Church, Presence of Christ Among Men
"The Individualist Jesus Is a Fantasy"  (March 15, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

After the catechesis on the psalms and canticles of Morning and Evening Prayer, I would like to dedicate the next Wednesday encounters to the mystery of the relationship between Christ and the Church, considering it from the experience of the apostles in the light of the mission entrusted to them.

The Church has been built on the foundation of the apostles as a community of faith, hope and love. Through the apostles, we reach all the way back to Jesus.

The Church was initially established when some fishermen from Galilee met Jesus; they allowed themselves to be won over by his gaze, his voice and his strong and warm invitation, "Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men" (Mark 1:17; Matthew 4:19).

My beloved predecessor, John Paul II, at the beginning of the third millennium, proposed to the Church the contemplation of Christ's face (cf. "Novo Millennio Ineunte," No. 16ff). Moving in this direction, in the catechesis I begin today, I would like to show that precisely the light of that Face is reflected in the face of the Church (cf. "Lumen Gentium," No. 1), despite the limitations and the shadows of our fragile and sinful humanity.

After Mary, the pure reflection of the light of Christ, the apostles, through their word and testimony, hand on to us the truth of Christ. Their mission is not isolated. It is framed within the mystery of communion and involves all of God's People and is brought about in stages from the old to the new covenant.

In this sense, we must say that we completely distort Jesus' message when we separate it from the context of the faith and hope of the chosen people. As did John the Baptist, his immediate precursor, Jesus principally addresses all of Israel (cf. Matthew 15:24), in order to "unite it" in the eschatological time that arrived with his coming.

And as happened with John, Jesus' preaching is at one and the same time a call of grace and a sign of contradiction and judgment of all of God's people. Therefore, from the first moment of his salvific activity, Jesus of Nazareth tends to unite and purify the People of God. Although his preaching is always a call to personal conversion, in reality it continually tends to build the People of God which he came to gather together and save.

For this reason, the individualistic interpretation of Christ's proclamation of the Kingdom as proposed by liberal theology is unilateral and unfounded. Summarized by the great liberal theologian Adolf von Harnack in his conferences entitled "What is Christianity?" he said, "The Kingdom of God comes in the degree in which it comes to specific men, finds an opening into the soul and is accepted by them. The Kingdom of God is the 'lordship' of God, that is to say, the dominion of the Holy God in each different heart" (Third Conference, 100ff).

Actually, this individualism of liberal theology is accentuated particularly in modern times. In the perspective of biblical tradition and in the realm of Judaism in which Jesus' work is classified despite all of its novelty, it remains evident that the entire mission of the Son made flesh has a communitarian finality: He came precisely to gather together a scattered humanity, he came precisely to gather together the People of God.

An evident sign of the Nazarene's intention to gather together the community of the covenant in order to manifest in it the fulfillment of the promises made to the forefathers, who always speak of summoning, unification and unity, is the institution of the Twelve. We have heard the Gospel of the institution of the Twelve.

I now reread the central passage: "He went up the mountain and summoned those whom he wanted and they came to him. He appointed twelve (whom he also named apostles) that they might be with him and he might send them forth to preach and to have authority to drive out demons: He appointed the twelve ……" (Mark 3:13-16; cf. Matthew 10:1-4; Luke 6:12-16).

In the place of the revelation, "the mountain," with an initiative that manifests absolute awareness and determination, Jesus constitutes the Twelve so that they might be witnesses and heralds with him of the arrival of the Kingdom of God. There is no room for doubt concerning the historical character of this call, not only because of the antiquity and multiplicity of testimonies but also because of the simple fact that the name of the Apostle Judas, the traitor, appears despite the difficulties that including his name could imply for the incipient community.

The number 12, which evidently refers to the 12 tribes of Israel, reveals the meaning of the prophetic-symbolic action implied in the new initiative of founding the holy people again. After the downfall of the system of the 12 tribes, Israel awaited the reconstruction of this system as a sign of the arrival of the eschatological time (this can be read in the conclusion of the Book of Ezekiel 37:15-19; 39:23-29; 40-48).

By choosing the Twelve, introducing them into a communion of life with him and making them sharers in the same mission of announcing the Kingdom with words and deeds (cf. Mark 6:7-13; Matthew 10:5-8; Luke 9:1-6; 6:13), Jesus wants to say that the definitive time has arrived; the time for rebuilding God's people, the people of the 12 tribes, which is now converted into a universal people, his Church.

By their mere existence, the Twelve -- called from different backgrounds -- have become a summons to all Israel to conversion and to allow themselves to be reunited in a new covenant, full and perfect accomplishment of the old. By entrusting to them the task of celebrating his memorial in the Supper, before his passion, Jesus shows that he wanted to transfer to the entire community, in the person of its heads, the commandment of being a sign and instrument of the eschatological assembly begun by him.

In a certain sense, we could say that the Last Supper is precisely the act of founding his Church, because he gives himself and in this way creates a new community, a community united in the communion with himself. From this perspective, it is understood that the Risen One grants them, with the pouring out of the Holy Spirit, the power to forgive sins (John 20:23). The Twelve Apostles are in this way the most evident sign of Jesus' will over the existence and mission of his Church, the guarantee that between Christ and the Church there is no opposition: They are inseparable, despite the sins of the people who make up the Church.

Therefore, there is no way to reconcile Christ's intentions with the slogan that was fashionable a few years ago, "Christ yes, the Church no." The individualist Jesus is a fantasy. We cannot find Jesus without the reality that he created and through which he communicates himself. Between the Son of God, made man and his Church, there is a profound, inseparable continuity, in virtue of which Christ is present today in his people.

He is always our contemporary -- our contemporary in the Church built upon the foundation of the Apostles. He is alive in the succession of the Apostles. And his presence in the community, in which he himself always gives himself, is the reason for our joy. Yes, Christ is with us, the Kingdom of God is coming.

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Apostles as Witnesses and Envoys of Christ
"Witnesses of a Person" (March 22, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

The Letter to the Ephesians presents the Church as a structure "built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone" (2:20). In [the Book of] Revelation, the role of the apostles, and more specifically of the Twelve, is clarified with the eschatological perspective of the heavenly Jerusalem, presented as a city whose wall has "twelve courses of stones as its foundation, on which were inscribed the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb" (21:14). The Gospels coincide in narrating that the call of the apostles marked the first steps of Jesus' ministry, after the baptism received by the Baptist in the waters of the Jordan.

According to Mark's (1:16-20) and Matthew's (4:18-22) accounts, the Lake of Galilee is the scene of the call of the first apostles. Jesus had just begun to preach the Kingdom of God, when his gaze turned to two pairs of brothers: Simon and Andrew, James and John. They were fishermen, dedicated to their daily work. They lowered their nets and repaired them. However, another catch was awaiting them. Jesus calls them with determination and they follow him with promptness: Henceforth they will be "fishers of men" (cf. Mark 1:17; Matthew 4:19).

Although he follows the same tradition, Luke gives a more elaborate account (5:1-11). He shows the journey of faith of the first disciples, specifying that the invitation to follow comes to them after having heard Jesus' first sermon, and after having experienced his first miraculous signs. In particular, the miraculous catch constitutes the immediate context and offers the symbol of the mission of fishers of men that was entrusted to them. The destiny of these "called" henceforth will be profoundly linked to Jesus'. An apostle is someone who is sent, but even before that, he is an "expert" on Jesus.

This aspect is emphasized by the Evangelist John from Jesus' first meeting with the future apostles. Here the scene is different. The meeting takes place on the banks of the Jordan. The presence of the future disciples, who like Jesus came from Galilee to live the experience of the baptism administered by John, illuminates their spiritual world. They were men awaiting the Kingdom of God, desirous of knowing the Messiah, whose coming was announced as something imminent.

It was enough that John the Baptist pointed out Jesus as the Lamb of God (cf. John 1:36) for them to want a personal meeting with the Teacher. Jesus' conversation with his two first future apostles is very expressive. To the question: "What do you seek?" they replied with another question: "'Rabbi' -- which means Teacher -- 'where are you staying?'" Jesus' response is an invitation: "Come and see" (cf. John 1:38-39). Come so that you can see.

Thus, the apostles' adventure began as a gathering of persons who open to one another reciprocally. A direct knowledge of the Teacher began for the disciples. They saw where he lived and began to know him. They would not have to be heralds of an idea, but witnesses of a person. Before being sent to evangelize, they would have to "be" with Jesus (cf. Mark 3:14), establishing a personal relationship with him. With this foundation, evangelization is no more than a proclamation of what has been experienced and an invitation to enter into the mystery of communion with Christ (cf. 1 John 13).

To whom will the apostles be sent? In the Gospel, Jesus seems to restrict their mission to Israel: "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (Matthew 15:24). At the same time, he seems to circumscribe the mission entrusted to the Twelve: "Jesus sent out these twelve after instructing them thus, 'Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel'" (Matthew 10:5). A certain criticism of rationalist inspiration saw in these expressions the lack of a universal consciousness of the Nazarene.

In fact, they must be understood in the light of their special relationship with Israel, community of the Covenant, in continuity with the history of salvation. According to the messianic expectation, the divine promises, made immediately to Israel, would reach their fulfillment when God himself, through his Chosen One, would gather his people as a shepherd does his flock: "I will save my sheep so that they may no longer be despoiled. …… I will appoint one shepherd over them to pasture them, my servant David. …… And my servant David shall be prince among them" ([cf.] Ezekiel 34:22-24).

Jesus is the eschatological shepherd, who gathers the lost sheep of the house of Israel and goes out in search of them, because he knows and loves them (cf. Luke 15:4-7 and Matthew 18:12-14; cf. also the figure of the Good Shepherd in John 10:11 and following). Through this "gathering," the Kingdom of God is proclaimed to all nations. "Thus I will display my glory among the nations, and all the nations shall see the judgment I have executed and the hand I have laid upon them" (Ezekiel 39:21). And Jesus follows precisely this prophetic profile. The first step is the "gathering" of Israel, so that all nations called to gather in communion with the Lord may live and believe.

In this way, the Twelve, called to participate in the same mission of Jesus, cooperate with the Shepherd of the last times, also addressing above all the lost sheep of the house of Israel, namely, the people of the promise, whose gathering is sign of the salvation for all nations, the beginning of the universalization of the Covenant. Far from contradicting the universal opening of the Nazarene's messianic action, the restriction from the beginning of his mission and of that of the Twelve is an effective prophetic sign.

After the passion and resurrection of Christ, this sign was clarified: The universal character of the mission of the apostles would become explicit. Christ would send the apostles "into all the world" (Mark 16:15) and to "all nations" (Matthew 28:19; Luke 24:47) "and to the end of the earth" (Acts 1:8). And this mission continues. The Lord's commandment to gather the nations in the unity of his love always continues. This is our hope and this is also our commandment: to contribute to that universality, to this true unity in the richness of cultures, in communion with our true Lord Jesus Christ.

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The Gift of "Communion"
"It Makes Us Come Out of Our Solitudes"  (March 29, 2006)

The Pope reflected on "The Gift of 'Communion'" in the context of his ongoing catechesis on the mystery of the relationship between Jesus and the Church.

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Dear Brothers and Sisters:

Through the apostolic ministry, the Church, community assembled by the Son of God made flesh, will live throughout time, building and nourishing communion in Christ and in the Spirit, to which all are called and in which they can experience the salvation given by the Father. The Twelve Apostles -- as the third successor of Peter, Pope Clement, said at the end of the first century -- took care to provide their successors (cf. 1 Clement 42, 4) so that the mission entrusted to them would continue after their death. Throughout the centuries, the Church, structured under the leadership of legitimate pastors, has continued to live in the world as mystery of communion, in which in a certain sense, the Trinitarian communion itself is reflected, the mystery of God himself.

The Apostle Paul already mentions this supreme Trinitarian source when he wishes his Christians: "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all" (2 Corinthians 13:13). These words, probably an echo of the worship of the nascent Church, highlights how the free gift of the Father's love in Jesus Christ is realized and expressed in the communion wrought by the Holy Spirit.

This interpretation, based on the immediate relationship established in the text between the three genitives ("the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit"), presents "communion" as specific gift of the Spirit, fruit of the love given by God the Father and of the grace offered by the Lord Jesus.

Moreover, the context, characterized by the emphasis on fraternal communion, leads us to see in the "koinonia" of the Holy Spirit not only "participation" in divine life in an almost individual way, as if each one was on his own, but also logically "communion" among believers, which the Spirit himself infuses as its author and principal agent (cf. Philippians 2:1).

It might be affirmed that grace, love and communion, referred respectively to Christ, to the Father and to the Spirit, are different aspects of the one divine action for our salvation, action that creates the Church and that makes of the Church -- as St. Cyprian said in the third century -- "a throng gathered together by the unity of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit" ("De Oratione Dominica," 23: PL 4, 536, quoted in "Lumen Gentium," 4).

The idea of communion as participation in the Trinitarian life is illuminated with particular intensity in John's Gospel, where the communion of love that unites the Son with the Father and with men is at the same time the model and source of fraternal union, which must unite disciples among themselves: "love one another as I have loved you" (John 15:12; cf. 13:34). "That they also may be in us" (John 17:21,22), hence, communion of people with the Trinitarian God and communion of people among themselves. During the time of the earthly pilgrimage, through communion with the Son, the disciple can already participate in his divine life and in that of the Father: "our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ" (1 John 1:3).

This life of communion with God and among ourselves is the very end of the object of the proclamation of the Gospel, the object of conversion to Christianity: "that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you may have fellowship with us" (1 John 1:3). Therefore, this double communion with God and among ourselves is inseparable.

Wherever communion with God is destroyed, which is communion with the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, the root and source of communion among ourselves is also destroyed. And wherever communion among ourselves is not lived, communion with the Trinitarian God cannot be alive and true, as we have heard.

Let us now take a further step. Communion -- fruit of the Holy Spirit -- is nourished by the Eucharistic bread (cf. 1 Corinthians 10:16-17) and is expressed in fraternal relations, in a sort of anticipation of the future world. In the Eucharist, Jesus nourishes us, unites us to himself, with the Father and with the Holy Spirit and among ourselves, and this network of unity that embraces the world is an anticipation of the future world in our time.

Given that it is anticipation of the future, communion is a gift which also has very real consequences; it makes us come out of our solitudes, of our own narrow-mindedness, and allows us to participate in the love that unites us to God and among ourselves. To understand the grandeur of this gift, suffice it to think of the divisions and conflicts that afflict relations between individuals, groups and entire nations. And if the gift of unity in the Holy Spirit is lacking, humanity's division is inevitable.

"Communion" is truly good news, the remedy the Lord has given us against the loneliness that threatens all today, the precious gift that makes us feel accepted and loved in God, in the unity of his People, gathered together in the name of the Trinity; it is the light that makes the Church shine as a sign raised among the nations: "If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not live according to the truth; but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another" (1 John 1:6-7).

The Church thus presents herself, despite all the human frailties that are part of her historical features, as a wondrous creation of love, constituted to make Christ close to every man and woman who truly wishes to encounter him, until the end of times. And in the Church the Lord continues to be our contemporary. Scripture is not something of the past. The Lord does not speak in the past, but speaks in the present, he speaks to us today, gives us light, shows us the way of life, gives us fellowship and in this way prepares us and opens us to the light.

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The Service to Communion
"Church Is Totally of the Spirit, But It Has a Structure"  (April 5, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

In the new series of catecheses, which we began a few weeks ago, we wish to consider the origins of the Church to understand Jesus' original plan and in this way understand what is essential in the Church, which endures with the passing of time. We also want to understand the reason for our being in the Church and how we must commit ourselves to live it at the beginning of a new Christian millennium.

Reflecting on the early Church, we can discover two aspects: The first aspect is forcefully underlined by St, Irenaeus of Lyon, martyr and great theologian of the end of the second century, the first to leave us, in a certain sense, a systematic theology.

St. Irenaeus writes: "Where the Church is, there also is the Spirit of God; and where the Spirit of God is, there is the Church and all grace, as the Spirit is truth" ("Adversus Haereses," III, 24, 1: PG 7, 966). Therefore, there is a profound relationship between the Holy Spirit and the Church. The Holy Spirit edifies the Church and gives it truth and, as St. Paul says, infuses love in the hearts of believers (cf. Romans 5:5).

But, in addition, there is a second aspect. This profound relationship with the Spirit does not eliminate our humanity, with all its weakness and, in this way, the community of disciples experienced from the beginning not only the joy of the Holy Spirit, the grace of truth and love, but also trial, made up above all by the contrast between the truths of faith and the resulting lacerations of communion.

Just as a communion of love has existed from the beginning and will exist until the end (cf. 1 John 1:1ff), so, sadly, from the beginning division has also erupted. We must not be surprised by the fact that it exists also today: "They went out from us," says the First Letter of John, "but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would have continued with us; but they went out, that it might be plain that they all are not of us" (2:19).

Therefore, the danger always exists, in the vicissitudes of the world and also in the weaknesses of the Church, of losing the faith and thus, of also losing love and fraternity. Therefore, it is a specific duty of those who believe in the Church of love and want to live in her, to recognize this danger also and to accept that communion is not possible with those who do not abide in the doctrine of salvation (cf. 2 John 9-11).

That the early Church was clearly aware of these possible tensions in the living of communion is shown very well in the First Letter of John. There is no other voice in the New Testament that is raised so forcefully to underline the reality of the duty of fraternal love among Christians, but that same voice addresses with drastic severity adversaries, who have been members of the community but no longer are.

The Church of love is also the Church of truth, understood above all as fidelity to the Gospel entrusted by the Lord Jesus to his own. Christian fraternity is born from the fact of being children of the same Father by the Spirit of truth: "For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God" (Romans 8:14). But, to live in unity and peace, the family of the children of God needs someone who will keep them in the truth and guide them with wise and authoritative discernment: This is what the ministry of the apostles is called to do.

And here we come to an important point. The Church is totally of the Spirit, but it has a structure, the apostolic succession, which has the responsibility to guarantee the Church's permanence in the truth given by Christ, from which the capacity to love also proceeds. The first summary of the Acts of the Apostles expresses with great effectiveness the convergence of these values in the life of the early Church: "They devoted themselves to the Apostles' teaching and fellowship ('koinonia'), to the breaking of bread and the prayers" (Acts 2:42).

Communion is born from faith aroused by the apostolic preaching, it is nourished from the breaking of bread and prayer, and is expressed in fraternal charity and service. We are before the description of the communion of the early Church in the richness of her internal dynamisms and her visible expressions: The gift of communion is kept and promoted in particular by the apostolic ministry, which in turn is a gift for the whole community.

The apostles and their successors therefore are custodians and authoritative witnesses of the deposit of faith given to the Church, and they are also the ministers of charity: two aspects that go together. They must always think of the inseparable character of this double service, which in fact is the same: truth and charity, revealed and given by the Lord Jesus. In this connection, they carry out above all a service of love: the charity they must live and promote cannot be separated from the truth they keep and transmit.

Truth and love are two sides of the same gift, which proceeds from God and which, thanks to the apostolic ministry, is kept in the Church and comes to us in our present [time]! Through the service of the apostles and their successors we also receive the love of the Triune God to communicate the truth that makes us free (cf. John 8, 32)! All this which we see in the early Church leads us to pray for the successors of the apostles, for all bishops, and for the Successors of Peter so that they will really be custodians of truth and at the same time of charity, so that they will really be apostles of Christ, so that their light, the light of truth and charity will never be extinguished in the Church and the world.

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Role of Church Tradition: Communion in Time
"Communion Embraces All Times and All Generations" (April 26, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

Thank you for your affection! In the new series of catechesis initiated a short time ago, we tried to understand the original design of the Church desired by the Lord to comprehend better our participation, our Christian life, in the great communion of the Church. Until now we have understood that ecclesial communion is aroused and sustained by the Holy Spirit, guarded and promoted by the apostolic ministry. And this communion, which we call Church, does not extend only to all believers of a certain historical moment, but embraces also all times and all generations. Therefore, we find ourselves before a double universality: the synchronic universality -- we are united with believers in all parts of the world -- and the universality called diachronic, that is, all times belong to us: Believers of the past and of the future form with us only one and great communion.

The Spirit appears as the guarantor of the active presence of mystery in history, who assures its realization through the centuries. Thanks to the Paraclete, the experience of the Risen One, made by the apostolic community in the origins of the Church, will always be able to be lived by successive generations, in the measure that it is transmitted and actualized in faith, in worship and in the communion of the People of God, pilgrim in time. And, in this way, we, now, in Eastertide, live the encounter with the Risen One not only as something of the past, but in the present communion of the faith, of the liturgy, of the life of the Church.

The Church's apostolic Tradition consists in this transmission of the goods of salvation, which makes of the Christian community the permanent actualization, with the force of the Spirit, of the original communion. It is called thus because it was born from the testimony of the apostles and of the community of the disciples in the early years, was given under the guidance of the Holy Spirit in the writings of the New Testament, and in the sacramental life, in the life of faith, and the Church makes constant reference to it -- to this Tradition that is the always present reality of the gift of Jesus -- as its foundation and norm through the uninterrupted succession of the apostolic ministry.

In his historical life, Jesus limited his mission to the House of Israel, but he already made it understood that the gift was destined not only for the people of Israel, but for the whole world and for all times. The Risen One then entrusted, explicitly to the apostles (cf. Luke 6:13) the task to make disciples of all nations, guaranteeing his presence and help until the end of time (cf. Matthew 28:19ff).

The universality of salvation calls for, among other things, that the Easter memorial be celebrated in history without interruption until Christ's glorious return (cf. 1 Corinthians 11:26). Who will actualize the salvific presence of the Lord Jesus, through the ministry of the apostles, heads of the eschatological Israel (cf. Matthew 19:28) -- and of the whole life of the people of the New Covenant? The answer is clear: the Holy Spirit. The Acts of the Apostles -- continuing with the plan of Luke's Gospel -- present the mutual understanding between the Spirit, those sent by Christ, and the community gathered by them.

Thanks to the action of the Paraclete, the apostles and their successors can realize in time the mission received through the Risen One: "You are witnesses of these things. And (behold) I am sending the promise of my Father upon you" (Luke 24:48-49). "But you will receive power when the holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth" (Acts 1:8). And this promise, initially incredible, was already realized in the time of the apostles: "We are witnesses of these things, as is the holy Spirit that God has given to those who obey him" (Acts 5:32).

