all to encourage you to be daring witnesses of Christ. It is trusting adherence to his Word that will make your pastoral efforts fruitful. When work in the Lord's vineyard seems to have been in vain like the nightlong efforts of the Apostles, you must never forget that Jesus can reverse everything in an instant.
The Gospel passage we have heard reminds us, on the one hand, that we must dedicate ourselves to pastoral activities as if the result depended totally on our own efforts. Yet, on the other, it makes us realize that the true success of our mission is totally a gift of Grace.
In the mysterious plans of his wisdom, God knows when the time is to intervene.
Therefore, just as docile adherence to the Lord's words ensured that the disciples' net would be filled, so in every age, even our own, the Spirit can make the Church's mission in the world effective.
Dear brothers and sisters, here I am in your midst with great joy: I thank you and cordially greet you all. I greet you as representatives of the People of God gathered in this particular Church whose spiritual centre is the Cathedral, outside of which we are celebrating the Eucharist.
I greet with affection Bishop Claudio Baggini, your Pastor, and I thank him for his cordial words at the beginning of the Celebration; with him, I greet the Metropolitan, Cardinal Dionigi Tettamanzi, the Lombard Bishops and the other Prelates. I address a special, warm greeting to the priests, complimenting them on the generosity with which they carry out their ecclesial service, oblivious to effort or hardship.
I extend my greeting to the consecrated persons, the pastoral workers and all the lay faithful, whose precious collaboration is indispensable for the life of the various communities. An affectionate thought for the seminarians who are the hope of the Diocese cannot be lacking. I then offer a respectful greeting to the civil Authorities, to whom I am grateful for the significant message of courtesy that their presence expresses.
Lastly, my thoughts go to the faithful gathered in the various parishes to follow this occasion on television, and to all who are taking part in this Eucharistic assembly in the streets and squares adjacent to this evocative Piazza Ducale, set off by the artistic facade of the Cathedral in the background. It was devised by the distinguished Bishop Juan Caramuel of Vigevano, a famous European scientist, the fourth centenary of whose birth you celebrated solemnly a few months ago. With its unusual architecture, the facade harmoniously combines the temple on the square and the castle with its towers, thus symbolizing the wonderful synthesis of a tradition interwoven with the two essential dimensions of your City: civil and religious.
"Cast your net... and you will find some!" (Jn 21,6). Dear Ecclesial Community of Vigevano, what does Christ's invitation "to cast the net" really mean?
In the first place, it means, as it meant for the disciples, believing in him and trusting his word. Jesus asks you too, like them, to follow him with sincere and steadfast faith.
Listen to his words, therefore, and meditate on them every day. For you, this docile listening is implemented in practice in the decisions of your last Diocesan Synod, which concluded in 1999. At the end of that Synod, beloved John Paul II, who met you at a special Audience on 17 April 1999, exhorted you: "Put out into the deep; do not be afraid to venture on to the high seas!" (Address to Pilgrims from the Diocese of Vigevano, 17 April 1999; L'Osservatore Romano English edition, 12 May, p. 8).
May the missionary enthusiasm awakened in your diocesan Community by that providential Meeting, inspired and desired by the late Bishop Giovanni Locatelli who ardently hoped that the Pope would visit Vigevano, never be extinguished in your hearts.
As you follow the fundamental guidelines of the Synod and your current Pastor's directives, stay united with one another and be open to the vast horizons of evangelization.
May these words of the Lord give you constant guidance: "All men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (Jn 13,35). Bear one another's burdens; sharing, collaborating and feeling co-responsible for one another is the spirit that must constantly motivate your Community. This style of communion demands the contribution of all: the Bishop and priests, the men and women religious, the lay faithful, the associations and the various groups committed to the apostolate.
The individual parishes, like the pieces of a mosaic in full harmony with one another, will form a lively particular Church, organically inserted into the entire People of God. Associations, communities and lay groups can make an indispensable contribution to evangelization, both for formation and for spiritual, charitable, social and cultural animation, always working in harmony with the diocesan pastoral programme and obeying the Bishop's instructions.
Next, I encourage you to continue to care for youth, both those you "know" and those you "do not know".
In this perspective, do not tire of promoting in a concrete and far-reaching way the pastoral care of vocations, which helps young people in search of a true meaning for their lives.
And lastly, what can be said of the family? It is the structural element of social life, which is why the fabric of the Ecclesial Community [after warm applause] - and I see that we agree - and civil society itself can only be renewed by working on behalf of families.
Your land is rich in religious traditions, spiritual leaven and a hardworking Christian life. Down the centuries, faith has forged thought, art and culture, fostering solidarity and respect for human dignity.
The exemplary figures of priests and laypeople are a particularly eloquent expression of your rich Christian patrimony; with a life programme rooted in the Gospel and the Church's teaching, especially during the social upheavals at the end of the 19th century and in the first decades of the 20th, they witnessed to authentic Gospel values as an effective support for a free and just coexistence, paying special attention to those in greatest need.
This shining spiritual legacy, rediscovered and nourished, can only be a secure reference point for effective service to the people of our time and for a journey of civilization and authentic progress.
"Cast the net... and you will find some!". Jesus' command was docilely accepted by the saints and their lives were marked by the miracle of an abundant spiritual catch. I am thinking in a special way of your heavenly Patrons: St Ambrose, St Charles Borromeo, Bl. Matteo Carreri.
I am also thinking of two distinguished sons of this area, the causes of whose beatification are underway: Venerable Francesco Pianzola, a priest motivated by an ardent evangelical spirit who was able to respond to the forms of spiritual poverty of his time with a courageous missionary approach, attentive to those who were most distant and particularly to the young; and the Servant of God Teresio Olivelli, a layman of Catholic Action who died in the concentration camp at Hersbruck when he was only 29 years old, a sacrificial victim of brutal violence which he tenaciously countered with the ardour of love.
These two exceptional figures of faithful disciples of Christ are an eloquent sign of the wonders the Lord has worked in the Church of Vigevano. Mirror these models, who make the action of Grace manifest and are an encouragement to the People of God to follow Christ on the demanding path of holiness.
Dear brothers and sisters of the Diocese of Vigevano, my thoughts lastly go to the Mother of God, whom you venerate under the title Madonna della Bozzola. I entrust all your Communities to her so that they may obtain a renewed outpouring of the Holy Spirit on this beloved Diocese.
The exhausting yet sterile nocturnal fishing of the disciples is a perennial warning for the Church of all ages: alone, without Jesus, we can do nothing! In apostolic tasks our own forces do not suffice; even if our work is well organized it proves ineffective without divine Grace.
Let us pray together that your diocesan Community will be able to receive Christ's mandate joyfully and with renewed generosity be ready to "cast" its nets. It will then certainly experience a miraculous catch, a sign of the dynamic power of the Word and Presence of the Lord, who ceaselessly confers upon his People a "renewed youth of the Spirit" (Collect).
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Benedict XVI Homilies 66