Therefore, it is the same Spirit who, through the imposition of hands and the prayer of the apostles, consecrates and sends the new missionaries of the Gospel (for example, in Acts 13:3ff and 1 Timothy 4:14). It is interesting to observe that, whereas in some passages it is said that Paul establishes the presbyters in the Churches (cf. Acts 14:23), in others it is affirmed that it is the Holy Spirit who constitutes the pastors of the flock (cf. Acts 20:28).

In this way, the action of the Spirit and of Paul is profoundly fused. In the hour of solemn decisions for the life of the Church, the Spirit is present to guide her. This presence-guide of the Holy Spirit was experienced particularly in the Council of Jerusalem, in whose conclusive words resounded the affirmation: "It is the decision of the holy Spirit and of us" (Acts 15:28); the Church grows and walks "in the fear of the Lord and with the consolation of the Holy Spirit" (Acts 9:31).

This permanent actualization of the active presence of the Lord Jesus in his people, realized by the Holy Spirit and expressed in the Church through the apostolic ministry and fraternal communion, is what is understood by the term Tradition in the theological sense: It is not the mere material transmission of what was given at the beginning to the apostles, but the efficacious presence of the Lord Jesus, crucified and risen, which accompanies and guides in the Spirit the community gathered by him.

Tradition is the communion of the faithful around their legitimate pastors in the course of history, a communion that the Holy Spirit nurtures assuring the nexus between the experience of the apostolic faith, lived in the original community of the disciples, and the present experience of Christ in his Church.

In other words, Tradition is the organic continuity of the Church, holy temple of God the Father, built on the foundation of the Spirit: "So then you are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone. Through him the whole structure is held together and grows into a temple sacred in the Lord; in him you also are being built together into a dwelling place of God in the Spirit" (Ephesians 2:19-22).

Thanks to Tradition, guaranteed by the ministry of the apostles and their successors, the water of life that flowed from the side of Christ and his saving blood comes to the women and men of all times. In this way, Tradition is the permanent presence of the Saviour who comes to meet, redeem and sanctify us in the Spirit through the ministry of his Church for the glory of the Father.

Concluding and summarizing, we can therefore say that Tradition is not the transmission of things or words, a collection of dead things. Tradition is the living river that unites us to the origins, the living river in which the origins are always present, the great river that leads us to the port of eternity. In this living river, the word of the Lord that we heard at the beginning from the lips of the reader: "And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age" is fulfilled again (Matthew 28:20).

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More on Apostolic Tradition
"The Living Gospel, Proclaimed in its Integrity"  (May 3, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In this catechesis we wish to understand a little more what the Church is. Last time we reflected on the topic of apostolic Tradition. We have seen that it is not a collection of things or words, like a box of dead things. Tradition is the river of new life that proceeds from the origins, from Christ to us, and makes us participate in God's history with humanity. This topic of Tradition is so important that I would like to reflect on it again today. In fact, it is of great importance for the life of the Church.

The Second Vatican Council stated in this connection that Tradition is apostolic above all in its origins: "In his gracious goodness, God has seen to it that what he had revealed for the salvation of all nations would abide perpetually in its full integrity and be handed on to all generations. Therefore, Christ the Lord in whom the full revelation of the supreme God is brought to completion (see 2 Corinthians 1:20; 3:13; 4:6), commissioned the Apostles to preach to all men that Gospel which is the source of all saving truth and moral teaching, and to impart to them heavenly gifts" (dogmatic constitution "Dei Verbum," No. 7).

The Council continues to point out that "This commission was faithfully fulfilled by the Apostles who, by their oral preaching, by example, and by observances handed on what they had received from the lips of Christ, from living with Him, and from what He did, or what they had learned through the prompting of the Holy Spirit. The commission was fulfilled, too, by those Apostles and apostolic men who under the inspiration of the same Holy Spirit committed the message of salvation to writing."

Leaders of the eschatological Israel -- they were also 12, like the tribes of the Chosen People -- the apostles continued the "meeting" begun by the Lord and they did so above all by faithfully transmitting the gift received, the Good News of the Kingdom that came to men with Jesus Christ. Their number not only expresses continuity with the holy root, the Israel of the 12 tribes, but also the universal destiny of their ministry, which brings salvation to the ends of the earth. It is expressed by the symbolic value that numbers have in the Semitic world: 12 results from the multiplication of 3, a perfect number, times 4, a number that makes reference to the four cardinal points, therefore, the whole world.

The community, born from the Gospel proclamation, feels called by the word of the first who experienced the Lord and who were sent by him. It knows that it can count on the guidance of the Twelve, as well as that of those who later are associated as successors in the ministry of the Word and in the service of communion.

Therefore, the community feels committed to transmit to others the "joyful news" of the actual presence of the Lord and of his paschal mystery, which operates in the Spirit. This is underlined in some passages of the letters of St. Paul: "For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received" (1 Corinthians 15:3). And this is important.

As is known, St. Paul, originally called by Christ with a personal vocation, is an authentic apostle and yet, also in his case, what counts fundamentally is fidelity to what he has received. He did not want to "invent" a new, so to speak, "Pauline" Christianity. Therefore, he insists: "I deliver to you what I also received." He transmitted the initial gift that comes from the Lord, as it is truth that saves. Later, toward the end of his life, he wrote to Timothy: "guard the truth that has been entrusted to you by the Holy Spirit who dwells within us (2 Timothy 1:14).

It is also shown with efficacy by this ancient testimony of the Christian faith, written by Tertullian around the year 200: "After first bearing witness to the faith in Jesus Christ throughout Judea, and rounding churches (there), they next went forth into the world and preached the same doctrine of the same faith to the nations. They [the apostles] then in like manner founded churches in every city, from which all the other churches, one after another, derived the tradition of the faith, and the seeds of doctrine, and are every day deriving them, that they may become churches. Indeed, it is on this account only that they will be able to deem themselves apostolic, as being the offspring of apostolic churches" ("De praescriptione Haereticorum," 20: PL: 2, 32).

The Second Vatican Council comments: "Now what was handed on by the Apostles includes everything which contributes toward the holiness of life and increase of faith of the peoples of God; and so the Church, in her teaching, life and worship, perpetuates and hands on to all generations all that she herself is, all that she believes" ("Dei Verbum," No. 8). The Church transmits all that she is and all that she believes; she transmits it in worship, in life, in doctrine.

Tradition is, therefore, the living Gospel, proclaimed by the apostles in its integrity, in virtue of the plentitude of her unique and unrepeatable experience: By her work, faith is communicated to others, until it reaches us, until the end of the world. Tradition, therefore, is the history of the Spirit that acts in the history of the Church through the mediation of the Apostles and their successors, in faithful continuity with the experience of the origins.

It is what Pope St. Clement of Rome explained toward the end of the first century: "The Apostles," he wrote, "proclaimed the Gospel to us sent by the Lord Jesus Christ; Jesus Christ was sent by God. Christ, therefore, comes from God, the Apostles from Christ: Both proceed in an orderly way from the will of God. Our Apostles knew through our Lord Jesus Christ that disputes would arise around the episcopal function. Therefore, foreseeing the future perfectly, they established the chosen ones and ordered them that at their death other men of proven virtue assume their service" [Ad Corinthios," 42.44: PG 1, 292.296].

This chain of service continues to our day; it will continue until the end of the world. In fact, the mission entrusted by Jesus to the apostles has been transmitted by them to their successors. Beyond the experience of personal contact with Christ, unique and unrepeatable, the apostles transmitted to their successors the solemn sending to the world received from the Master. The word apostle comes in fact from the Greek term "apostellein," which means to send.

The apostolic sending -- as the text of Matthew 28:19 and following shows -- "implies a pastoral service ('make disciples of all nations') a liturgical service ('baptizing them'), and a prophetic service ('teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you') guaranteeing closeness to the Lord until the end of the ages (I am with you always until the end of time')."

Thus, though in a manner different from the apostles, we also have an authentic and personal experience of the presence of the Risen Lord. Thanks to the apostolic ministry, Christ himself comes to one who is called to the faith, overcoming the distance of the ages and offering himself, living and working, today in the Church and the world.

This is our great joy. In the living river of Tradition, Christ is not separated from us by 2,000 years of distance, but is really present among us and gives us Truth, gives us Light and makes us live and find the Way to the future.

[Translation by ZENIT]

[At the end of the audience, the Holy Father greeted pilgrims in several languages. In English, he said:]

In today's catechesis, we continue our reflections on the Church's apostolic Tradition. As the Second Vatican Council teaches, God willed that everything he had revealed in Christ for our salvation should remain in its entirety and be transmitted to all generations.

The Twelve Apostles were chosen and sent forth to proclaim the Gospel and the living presence of the Risen Lord in his Church. With the help of the Holy Spirit, they and their associates handed on, by their preaching, example and institutions, and by the inspired Scriptures, all that they themselves had received from Christ for the salvation of the world.

The Church in every age preserves and transmits what St. Paul calls the "rich deposit of faith" (cf. 2 Timothy 1:14). Tradition can thus be understood as the living voice of the Gospel, proclaimed in its integrity by the apostles and passed down by their successors. This apostolic Tradition includes "all that helps God's people to live in holiness and grow in faith." Through Tradition, "the Church, in her doctrine, life and worship, perpetuates and transmits to every generation all that she herself is, all that she believes."

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On Apostolic Succession
"Greatest Guarantee of Perseverance in the Lord's Word"  (May 10, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In the last audiences we have meditated on the Tradition of the Church and we have seen that it is the permanent presence of the word and life of Jesus in his people. But to be present, the Church is in need of a person, a witness. In this way, reciprocity is born: On one hand, the word is in need of the person, but on the other hand the person, the witness, is linked to the word that has been entrusted to him, which he has not invented. This reciprocity between contents -- Word of God, life of the Lord -- and the person that transmits is a characteristic of the structure of the Church, and today we wish to meditate on this personal aspect of the Church.

The Lord began it, as we saw, when convoking the Twelve, who represented the future of the People of God. In fidelity to the mandate received from the Lord, initially the Twelve, after his Ascension, completed their number with the election of Matthias to replace Judas (cf. Acts 1:15-26), and later they associate others progressively to the functions entrusted to them to continue their ministry.

The Risen One himself called Paul (cf. Galatians 1:1), but Paul, despite the fact he was called by the Lord as an apostle, compares his Gospel to the Gospel of the Twelve (cf. ibid. 1:18), is concerned to transmit what he has received (cf. 1 Corinthians 11:23; 15:3-4) and in the distribution of the missionary tasks is associated with the apostles, together with others, for example, Barnabas (cf. Galatians 2:9).

Just as at the beginning of the condition of [being an] apostle there is a call and a sending by the Risen One, likewise the subsequent call and invitation to others takes place, with the strength of the Spirit, by the power of one already constituted in the apostolic ministry. This is the path on which this ministry will continue that, later, begun by the second generation, would be called episcopal ministry, "episcop?."

Perhaps it would be useful to explain briefly what the word bishop means. It is the Italian form ["vescovo"] of the Greek words "ep?scopos." This word makes reference to one who has a vision from on high, who sees with the heart. Thus, in his first letter, St. Peter himself calls the Lord Jesus guardian and shepherd of souls; the successors of the apostles were later called "bishops," "ep?scopoi." They were entrusted with the function of the "episcop?." This specific function of the bishop is carried out progressively with respect to the beginnings until it assumes the form, already clearly attested by Ignatius of Antioch, at the beginning of the second century (cf. "Ad Magnesios," 6,1: PG 5,668), of the triple function of bishop, priest and deacon. It is a development led by the Spirit of God, which assists the Church in the discernment of the authentic forms of the apostolic succession, defined ever better between a plurality of experiences and charismatic and ministerial forms, present in the community of the origins.

Thus, succession in the episcopal function is presented as continuity of the apostolic ministry, guarantee of the perseverance in the apostolic Tradition, word and life that have been entrusted to us by the Lord. The link between the College of Bishops and the original community of the apostles is understood, above all, in the line of historical continuity. As we have seen, to the Twelve is associated first Matthias, and then Paul, and afterward Barnabas and later others, up to the formation, in the second and third generation, of the ministry of the bishop. Therefore, continuity is expressed in this historical chain.

And in the continuity of the succession the guarantee is found of perseverance in the ecclesial community, in the apostolic College, gathered by Christ around him. But this continuity, which we saw before in the historical continuity of the ministers, must also be understood in the spiritual sense, as the apostolic succession in the ministry is considered as the privileged place of the action and transmission of the Holy Spirit.

A clear echo of these convictions can be seen, for example, in this text of Irenaeus of Lyon (second half of the second century): "the Tradition of the Apostles has been manifested to the universal world in the whole Church, and we can enumerate those who have been constituted bishops and successors of the Apostles up to us [?] [The apostles] wanted those whom they left as their successors to be 'perfect and irreproachable' in everything (1 Timothy 3:2; Titus 1:6-7), to entrust the Magisterium to them in their place: If they act correctly it will be followed by great usefulness, but if they fall, it would be the greatest calamity" ("Adversus Haereses," III, 3, 1: PG 7,848).

Then, Irenaeus, when presenting this network of the apostolic succession as the greatest guarantee of perseverance in the Lord's word, concentrates on that Church, among "the most ancient and known by all, the Church founded and constituted in Rome by the two most glorious Apostles Peter and Paul," underlining the Tradition of the faith proclaimed, which comes to us through the apostles and through the successions of the bishops.

In this way, for Irenaeus and for the universal Church, the episcopal succession of the Church of Rome becomes the sign, criterion and guarantee of the uninterrupted transmission of the apostolic faith: "It is necessary that every Church be in harmony with this Church, whose foundation is the most guaranteed -- I refer to all the faithful of any place, because in her all those who are found in all places have kept the apostolic Tradition" ("Adversus Haereses," III, 3, 2: PG 7,848).

The apostolic succession, verified in virtue of communion with that of the Church of Rome, is therefore the criterion of permanence of each one of the Churches in the Tradition of the common apostolic faith, which through this channel has been able to come to us from the origins: "By this order and succession the Tradition has come to us that was initiated by the Apostles. And this shows fully that the one and only vivifying faith that comes from the Apostles has been kept and transmitted in the Church until today" (ibid., III, 3,3: PG 7,851).

According to these testimonies of the ancient Church, the apostolicity of the ecclesial communion consists in faithfulness to the teaching and practice of the apostles, through whom is guaranteed the historical and spiritual union of the Church with Christ. The apostolic succession of the episcopal ministry is the path that guarantees the faithful transmission of the apostolic testimony.

What the apostles represent in the relationship between the Lord Jesus and the Church of the origins, is represented analogously by the ministerial succession in the relationship between the Church of the origins and the present-day Church. It is not a mere material concatenation; rather, it is the historical instrument of which the Spirit makes use to make present the Lord Jesus, head of his people, through whom they are ordained by the ministry through the imposition of hands and the prayer of the bishops.

Then, through the apostolic succession, Christ comes to us: He speaks to us in the word of the apostles and their successors; he acts in the sacraments through their hands; our gaze is enveloped in his gaze and makes us feel loved, received in God's heart. And also today, as at the beginning, Christ himself is the true shepherd and guardian of our souls, whom we follow with great confidence, gratitude and joy.

[Translation by ZENIT]

[At the end of the audience, the Holy Father greeted pilgrims in several languages. In English, he said:]

In today's catechesis, we consider how the ministry of the apostles continues through their successors, the bishops. The apostles themselves appointed others to take their place and to carry on their work. St. Irenaeus, writing at the end of the second century, links the tradition handed down from the apostles to the historical succession of bishops in the Churches they established.

Irenaeus points in particular to the Church of Rome, founded by the Apostles Peter and Paul. The succession of bishops in this Church can be seen as the sure sign and criterion of the unbroken transmission of the apostolic faith. Consequently, he says, every Church throughout the world must be in accord with the Roman Church ["Adversus Haereses" III, 3, 2].

The Church's perseverance in the apostolic tradition is thus guaranteed by the continuity between the original community of the apostles and the College of Bishops. Through apostolic succession, the Holy Spirit makes the Risen Christ present to his Church in the ministry of those ordained to preach the Gospel, to celebrate the sacraments and to serve as loving shepherds of his flock.

I am pleased to greet the English-speaking pilgrims present at this audience, particularly those from England, Canada and the United States of America. Upon all of you I invoke the blessings of the Risen Christ and wish you a most pleasant time in Rome.

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Profile of St. Peter
"Occasionally Naive and Fearful, Yet Honest and Capable of Repentance" (May 17, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

In the new series of catecheses we have tried to understand above all what the Church is, what the Lord's idea is about this new family. Then we said that the Church exists in people, and we have seen that the Lord entrusted this new reality, the Church, to the Twelve Apostles. Now we wish to contemplate them one by one, to understand through these persons what it means to live in the Church, to follow Christ. We begin with St. Peter.

After Jesus, Peter is the most known and quoted personality in the New Testament: He is mentioned 154 times with the nickname "Petros," "stone," "rock," which is the Greek translation of the Aramaic name that Jesus gave him directly, "Kefa," witnessed on nine occasions, especially in Paul's letters. Also to be added, moreover, is the name Simon, used frequently (75 times), which is the form adapted to the Greek of his original Hebrew name, Simeon (twice: Acts 15:14; 2 Peter 1:1).

Son of John (cf. John 1:42) or, in the Aramaic form, "bar-Jona," son of Jonas (cf. Matthew 16:17), Simon was from Bethsaida (John 1:44), a town that was located east of the Sea of Galilee, from which Philip also came and, of course, Andrew, Simon's brother. His accent when speaking was Galilean.

Like his brother, he was a fisherman: With the family of Zebedee, father of James and John, he headed a small fishing business on the Lake of Gennesaret (cf. Luke 5:10). For this reason, he must have enjoyed a certain financial ease and was animated by a sincere religiosity that moved him to go with his brother to Judea, to follow the preaching of John the Baptist (John 1:35-42).

He was a faithful Jew, who believed in God's active presence in the history of his people, and was pained at not seeing His powerful action in the events of which he was, at that time, a witness. He was married and his mother-in-law, cured one day by Jesus, lived in the city of Capernaum, in the house where Simon also stayed, when he was in that city (cf. Matthew 8:14ff; Mark 1:29ff; Luke 4:38ff).

Recent archaeological excavations have made it possible to bring out into the light, under the mosaic floor of octagonal shape of a small Byzantine church, the remains of a more ancient church, built in that house, as attested by the graffiti with invocations to Peter. The Gospels tell us that Peter was among the first four disciples of the Nazarene (cf. Luke 5:1-11), to whom was added a fifth in keeping with the custom of the rabbis to have five disciples (cf. Luke 5:27: the calling of Levi). When Jesus went from five to 12 disciples, the novelty of his mission became clear: He was not one of the many rabbis, but had come to gather the eschatological Israel, symbolized by the number 12, the number of the tribes of Israel.

Simon appears in the Gospels with a strong and impulsive character; he is ready to make his opinions felt, even by force (he used the sword in the Garden of Olives, cf. John 18:10ff). At the same time, he is also occasionally naive and fearful, yet honest and capable of sincere repentance (cf. Matthew 26:75). The Gospels allows us to follow his spiritual itinerary step by step.

The starting point was the call by Jesus, which came on a day like any other, while Peter was busy at his work as a fisherman. Jesus was on the Lake of Gennesaret and the crowds surrounded him to hear him. The number of those listening to him created certain difficulties. The Master saw two boats by the lake. The fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He asked them if he could get into one of the boats, which was Simon's, and he asked him to put out a little from the land. He sat down on that improvised chair, and taught the people from the boat (cf. Luke 5:1-3).

Thus, Peter's boat became Jesus' chair. When he had ceased speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch." And Simon answered, "Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets" (Luke 5:10). Jesus, who was a carpenter, was not a fishing expert and, yet, Simon the fisherman trusted this Rabbi, who gave him no answers but called on him to have faith.

His reaction to the miraculous catch was one of astonishment and trepidation: "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord" (Luke 5:8). Jesus replied inviting him to have confidence and to be open to a project that would surpass all expectations. "Do not be afraid; henceforth you will be catching men" (Luke 5:10). Peter could not yet imagine that one day he would arrive in Rome and would be there a "fisher of men" for the Lord. He accepted this astonishing call to let himself be involved in this great adventure: He was generous; he recognized his limits but believed in the One Who called him and followed his heart. He said yes and became a disciple of Christ.

Peter experienced another significant moment on his spiritual journey near Caesarea Philippi, when Jesus posed a specific question to his disciples: "Who do men say that I am?" (Mark 8:27). For Jesus it was not enough to have a hearsay answer. He wanted the one who had accepted to commit himself personally to him, to take a personal stance. That is why he insisted: "But who do you say that I am?" (Mark 8:29). And it was Peter who replied on behalf of the others: "You are the Christ" (ibid.), that is, the Messiah.

This reply, which "flesh and blood has not revealed" but the Father who is in heaven (cf. Matthew 16:17), has within it the seed of the Church's future profession of faith. However, Peter had not yet understood the profound substance of Jesus' messianic mission, as became clear shortly afterward when he made it known that the Messiah he sought in his dreams was very different from God's plan. Faced with the announcement of the passion, he cried out and protested, arousing Jesus' strong reaction (cf. Mark 8:32-33).

Peter wanted as Messiah a "divine man," who fulfilled people's expectations, imposing his force upon everyone: We also want the Lord to impose his force and transform the world immediately; yet Jesus presented himself as the "human God," who overturned the expectations of the multitude by following the path of humility and suffering. It is the great alternative, which we also must learn again: to favor our own expectations rejecting Jesus or to accept Jesus in the truth of his mission and lay aside all too human expectations.

Peter, who is impulsive, does not hesitate to take him to one side and reprehend him. Jesus' response demolishes all false expectations, calling him to conversion and to follow him: "Get behind me, Satan! For you are not on the side of God but of men" (Mark 8:33). Do not show me the way, I follow my way and you follow me.

Peter thus learned what following Jesus really means. It is the second call, as Abraham's in Genesis, Chapter 22, after that of Genesis, Chapter 12. "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever loses his life for my sake and the Gospel's will save it" (Mark 8:34-35). It is the exacting law to follow him: It is necessary to be able to deny oneself, if necessary, the whole world to save the true values, to save the soul, to save the presence of God in the world (cf. Mark 8:36-37). And though with difficulty, Peter accepted the invitation and continued his path in the footsteps of the Master.

I think that these different conversions of St. Peter and his whole figure are a motive of great consolation and a great teaching for us. We also desire God, we also want to be generous, but we also expect God to be strong in the world and that he transform the world immediately, according to our ideas and the needs we see.

God opts for another way. God chooses the way of the transformation of hearts in suffering and humility. And we, like Peter, must always be converted again. We must follow Jesus and not precede him. He shows us the way. Peter tells us: You think you have the recipe and that you have to transform Christianity, but the Lord is the one who knows the way. It is the Lord who says to me, who says to you, "Follow me!" And we must have the courage and humility to follow Jesus, as he is the way, the truth and the life.

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On Peter, the Apostle
"Impetuous Generosity Does Not Safeguard Him"  (May 24, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In these catecheses we are meditating on the Church. We have said that the Church lives in people and because of this, in the last catechesis, we began to meditate on the figure of the individual apostles, beginning with St. Peter. We saw two decisive stages of his life: the calling on the Lake of Galilee and then the confession of faith: "You are the Christ, the Messiah." A confession, we said, that is still insufficient, initial though open.

St. Peter undertakes a journey of following. Thus, this initial confession already bears in itself, like a seed, the future faith of the Church. Today we wish to consider two other events in the life of St. Peter: the multiplication of the loaves. We just heard in the passage read the Lord's question and Peter's answer, and then the passage when the Lord calls Peter to be shepherd of the universal Church.

We begin with the event of the multiplication of loaves. You know that the people had heard the Lord for hours. At the end, Jesus said: They are tired, they are hungry, we must give these people something to eat. The apostles asked him: But how? And Andrew, Peter's brother, calls Jesus' attention to a boy who was carrying five loaves and two fish. But of what use are these for so many people? the apostles wondered.

Then the Lord had the people sit down and had the five loaves and two fish distributed. And all were filled. What is more, the Lord asked the apostles, and among them Peter, to gather the abundant leftovers: 12 baskets of bread (cf. John 12-13). Then the people, seeing this miracle -- which seemed to be the much-awaited renewal of the new "manna," the gift of bread from heaven -- want to make him their king.

But Jesus did not accept and withdrew to the mountain to pray alone. The following day, on the other side of the lake, in the synagogue of Capernaum, Jesus interpreted the miracle -- not in the sense of kingship over Israel with a power of this world in the manner expected by the crowd, but in the sense of gift of self: "The bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh" (John 6:51). Jesus announces the cross and with the cross the true multiplication of loaves, of the Eucharistic bread -- his absolutely new way of being king, a way totally contrary to the people's expectations.

We can understand that these words of the Master -- who did not want to carry out a multiplication of loaves every day, who did not want to offer Israel a power of this world -- were truly difficult, even unacceptable, for the people. "Gives his flesh" -- what does this mean? And even for the disciples, what Jesus said at this moment seemed unacceptable. It was and is for our heart, for our mentality, a "hard" saying that puts faith to the test (cf. John 6:60). Many of the disciples withdrew. They wanted someone who would really renew the state of Israel, its people, and not someone who said: "I give my flesh."

We can imagine that Jesus' words were difficult also for Peter, who at Caesarea Philippi was opposed to the prophecy of the cross. And yet, when Jesus asked the Twelve: "Do you also want to go away?", Peter reacted with the outburst of his generous heart, guided by the Holy Spirit. In the name of all he responds with immortal words, which are also our words: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God" (cf. John 6:66-69).

Here, as in Caesarea, Peter initiates with his words the confession of the Church's Christological faith and also becomes the voice of the other apostles and of us believers of all times. This does not mean that he had understood the mystery of Christ in all its profundity. His was still an initial faith, a journeying faith. It would come to true fullness only through the experience of the paschal events.

But, nevertheless, it was already faith, open to a greater reality -- open above all because it was not faith in something, but faith in Someone: in him, Christ. Thus our faith is also an initial faith and we must still journey a long way. However, it is essential that it be an open faith that lets itself be guided by Jesus, because not only does he know the way, but he is the way.

Peter's impetuous generosity does not safeguard him, however, from the risks connected to human weakness. It is what we can also recognize based on our lives. Peter followed Jesus with drive; he surmounted the test of faith, abandoning himself to him. But the moment comes when he also gives way to fear and falls: He betrays the Master (cf. Mark 14:66-72). The school of faith is not a triumphal march, but a journey strewn with sufferings and love, trials and faithfulness to be renewed every day.

Peter, who had promised absolute faithfulness, knows the bitterness and humiliation of denial: The arrogant learns humility at his expense. Peter, too, must learn that he is weak and in need of forgiveness. When the mask finally falls and he understands the truth of his weak heart of a believing sinner, he breaks out in liberating tears of repentance. After this weeping, he is now ready for his mission.

On a spring morning, this mission would be entrusted to him by the risen Jesus. The meeting would take place on the shores of the Lake of Tiberias. It is the Evangelist John who refers to the dialogue that took place in that circumstance between Jesus and Peter. One notes a very significant play of words. In Greek the word "fil?o" expresses the love of friendship, tender but not total, whereas the word "agap?o" means love without reservations, total and unconditional.

Jesus asks Peter the first time: "Simon ? do you love me ('agap?s-me')" with this total and unconditional love (cf. John 21:15)? Before the experience of the betrayal, the apostle would certainly have said: "I love you ('agap?-se') unconditionally." Now that he has known the bitter sadness of infidelity, the tragedy of his own weakness, he says with humility: "Lord, I love you ('fil?-se')," that is, "I love you with my poor human love." Christ insists: "Simon, do you love me with this total love that I want?" And Peter repeats the answer of his humble human love: "Kyrie, fil?-se," "Lord, I love you as I know how to love."

The third time Jesus only says to Simon: "File?s-me?", "Do you love me?" Simon understood that for Jesus his poor love, the only one he is capable of, is enough, and yet he is saddened that the Lord had to say it to him in this way. Therefore, he answered: "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you ('fil?-se')."

It would seem that Jesus adapted himself to Peter, rather than Peter to Jesus! It is precisely this divine adaptation that gives hope to the disciple, who has known the suffering of infidelity. From here trust is born that makes him able to follow to the end: "This he said to show by what death he was to glorify God. And after this he said to him, 'Follow me'" (John 21:19).

From that moment, Peter "followed" the Master with the precise awareness of his own frailty; but this awareness did not discourage him. He knew in fact that he could count on the presence of the Risen One beside him. From the ingenuous enthusiasm of the initial adherence, passing through the painful experience of denial and the tears of conversion, Peter came to entrust himself to that Jesus who adapted himself to his poor capacity to love. And he also shows us the way, despite all our weakness.

We know that Jesus adapts himself to our weakness. We follow him, with our poor capacity to love and we know that Jesus is good and he accepts us. It was a long journey for Peter that made him a trustworthy witness, "rock" of the Church, being constantly open to the action of the Spirit of Jesus. Peter would present himself as "witness of the sufferings of Christ and participant of the glory that must manifest itself" (1 Peter 5:1).

When he wrote these words he was already old, having reached the end of his life, which he would seal with martyrdom. He was now able to describe the true joy and to indicate where the latter can be attained: The source is Christ believed and loved with our weak but sincere faith, notwithstanding our frailty. That is why he would write the Christians of his community, and he says it also to us: "Without having seen him you love him; though you do not now see him you believe in him and rejoice with unutterable and exalted joy. As the outcome of your faith you obtain the salvation of your souls" (1 Peter 1:8-9).

[Translation by ZENIT]

[At the end of the audience, the Holy Father read the following summary in English:]

Today, I wish to focus again on the Apostle Peter. Christ's teachings, like all his behavior, were difficult to accept. Many withdrew and went their separate ways. Yet, when Jesus questioned the Twelve, "Do you also wish to go away?", Simon Peter answered, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we believe ? that you are the Only One of God."

In this way, Peter initiates the Church's Christological confession of faith. Though incomplete, his faith was nevertheless authentic and open -- not a faith in something, but in someone; in Christ. Peter was not, however, free of human weakness, and in time he too betrays the Master.

The school of faith, then, is not a triumphal march but a journey marked daily by suffering and love, trials and faithfulness. Peter knew the humiliation of denial, and for this he wept bitterly. But having learned his own nothingness, he was then ready for his mission.

That mission, made possible by our Lord's acceptance of Peter's fragile love and launched with the words "Follow me," is marked with hope: Notwithstanding his infidelity, Peter knows the Risen Lord is at his side. His long journey in faith, constantly open to the Spirit of Jesus, renders him a credible witness -- one who knows the true joy that lies in Christ, the way of salvation!

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Peter, the Rock on which Christ founded the Church
"The Custodian of the Communion With Christ"  (June 7, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

We resume the weekly catecheses that we began this spring. In the last one, two weeks ago, I spoke of Peter as the first apostle. Today we want to return once again to this great and important figure of the Church. The Evangelist John, when recounting the first meeting of Jesus with Simon, Andrew's brothers, mentions a singular detail: "Jesus looked at him and said, 'You are Simon the son of John; you will be called Cephas' -- which is translated Peter" (John 1:42). Jesus did not usually change his disciples' names.

With the exception of the nickname "sons of thunder," addressed in a specific circumstance to the sons of Zebedee (cf. Mark 3:17), and that afterward he would not use, he never attributed a new name to one of his disciples. He did so, however, with Simon, calling him Cephas, a name that was later translated into Greek as "Petros," in Latin "Petrus." And it was translated precisely because it was not just a name; it was a "mandate" that Petrus thus received from the Lord. The new name "Petrus" will return on several occasions in the Gospels and will end by replacing his original name, Simon.

This detail is of particular importance if one keeps in mind that, in the Old Testament, a change of name announced in general the conferring of a mission (cf. Genesis 17:5; 32:28ff, etc.). In fact, Christ's will to attribute to Peter a special prominence within the apostolic college is manifested with many clues: In Capernaum, the Master stays in Peter's house (Mark 1:29); when the crowds pressed upon him on the shores of the Lake of Gennesaret, between the two moored boats, Jesus chose Simon's (Luke 5:3); when in particular circumstances Jesus remains only in the company of three disciples, Peter is always recalled as the first of the group. Thus it occurred in the resurrection of Jairus' daughter (cf. Mark 5:37; Luke 8:51), in the Transfiguration (cf. Mark 9:2; Matthew 17:1; Luke 9:28), and finally during the agony in the Garden of Gethsemane (cf. Mark 14:33; Matthew 16:37).

The tax collectors for the Temple went up to Peter, and the Master paid for himself and for Peter, and only for him (cf. Matthew 17:24-27); he was the first one whose feet he washed in the Last Supper (cf. John 13:6) and he prays only for him so that his faith would not fail and so that later he will be able to confirm the other disciples in it (cf. Luke 22:30-31).

On the other hand, Peter himself is aware of this particular position he has. He is the one who speaks often on behalf of the others, asking for explanations of a difficult parable (Matthew 15:15), or to ask about the exact meaning of a precept (cf. Matthew 18:21), or the formal promise of a recompense (Matthew 19:27). In particular, he is the one who surmounts the awkwardness of certain situations intervening in the name of all.

In this way, when Jesus, grieved by the incomprehension of the crowd after his discourse on the "bread of life," asks: "Do you also want to leave?", Peter's answer was peremptory: "Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life" (John 6:67-69). Jesus then pronounces the solemn declaration that defines, once and for all, Peter's role in the Church: "And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven" (Matthew 16:18-19).

The three metaphors to which Jesus takes recourse are very clear in themselves: Peter will be the rock foundation upon which the building of the Church will be based; he will have the keys of the Kingdom of heaven to open and close to whom he thinks it is just; finally, he will be able to bind or loose, that is, will be able to establish or prohibit what he considers necessary for the life of the Church, which is and will continue to be Christ's. It is always Christ's Church and not Peter's. He describes with plastic images what subsequent reflection will describe with the term "primacy of jurisdiction."

This pre-eminent position that Jesus willed to give Peter is also seen after the resurrection: Jesus tells the women to take the announcement to Peter, singling him out among the other apostles (cf. Mark 16:7); Magdalene runs to him and to John to tell them the stone has been removed from the entrance of the sepulcher (cf. John 20:2) and John will let him go first when they arrive before the empty tomb (cf. John 20:4-6); later, Peter will be, among the apostles, the first witness of the apparition of the Risen One (cf. Luke 24:34; 1 Corinthians 15:5).

This role, underlined with determination (cf. John 20:3-10), marks the continuity between his pre-eminence in the group of the apostles and the pre-eminence that he will continue to have in the community born with the paschal events, as the book of the Acts of the Apostles attests (cf. 1:15-26; 2:14-40; 3:12-26; 4:8-12; 5:1-11,29; 8:14-17; 10; etc.]. His conduct is considered so decisive that it is the object of observations and also of criticisms (cf. Acts 11:1-18; Galatians 2:11-14).

In the so-called Council of Jerusalem, Peter carries out an executive function (cf. Acts 15 and Galatians 2:1-10), and precisely by the fact of being witness of the authentic faith, Paul himself will recognize in him a "first" role (cf. 1 Corinthians 15:5; Galatians 1:18; 2:7ff, etc.). Moreover, the fact that several of the key texts referring to Peter can be framed in the context of the Last Supper, in which Christ entrusts to Peter the ministry of confirming his brothers (cf. Luke 22:31ff], shows how the Church, which is born from the paschal memorial celebrated in the Eucharist, has in the ministry entrusted to Peter one of its constitutive elements.

This context of the primacy of Peter in the Last Supper, at the moment of the institution of the Eucharist, the Lord's Pasch, also indicates the ultimate meaning of this primacy: For all times, Peter must be the custodian of the communion with Christ; he must guide in the communion with Christ so that the net will not tear but sustain the great universal communion. Only together can we be with Christ, who is Lord of all. Peter's responsibility thus consists of guaranteeing the communion with Christ with the charity of Christ, guiding the realization of this charity in everyday life. Let us pray so that the primacy of Peter, entrusted to poor human beings, may always be exercised in this original sense desired by the Lord, so that it will be increasingly recognized in its true meaning by brothers who are still not in communion with us.

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James the Greater
"His Path Is a Symbol of the Pilgrimage of Christian Life" (June 21, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

We continue with the series of portraits of the apostles chosen directly by Jesus during his life. We have spoken of St. Peter and of his brother Andrew. Today we meet the figure of James. The biblical lists of the Twelve mention two people with his name: James, son of Zebedee, and James, son of Alphaeus (cf. Mark 3:17,18; Matthew 10:2-3), who are generally distinguished with the names James the Greater and James the Lesser.

These designations are not intended to measure their holiness, but simply to state the different relevance they receive in the New Testament writings and, in particular, in the framework of Jesus' earthly life. Today we dedicate our attention to the first of these two personages of the same name.

The name James is the translation of "Iákobos," a variation under Greek influence of the name of the famous patriarch Jacob. The apostle of this name is John's brother, and in the mentioned lists he occupies second place after Peter, as occurs in Mark (3:17), or the third place after Peter and Andrew, as in the Gospels of Matthew (10:2) and Luke (6:14), while in the Acts of the Apostles he appears after Peter and John (1:13). This James belongs, together with Peter and John, to the group of three privileged disciples who were admitted by Jesus to important moments of his life.

As it is very hot today, I would like to abbreviate and mention only two of these occasions now. He was able to take part, along with Peter and John, in the moment of Jesus' agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, and in the moment of Jesus' transfiguration. Therefore, it is a question of two very different situations: In one case, James, with the other two disciples, experiences the Lord's glory, sees him speaking with Moses and Elijah, sees the divine splendor revealed in Jesus; in the other, he finds himself before suffering and humiliation; he sees with his own eyes how the Son of God humbles himself, becoming obedient unto death.

The second occasion was surely for him an opportunity to mature in the faith, to correct the unilateral, triumphalist interpretation of the first: He had to discern how the Messiah, awaited by the Jewish people as a victor, was in reality not only surrounded by honor and glory, but also by sufferings and weakness. The glory of Christ was realized precisely on the cross, in taking part in our sufferings.

This maturation of the faith was brought to completion by the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, so that when the supreme moment of witness arrived, James did not draw back. In the early 40s of the first century, King Herod Agrippa, grandson of Herod the Great, as Luke informs us: "laid violent hands upon some who belonged to the Church. He killed James the brother of John with the sword" (Acts 12:1-2). The brevity of the news, lacking any narrative detail, reveals, on one hand, how it was normal for Christians to witness to the Lord with their lives and, on the other, that James had a position of relevance in the Church of Jerusalem, in part because of the role carried out during Jesus' earthly existence.

A subsequent tradition, which goes back at least to Isidore of Seville, recounts that he was in Spain to evangelize that important region of the Roman Empire. According to another tradition, his body was taken to Spain, to the city of Santiago de Compostela. As we all know, that place became an object of great veneration and, still today, is the objective of numerous pilgrimages, not only from Europe, but from the whole world. In this way is explained the iconographic representation of James with the pilgrim's staff, and the Gospel story, characteristics of the itinerant apostle, committed to the proclamation of the "good news," characteristics of the pilgrimage of Christian life.

Therefore, we can learn much from James: promptness in accepting the Lord's call, even when he asks us to leave the "bark" of our human securities; enthusiasm in following Him on the paths that he indicates to us beyond our illusory presumption; readiness to give witness to Him with courage and, if necessary, with the supreme sacrifice of life. Thus, James the Greater is presented to us as an eloquent example of generous adherence to Christ. He, who initially had requested, through his mother, to be seated with his brother next to the Master in his Kingdom, was precisely the first to drink the chalice of the passion, in sharing martyrdom with the Apostles.

And, in the end, summarizing everything, we can say that his path, not only exterior but above all interior, from the mount of the Transfiguration to the mount of the agony, is a symbol of the pilgrimage of Christian life, amid the persecutions of the world and consolations of God, as the Second Vatican Council states. Following Jesus, we, like James, know that, even in difficulties, we are on the right path.

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James the Less
"Contributed to Integrate the Original Jewish Dimension of Christianity"  (June 28, 2006))

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Beside the figure of James "the Greater," son of Zebedee, of whom we spoke last Wednesday, another James appears in the Gospel, who is called "the Less." He also forms part of the list of Twelve Apostles chosen personally by Jesus, and is always specified as "son of Alphaeus" (cf. Matthew 10:3; Mark 3:18; Luke 5; Acts 1:13).

He has often been identified with another James, called "the Younger" (cf. Mark 15:40), son of a Mary (cf. ibid.), who could be Mary of Clopas present, according to the Fourth Gospel, at the foot of the cross together with the Mother of Jesus (cf. John 19:25). He was also from Nazareth and probably a relative of Jesus (cf. Matthew 13:55; Mark 6:3), who, after the Semitic manner, was called "brother" (cf. Mark 6:3; Galatians 1:19).

Of this last James, the book of Acts underlines the pre-eminent role played in the Church of Jerusalem. In the apostolic council held there shortly after the death of James the Greater, he affirmed together with the others that the pagans could be received in the Church without first having to undergo circumcision (cf. Acts 15:13). St. Paul, who attributes to him a specific apparition of the Risen One (cf. 1 Corinthians 15:7), on the occasion of his trip to Jerusalem names him directly before Cephas-Peter, describing him as a "column" of the Church together with him (cf. Galatians 2:9).

Afterward, the Judeo-Christians considered him their main point of reference. To him in fact is attributed the Letter that bears the name James and is included in the New Testament canon. He does not present himself as the "Lord's brother," but as "servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ" (James 1:1).

There is a debate among scholars over the identification of these two personages of the same name, James son of Alphaeus and James "brother of the Lord." The evangelical traditions have not preserved for us an account of one or the other in reference to the period of the earthly life of Jesus. The Acts of the Apostles, instead, show us that a "James" carried out a very important role within the early Church, as we already mentioned, after the resurrection of Jesus, (cf. Acts 12:17; 15:13-21; 21:18).

The most prominent action he accomplished was his intervention on the question of the difficult relationship between Christians of Jewish origin and those of pagan origin. In this he contributed, together with Peter, to surmount, or better, to integrate the original Jewish dimension of Christianity with the need not to impose on converted pagans the obligation to be subjected to all the norms of the law of Moses.

The book of Acts has preserved for us the compromise solution proposed precisely by James and accepted by all the apostles present, according to whom the pagans who had believed in Jesus Christ should only be requested to abstain from the idolatrous custom of eating the flesh of animals offered in sacrifice to the gods, and from the "immodesty," a term that probably alluded to marital unions without consent. In practice, it was a question of adhering to only a few prohibitions, held rather important by the Mosaic legislation.

In this way, two significant and complementary results were obtained, both still valid: On one hand, the unbreakable relationship is recognized that links Christianity to the Jewish religion as its perennially living and valid matrix; on the other, Christians of pagan origin are allowed to preserve their own sociological identity, which they would have lost if they had been constrained to observe the so-called Mosaic ceremonial precepts: These now were no longer to be considered obligatory for converted pagans. In essence, a reciprocal praxis of esteem and respect was being initiated, which, notwithstanding subsequent unfortunate misunderstandings, sought by its nature to safeguard all that was characteristic of each of the two sides.

The most ancient information on the death of this James is given to us by the Jewish historian Flavius Josephus. In his Jewish Antiquities (20, 201f), written in Rome toward the end of the first century, he tells us that James' end was decided with the illegitimate initiative of the High Priest Ananus, son of the Annas attested in the Gospels, who took advantage of the interval between the deposition of one Roman Procurator (Festus) and the advent of his successor (Albinius) to decree his stoning in the year 62.

To the name of this James, in addition to the apocryphal proto-Gospel of James, which exalts the holiness and virginity of Mary the Mother of Jesus, is particularly linked the Letter that bears his name. It occupies the first place in the canon of the New Testament after the so-called Catholic Letters, addressed, that is, not to one particular Church -- such as Rome, Ephesus, etc. -- but to many Churches. It is a rather important writing, which insists much on the need not to reduce one's faith to a pure verbal or abstract declaration, but to express it concretely in good works. Among other things, he invites us to constancy in joyfully accepted trials and to trusting prayer to obtain from God the gift of wisdom, thanks to which we succeed in understanding that the true values of life are not in transitory riches, but rather in being able to share one's food with the poor and needy (cf. James 1:27).

Thus the Letter of St. James shows us a very concrete and practical Christianity. Faith must be carried out in life, above all in love of neighbor and particularly in commitment to the poor. It is with this background that the famous phrase must be read: "For just as a body without a spirit is dead, so also faith without works is dead" (James 2:26). At times this statement of James has been contrasted to Paul's affirmations, according to whom we are rendered just by God not in virtue of our works, but thanks to our faith (cf. Galatians 2:16; Romans 3:28).

However, the two phrases, seemingly contradictory in their different perspectives, in reality, if well interpreted, complement one another. St. Paul is opposed to man's pride who thinks he has no need of the love of God which anticipates us; he is opposed to the pride of self-justification without the grace simply given and not merited. St. James speaks instead of works as the normal fruit of faith: "The sound tree bears good fruit," says the Lord (Matthew 7:17). And St. James repeats it and says it to us.

Finally, the Letter of James exhorts us to abandon ourselves into God's hands in everything we do, always pronouncing the words: "If the Lord wills" (James 4:15). Thus he teaches us not to presume to plan our lives in an autonomous and selfish way, but to make room for the inscrutable will of God, who knows the true good for us. In this way, St. James is always a timely teacher of life for each one of us.

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John, Son of Zebedee
"The Origin of our Loftiest Spirituality"  (July 5, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

We dedicate today's meeting to recall another very important member of the apostolic college: John, son of Zebedee, and brother of James. His name, typically Hebrew, means "the Lord has given his grace." He was mending the nets on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, when Jesus called him together with his brother (cf. Matthew 4:21; Mark 1:19).

John is always part of the restricted group that Jesus took with him on certain occasions.

He is beside Peter and James when Jesus, in Capernaum, enters Peter's house to cure his mother-in-law (cf. Mark 1:29); with the other two he follows the Master into the house of the chief of the synagogue, Jarius, whose daughter would be called back to life (cf. Mark 5:37); he follows him when he goes up to the mountain to be transfigured (cf. Mark 9:2); he is by his side on the Mount of Olives when before the imposing Temple of Jerusalem he delivers the discourse on the end of the city and of the world (cf. Mark 13:3); and, finally, he is close to him when in the Garden of Gethsemane he withdraws to pray to the Father before the Passion (cf. Mark 14:33). Shortly before Passover, when Jesus chose two disciples to prepare the room for the Supper, he entrusts this task to him and to Peter (cf. Luke 22:8).

This prominent position in the group of the Twelve makes comprehensible, in a certain sense, the initiative that his mother took one day: she approached Jesus to request that her two sons, John and James, might sit one at his right hand and one at his left in the Kingdom (cf. Matthew 20:20-21). As we know, Jesus replied posing a question in turn: he asked if they were prepared to drink the chalice that he himself was about to drink (cf. Matthew 20:28).

With these words, he wanted to open the eyes of the two disciples, introduce them to knowledge of the mystery of his person, sketch the future call to be his witnesses to the supreme test of blood. Shortly after, in fact, Jesus clarified that he had not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many (cf. Matthew 20:28).

In the days following the Resurrection, we find the sons of Zebedee fishing together with Peter and others on a night without results. After the Risen One's intervention, came the miraculous catch: "the disciple whom Jesus loved" would be the first to recognize the Lord and to point him out to Peter (cf. John 21:1-13).

Within the Church of Jerusalem, John occupied an important place in the leadership of the first group of Christians. Paul, in fact, places him among those he called the "columns" of that community (cf. Galatians 2:9).

Luke, in the Acts of the Apostles, presents him next to Peter while they go to the Temple to pray (Acts 3:1-4,11) or when they appear before the Sanhedrin to witness their faith in Jesus Christ (cf. Acts 4:13,19). Together with Peter he receives the invitation of the Church of Jerusalem to confirm those who accepted the Gospel in Samaria, praying over them so that they would receive the Holy Spirit (cf. Acts 8:14-15).

In particular, we must recall what he said, together with Peter, before the Sanhedrin, during the trial: "we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard" (Acts 4:20). This frankness in confessing their own faith remains as an example and a warning for all of us so that we will be ready to declare with determination our unbreakable adherence to Christ, putting our faith before any human calculation or interest.

According to tradition, John is "the beloved disciple," who in the fourth Gospel places his head on the Master's breast during the Last Supper (cf. John 13:21), is found at the foot of the cross close to the Mother of Jesus (cf. John 19:25) and, finally, is witness both of the empty tomb as well as the presence of the Risen One (cf. John 20:2, 21:7).

We know that this identification today is disputed by experts, as some of them see in him the prototype of the disciple of Jesus. Leaving the exegetes to clarify the situation, we content ourselves with drawing an important lesson for our lives: the Lord wishes to make of each one of us a disciple who lives in personal friendship with him.

To do this, it is not enough to follow and listen to him exteriorly; it is also necessary to live with him and as him. This is only possible in the context of a relationship of great familiarity, penetrated by the warmth of total trust. It is what happens between friends: this is why Jesus said one day: "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends … No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you" (John 15:13,15).

In the apocryphal "Acts of John" the apostle, is not presented as founder of Churches, not even as guide of a constituted community, but as a constant itinerant, a communicator of the faith in the encounter with "souls capable of hoping and of being saved" (18:10, 23:8). He is impelled by the paradoxical desire to make the invisible seen. In fact, the Eastern Church calls him simply "the Theologian," that is, the one who is able to speak in terms accessible to divine things, revealing an arcane access to God through adherence to Jesus.

Devotion to John the Apostle was affirmed first in the city of Ephesus where, according to an ancient tradition, he lived for a long time, dying at an extraordinarily advanced age, under the emperor Trajan. In Ephesus, emperor Justinian, in the 6th century, built a great basilica in his honor, of which there still remain impressive ruins.

Precisely in the East he enjoyed and enjoys great veneration. In the Byzantine icons he is represented as very old and in intense contemplation, with the attitude of one who invites to silence.

In fact, without proper recollection, it is not possible to approach the supreme mystery of God and his revelation. This explains why, years ago, the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople, Athenagoras, whom Pope Paul VI embraced at a memorable meeting, affirmed: "John is at the origin of our loftiest spirituality. Like him, the 'silent ones' know that mysterious exchange of hearts, invoke the presence of John and their hearts are inflamed" (O. Clement, "Dialoghi con Atenagora," Turin, 1972, p. 159).

May the Lord help us to place ourselves in the school of John to learn the great lesson of love so that we feel loved by Christ "to the end" (John 13:1) and spend our lives for him.

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On Being an Apostle
"May You Always Be Friends and Apostles of Jesus Christ!"

VATICAN CITY, AUG. 18, 2006 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of Benedict XVI's address at the general audience on Aug. 2, in St. Peter's Square.

The Pope delivered a special catechesis for the 42,000 young people in Rome for the European Pilgrimage of Altar Servers, and also launched an appeal for peace in the Middle East.

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Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Thank you for your welcome! I greet you all with great affection. After an interval, due to my stay in the Aosta Valley, today I am resuming the general audiences. And I am starting with a truly special audience, because I have the joy of welcoming the large European Pilgrimage of Altar Servers.

Dear boys and girls and young people, welcome! Since most of the altar servers who have gathered in this square today are German-speaking, I will first address them in my mother-tongue.

Dear Altar Servers,

I am pleased that my first audience after my holiday in the Alps is with you altar servers, and I greet each one of you with affection. I thank your pastor, Auxiliary Bishop Martin Gächter of Basle, for the words with which, as president of Coetus Internationalis Ministrantium, he introduced the audience, and I am grateful for the scarf, thanks to which I am once again an altar boy. In 1935, more than 70 years ago, I began as an altar boy; consequently, it has been a long journey on this path.

I cordially greet Cardinal Christoph Schönborn who celebrated holy Mass for you yesterday, and the many bishops and priests who have come from Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Hungary.

I would like to offer you, dear altar servers -- briefly, since it is hot -- a message that can accompany you throughout your life and your service in the Church.

I would therefore like to resume the subject I have been addressing at the Catecheses in recent months. Perhaps some of you know that at the Wednesday general audiences I am presenting the figures of the apostles.

First came Simon, whom the Lord called Peter, his brother Andrew, then another pair of brothers, St. James known as "the Greater," the first martyr among the apostles, and John the theologian and Evangelist, then James called "the Less."

I am planning to continue my presentation of the individual apostles at the next audiences, in which the Church, so to speak, becomes personal.

Today, however, we are reflecting on a common subject: on what kind of people the apostles were.
In short, we might say that they were "friends" of Jesus. This is what he himself called them at the Last Supper, saying to them: "No longer do I call you servants ... but ... friends" (John 5: 15).

They were, and were able to be, apostles and witnesses of Christ because they were close to him. They were united to him by a bond of love, brought to life by the Holy Spirit.

In this perspective, we can understand the theme of your pilgrimage: "Spiritus vivificat." It is the Spirit, the Holy Spirit, who gives life. It is he who gives life to your relationship with Jesus, in such a way that it becomes not only exterior: "We know that he existed and that he is present in the sacrament," but he makes it become an intimate, profound and truly personal friendship which can give meaning to each one of your lives. And since you know him and know him in friendship, you will be able to witness to him and take him to others.

Today, seeing you here before me in St. Peter's Square, I think of the apostles and I hear Jesus' voice saying to you: I do not call you servants but friends; abide in my love and you will bear an abundance of fruit (cf. John 15: 9, 16).

I ask you to listen to this voice! Christ did not only say this 2,000 years ago; he is alive and saying it to you now. Listen to his voice with great openness; he has something to say to each one. Perhaps he is saying to some of you: "I want you to serve me in a special way as a priest, thus becoming my witness, being my friend and introducing others into this friendship."

Listen faithfully, therefore, to Jesus' voice. Each person's vocation is different, but Christ wants to make friends with everyone, just as he did with Simon, whom he called Peter, with Andrew, James, John and the other apostles.

He has given you his word and continues to give it to you, so that you may know the truth, know how things truly are for human beings, and thus, so that you know how one ought to live in the right way, how one ought to face life so that it may become true. Thus, each of you, in your own way, will be able to be his disciples and apostles.

Dear altar servers, you are, in fact, already apostles of Jesus! When you take part in the liturgy by carrying out your altar service, you offer a witness to all. Your absorption, the devotion that wells up from your heart and is expressed in gestures, in song, in the responses: If you do it correctly and not absent-mindedly, then in a certain way your witness is one that moves people.

The Eucharist is the source and summit of the bond of friendship with Jesus. You are very close to Jesus in the Eucharist, and this is the most important sign of his friendship for each one of us. Do not forget it.

This is why I am asking you not to take this gift for granted so that it does not become a sort of habit, knowing how it works and doing it automatically; rather, discover every day anew that something important happens, that the living God is among us and that you can be close to him and help him so that his mystery is celebrated and reaches people.

If you do not give into habit, if you put your innermost self into carrying out your service, then you will truly be his apostles and bear fruits of goodness and service in every context of your life: in the family, at school, in your free time.

Take to one and all that love which you receive in the liturgy, especially to places where you realize that they lack love, where they do not receive goodness, where they suffer and are lonely.

With the power of the Holy Spirit, try to take Jesus to those very people who are outcast, who are not very popular or have problems. With the power of the Holy Spirit, it is precisely there that you must take Jesus.

In this way, the bread you see broken upon the altar will be shared and multiplied even more, and you, like the Twelve Apostles, will help Jesus distribute it to the people of today in their different walks of life.

So it is, dear altar servers, that my last words to you are: May you always be friends and apostles of Jesus Christ!

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Apostle John, the Seer of Patmos
"The Wounded and Dead Lamb Conquers!"

CASTEL GANDOLFO, Italy, AUG. 23, 2006 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of Benedict XVI's address at today's general audience, dedicated to the Apostle John, whom he presented on this occasion as "the seer of Patmos."

The meditation is part of the series of reflections he is offering on the Church and the apostles.

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Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In the last catechesis we meditated on the figure of the Apostle John. At first we tried to see how much can be known of his life. Then, in a second catechesis, we meditated on the central content of his Gospel, of his Letters: charity, love. And today we are again concerned with the figure of John, this time to consider the seer of Revelation.

We must immediately make an observation: Whereas his name never appears in the Fourth Gospel or the letters attributed to the apostle, [the Book of] Revelation makes reference to John's name four times (cf. 1:1,4,9; 22:8). On one hand, it is evident that the author had no reason to silence his name and, on the other, he knew that his first readers could identify him with precision. We know moreover that, already in the third century, the scholars argued over the true identity of the John of Revelation.

For this reason we can also call him "the seer of Patmos," because his figure is linked to the name of this island of the Aegean Sea, where, according to his own autobiographical testimony, he found himself deported "because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus" (Revelation 1:19). Precisely on Patmos, "in the Spirit on the Lord's day," John had grandiose visions and heard extraordinary messages, which would have no little influence on the history of the Church and on the whole of Christian culture.

For example, from the title of his book, "Apocalypse" [Revelation], were introduced in our language the words "apocalypse, apocalyptic," which evoke, though inappropriately, the idea of an impending catastrophe.

The book must be understood in the context of the dramatic experience of the seven Churches of Asia (Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Tiatira, Sardi, Philadelphia and Laodicea), which toward the end of the first century had to face great difficulties -- persecutions and even internal difficulties -- in their witnessing of Christ. John addresses them, showing profound pastoral sensitivity for persecuted Christians, whom he exhorts to remain steadfast in the faith and not identify with the very strong pagan world.

His objective, in short, is to unveil, from the death and resurrection of Christ, the meaning of human history. The first and essential vision of John, in fact, concerns the figure of the Lamb, which, despite being slain, is standing (cf. Revelation 5:6), placed before the throne where God himself is seated. With this, John wants to tell us two things above all: The first is that Jesus, though he was killed with an act of violence, instead of lying fallen on the ground remains paradoxically standing firmly on his feet, because with the resurrection he has vanquished death definitively.

The second is that Jesus himself, precisely because he died and resurrected, now participates fully in the royal and salvific power of the Father. This is the fundamental vision. Jesus, the Son of God, is, on this earth, a defenseless, wounded and dead Lamb. And yet, he is standing, firm, before the throne of God and participates in the divine power. He has in his hands the history of the world. In this way, the visionary wishes to tell us: Have confidence in Jesus, do not be afraid of opposing powers, of persecution! The wounded and dead Lamb conquers! Follow Jesus, the Lamb, trust Jesus, follow his way! Even if in this world he seems to be the weak Lamb, he is the victor!

The object of one of the principal visions of Revelation is this Lamb at the moment he opens a book, which before was sealed with seven seals, which no one was able to open. John is even presented weeping, as no one could be found able to open the book and read it (cf. Revelation 5:4). History appears as undecipherable, incomprehensible. No one can read it.

Perhaps this weeping of John before the very dark mystery of history expresses the disconcertment of the Asian Churches because of God's silence in the face of the persecutions to which they were exposed at that time. It is a disconcertment which might well reflect our surprise in the face of the grave difficulties, misunderstandings and hostilities that the Church also suffers today in several parts of the world.

They are sufferings which the Church certainly does not deserve, as Jesus did not deserve punishment either. However, they reveal both man's maliciousness, when he allows himself to be led by the snares of evil, as well as the higher governance of events by God. So, only the immolated Lamb is capable of opening the sealed book and of revealing its content, to give meaning to this history which, apparently, often seems so absurd.

He alone can draw pointers and teachings for the life of Christians, to whom his victory over death brings the announcement and guarantee of the victory that they also, without a doubt, will attain. All the language John uses, charged with strong images, tends to offer this consolation.

At the center of the vision that Revelation presents is the extremely significant image of the Woman, who gives birth to a male Child, and the complementary vision of the Dragon, which has fallen from the heavens, but is still very powerful. This Woman represents Mary, the Mother of the Redeemer, but she represents at the same time the whole Church, the People of God of all times, the Church that at all times, with great pain, again gives birth to Christ. And she is always threatened by the power of the Dragon. She seems defenseless, weak.

But, while she is threatened, pursued by the Dragon, she is also protected by God's consolation. And this Woman, at the end, is victorious. The Dragon does not conquer. This is the great prophecy of this book, which gives us confidence! The Woman who suffers in history, the Church which is persecuted, at the end is presented as the splendid Bride, image of the new Jerusalem, in which there is no more tears or weeping, image of the world transformed, of the new world whose light is God himself, whose lamp is the Lamb.

For this reason, John's Revelation, though full of constant references to sufferings, tribulations and weeping -- the dark face of history -- at the same time presents frequent songs of praise, which represent, so to speak, the luminous face of history.

For example, it speaks of an immense crowd that sings almost shouting: "Alleluia! The Lord has established his reign, (our) God, the almighty. Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory. For the wedding day of the Lamb has come, his bride has made herself ready" (Revelation 19:6-7). We are before the typical Christian paradox, according to which, suffering is never perceived as the last word; rather it is seen as a passing moment to happiness and, what is more, the latter is already mysteriously permeated with the joy that springs from hope.

Therefore, John, the seer of Patmos, can end his book with a final aspiration, in which an ardent hope palpitates. He invokes the Lord's final coming: "Come, Lord Jesus!" (Revelation 22:20). It is one of the central prayers of nascent Christianity, translated also by St. Paul in Aramaic: "Marana tha." And this prayer, "Come, Lord Jesus!" (1 Corinthians 16:22) has several dimensions.

Above all it implies, of course, the awaiting of the Lord's definitive victory, of the new Jerusalem, of the Lord who comes and transforms the world. But, at the same time, it is also a Eucharistic prayer: "Come, Jesus, now!" And Jesus comes, he anticipates his definitive coming. In this way, with joy, let us say at the same time: "Come now and come definitively!" This prayer also has a third meaning: "You have already come, Lord! We are certain of your presence among us. For us it is a joyful experience. But, come definitively!" Thus, with St. Paul, with the seer of Patmos, with nascent Christianity, we also pray: "Come, Jesus! Come and transform the world! Come now, today, and may peace conquer!" Amen.

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John, the Theologian
"He Proclaims With Radiant Insight That 'God Is Love'"

VATICAN CITY, AUG. 24, 2006 (Zenit.org).- Here is Benedict XVI's address at the General Audience on Wednesday, August 9, 2006, held in the Paul VI Auditorium in the Vatican, in which he presented the figure of the Apostle John, "the Theologian."

With the meditation, the Holy Father resumed the series of catecheses on the Apostles, which on previous occasions he dedicated to the figures of Peter, Andrew, James the Lesser, James the Elder and John, son of Zebedee.

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Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Before the holidays I had begun sketching small portraits of the Twelve Apostles.

The apostles were Jesus' traveling companions, Jesus' friends. Their journey with Jesus was not only a physical journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, but an interior journey during which they learned faith in Jesus Christ, not without difficulty, for they were people like us.

But for this very reason, because they were Jesus' traveling companions, Jesus' friends, who learned faith on a journey that was far from easy, they are also guides for us, who help us to know Jesus Christ, to love him and to have faith in him.

I have already commented on four of the Twelve Apostles: Simon Peter; Andrew, his brother; James, the brother of St. John; and the other James, known as "The Less," who wrote a letter that we find in the New Testament.

And I had started to speak about John the Evangelist, gathering together in the last catechesis before the holidays the essential facts for this apostle's profile.

I would now like to focus attention on the content of his teaching. The writings that we want to examine today, therefore, are the Gospel and the letters that go under his name.

If there is one characteristic topic that emerges from John's writings, it is love. It is not by chance that I wanted to begin my first encyclical letter with this apostle's words, "God is love (Deus caritas est); he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him" (1 John 4:16). It is very difficult to find texts of this kind in other religions. Thus, words such as these bring us face to face with an element that is truly peculiar to Christianity.

John, of course, is not the only author of Christian origin to speak of love. Since this is an essential constituent of Christianity, all the New Testament writers speak of it, although with different emphases.

If we are now pausing to reflect on this subject in John, it is because he has outlined its principal features insistently and incisively. We therefore trust his words. One thing is certain: He does not provide an abstract, philosophical or even theological treatment of what love is.

No, he is not a theoretician. True love, in fact, by its nature is never purely speculative but makes a direct, concrete and even verifiable reference to real persons. Well, John, as an apostle and a friend of Jesus, makes us see what its components are, or rather, the phases of Christian love, a movement marked by three moments.

The first concerns the very source of love which the apostle identifies as God, arriving at the affirmation that "God is love" (1 John 4:8,16). John is the only New Testament author who gives us definitions of God. He says, for example, that "God is spirit" (John 4:24) or that "God is light" (1 John 1:5). Here he proclaims with radiant insight that "God is love."

Take note: It is not merely asserted that "God loves," or even less that "love is God!" In other words: John does not limit himself to describing the divine action but goes to its roots.

Moreover, he does not intend to attribute a divine quality to a generic and even impersonal love; he does not rise from love to God, but turns directly to God to define his nature with the infinite dimension of love.

By so doing, John wants to say that the essential constituent of God is love and hence, that all God's activity is born from love and impressed with love: All that God does, he does out of love and with love, even if we are not always immediately able to understand that this is love, true love.

At this point, however, it is indispensable to take another step and explain that God has concretely demonstrated his love by entering human history through the person of Jesus Christ, incarnate, dead and risen for us.

This is the second constitutive moment of God's love. He did not limit himself to verbal declarations but, we can say, truly committed himself and "paid" in the first person.

Exactly as John writes, "God so loved the world," that is, all of us, "that he gave his only Son" (John 3:16). Henceforth, God's love for humanity is concretized and manifested in the love of Jesus himself.

Again, John writes: "Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end" (John 13:1).

By virtue of this oblative and total love we are radically ransomed from sin, as St. John writes further: "My little children ... if any one does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous; and he is the expiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world" (1 John 2:1-2; cf. 1 John 1:7).

This is how Jesus' love for us reaches us: by the pouring out of his own blood for our salvation! The Christian, pausing in contemplation before this "excess" of love, cannot but wonder what the proper response is. And I think each one of us, always and over and over again, must ask himself or herself this.

This question introduces us into the third moment of the dynamic of love: From being the recipients of a love that precedes and surpasses us, we are called to the commitment of an active response which, to be adequate, can only be a response of love.

John speaks of a "commandment." He is, in fact, referring to these words of Jesus: "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another" (John 13:34).

Where is the newness to which Jesus refers? It lies in the fact that he is not content with repeating what had already been requested in the Old Testament and which we also read in the other Gospels: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Luke 19:18; cf. Matthew 22:37-39; Mark 12:29-31; Luke 10:27).

In the ancient precept the standard criterion was based on man ("as yourself"), whereas in the precept to which John refers, Jesus presents his own person as the reason for and norm of our love: "As I have loved you."

It is in this way that love becomes truly Christian: Both in the sense that it must be directed to all without distinction, and above all since it must be carried through to its extreme consequences, having no other bounds than being boundless.

Those words of Jesus, "as I have loved you," simultaneously invite and disturb us; they are a Christological goal that can appear unattainable, but at the same time they are an incentive that does not allow us to ensconce ourselves in what we have been able to achieve. It does not permit us to be content with what we are but spurs us to keep advancing toward this goal.

In "The Imitation of Christ," that golden text of spirituality which is the small book dating back to the late Middle Ages, on this subject is written: "The love of Jesus is noble and generous: It spurs us on to do great things, and excites us to desire always that which is most perfect. Love will tend upward and is not to be detained by things beneath. Love will be at liberty and free from all worldly affections ... for love proceeds from God and cannot rest but in God above all things created. The lover flies, runs and rejoices, he is free and not held. He gives all for all and has all in all, because he rests in one sovereign good above all, from whom all good flows and proceeds" (Thomas à Kempis, "The Imitation of Christ," III, V, 3-4).

What better comment could there be on the "new commandment" spelled out by John? Let us pray to the Father to be able, even if always imperfectly, to live it so intensely that we share it with those we meet on our way.

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On St. Matthew
"A Model of Acceptance of God's Mercy"

VATICAN CITY, AUG. 30, 2006 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the address Benedict XVI gave at today's general audience, held in Paul VI Hall, which he dedicated to the figure of St. Matthew.

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Dear Brothers and Sisters:

Continuing with the series of portraits of the Twelve Apostles, which we began a few weeks ago, today we reflect on Matthew.

To tell the truth, it is almost impossible to delineate his figure completely, as information on him is scarce and incomplete. What we can do is sketch not so much the biography but the profile the Gospel gives us.

He is always present on the list of the twelve chosen by Jesus (cf. Matthew 10:3; Mark 3:18; Luke 6:15; Acts 1:13). His name, in Hebrew, means "gift of God." The first canonical Gospel, which bears his name, presents him to us in the list of the Twelve with a very specific qualification: "the publican" (Matthew 10:3).

For this reason, he is identified with the man seated at the tax office, whom Jesus calls to follow him. "As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax office; and he said to him, 'Follow me.' And he rose and followed him" (Matthew 9:9).

Also Mark (cf. 2:13-17) and Luke (cf. 5:27-30) narrate the call of the man sitting at the tax office, but they call him "Levi." To imagine the scene described in Mathew 9:9 suffice it to remember the magnificent canvas of Caravaggio, kept here, in Rome, in the French Church of St. Louis.

A new biographical detail emerges from the Gospels: In the passage, which precedes the narration of the call, reference is made to a miracle Jesus performed in Capernaum (cf. Matthew 9:1-8; Mark 2:1-12) mentioning the proximity of the Sea of Galilee, that is, of the Lake of Tiberias (cf. Mark 2:13-14).

One can deduce that Mathew carried out the function of tax collector in Capernaum, located precisely "by the sea" (Matthew 4:13), where Jesus was a steady guest in Peter's house.

Basing ourselves on these simple observations that arise from the Gospel, we can make a couple of reflections. The first is that Jesus welcomes in the group of his close friends a man who, according to the conception of that time in Israel, was regarded as a public sinner.

Matthew, in fact, not only managed money, considered impure as it came from people foreign to the people of God, but in addition collaborated with a foreign authority, odiously avid, whose tributes could be determined arbitrarily.

For these reasons, on more than one occasion, the Gospels mention together "publicans and sinners" (Matthew 9:10; Luke 15:1), "publicans and prostitutes" (Matthew 21:31). Moreover, they see in publicans an example of avarice (cf. Matthew 5:46: they only love those who love them) and mention one of them, Zacchaeus, as "chief tax collector, and rich" (Luke 18:11).

Given these references, there is a fact that calls attention: Jesus excludes no one from his friendship. More than that, precisely when he is seated at the table in Matthew-Levi's house, answering those who were scandalized by the fact of his frequenting rather undesirable company, he makes the important declaration: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I came not to call the righteous but sinners" (Mark 2:17).

The good proclamation of the Gospel consists precisely in this, in the offering of God's grace to the sinner! In another passage, with the famous parable of the Pharisee and the publican who went up to the Temple to pray, Jesus even points to an anonymous publican as example of humble confidence in divine mercy: While the Pharisee boasted of moral perfection, "the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, 'God, be merciful to me a sinner!'"

And Jesus commented: "I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted" (Luke 18:13-14).

With the figure of Matthew, therefore, the Gospels present us an authentic paradox: He who seems to be farthest from holiness might well become a model of acceptance of God's mercy enabling one to glimpse its marvelous effects in his life.

In this connection, St. John Chrysostom makes a significant comment: He observes that only in the narration of some of the calls is the work mentioned in which those in question were engaged. Peter, Andrew, James and John were called while they were fishing; Matthew while he collected taxes.

They are jobs of little importance, comments Chrysostom: "As there is nothing that is more detestable than the tax collector and nothing more ordinary than fishing" ("In Matth. Hom": PL 57, 363).

The call of Jesus comes, therefore, also to people of a low social level, while they are engaged in their ordinary work.

There is another reflection that arises from the Gospel narrative: Matthew responds immediately to Jesus' call: "He rose and followed him." The conciseness of the phrase underlines clearly Matthew's promptness in response to the call.

This meant for him abandoning everything, especially a sure source of income, though often unjust and dishonorable. Obviously Matthew understood that familiarity with Jesus did not allow him to continue with activities disapproved by God.

One can easily intuit that it can also be applied to the present: Today one cannot admit attachment to what is incompatible with the following of Jesus, as are dishonest riches. Once he said openly: "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me" (Matthew 19:21).

This is precisely what Matthew did: He rose and followed him! In this "rising" one can see the detachment from a situation of sin and, at the same time, the conscious adherence to a new life, upright, in communion with Jesus.

We recall, finally, that the tradition of the early Church agrees with attributing the authorship of the first Gospel to Matthew. This was already the case beginning with Papias, bishop of Gerapolis in Phrygia, about the year 130.

He wrote: "Matthew took up the Lord's words in Hebrew, and each one interpreted them as he could" (in Eusebius of Caesarea, "Hist. eccl.", III, 39, 16). The historian Eusebius adds this detail: "Matthew, who previously had preached to the Jews, when he decided to go also to other peoples, wrote in their maternal tongue the Gospel he was proclaiming: In this way he tried to substitute in writing what they, whom he was leaving, lost with his departure" (Ibid., III, 24, 6).

We no longer have the Gospel written by Matthew in Hebrew or Aramaic, but in the Greek Gospel that has come down to us we still continue to hear, in a certain sense, the persuasive voice of the publican Matthew who, in becoming an apostle, continues proclaiming to us the saving mercy of God.

Let us hear this message of St. Matthew, let us meditate on it always again so that we also will learn to rise and follow Jesus with determination.

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The Apostle Philip
"He Invites Us to Come and See Jesus" (September 6, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

Continuing to sketch the portrait of the various apostles, as we have been doing for some weeks, we meet today with Philip. In the lists of the Twelve he always appears in fifth place (in Matthew 10:3; Mark 3:18; Luke 6:14; Acts 1:13), that is, essentially among the first.

Although Philip was of Jewish origin, his name is Greek, as is Andrew's, which constitutes a small gesture of cultural openness that must not be underestimated. The news we have of him comes from the Gospel of John. He was from the same place as Peter and Andrew, namely, Bethsaida (cf. John 1:44), a small city that belonged to the tetrarchy of one of Herod the Great's sons, who was also called Philip (cf. Luke 3:1).

The fourth Gospel says that, after being called by Jesus, Philip meets with Nathanael and tells him: "We have found him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph" (John 1:45). In face of Nathanael's rather skeptical response -- "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" -- Philip does not give up and answers decisively: "Come and see" (John 1:46).

With this response, dry but clear, Philip demonstrates the characteristics of the authentic witness: He is not content with presenting the announcement as a theory, but questions the interlocutor directly, suggesting that he himself have the personal experience of what was proclaimed. Jesus uses those two same verbs when two disciples of John the Baptist approach him to ask him where he lives: Jesus answers: "Come and see" (cf. John 1:38-39).

We can think that Philip questions us with those two verbs which imply a personal participation. He also tells us what he said to Nathanael: "Come and see." The apostle commits us to know Jesus up close. In fact, friendship, to truly know the other, requires closeness, what is more, in part lives from it. In fact, we must not forget that, according to what Mark writes, Jesus chose the Twelve with the primary objective that they "be with him" (Mark 3:14), that is, that they share his life and learn directly from him not only the style of his behavior, but above all who he really was.

Only thus, participating in his life, could they know and proclaim him. Later on, in the Letter of Paul to the Ephesians, we read that what is important is "the Christ that they learned" (4:20), that is, what is important is not only or above all to listen to his teachings, his words, but to know him personally, that is, his humanity and divinity, the mystery of his beauty.

He is not only a Teacher, but a Friend, more than that, a Brother. How can we know him if we are far from him? Intimacy, familiarity, custom, make us discover the true identity of Jesus Christ. This is precisely what the Apostle Philip reminds us. That is why he invites us to "come" and "see," that is, to enter into a contact of listening, of response and communion of life with Jesus, day after day.

On the occasion of the multiplication of loaves, he received from Jesus a precise request, quite surprising: Where was it possible to buy the bread needed to feed all the people who were following him (cf. John 6:5). Then, Philip answered with much realism: "Two hundred days' wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little" (John 6:7).

Here we can see the realism and practical spirit of the apostle, who was able to judge the implications of a situation. We know what happened afterward. We know that Jesus took the loaves, and after praying, distributed them. In this way, he effected the multiplication of the loaves. But it is an interesting fact that Jesus addressed Philip specifically, to have a first impression on the solution of the problem: evident sign that he formed part of the restricted group that surrounded him.

In another instance, very important for the future history, before the Passion, some Greeks were in Jerusalem on the occasion of the Passover, they "came to Philip … and asked him, 'Sir, we would like to see Jesus.' Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus" (John 12:20-22). Once again we are before a vestige of his particular prestige within the apostolic college. In this case, in particular, he carries out the functions of intermediary between the request of some Greeks -- he probably spoke Greek and was able to act as interpreter -- and Jesus; though he joins Andrew, the other apostle with a Greek name, in any case, the foreigners turn to him.

This teaches us also to be willing both to accept requests and invocations, wherever they come from, as well as to direct them to the Lord, as only he can satisfy them fully. It is important, in fact, to know that we are not the last recipients of the requests of those who approach us, but the Lord: We must direct to him those who are in difficulties. Each one of us must be an open path to him!

There is another highly particular opportunity in which Philip intervenes. During the Last Supper, after Jesus affirmed that to know him also meant to know the Father (cf. John 14:7), Philip, almost naively asked him: "Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us" (John 14:8).

Jesus answered him in a tone of benevolent reproach: "Have I been with you for so long a time and you still do not know me, Philip? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, 'Show us the Father'? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? […] Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me" (John 14:9-11). They are one of the most sublime words of the Gospel of John. They contain an authentic revelation. At the end of the "Prologue" of his Gospel, John affirms: " No one has ever seen God. The only Son, God, who is at the Father's side, has revealed him" (John 1:18).

Well then, that statement, which is of the evangelist, is taken up and confirmed by Jesus himself, but with a detail. In fact, while John's "Prologue" speaks of an explanatory intervention of Jesus through the words of his teaching, in his answer to Philip, Jesus makes reference to his own person as such, leading us to understand that he can only be understood through what he says, more than that, through what he is. To help us understand, using the paradox of the Incarnation, we can say that God assumed a human face, that of Jesus, and consequently, from now on, if we really want to know the face of God, we have only to contemplate Jesus' face! In his face we really see who God is and how he is!

The evangelist does not tell us if Philip understood Jesus' phrase fully. What is certain is that he handed his life over to him totally. According to some subsequent accounts ("Acts of Philip" and others), our apostle evangelized Greece in the first instance and then Phrygia, and there he faced death, in Hieropolis, with a torture that some mention as crucifixion and others as stoning.

We wish to end our reflection recalling the objective toward which our life should be directed: to find Jesus, as Philip found him, trying to see in him God himself, the heavenly Father. If this commitment is lacking, we find ourselves alone with ourselves, as before a mirror, and we are ever more alone! Instead, Philip invites us to let ourselves be conquered by Jesus, to be with him and to share this indispensable company. In this way, seeing, finding God, we can find true life.

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The Apostle Thomas (September 27, 2006)

"His Question Gives Us the Right … to Ask Jesus for Explanations"

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

Continuing with our encounters with the Twelve Apostles chosen directly by Jesus, today we dedicate our attention to Thomas. Always present in the four lists of the New Testament, he is presented in the first three Gospels next to Matthew (cf. Matthew 10:3; Mark 3:18; Luke 6:15), while in the Acts of the Apostles he appears next to Philip (cf. Acts 1:13). His name stems from a Hebrew root, "ta'am," which means "twin." In fact, John's Gospel calls him sometimes with the nickname "Didymus" (cf. John 11:16; 20:24; 21:2), which in Greek means precisely "twin." The reason for this name is not clear.

The fourth Gospel, in particular, gives us some information which offers us some significant characteristics of his personality. The first is the exhortation he made to the other apostles when Jesus, at a critical moment of his life, decided to go to Bethany to raise Lazarus, thus coming dangerously close to Jerusalem (cf. Mark 10:32). On that occasion, Thomas said to his fellow disciples: "Let us also go, that we may die with him" (John 11:16). His determination when it came to following the Master is truly exemplary and gives us a precious teaching: It reveals the total willingness of adherence to Jesus to the point of identifying his own fate with His, and of wanting to share with Him the supreme trial of death.

In fact, what is most important is never to distance oneself from Jesus. When the Gospels use the verb "follow," they intend to explain that wherever he goes, his disciple must also go. Thus, Christian life is defined as a life with Jesus Christ, a life that must be spent with him. St. Paul wrote something similar when he calmed Christians of Corinth with these words: "You are in our hearts, to die together and to live together" (2 Corinthians 7:3). What is true between the Apostle and his Christians must also be true above all in the relationship between Christians and Jesus himself: to die together, to live together, to be in his heart as he is in ours.

A second intervention of Thomas is recorded in the Last Supper. On that occasion, Jesus, predicting his imminent departure, announces that he will go to prepare a place for the disciples so that they will also be where he is; and he specifies: "And you know the way where I am going" (John 14:4). Then Thomas intervenes, saying: "Lord, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?" (John 14:5).

In reality, with these words he places himself in a rather low level of understanding, but [his words] offer Jesus the opportunity to utter the famous definition: "I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life" (John 14:6). Therefore, in the first instance, he makes this revelation to Thomas, but it is valid for all of us and for all times. Every time we hear or read these words, we can be in thought next to Thomas and imagine that the Lord also speaks with us as he spoke with him.

At the same time, his question also gives us the right, so to speak, to ask Jesus for explanations. We often do not understand him. We must have the courage to say to him: I do not understand you, Lord, hear me, help me to understand. In this way, with such frankness, which is the authentic way to pray, to converse with Jesus, we express the littleness of our capacity to understand, but at the same time we assume the attitude of trust of one who expects light and strength from the one able to give them.

Then, very well known, even proverbial, is the scene of Thomas' incredulity, which took place eight days after Easter. Initially, he did not believe that Jesus had appeared in his absence and had said: "Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe" (John 20:25). Deep down, from these words emerges the conviction that Jesus is no longer recognized by his face, but rather by the wounds. Thomas believes that the characteristic signs of Jesus' identity are now above all his wounds, in which is revealed to what point he has loved us. In this the apostle is not mistaken.

As we know, eight days later, Jesus again appears to his disciples and on this occasion Thomas is present. And Jesus says to him: "Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side; do not be faithless, but believing" (John 20:27).

Thomas reacts with the most splendid profession of faith of the New Testament: "My Lord and my God!" (John 20:28). In this connection, St. Augustine comments: Thomas "saw and touched the man, but confessed his faith in God, whom he did not see or touch. But what he saw and touched led him to believe that which until then he had doubted" ("In Iohann" 121, 5). The evangelist continues with one last phrase of Jesus addressed to Thomas: "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe" (John 20:29).

This phrase can also be enunciated in the present: "Blessed are those who do not see and believe." In any case, Jesus enunciates here a fundamental principle for Christians who will come after Thomas, that is, for all of us. It is interesting to observe how another Thomas, the great medieval theologian from Aquino, joins this blessedness with another referred to by Luke that seems opposed: "Blessed are the eyes that see what you see!" (Luke 10:23).

However, Thomas Aquinas comments: "He has much more merit who believes without seeing than he who seeing, believes" ("In Iohann. XX lectio" VI paragraph 2566). In fact, the Letter to the Hebrews, recalling all the series of ancient biblical patriarchs, who believed in God without seeing the fulfillment of his promises, defines faith as "guarantee of what is hoped for; the proof of realities that are not seen" (11:1).

The case of the Apostle Thomas is important for us at least for three reasons: first, because it consoles us in our insecurities; second, because it shows us that every doubt can have a luminous end beyond any uncertainty; and, finally, because the words that Jesus addressed to him remind us of the authentic meaning of mature faith and encourages us to continue, despite the difficulties, on the path of fidelity to Him.

The fourth Gospel has preserved for us a last note on Thomas, on presenting him as witness of the Risen One in the moment after the miraculous catch on the Lake of Tiberias (cf. John 21:2). On that occasion, he is mentioned also immediately after Simon Peter: an evident sign of the notable importance that he enjoyed in the ambit of the first Christian communities. In fact, in his name, were later written the "Acts" and the "Gospel of Thomas," both apocryphal, but in any case important for the study of Christian origins.

Let us recall, finally, that according to an ancient tradition, Thomas evangelized in the first instance Syria and Persia (so says Origen, as referred by Eusebius of Caesarea, "Hist. eccl." 3,1) and later went on to Western India (cf. "Acts of Thomas" 1-2: 17 and following), from where he also reached Southern India. We end our reflection with this missionary perspective, hoping that Thomas' example will increasingly confirm our faith in Jesus Christ, our Lord and our God.

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The Apostle Bartholomew (October 4, 2006)
His "Words Present a Double Aspect of Jesus' Identity"

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

In the series of apostles called by Jesus during his earthly life, today our attention is caught by the Apostle Bartholomew. In the early lists of the Twelve he always appears before Matthew, while the name of the one who precedes him changes: in some cases it is Philip (cf. Matthew 10:3; Mark 3:18; Luke 6:14) or Thomas (cf. Acts 1:13).

His name is evidently patronymic, as it makes explicit reference to the father's name. It is a name probably of Aramaic characteristics, "bar Talmay," which means "son of Talmay."

We do not have important information about Bartholomew. In fact, his name appears always and only within the lists of the Twelve that I have mentioned before; therefore, he is not the protagonist of any narration. Traditionally, however, he is identified with Nathanael: a name that means "God-given." This Nathanael was a native of Cana (cf. John 21:2); therefore, it is possible that he was witness of some great "sign" wrought by Jesus in that place (cf. John 2:1-11).

The identification of the two personages is probably due to the fact that Nathanael, in the scene of the vocation narrated by John's Gospel, is placed next to Philip, that is, in the place that Bartholomew has in the lists of the apostles referred to by the other Gospels. It was to this Nathanael that Philip had said that he had "found the one about whom Moses wrote in the law, and also the prophets, Jesus, son of Joseph, from Nazareth" (John 1:45).

As we know, Nathanael posed a weighty prejudice to him: "Can anything good come from Nazareth?" (John 1:46a). This _expression is important for us. It allows us to see that, according to the Jewish expectations, the Messiah could not come from such an obscure village, as was the case of Nazareth (cf. also John 7:42).

At the same time, however, it shows the freedom of God, who surprises our expectations, manifesting himself precisely there, where we least expect him. Moreover, we know that, in reality, Jesus was not exclusively "from Nazareth," but that he was born in Bethlehem (cf. Matthew 2:1; Luke 2:4). Nathanael's objection, therefore, had no value, as it was founded, as often happens, on incomplete information.

Nathanael's case suggests to us another reflection: In our relationship with Jesus, we must not only be content with words. Philip, in his reply, presents a significant invitation to Nathanael: "Come and see" (John 1:46b). Our knowledge of Jesus is in need above all of a living experience: Another person's testimony is certainly important, as in general the whole of our Christian life begins with the proclamation that comes to us from one or several witnesses. But we ourselves must be personally involved in an intimate and profound relationship with Jesus.

In a similar way, the Samaritans, after having heard the testimony of the compatriot whom Jesus had met at Jacob's well, wished to speak directly with him and, after that conversation, they said to the woman: "We no longer believe because of your word; for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the savior of the world" (John 4:42).

Returning to the scene of the vocation, the evangelist tells us that, when Jesus sees Nathanael approaching, he exclaims: "Here is a true Israelite. There is no duplicity in him" (John 1:47). It was praise that recalls the text of a psalm: "Happy those to whom the Lord imputes no guilt, in whose spirit is no deceit" (Psalm 32:2), but which arouses Nathanael's curiosity, who, surprised, replies: " How do you know me?" (John 1:48a). Jesus' answer at first is not understood. He said to him: "Before Philip called you, I saw you under the fig tree" (John 1:48b).

Today it is difficult to realize with precision the meaning of these last words. According to what the specialists say, it is possible that, given that at times the fig tree is mentioned as the tree under which the doctors of the law sat to read and teach the Bible, he is alluding to that type of occupation carried out by Nathanael at the moment of his calling.

Anyway, what counts most in John's narration is the confession of faith that Nathanael professes at the end in a limpid way: "Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel!" (John 1:49). Although it does not reach the intensity of Thomas' confession with which John's Gospel ends: "My Lord and my God!" (John 20:28), Nathanael's confession has the function to open the terrain to the fourth Gospel.

In the latter a first and important step is taken on the path of adherence to Christ. Nathanael's words present a double and complementary aspect of Jesus' identity: He is recognized both by his special relationship with God the Father, of whom he is the only-begotten Son, as well as by his relationship with the people of Israel, of whom he is called King, an attribution proper of the awaited Messiah.

We must never lose sight of either of these two elements, since if we only proclaim the heavenly dimension of Jesus we run the risk of making him an ethereal and evanescent being, while if we only recognize his concrete role in history, we run the risk of neglecting his divine dimension, which is his proper description.

We do not have precise information on the subsequent apostolic activity of Bartholomew-Nathanael. According to information referred to by the historian Eusebius in the fourth century, a certain Panteno found in India signs of Bartholomew's presence (cf. "Ecclesiastical History," V, 10,3).

In the later tradition, beginning in the Middle Ages, the account of his death by flaying was imposed, which later became extremely popular. Suffice it to think of the very famous scene of the Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel, in which Michelangelo presented St. Bartholomew holding his own skin in his left hand, in which the artist left his self-portrait.

His relics are venerated here, in Rome, in the church dedicated to him on the Island of the Tiber, where they were brought by the German Emperor Otto III in the year 983.

Concluding, we can say that the figure of St. Bartholomew, despite the lack of information, tells us that adherence to Jesus can be lived and witnessed even without doing sensational works. Jesus is the extraordinary one, to whom each one of us is called to consecrate his life and death.

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On the Apostles Simon and Jude Thaddaeus
"Our Identity Is Not to Be Toyed With" (October 11, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Today we take into consideration two of the Twelve Apostles: Simon the Cananaean and Jude called Thaddaeus (not to be confused with Judas Iscariot). We consider them together, not only because in the lists of the Twelve they are always mentioned next to one another (cf. Matthew 10:4; Mark 3:18; Luke 6:15; Acts 1:13), but also because there is not much information about them, apart from the fact that the New Testament Canon has a letter attributed to Jude Thaddaeus.

Simon receives an epithet that varies in the four lists: while Matthew and Mark describe him as "Cananaean," Luke instead describes him as "Zealot." In reality, the two qualifications are equivalent, because they mean the same thing: In the Hebrew language, in fact, the verb "qanà'" means "to be zealous, passionate" and can be said either of God, in as much as he is jealous of the people chosen by him (cf. Exodus 20:5), or of men who burn with zeal in serving the one God with complete dedication, as Elias (cf. 1 Kings 19:10).

It is quite possible, therefore, that this Simon, if he does not actually belong to the nationalist movement of the Zealots, was at least characterized by an ardent zeal for Jewish identity, hence for God, for his people and for the divine law. If this is the case, Simon is in the antipodes of Matthew who on the contrary, insofar as publican, came from an activity considered altogether impure. Evident sign that Jesus calls his disciples and collaborators from the most diverse social and religious strata, without any preclusion.

He is interested in people, not in social categories or etiquette! And the beautiful thing is that in the groups of his followers, all, though diverse, from the zealot to the publican, coexisted together, surmounting the imagined difficulties: Jesus himself, in fact, was the motive for cohesion, in whom all found themselves united. And this constitutes clearly a lesson for us, often inclined to underline the differences and perhaps the oppositions, forgetting that in Jesus Christ the strength is given to us to compose our conflicts. And let's also keep in mind that the group of the Twelve is a pre-figuration of the Church and prefigures therefore the Church in which there must be room for all the charisms, peoples, races, all human qualities, which find their composition and unity in communion with Jesus.

In regard to Jude Thaddaeus, he is called thus by tradition, uniting together two different names: while Matthew and Mark call him simply "Thaddaeus" (Matthew 10:3; Mark 3:18), Luke calls him "Judas the son of James" (Luke 6:16; Acts 1:13). The nickname Thaddaeus is of uncertain derivation and is explained as coming from the Aramaic "taddà'," which means "breast" and hence would mean "magnanimous," or as an abbreviation of a Greek name like "Theodore, Teodoto." Little is said about him.

Only John notes a request of his made to Jesus during the Last Supper: Thaddaeus says to the Lord: "Lord, how is it that you will manifest yourself to us, and not to the world?" It is a question of great present importance, which we also ask the Lord: Why has not the risen one manifested himself in all his glory to his adversaries to show that he is the victor? Why did God manifest himself only to the disciples? Jesus' answer is mysterious and profound.

The Lord says: "If a man loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him" (John 14:22-23). This means that the Risen One must be seen, perceived, also with the heart, so that God can make his dwelling in him. The Lord does not appear as a thing. The Lord wishes to enter into our lives and because of this, his manifestation is a manifestation that implies and presupposes an open heart. Only thus do we see the Risen One.

To Jude Thaddaeus was attributed in past times the authorship of one of the letters of the New Testament that were called "catholic" in as much as they were addressed to a very large circle of recipients. It in fact was addressed "to the elect that live in the love of God the Father and have been preserved by Jesus Christ" (verse 1).

Central concern of this writing is to put Christians on guard from all those who give as pretext the grace of God to excuse their own licentiousness and to lead astray other brothers with unacceptable teachings, introducing divisions within the Church "under the influence of their dreams" (verse 8). Jude compares them in fact to the fallen angels, and with strong words says "they followed the path of Cain" (verse 11).

Moreover, he labels them without hesitation "as clouds without rain blown away by the wind or trees at the end of the season without fruits, twice dead, uprooted; as wild waves of the sea, which foam their filth; like errant stars, to which is reserved the fog of darkness in eternity" (verses 12-13).

Today we are no longer in the habit of using such controversial language, which nevertheless tells us something important: That in all the existing temptations, with all the currents of modern life, we must preserve the identity of our faith. Of course the path of indulgence and dialogue, which the Second Vatican Council has felicitously undertaken, will surely be continued with firm constancy. But this path of dialogue, so necessary, must not make us forget the duty to rethink and to witness always with as much force the guiding lines of our Christian identity that cannot be given up.

It is important to keep very present that this, our identity is not to be toyed with on a simply cultural plane or on a superficial level, but requires strength, clarity and courage given the contradictions of the world in which we live.

For this reason, the text of the letter continues thus: "But you, beloved, build yourselves up on your most holy faith, pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God, wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life; be convinced, those of you who are vacillating ..." (verse 20-22).

We see clearly that the author of these lines lives his faith in full, to which great realities belong such as moral integrity and joy, trust and finally praise, all being motivated only by the goodness of our one God and the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, may both Simon the Cananaean as well as Jude Thaddaeus help us to rediscover always anew and to live tirelessly the beauty of the Christian faith, knowing how to give both strong and serene witness.

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On Judas Iscariot and Matthias
"Never Despair of God's Mercy" (October 18, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

On completing today the review of the Twelve Apostles called directly by Jesus during his earthly life, we cannot fail to mention the one who always appears in the last place: Judas Iscariot. We want to associate him with the person who was later chosen to substitute him, namely, Matthias.

The name Judas alone arouses among Christians an instinctive reaction of reprobation and condemnation. The meaning of the name "Iscariot" is controversial: The most used explanation says that it means "man from Queriyyot," in reference to his native village, located in the surroundings of Hebron, mentioned twice in sacred Scripture (cf. Joshua 15:25; Amos 2:2).

Others interpret it as a variation of the term "hired assassin," as if it alluded to a guerrilla armed with a dagger, called "sica" in Latin. Finally, some see in the label the simple transcription of a Hebrew-Aramaic root that means: "He who was going to betray him." This mention is found twice in the fourth Gospel, that is, after a confession of faith by Peter (cf. John 6:71) and later during the anointing at Bethany (cf. John 12:4).

Other passages show that the betrayal was underway, saying: "He who betrayed him," as happened during the Last Supper, after the announcement of the betrayal (cf. Matthew 26:25) and later at the moment Jesus was arrested (cf. Matthew 26:46.48; John 18:2.5). However, the lists of the twelve recall the betrayal as something that already occurred: "Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him," says Mark (3:19); Matthew (10:4) and Luke (6:16) use equivalent formulas.

The betrayal, as such, took place in two moments: first of all in its planning phase, when Judas comes to an agreement with Jesus' enemies for 30 pieces of silver (cf. Matthew 26:14-16), and later in its execution with the kiss he gave the master in Gethsemane (cf. Matthew 26:46-50).

Anyway, the evangelists insist that his condition of apostle corresponded fully to him: He is repeatedly called "one of the twelve" (Matthew 26:14.47; Mark 14:10.20; John 6:71) or "of the number of the twelve" (Luke 22:3).

Moreover, on two occasions, Jesus, addressing the apostles and speaking precisely of him, indicates him as "one of you" (Matthew 26:21; Mark 14:18; John 6:70; 13:21). And Peter would say of Judas "he was numbered among us, and was allotted his share in this ministry" (Acts 1:17).

He is, therefore, a figure belonging to the group of those whom Jesus had chosen as companions and close collaborators. This poses two questions when it comes to explaining what happened. The first consists in asking ourselves how it was possible that Jesus chose this man and trusted him.

In fact, though Judas is the group's administrator (cf. John 12:6b; 13:29a), in reality he is also called "thief" (John 12:6a). The mystery of the choice is even greater, as Jesus utters a very severe judgment on him: "Woe to that man by whom the son of man is betrayed!" (Matthew 26:24).

This mystery is even more profound if one thinks of his eternal fate, knowing that Judas "repented and brought back the 30 pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, saying 'I have sinned in betraying innocent blood'" (Matthew 27:3-4). Though he departed afterward to hang himself (cf. Matthew 27:5), it is not for us to judge his gesture, putting ourselves in God's place, who is infinitely merciful and just.

A second question affects the motive of Judas' behavior: Why did he betray Jesus? The question raises several theories. Some say it was his greed for money; others give an explanation of a messianic nature: Judas was disappointed on seeing that Jesus did not fit the program of the political-military liberation of his country.

In fact, the Gospel texts insist on another aspect: John says expressly that "the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray him" (John 13:2); in the same way, Luke writes: "Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot, who was of the number of the twelve" (Luke 22:3).

In this way, one goes beyond historical motivations, explaining what occurred by basing it on Judas' personal responsibility, who yielded miserably to a temptation of the evil one. In any case, Judas' betrayal continues to be a mystery. Jesus treated him as a friend (cf. Matthew 26:50), but in his invitations to follow him on the path of the beatitudes he did not force his will or prevent him from falling into Satan's temptations, respecting human freedom.

In fact, the possibilities of perversion of the human heart are truly many. The only way to prevent them consists in not cultivating a view of life that is only individualistic, autonomous, but in always placing oneself on the side of Jesus, assuming his point of view.

We must try, day after day, to be in full communion with him. Let us recall that even Peter wanted to oppose him and what awaited him in Jerusalem, but he received a very strong rebuke: "Get behind me, Satan! For you are not on the side of God, but of men" (Mark 8:32-33).

After his fall, Peter repented and found forgiveness and grace. Judas also repented, but his repentance degenerated into despair and in this way it became self-destruction. It is an invitation for us to always remember what St. Benedict says at the end of Chapter 5 -- fundamental -- of his Rule: "Never despair of God's mercy." In fact, "God is greater than our hearts," as St. John says (1 John 3:20).

Let us remember two things. The first: Jesus respects our freedom. The second: Jesus waits for us to have the disposition to repent and to be converted; he is rich in mercy and forgiveness. In fact, when we think of the negative role Judas played, we must frame it in the higher way with which God disposed the events.

His betrayal led to the death of Jesus who transformed this tremendous torment into a space of salvific love and in self-giving to the Father (cf. Galatians 2:20; Ephesians 5:2.25). The verb "betray" is the Greek version which means "to give up." At times its subject is also God himself in person: Out of love, he "gave up" Jesus for us all (cf. Romans 8:32). In his mysterious plan of salvation, God assumes Judas' unjustifiable gesture as the motive for the total giving up of the Son for the redemption of the world.

On concluding, we wish to recall also he who, after Easter, was chosen to replace the traitor. In the Church of Jerusalem, two were put forward to the community and then lots were cast for their names: "Joseph called Barsabbas, who was surnamed Justus, and Matthias" (Acts 1:23).

Precisely the latter was chosen, and in this way "he was enrolled with the eleven apostles" (Acts 1:26). We do not know anything more about him, with the exception that he was a witness of Jesus' public life (cf. Acts 1: 21-22), being faithful to him to the end. To the greatness of his fidelity was added later the divine call to take Judas' place, as though compensating his betrayal.

We draw a final lesson from here: Although there is no lack of unworthy and traitorous Christians in the Church, it is up to us to counterbalance the evil they do with our limpid testimony of Jesus Christ our lord and savior.

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Paul of Tarsus
"Be Imitators of Me, As I Am of Christ" (October 25, 2006)

* * *

Dear Brothers and Sisters:

We have concluded our reflections on the Twelve Apostles, called directly by Jesus during his earthly life. Today we begin to approach the figures of other important personalities of the early Church. They also spent their lives for the Lord, for the Gospel and for the Church. They were men and women who, as Luke writes in the Acts of the Apostles, "have risked their lives for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ" (15:26).

The first of these, called by the Lord himself, by the risen one, to also be an authentic apostle, is without a doubt Paul of Tarsus. He shines like a star of first grandeur in the history of the Church, and not only in that of the origins.

St. John Chrysostom exalts him as a personage who is superior even to many angels and archangels (cf. "Panegyric" 7,3). In the Divine Comedy, Dante Alighieri, inspired in Luke's account in the Acts of the Apostles (cf. 9:15), describes him simply as "chosen vessel" (Inferno 2, 28), which means: instrument chosen by God. Others have called him the "Thirteenth Apostle" -- and he really insists much on the fact of being an authentic apostle, having been called by the Risen One, or even "the first after the Only One."

Certainly, after Jesus, he is the personality of the origins of whom we are the most informed. In fact, not only do we have Luke's account in the Acts of the Apostles, but also a group of letters that come directly from his hand and that without intermediaries reveals to us his personality and thought. Luke tells us that his original name was Saul (cf. Acts 7:58; 8:1, etc.), in Hebrew Saul [also] (cf. Acts 13:21), and he was a Jew of the Diaspora, given that the city of Tarsus is situated between Anatolia and Syria.

Very soon he went to Jerusalem to study the Mosaic law in-depth at the feet of the great rabbi Gamaliel (cf. Acts 22:3). He had also learned a manual and common trade, tent-making (cf. Acts 18:3), which later would allow him to support himself personally without being a weight for the Churches (cf. Acts 20:34; 1 Corinthians 4:12; 2 Corinthians 12:13-14).

For him it was decisive to know the community of those who professed themselves disciples of Jesus. Through them he had news of a new faith, a new "way," as was said, which did not put the law of God at the center, but rather the person of Jesus, crucified and risen, to whom was attributed the remission of sins.

As a zealous Jew, he considered this message unacceptable, more than that, scandalous, and felt the duty to persecute Christ's followers, also outside Jerusalem. Precisely on the road to Damascus, at the beginning of the 30s, according to his words, "Jesus Christ" made Saul "his own." While Luke recounts the event with abundance of details -- the way in which the light of the Risen One reached him, changing his life fundamentally -- in his letters he goes directly to the essential and speaks not only of a vision (cf. 1 Corinthians 9:1), but of an illumination (cf. 2 Corinthians 4:6), and above all of a revelation and a vocation in the encounter with the Risen One (cf. Galatians 1:15-16).

In fact, he will describe himself explicitly as "apostle by vocation" (cf. Romans 1:1; 1 Corinthians 1:1; or "apostle by the will of God" (2 Corinthians 1:1, Ephesians 1:1; Colossians 1:1), as if wishing to underline that his conversion was not the result of nice thoughts, of reflections, but the fruit of a divine intervention, of an unforeseen divine grace. Henceforth, everything that before was of value to him became, paradoxically, according to his words, loss and refuse (cf. Philippians 3:7-10). And from that moment he put all his energies at the exclusive service of Jesus Christ and his Gospel. His existence would become that of an apostle who wants to "become all things to all men" (1 Corinthians 9:22) without reservations.

From here is derived a very important lesson for us: What matters is to put Jesus Christ at the center of our lives, so that our identity is characterized essentially by the encounter, by communion with Christ and his word. In his light, every other value must be recovered and purified of possible dross.

Another fundamental lesson left by Paul is the spiritual horizon that characterizes his apostolate. Acutely feeling the problem of the possibility for the Gentiles, namely, the pagans, to attain God, who is Jesus Christ crucified and risen who offers salvation to all men without exception, he dedicated himself to make this Gospel known, literally "good news," that is, the proclamation of grace destined to reconcile man with God, with himself and with others. From the first moment he understood that this was a reality that did not affect only the Jews, a certain group of men, but that it had universal value and affected all.

The Church of Antioch of Syria was the starting point of his trips, where for the first time the Gospel was proclaimed to the Greeks, and where the name "Christians" was also coined (cf. Acts 11:20.26), that is, believers in Christ. From there in the first instance he started off to Cyprus and then on different occasions to regions of Asia Minor (Pisidia, Laconia, Galatia), and later to those of Europe (Macedonia, Greece). More revealing were the cities of Ephesus, Philippi, Thessalonica, Corinth, not forgetting either Berea, Athens and Miletus.

Difficulties were not lacking in Paul's apostolate, which he faced with courage for love of Christ. He himself recalls that he had to endure "labors ... imprisonments ... beatings; danger of death, many times ... Three times I have been beaten with rods; once I was stoned. Three times I have been shipwrecked ... on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brethren; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure upon me of my anxiety for all the Churches" (2 Corinthians 11:23-28).

In a passage of the Letter to the Romans (cf. 15:24.28) is reflected his intention to go to Spain, to the limits of the West, to proclaim the Gospel everywhere to the ends of the then known earth. How can such a man not be admired? How can we not thank the Lord for having given us an apostle of this stature? Clearly, he would not have been able to face such difficult and at times so desperate situations, had he not had a reason of absolute value before which there could be no limits. We know that for Paul this reason was Jesus Christ, of whom he writes: "The love of Christ controls us ... he died for all, that those who live might live no longer for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised" (2 Corinthians 5:14-15), for us, for all.

In fact, the Apostle will give his supreme witness with his blood under the emperor Nero here, in Rome, where we keep and venerate his mortal remains. In the last years of the 1st century, Clement of Rome, my predecessor in this Apostolic See, wrote: "Because of jealousy and discord, Paul was obliged to show us how one obtains the prize of patience ... After preaching justice to all in the world, and after having arrived at the limits of the West, he endured martyrdom before the political rulers; in this way he left this world and reached the holy place, thus becoming the greatest model of perseverance" (To the Corinthians, 5).

May the Lord help us to live the exhortation that the Apostle left us in his letters: "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ" (1 Corinthians 11:1)

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Paul of Tarsus, Continued
"He Lives From Christ and With Christ" (November 8, 2006)

Dear Brothers:

In the earlier catechesis, two weeks ago, I attempted to sketch the essential lines of the Apostle Paul's biography. We have seen how the encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus literally revolutionized his life. Christ became his reason for being and the profound motive of all his apostolic work.

In his letters, after the name of God, which appears over 500 times, the name most often mentioned is that of Christ -- 380 times. Therefore, it is important that we realize how Jesus Christ can influence a person's life and, hence, also our own life. In fact, Jesus Christ is the apex of the history of salvation and therefore the true discriminating point in the dialogue with other religions.

On seeing Paul's example, we can thus formulate the basic question: How does the human being's encounter with Christ take place? In what does the relationship that stems from it consist? The answer Paul gives can be understood in two ways.

In the first place, Paul helps us to understand the fundamental and irreplaceable value of faith. In the Letter to the Romans, he writes: "For we hold that a man is justified by faith apart from works of law" (3:28). And in the Letter to the Galatians: "a man is not justified by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, in order to be justified by faith in Jesus Christ, and not by works of the law, because by works of the law shall no one be justified" (2:16).

"To be justified" means to be made righteous, that is, to be received by the merciful justice of God, and enter into communion with him and therefore to be able to establish a much more authentic relationship with all our brothers: and this in virtue of a total forgiveness of our sins.

Paul says with all clarity that this condition of life does not depend on our possible good works, but on the pure grace of God: We "are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus" (Romans 3:24).

With these words, Paul expresses the fundamental content of his conversion, the new direction his life took as a result of his encounter with the Risen Christ. Before his conversion, Paul was not a man estranged from God or his law. On the contrary, he was observant, with an observance that bordered on fanaticism.

However, in the light of the encounter with Christ, he understood that with this he only sought to make himself, his own righteousness, and with all that righteousness he had lived only for himself. He understood that his life needed absolutely a new orientation. And he expresses this new orientation thus: "The life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20).

Paul, therefore, no longer lives for himself, for his own righteousness. He lives from Christ and with Christ: Giving himself, he no longer seeks or makes himself. This is the new righteousness, the new orientation that the Lord has given us, which gives us faith. Before the cross of Christ, highest expression of his self-giving, there is no longer any one who can glory in himself, in his own righteousness!

On another occasion, Paul echoing Jeremiah, clarifies his thought: "Let him who boasts, boast of the Lord" (1 Corinthians 1:31; Jeremiah 9:22f); or also: "But far be it from me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world!" (Galatians 6:14).

On reflecting what it means not to justify oneself by works but by faith, we have come to the second element that defines the Christian identity described by St. Paul in his own life. Christian identity which is made up in fact of two elements: not to seek oneself, but to be clothed in Christ and to give oneself with Christ, and in this way participate personally in the life of Christ himself to the point of being immersed in him, sharing both in his death as well as his life.

Paul writes this in the Letter to the Romans: We were "baptized into Jesus Christ, we were baptized into his death ... we were buried with him ... we are one with him ... So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus" (Romans 6:3, 4, 5, 11). Precisely this last expression is symptomatic: For Paul, in fact, it is not enough to say that Christians are baptized, believers; for him it is equally important to say that they "are in Christ Jesus" (cf. also Romans 8:1, 2, 39; 12:5; 16:3,7,10; 1 Corinthians 1:2,3, etc.).

On other occasions he inverts the terms and writes that "Christ is in us/you" (Romans 8:10; 2 Corinthians 13:5) or "in me" (Galatians 2:20). This mutual understanding between Christ and the Christian, characteristic of Paul's teaching, completes his reflection on faith. Faith, in fact, although it unites us intimately to Christ, underlines the distinction between us and him.

However, according to Paul, the Christian's life also has an element which we could call "mystical," as it entails losing ourselves in Christ and Christ in us. In this connection, the Apostle goes so far as to describe our sufferings as the "sufferings of Christ in us" (2 Corinthians 1:5), so that we always carry "in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies" (2 Corinthians 4:10).

We must apply all this to our daily life following the example of Paul who always lived with this great spiritual horizon. On one hand, faith must keep us in a constant attitude of humility before God, more than that, of adoration and praise in relation to him. In fact, what we are as Christians we owe only to him and to his grace. Given that nothing and no one can take his place, it is necessary therefore that we render to nothing and no one the homage we render to him. No idol must contaminate our spiritual universe; otherwise, instead of enjoying the freedom attained we will again fall into a humiliating slavery. On the other hand, our radical belonging to Christ and the fact that "we are in him" must infuse in us an attitude of complete confidence and immense joy.

In short, we must exclaim with St. Paul: "If God is for us, who is against us?" (Romans 8:39). Our Christian life, therefore, is based on the most stable and sure rock imaginable. From it we draw all our energy, as the Apostle in fact writes: "I can do all things in him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13).

Let us therefore face our lives, with its joys and sorrows, supported by these great sentiments that Paul offers us. Experiencing this, we can understand that what the Apostle himself writes is true: "I know whom I have believed, and I am sure that he is able to guard until that day what has been entrusted to me," that is, until the definitive day (2 Timothy 1:12) of our encounter with Christ, judge, savior of the world and of us.

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Paul's Teaching on the Church
"We Who Are Many Are One Body" (November 22, 2006)

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

We complete today our encounters with the Apostle Paul, dedicating a last reflection to him. We cannot take leave of him, in fact, without taking into consideration one of the decisive components of his activity and one of the most important themes of his thought: the reality of the Church.

We must note first of all that his first contact with the person of Jesus took place through the testimony of the Christian community of Jerusalem. It was a stormy contact. On knowing the new group of believers, he became immediately its fierce persecutor. He himself appropriately acknowledges it three times in as many letters: "I persecuted the Church of God," he writes (1 Corinthians 15:9; Galatians 1:13; Philippians 3:6), virtually presenting his behavior as the worst crime.

History shows us that one reaches Christ normally through the Church! In a certain sense, it is what happened, as we were saying, also to Paul, who found the Church before finding Jesus. In his case, however, this contact was counterproductive; it did not cause adherence, but rather a violent rejection.

For Paul, adherence to the Church was propitiated by a direct intervention of Christ, who, revealing himself to Paul on the way to Damascus, identified himself with the Church and made Paul understand that to persecute the Church was to persecute him, the Lord.

In fact, the Risen One said to Paul, the persecutor of the Church: "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? (Acts 9:4). In persecuting the Church, he was persecuting Christ. Paul converted then, at the same time, to Christ and to the Church.

Thus one understands why the Church was so present in the thoughts, in the heart and in the activity of Paul. In the first place, it was present as he literally founded many Churches in the different cities where he went as evangelizer. When he speaks of his "anxiety for all the Churches" (2 Corinthians 11:28), he is thinking of the various Christian communities established from time to time in Galatia, Ionia, Macedonia and Achaia.

Some of those Churches also gave him worries and displeasures, as happened for example with the Churches of Galatia, which he saw "turning to a different gospel (Galatians 1:6), something which he opposed with spirited determination. Nevertheless, he felt bound to the communities he founded not in a cold and bureaucratic manner, but intensely and passionately.

Thus, for example, he describes the Philippians as "my brethren, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown" (4:1). At other times he compares the different communities to a letter of recommendation unique of its kind: "You yourselves are our letter of recommendation, written in your hearts, to be known and read by all men" (2 Corinthians 3:2). At other times he shows them in their encounters a true and proper sentiment not only of paternity but even of maternity, as when he turns to those he is addressing beseeching them as "My little children, with whom I am again in travail until Christ be formed in you!" (Galatians 4:19; cf. also 1 Corinthians 4:14-15; 1 Thessalonians 2:7-8).

In his letters, Paul also illustrates for us his doctrine on the Church as such. Well known is his original definition of the Church as "body of Christ," which we do not find in other Christian authors of the first century (cf. 1 Corinthians 12:27; Ephesians 4:12; 5:30; Colossians 1:24). We find the most profound root of this amazing designation of the Church in the sacrament of the body of Christ.

St. Paul says: "Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread" (1 Corinthians 10:17). In the Eucharist itself Christ gives us his body and makes us his body. In this connection, St. Paul says to the Galatians: "you are all one in Christ" (Galatians 3:28).

With all this Paul leads us to understand that not only is there a belonging of the Church to Christ, but also a certain form of equivalence and identification of the Church with Christ himself. It is from here, therefore, that the greatness and nobility of the Church derives, that is, of all of us who are part of it: Our being members of Christ, is almost as an extension of his personal presence in the world. And from here follows, naturally, our duty to really live in conformity with Christ.

From here derive also Paul's exhortations in regard to the several charisms which animate and structure the Christian community. They can all be referred back to a single source, which is the Spirit of the Father and the Son, knowing well that in the Church there is no one who is lacking them, because, as the Apostle writes, "To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good" (1 Corinthians 12:7).

What is important, however, is that all the charisms cooperate together for the building up of the community and that they not become instead a motive of laceration. To this end, Paul asks himself rhetorically: "Is Christ divided?" (1 Corinthians 1:13). He knows well and teaches us that it is necessary "to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call" (Ephesians 4:3-4).

Obviously, to underline the need for unity does not mean to hold that one must make ecclesial life uniform and flat according to one way of operating. Elsewhere Paul teaches "Do not quench the Spirit" (1 Thessalonians 5:19), namely, to generously make room for the unforeseeable dynamism of the charismatic manifestations of the Spirit, who is an always new source of energy and vitality.

But if there is a particularly important criterion for Paul it is mutual edification: "Let all things be done for edification" (1 Corinthians 14:26). Everything should concur to build the ecclesial fabric in an orderly way, not only without deadlocks, but also without flights or tears.

One of Paul's letters goes so far as to present the Church as the bride of Christ (cf. Ephesians 5:21-33). He thus takes up again a prophetic metaphor, which made of the people of Israel the spouse of God of the Covenant (cf. Hosea 2:4.21; Isaiah 54:5-8): He thus expresses to what point the relations are intimate between Christ and his Church, be it because she is the object of the most tender love on the part of her Lord, or because love must be mutual and we, in as much as members of the Church, must show him a passionate fidelity.

In conclusion, therefore, at stake is a relationship of communion: the relationship -- to call it in some way -- "vertical" between Jesus Christ and all of us, but also "horizontal" between all those who are distinguished in the world by the fact of "calling on the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord" (1 Corinthians 1:2).

This is our definition: We are part of those who call on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Thus we understand to what point we must desire the fulfillment of what Paul himself yearns for when writing to the Corinthians: "But if all prophesy, and an unbeliever or outsider enters, he is convicted by all, he is called to account by all, the secrets of his heart are disclosed, and so, falling on his face, he will worship God and declare that God is really among you" (1 Corinthians 14:24-25).

So should be our liturgical meetings. A non-Christian who enters one of our assemblies should be able to say at the end: "Truly God is with you." Let us ask the Lord that we might live in this way, in communion with Christ and in communion among ourselves.

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On St. Stephen
"He Teaches Us to Love the Cross" (January 10, 2007)

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Dear Brothers and Sisters:

After the holidays, we return to our catecheses. I meditated with you on the figures of the Twelve Apostles and on St. Paul. Then we began to reflect on other figures of the nascent Church. So today we wish to pause on the person of St. Stephen, celebrated by the Church on the day after Christmas. St. Stephen is the most representative of a group of seven companions. Tradition sees in this group the seed of the future ministry of deacons, though we must point out that this name is not present in the book of the Acts of the Apostles. Stephen's importance, in any case, is clear by the fact that, in this important book, Luke dedicates two whole chapters to him.

Luke's account begins by showing a subdivision that took place within the primitive Church of Jerusalem: It was made up completely of Christians of Jewish origin, but among the latter some were natives of the land of Israel and were called "Hebrews," while others came from the Jewish faith in the Old Testament from the diaspora of the Greek tongue and were called "Hellenists." Thus the problem began to take shape: The neediest among the Hellenists, especially widows devoid of any social support, ran the risk of being neglected in assistance for their daily sustenance.

In order to overcome these difficulties, the apostles, reserving for themselves prayer and the ministry of the word as their main task, decided to appoint "seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom" to this duty, that is, to charitable social service. As Luke writes, with this objective and by invitation of the apostles, the disciples elected seven men. We have their names. They are: "Stephen, a man filled with faith and the Holy Spirit, also Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicholas of Antioch, a convert to Judaism. They presented these men to the apostles who prayed and laid hands on them" (Acts 6:5-6).

The gesture of the imposition of hands can have several meanings. In the Old Testament, the gesture has above all the meaning of transmitting an important duty, as Moses did with Joshua (Cf. Numbers 27:18-23), thus designating his successor. Following this line, the Church of Antioch would also use this gesture to send Paul and Barnabas on mission to the peoples of the world (Cf. Acts 13:3). Reference is made to a similar imposition of hands upon Timothy, to transmit an official duty, in two letters that St. Paul addressed to him (Cf. 1 Timothy 4:14; 2 Timothy 1:6). The fact that it referred to an important action, which had to be carried out after a discernment is deduced from what is read in the first letter to Timothy: "Do not be hasty in the laying on of hands, nor participate in another man's sins" (5:22).

Therefore, we see that the gesture of the imposition of hands takes place in the line of a sacramental sign. In the case of Stephen and his companions it is certainly about the official transmission, on the part of the apostles, of a duty and at the same time of imploring for the grace to exercise it.

What is most important is that, in additional to charitable services, Stephen also carried out a task of evangelization among his fellow countrymen, the so-called "Hellenists." Luke, in fact, stresses the fact that he, "full of grace and power" (Acts 6:8), presents in Jesus' name a new interpretation of Moses and of the very Law of God, rereads the Old Testament in the light of the proclamation of the death and resurrection of Jesus. This rereading of the Old Testament, a Christological rereading, provokes the reactions of the Jews who interpret his words as blasphemous (Cf. Acts 6:11-14). For this reason, he is sentenced to stoning. And St. Luke transmits to us the saint's last discourse, a synthesis of his preaching.

As Jesus explained to the disciples of Emmaus that the whole of the Old Testament speaks of him, of his cross and of his resurrection, so St. Stephen, following Jesus' teaching, reads the whole of the Old Testament in a Christological key. He demonstrates that the mystery of the cross is at the center of the history of salvation narrated in the Old Testament, he truly shows that Jesus, the crucified and risen one, is the new and authentic "temple."

Precisely this "no" to the temple and its worship provokes the condemnation of St. Stephen who, in that moment -- St. Luke tells us -- on turning his gaze to heaven saw the glory of God and Jesus at his right hand. And looking up to heaven, to God and to Jesus, St. Stephen said: "Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing at the right hand of God" (Acts 7:56). It was followed by his martyrdom, which in fact was conformed with the Passion of Jesus himself, as he gives his own spirit to the Lord Jesus and prays so that the sin of his killers not be held against them (Cf. Acts 7:59-60).

The place of Stephen's martyrdom in Jerusalem is situated traditionally just beyond the Damascus Gate in the north, where in fact the church of St. Stephen now is, near the well-known "Ecole Biblique" of the Dominicans. The murder of Stephen, Christ's first martyr, was followed by a local persecution against Jesus' disciples (Cf. Acts 8:1), the first verified in the history of the Church. It was the concrete opportunity that drove the group of Hebrew-Hellenist Christians to flee Jerusalem and be scattered. Expelled from Jerusalem, they became itinerant missionaries. "Now those who were scattered went about preaching the word" (Acts 8:4). The persecution and consequent scattering became mission. The Gospel was thus propagated in Samaria, Phoenicia, and Syria, until reaching the great city of Antioch where, according to Luke, it was proclaimed for the first time to the pagans (Cf. Acts 11:19-20) and where the name "Christians" resounded for the first time (Acts 11:26).

In particular, Luke specifies that those who stoned Stephen "laid down their garments at the feet of a young man named Saul" (Acts 7:58), the same one who from persecutor would become a famous Apostle of the Gospel. This means that the young Saul must have heard Stephen's preaching, and knew the main contents. And St. Paul was probably among those who, following and listening to this discourse, "were enraged" and "ground their teeth against him" (Acts 7:54). Thus we can see the wonders of Divine Providence: Saul, hardened adversary of Stephen's vision, after the encounter with the risen Christ on the road to Damascus, takes up the Christological interpretation of the Old Testament made by the first martyr, furthers and completes it, and thus becomes the "Apostle to the Gentiles." The law is fulfilled, he teaches, in the cross of Christ. And faith in Christ, communion with the love of Christ, is the true fulfillment of the whole Law. This is the content of Paul's preaching. He thus shows that the God of Abraham becomes the God of all. And all believers in Christ Jesus, as sons of Abraham, become sharers in the promises. Stephen's vision is fulfilled in St. Paul's mission.

Stephen's story tells us much. For example, it teaches us that we must never disassociate the social commitment of charity from the courageous proclamation of the faith. He was one of the seven entrusted above all with charity. But it was not possible to disassociate charity from proclamation. Thus, with charity, he proclaims Christ crucified, to the point of also accepting martyrdom. This is the first lesson that we can learn from the figure of St. Stephen: Charity and proclamation always go together.

St. Stephen speaks to us above all of Christ, of Christ crucified and risen as the center of history and of our life. We can understand that the Cross occupies always a central place in the life of the Church and also in our personal lives. Passion and persecution will never be lacking in the history of the Church. And, precisely persecution becomes, according to Tertullian's famous phrase, source of mission for the new Christians. I quote his words: "We multiply every time we are harvested by you: The blood of Christians is a seed" ("Apologetico" 50,13: "Plures efficimur quoties metimur a vobis: semen est sanguis christianorum").

But also in our lives the cross, which will never be lacking, becomes a blessing. And, accepting the cross, knowing that it becomes and is a blessing, we learn the joy of the Christian, even in moments of difficulty. The value of the testimony is irreplaceable, as the Gospel leads to him and the Church is nourished on him. St. Stephen teaches us to learn these lessons, he teaches us to love the cross, as it is the way through which Jesus always makes himself present again among us.

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On Paul's Collaborators (January 31, 2007)
"Holiness Doesn't Consist in Not Making Mistakes or Never Sinning"

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Continuing our journey among the leaders of the Christian origins, today we look at other collaborators of St. Paul. We must acknowledge that the Apostle is an eloquent example of a man open to collaboration: In the Church, he does not want to do everything on his own, but makes use of numerous and diverse colleagues.

We cannot reflect on all these precious helpers, as they are many. Suffice it to recall, among others, Epaphras (cf. Colossians 1:7; 4:12; Philemon 23), Epaphroditus (cf. Philippians 2:25; 4:18), Tychicus (cf. Acts 20:4; Ephesians 6:21; Colossians 4:7; 2 Timothy 4:12; Titus 3:12), Urbanus (cf. Romans 16:9), Gaius and Aristarchus (cf. Acts 19:29; 20:4; 27:2; Colossians 4:10).

And women such as Phoebe (cf. Romans 16:1), Tryphaena and Tryphosa (cf. Romans 16:12), Persis, mother of Rufus, of whom he says, "also his mother and mine" (cf. Romans 16:12-13), not forgetting spouses such as Prisca and Aquila (cf. Romans 16:3; 1 Corinthians 16:19; 2 Timothy 4:19).

Today, among this great army of men and women collaborators of St. Paul, we are interested in three of these persons who had a particularly significant role in the evangelization of the origins: Barnabas, Silas and Apollos.

"Barnabas," which means "son of encouragement" (Acts 4:36) or "son of consolation," is the nickname of a Levite Jew born a native of Cyprus. Having moved to Jerusalem, he was one of the first to embrace Christianity, after the Lord's resurrection.

With great generosity, he sold a field that belonged to him, giving the money to the Apostles for the needs of the Church (cf. Acts 4:37). He became the guarantor of Saul's conversion to the Christian community of Jerusalem, which still mistrusted its former persecutor (cf. Acts 9:27).

Sent to Antioch of Syria, he went to look for Paul in Tarsus, where he had gone, and spent a whole year with him, dedicating himself to the evangelization of that important city, in whose Church Barnabas was known as prophet and doctor (cf. Acts 13:1).

So Barnabas, at the moment of the first conversions of pagans, understood that Saul's hour had arrived; Saul had gone to Tarsus, his city. He went there to look for him. In that important moment he virtually restored Paul to the Church; he gave it, in a certain sense, once again, the Apostle of the Gentiles.

From the Church of Antioch, Barnabas was sent on mission, together with Paul, undertaking the Apostle's so-called first missionary journey. In reality, it was Barnabas' missionary journey, given that he was the person in charge. Paul joined him as a collaborator, crossing the regions of Cyprus and central-south Anatolia, in present-day Turkey, through the cities of Atalia, Perga, Antioch of Psidia, Lycaonia, Lystra and Derbe (cf. Acts 13-14).

Together with Paul he then went to the so-called Council of Jerusalem where, after a profound examination of the question, the Apostles with the elders decided to abandon the practice of circumcision (cf. Acts 15:1-35).

Only thus, in the end, did they allow it officially to be the Church of the pagans, a Church without circumcision: We are children of Abraham simply through faith in Christ.

The two, Paul and Barnabas, confronted each other later, at the start of the second missionary journey, because Barnabas wanted to get John Mark as a companion, while Paul did not want to, given that the youth had separated from them in the previous journey (cf. Acts 13:13; 15:36-40).

Hence, also among saints there are oppositions, discords and controversies. And this is very consoling for me, as we see that the saints have not "fallen from heaven."

They are men like us, with complicated problems. Holiness does not consist in not making mistakes or never sinning. Holiness grows with the capacity for conversion, repentance, willingness to begin again, and above all with the capacity for reconciliation and forgiveness.

And in this way, Paul, who had been somewhat hard and bitter with Mark, in the end meets him again. In the last letters of St. Paul, to Philemon and in the second to Timothy, Mark appears precisely as "my collaborator."

We are not made saints because we never make a mistake, but because of our capacity to forgive and reconcile. And we can all learn this way of holiness. In any case, Barnabas, with John Mark, returned to Cyprus (cf. Acts 15:39) around the year 49.

From then on all traces of him were lost. Tertullian attributes to him the Letter to the Hebrews, which is not improbable as, being of the tribe of Levi, Barnabas might have been interested in the topic of priesthood. And the Letter to the Hebrews interprets Jesus' priesthood for us in an extraordinary way.

Silas, another of Paul's companions, is the Greek form of a Hebrew name (perhaps "sheal": to request, to invoke), which constitutes the same root of the name "Saul" (which also proceeds the Latin form "Silvanus").

The name Silas is only mentioned in the book of the Acts of the Apostles, whereas Silvanus appears in Paul's letters. He was a Jew from Jerusalem, one of the first to become a Christian, and he enjoyed great esteem in that Church (cf. Acts 15:22), being considered a prophet (cf. Acts 15:32).

He was in charge of taking "to the brethren of Antioch, Syria and Cilicia" (Acts 15:23) the decisions made by the Council of Jerusalem and of explaining them.

Evidently they thought that he was able to carry out a sort of mediation between Jerusalem and Antioch, between Judeo-Christians and Christians of pagan origin, and in this way serve the unity of the Church in the diversity of rites and origins.

When Paul separated from Barnabas, he took Silas as his new fellow traveler (cf. Acts 15:40). With Paul, he arrived in Macedonia (in the cities of Philippi, Thessalonica and Berea), where he stayed, while Paul continued to Athens and afterward to Corinth.

Silas reached him in Corinth, where he collaborated in the preaching of the Gospel; in fact, in Paul's second letter to that Church, he speaks of "Jesus Christ, whom we preached among you, Silvanus and Timothy and I" (2 Corinthians 1:19).

This explains why he appears as co-author, along with Paul and Timothy, of the two Letters to the Thessalonians.

This also seems important to me. Paul does not act as a "soloist," as an isolated individual, but together with these collaborators in the "we" of the Church.

This "I" of Paul is not an isolated "I," but an "I" in the "we" of the Church, in the "we" of the apostolic faith.

And Silvanus is mentioned also at the end of the First Letter of Peter, when one reads: "By Silvanus, a faithful brother as I regard him, I have written briefly to you" (5:12).

Thus we also see the communion of the Apostles. Silvanus serves Paul, serves Peter, because the Church is one and the missionary proclamation is one.

The third companion of Paul that we wish to recall today is Apollos, probable abbreviation of Apollonius or Apolodorous. Despite its being a name of pagan origin, he was a fervent Jew of Alexandria of Egypt.

In the book of the Acts of the Apostles, Luke describes him as an "eloquent man, well versed in the Scriptures ... fervent in spirit" (18:24-25).

Apollos' arrival on the scene of the first evangelization took place in the city of Ephesus: He had traveled there to preach and there he had the good fortune of meeting the Christian spouses Priscilla and Aquila (cf. Acts 18:26), who "took him and expounded to him the way of God more accurately" (cf. Acts 18:26).

From Ephesus he crossed to Achaia until he arrived in the city of Corinth: He arrived there with the support of a letter of the Christians of Ephesus, who asked the Corinthians to give him a good reception (cf. Acts 18:27).

In Corinth, as Luke writes, "he gave great assistance to those who had come to believe through grace. He vigorously refuted the Jews in public, establishing from the Scriptures that the Messiah is Jesus" (Acts 18:27-28).

His success in that city had a problematic ending, as some members of that Church, fascinated by his manner of speaking, opposed others in his name (cf. 1 Corinthians 1:12; 3:4-6; 4:6).

Paul, in the First Letter to the Corinthians expresses his appreciation for Apollos' work, but reproaches the Corinthians for lacerating the Body of Christ, separating in opposing factions.

He draws an important lesson from what happened: Both Apollos and I, he says, are no more than "diakonoi," that is, simple ministers, through whom you came to the faith (cf. 1 Corinthians 3:5).

Each one has a different task in the field of the Lord: "I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave growth. ... for we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building" (1 Corinthians 3:6-9).

On returning to Ephesus, Apollos resisted Paul's invitation to return immediately to Corinth, postponing the journey to a later date, which we ignore (cf. 1 Corinthians 16:12).

We have no more news of him, though some experts think that he is the possible author of the Letter to the Hebrews, whose author, according to Tertullian, was Barnabas.

These three men shine in the firmament of witnesses of the Gospel by a common characteristic, in addition to each one's personal characteristics. In common, in addition to the Jewish origin, they have the dedication to Jesus Christ and the Gospel, as well as the fact that the three were collaborators of the Apostle Paul.

In this original evangelizing mission they found the meaning of life and thus they are presented to us as luminous models of selflessness and generosity.

Let us think, finally, once again, of that phrase of St. Paul: Both Apollos and I are ministers of Jesus, each one in his way, as it is God who gives growth. This is valid for us also today, for the Pope, as well as for cardinals, bishops, priests and laity.

We are all humble ministers of Jesus. We serve the Gospel in the measure that we can, according to our gifts, and we ask God to make his Gospel, his Church grow today.

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On St. Irenaeus of Lyons
"The First Great Theologian of the Church" (March 28, 2007)

VATICAN CITY, MARCH 28, 2007 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the address Benedict XVI gave at the general audience today in St. Peter's Square. The reflection focused on St. Irenaeus of Lyons.

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Dear Brothers and Sisters!

In the catechesis on the great figures of the Church during the first centuries, today we reach the figure of an eminent personality, Irenaeus of Lyons. His biographical information comes from his own testimony, sent down to us by Eusebius in the fifth book of the "Storia Ecclesiastica."

Irenaeus was most probably born in Smyrna (today Izmir, in Turkey) between the years 135 and 140. There, while still a youth, he attended the school of Bishop Polycarp, for his part, a disciple of the apostle John. We do not know when he moved from Asia Minor to Gaul, but the move must have coincided with the first developments of the Christian community in Lyons: There, in 177, we find Irenaeus mentioned among the college of presbyters.

That year he was sent to Rome, bearer of a letter from the community of Lyons to Pope Eleutherius. The Roman mission took Irenaeus away from the persecution by Marcus Aurelius, in which at least 48 martyrs died, among them the bishop of Lyons himself, the 90-year-old Pothinus, who died of mistreatment in jail. Thus, on his return, Irenaeus was elected bishop of the city. The new pastor dedicated himself entirely to his episcopal ministry, which ended around 202-203, perhaps by martyrdom.

Irenaeus is above all a man of faith and a pastor. Like the Good Shepherd, he has prudence, a richness of doctrine, and missionary zeal. As a writer, he aims for a twofold objective: to defend true doctrine from the attacks of the heretics, and to clearly expound the truth of the faith. His two works still in existence correspond exactly to the fulfillment of these two objectives: the five books "Against Heresies," and the "Demonstration of Apostolic Preaching" (which could be called the oldest "catechism of Christian doctrine"). Without a doubt, Irenaeus is the champion in the fight against heresies.

The Church of the second century was threatened by so-called gnosticism, a doctrine which claimed that the faith taught by the Church was nothing more than symbolism for the simpleminded, those unable to grasp more difficult things. Instead, the initiated, the intellectuals -- they called themselves gnostics -- could understand what was behind the symbolism, and thus would form an elite, intellectual Christianity.

Obviously, this intellectual Christianity became more and more fragmented with different currents of thought, often strange and extravagant, yet attractive to many. A common element within these various currents was dualism, that is, a denial of faith in the only God, Father of all, creator and savior of humanity and of the world. To explain the evil in the world, they asserted the existence of a negative principle, next to the good God. This negative principle had created matter, material things.

Firmly rooted in the biblical doctrine of Creation, Irenaeus refuted dualism and the gnostic pessimism that devalued corporal realities. He decisively affirmed the original holiness of matter, of the body, of the flesh, as well as of the spirit. But his work goes far beyond the refutation of heresies: In fact, one can say that he presents himself as the first great theologian of the Church, who established systematic theology. He himself speaks about the system of theology, that is, the internal coherence of the faith.

The question of the "rule of faith" and its transmission lies at the heart of his doctrine. For Irenaeus, the "rule of faith" coincides in practice with the Apostles' Creed, and gives us the key to interpret the Gospel, to interpret the creed in light of the Gospel. The apostolic symbol, a sort of synthesis of the Gospel, helps us understand what the Gospel means, how we must read the Gospel itself.

In fact, the Gospel preached by St. Irenaeus is the one he received from Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, and the Gospel of Polycarp goes back to the apostle John, Polycarp having been John's disciple. Thus, the true teaching is not that invented by the intellectuals, rising above the simple faith of the Church. The true Gospel is preached by the bishops who have received it thanks to an uninterrupted chain from the apostles.

These men have taught nothing but the simple faith, which is also the true depth of the revelation of God. Thus, says Irenaeus, there is no secret doctrine behind the common creed of the Church. There is no superior Christianity for intellectuals. The faith publicly professed by the Church is the faith common to all. Only this faith is apostolic, coming from the apostles, that is, from Jesus and from God.

To adhere to this faith publicly taught by the apostles to their successors, Christians must observe what the bishops say. They must specifically consider the teaching of the Church of Rome, pre-eminent and ancient. This Church, because of its age, has the greatest apostolicity; in fact its origins come from the columns of the apostolic college, Peter and Paul. All the Churches must be in harmony with the Church of Rome, recognizing in it the measure of the true apostolic tradition and the only faith common to the Church.

With these arguments, very briefly summarized here, Irenaeus refutes the very foundation of the aims of the gnostics, of these intellectuals: First of all, they do not possess a truth that would be superior to the common faith, given that what they say is not of apostolic origin, but invented by them. Second, truth and salvation are not a privilege monopolized by a few, but something that everyone can reach through the preaching of the apostles' successors, and, above all, that of the Bishop of Rome.

By taking issue with the "secret" character of the gnostic tradition and by contesting its multiple intrinsic contradictions, Irenaeus concerns himself with illustrating the genuine concept of Apostolic Tradition, that we could summarize in three points.

a) The Apostolic Tradition is "public," not private or secret. For Irenaeus, there is no doubt that the content of the faith transmitted by the Church is that received from the apostles and from Jesus, the Son of God. There is no teaching aside from this. Therefore, for one who wishes to know the true doctrine, it is enough to know "the Tradition that comes from the Apostles and the faith announced to men": tradition and faith that "have reached us through the succession of bishops" ("Adv. Haer." 3,3,3-4). Thus, the succession of bishops, personal principle, Apostolic Tradition, and doctrinal principle all coincide.

b) The Apostolic Tradition is "one." While gnosticism is divided into many sects, the Church's Tradition is one in its fundamental contents, which -- as we have seen -- Irenaeus calls "regula fidei" or "veritatis." And given that it is one, it creates unity among peoples, different cultures and different communities. It has a common content like that of truth, despite different languages and cultures.

There is a beautiful expression that Irenaeus uses in the book "Against Heresies": "The Church, having received this preaching and this faith, although scattered throughout the whole world, yet, as if occupying but one house, carefully preserves it. She also believes these points (of doctrine) just as if she had but one soul, and one and the same heart, and she proclaims them, and teaches them, and hands them down, with perfect harmony, as if she possessed only one mouth. For, although the languages of the world are dissimilar, yet the import of the tradition is one and the same. For the Churches which have been planted in Germany do not believe or hand down anything different, nor do those in Spain, nor those in Gaul, nor those in the East, nor those in Egypt, nor those in Libya, nor those which have been established in the central regions of the world."

We can already see at this time -- we are in the year 200 -- the universality of the Church, its catholicity and the unifying force of truth, which unites these so-very-different realities, from Germany, to Spain, to Italy, to Egypt, to Libya, in the common truth revealed to us by Christ.

c) Finally, the Apostolic Tradition is, as he says in Greek, the language in which he wrote his book, "pneumatic," that is, spiritual, led by the Holy Spirit. In Greek, spirit is "pneuma." It is not a transmission entrusted to the abilities of more or less educated men, but the Spirit of God who guarantees faithfulness in the transmission of the faith.

This is the "life" of the Church, that which makes the Church always young, that is, fruitful with many charisms. Church and Spirit are inseparable for Irenaeus. This faith, we read in the third book of "Against Heresies," "which, having been received from the Church, we do preserve, and which always, by the Spirit of God, renewing its youth, as if it were some precious deposit in an excellent vessel, causes the vessel itself containing it to renew its youth also. ¡Ä For where the Church is, there is the Spirit of God; and where the Spirit of God is, there is the Church, and every kind of grace" (3,24,1).

As we can see, Irenaeus does not stop at defining the concept of Tradition. His tradition, uninterrupted Tradition, is not traditionalism, because this Tradition is always internally vivified by the Holy Spirit, which makes it alive again, allows it to be interpreted and understood in the vitality of the Church.

According to his teaching, the Church's faith must be preached in such a way that it appears as it must appear, that is "public," "one," "pneumatic," "spiritual." From each of these characteristics, one can glean a fruitful discernment of the authentic transmission of the faith in the Church of today.

More generally, in the doctrine of Irenaeus, human dignity, body and soul, is firmly rooted in Divine Creation, in the image of Christ and in the permanent work of sanctification of the Spirit. This doctrine is like the "main road" to clarify to all people of good will, the object and the limits of dialogue on values, and to give an ever new impulse to the missionary activities of the Church, to the strength of truth which is the source of all the true values in the world.

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On Clement of Alexandria
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On Origen of Alexandria
"He Was a True Teacher"

VATICAN CITY, APRIL 25, 2007 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the address Benedict XVI delivered today at the general audience in St. Peter's Square. The reflection focused on Origen of Alexandria.

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Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In our meditations on the great figures of the ancient Church, today we will get to know one of the most outstanding. Origen of Alexandria is one of the key people for the development of Christian thought. He draws on the teachings he inherited from Clement of Alexandria, whom we reflected upon last Wednesday, and brings them forward in a totally innovative way, creating an irreversible turn in Christian thought.

He was a true teacher; this is how his students nostalgically remembered him: not only as a brilliant theologian, but as an exemplary witness of the doctrine he taught. "He taught," wrote Eusebius of Caesarea, his enthusiastic biographer, "that one's conduct must correspond to the word, and it was for this reason above all that, helped by God's grace, he led many to imitate him" (Hist. Eccl. 6,3,7).

His entire life was permeated by a desire for martyrdom. He was 17 years old when, in the 10th year of Septimius Severus' reign, the persecution against Christians began in Alexandria.

Clement, his teacher, left the city, and Origen's father, Leonides, was thrown into prison. His son ardently yearned for martyrdom, but he would not be able to fulfill this desire. Therefore, he wrote to his father, exhorting him to not renounce giving the supreme witness of the faith. And when Leonides was beheaded, young Origen felt he must follow the example of his father.

Forty years later, while he was preaching in Caesarea, he said: "I cannot rejoice in having had a father who was a martyr if I do not persevere in good conduct and I do not honor the nobility of my race, that is to the martyrdom of my father and the witness he gave in Christ" (Hom. Ez. 4,8).

In a later homily -- when, thanks to the extreme tolerance of Emperor Philip the Arab, the possibility of ever becoming a martyr seemed to fade -- Origen exclaimed: "If God would consent to let me be washed in my blood, receiving a second baptism by accepting death for Christ, I would surely go from this world. … But blessed are they who merit these things" (Hom. Lud. 7.12).

These words reveal Origen's nostalgia for the baptism by blood. And finally, this irresistible desire was, in part, fulfilled. In 250, during the persecution by Decius, Origen was arrested and cruelly tortured. Severely weakened by the sufferings he endured, he died a few years later. He was not yet 70 years old.

We mentioned earlier the "irreversible turn" that Origen caused in the history of theology and Christian thought. But in what did this "turn" consist, this turning point so full of consequences?

In substance, he grounded theology in the explanations of the Scriptures; or we could also say that his theology is the perfect symbiosis between theology and exegesis. In truth, the characterizing mark of Origen's doctrine seems to reside in his incessant invitation to pass from the letter to the spirit of the Scriptures, to progress in the knowledge of God.

And this "allegoristic" approach, wrote von Balthasar, coincides precisely "with the development of Christian dogma carried out by the teachings of the doctors of the Church," who -- in one way or another -- accepted the "lesson" of Origen. In this way, Tradition and the magisterium, foundation and guarantee of theological research, reach the point of being "Scripture in act" (cf. "Origene: il mondo, Cristo e la Chiesa," tr. it., Milano 1972, p. 43).

We can say, therefore, that the central nucleus of Origen's immense literary works consists in his "three-pronged reading" of the Bible. But before talking about this "reading," let us look at the literary production of the Alexandrian.

St. Jerome, in his Epistle 33, lists the titles of 320 books and 310 homilies by Origen. Unfortunately most of those works are now lost, but the few surviving works make him the most prolific author of the first three Christian centuries. His array of interests extended from exegesis to dogma, to philosophy, to apologetics, to asceticism and to mysticism. It is an important and global vision of Christian life.

The inspirational core of this work is, as we mentioned earlier, the "three-pronged reading" of the Scriptures developed by Origen during his life. With this expression we are alluding to the three most important ways -- not in any order of importance -- with which Origen dedicated himself to the study of Scripture.

He read the Bible with the intent to understand the text as best he could and to offer a trustworthy explanation. This, for example, is the first step: to know what is actually written and to know what this text wanted to say intentionally and initially. He carried out a great study with this in mind and created an edition of the Bible with six parallel columns, from right to left, with the Hebrew texts written in Hebrew -- Origen had contact with rabbis to better understand the original Hebrew text of the Bible.

He then transliterated the Hebrew text into Greek and then did four different translations into Greek, which permitted him to compare the various possibilities for translation. This synopsis is called "Hexapla" (six columns). This is the first point: to know exactly what is written, the text in itself.

The second "reading" is Origen's systematic reading of the Bible along with its most famous commentaries. They faithfully reproduce the explanations give by Origen to his students, in Alexandria and Caesarea. He proceeds almost verse by verse, probing amply and deeply, with philological and doctrinal notes. He works with great attention to exactness to better understand what the sacred authors wanted to say.

In conclusion, even before his ordination, Origen dedicated himself a great deal to the preaching of the Bible, adapting himself to varied audiences. In any case, as we see in his Homilies, the teacher, dedicated to systematic interpretation of verses, breaks them down into smaller verses.

Also in the Homilies, Origen takes every opportunity to mention the various senses of sacred Scripture that help or express a way of growth in faith: There is the "literal" sense, but this hides depths that are not apparent upon a first reading; the second dimension is the "moral" sense: what we must do as we live the Word; and in the end we have the "spiritual" sense, the unity of Scripture in its diversity.

This would be interesting to show. I tried somewhat, in my book "Jesus of Nazareth," to show the multiple dimensions of the Word in today's world, of sacred Scripture, that must first of all be respected in the historical sense. But this sense brings us toward Christ, in the light of the Holy Spirit, and shows us the way, how to live.

We find traces of this, for example in the ninth Homily on Numbers, where Origen compares the Scriptures to nuts: "The doctrine of the Law and of the Prophets in the school of Christ," he affirms, "is bitter reading, like the peel, after which you come to the shell which is the moral doctrine, in the third place you will find the meaning of the mysteries, where the souls of the saints are fed in this life and in the next" (Hom. Num. 9,7).

Following along this path, Origen began promoting a "Christian reading" of the Old Testament, brilliantly overcoming the challenge of the heretics -- above all the Gnostics and the Marcionites -- who ended up rejecting the Old Testament.

The Alexandrian wrote about this in the same Homily on Numbers: "I do not call the Law an 'Old Testament,' if I understand it in the Spirit. The Law becomes an 'Old Testament' only for those that what to understand it in terms of the flesh," that is to say, stopping at the mere reading of the text. But, "for us, we who understand it and apply it in the Spirit and in the sense of the Gospel, the Law is ever new, and the two Testaments are for us a new Testament, not because of a temporal date, but because of the newness of the meaning. … For the sinner on the other hand and those who do not respect the pact of charity, even the Gospels get old" (Hom. Num. 9,4).

I invite you to welcome the teachings of this great teacher of the faith into your hearts. He reminds us that in the prayerful reading of Scripture and in a coherent way of life, the Church is renewed and rejuvenated.

The Word of God, which never ages or has its meaning exhausted, is a privileged way of doing this. It is the Word of God, through the work of the Holy Spirit, which leads us always to the whole truth (cf. Benedict XVI, international congress for the 40th anniversary of the dogmatic constitution "Dei Verbum," in Insegnamenti, vol. I, 2005, pp. 552-553).

Let us ask the Lord to enable us thinkers, theologians and exegetes of today to find this multidimensional nature, this permanent validity of sacred Scripture.

We pray that the Lord will help us to read the sacred Scriptures in a prayerful way, to really nourish ourselves on the true bread of life, his Word.

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"The Privileged Path to Knowing God Is Love"

VATICAN CITY, MAY 2, 2007 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the address Benedict XVI delivered today at the general audience in St. Peter's Square. The reflection, like that of last week, focused on Origen of Alexandria.

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Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Last Wednesday's catechesis was dedicated to the important figure of Origen, the Alexandrian doctor of the second and third century. In that catechesis we looked at the life and literary works of the Alexandrian master, focusing on his "three-pronged reading" of the Bible, which is the animating center of all of his work.

I left out two aspects of Origen's doctrine, which I consider among the most important and timely, so that I could speak about them today. I am referring to his teachings on prayer and the Church.

In truth, Origen -- author of an important and ever relevant treatment "On Prayer" -- constantly mixes his exegetic and theological works with experiences and suggestions relating to prayer. Despite the theological wealth found in his thought, his is never a purely academic treatment; it is always founded on the experience of prayer, on contact with God.

In his view, understanding Scripture requires more than mere study. It requires an intimacy with Christ and prayer. He is convinced that the privileged path to knowing God is love and that one cannot give an authentic "scientia Christi" without falling in love with him.

In his "Letter to Gregory" he writes: "Dedicate yourself to the 'lectio' of the divine Scriptures; apply yourself to this with perseverance. Practice 'lectio' with the intention of believing and being pleasing to God.

"If during the 'lectio' you find yourself in front of a closed door, knock and the guardian will open it for you, the guardian of whom Jesus said: 'The advocate will teach you everything.' Apply yourself in this way to 'lectio divina' -- search, with unshakable faith in God, the sense of the divine Scriptures, which is amply revealed.

"You must not be satisfied with only knocking and searching: To understand the things of God, 'oratio' is absolutely necessary. To encourage us to do this, the Savior did not only say: 'Seek and you shall find,' and 'Knock and it shall be opened unto you,' but he also added: 'Ask and you shall receive'" (Ep. Gr. 4).

One can see clearly the "primordial role" that Origen played in the history of "lectio divina." Bishop Ambrose of Milan -- who would learn to read the Scritpures from Origen's works -- introduced it in the West, to hand it on to Augustine and the successive monastic tradition.

As we mentioned earlier, the highest level of knowing God, according to Origen, comes from loving him. It is the same with human relationships: One only really knows the other if there is love, if they open their hearts. To show this he illustrates the significance given at that time to the verb in Hebrew "to know," used to show the act of human love: "Adam knew Eve, his wife and she conceived" (Genesis 4:1).

This suggests that union in love procures the most authentic knowledge. As man and woman are "two that become one flesh," in the same way, God and the believer become "two that become one in the spirit."

In this way, the prayer of the Alexandrian reaches the highest mystical levels, as is shown by his "Homilies on the Song of Songs."

In one passage of the first homily, Origen confesses: "Often -- God is a witness to this -- I felt that the Bridegroom drew very near to me; afterward he would leave suddenly, and I could not find that which I searched for. Again I have the desire for his presence, and he returns, and when he appears, when I hold him in my hands, he leaves again and once he is gone I begin again to search for him" (Hom. Cant. 1:7).

I recall what my venerable predecessor wrote, as a true witness, in "Novo Millennio Ineunte," where he showed the faithful "how prayer can progress, as a genuine dialogue of love, to the point of rendering the person wholly possessed by the divine Beloved, vibrating at the Spirit's touch, resting filially within the Father's heart … becoming," John Paul II continued, "a journey totally sustained by grace, which nonetheless demands an intense spiritual commitment and is no stranger to painful purifications. But it leads, in various possible ways, to the ineffable joy experienced by the mystics as 'nuptial union'" (No. 33).

We come to Origen's teaching on the Church, and precisely -- within it -- on the priesthood of the laity. As the Alexandrian affirms in his ninth Homily on Leviticus, "this discourse is important for all of us" (Hom. Lev. 9:1).

In the same homily Origen -- referring to Aaron's prohibition, after the death of his two children, to enter the Holy of Holies "at any time" (Leviticus 16:2) -- he admonishes the faithful: "From this we can see that if one enters the sanctuary, without the proper preparation, not dressed in priestly dress, without having prepared the prescribed offerings and having offered them to God, he will die. …This discourse is meant for everyone. It guarantees that we know how to approach God's altar.

"Or do you not know that the priesthood was given to God's Church and to all believers? Listen to how Peter speaks to the faithful: 'Elect race,' he says, 'royal priesthood, holy nation, a people bought by God.' You have priesthood because you are a 'priestly people,' and therefore you must offer sacrifice to God. … But so that you may offer it worthily, you need pure vestments, distinct from the common vestments of other men, and you need the divine fire" (ibid.).

On one hand the "girded loins" and the "priestly vestments," which represent purity and honest living, and on the other the "perpetually lit lamp," which represents the faith and science of the Scriptures -- these become the necessary conditions for the exercise of the priestly ministry. These conditions -- right conduct, but above all, the welcoming and study of the Word -- establish a genuine "hierarchy of holiness" in the common priesthood of all Christians.

Origen places martyrdom at the top of this path of perfection. In the ninth Homily on Leviticus he alludes to the "fire for the sacrifice," that is, the faith and knowledge of Scripture, which must never be extinguished on the altar of he who exercises the priesthood.

He then adds: "Each one of us has within us" not only fire, but "also the sacrifice, and from his sacrifice he lights the altar, so that it will burn forever. If I renounce everything I possess and take up the cross and follow Christ, I offer my sacrifice on God's altar; and if I give my body over to be burned, having charity, and meriting the glory of martyrdom, I offer my sacrifice on God's altar" (Hom. Lev. 9:9).

This path of perfection "is for everyone," so that "the eyes of our heart" will contemplate wisdom and truth, which is Jesus Christ. Preaching on the discourse of Jesus of Nazareth -- when "the eyes of all in the synagogue were upon him" (Luke 4:16-30) -- Origen seems to be speaking to us: "Even today, if you want, in this gathering, your eyes can gaze upon the Savior.

"When you turn your heart's gaze to contemplate wisdom and truth and the only Son of God, your eyes will see God. O happy gathering, that of whom Scripture speaks as having their eyes fixed on him! How I would like that this gathering receive a similar witness, that the eyes of all, of the unbaptized and of the faithful, of women and men and young children, not the eyes of the body, but those of the soul, look at Jesus! … Impressed upon us is the light of your face, O Lord, to whom belongs glory and power forever and ever. Amen!" (Hom. Lc. 32:6).

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St. Augustine's Last Days
"Though the World Grows Old, Christ Is Forever Young"

VATICAN CITY, JAN. 16, 2007 JAN. 16, 2007 - Here is a translation of the address Benedict XVI delivered today at the general audience in Paul VI Hall. The reflection is the second in a series on St. Augustine, bishop of Hippo.

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Dear brothers and sisters,

Today, as I did last Wednesday, I would like to discuss the great bishop of Hippo, St. Augustine. Four years before he died, he wanted to nominate his successor. To this end, on Sept. 26, 426, he gathered the people in the Basilica of Peace in Hippo so he could present them with his choice for this task.

He said: "We are all mortal, but no individual can be sure of his last day in this life. In any case, in childhood we hope to reach adolescence, in adolescence we aspire toward adulthood, in adulthood toward middle age and in middle age we look to reaching old age. We are never sure we will get there, but that is our hope.

"Old age, however, is not followed by another stage of life toward which we can aspire; its duration is unknown. I arrived in this city in the vigor of my life, but now my youth has gone and I am an old man" (Ep. 213,1).

At this point Augustine told them the name of his chosen successor, the priest Heracles. The people burst into applause of approval and repeated 23 times: "Thanks be to God! Praise be to Christ!" They continued to exclaim approval when Augustine told them of his plans for the future. He wanted to dedicate his remaining years to a deeper study of holy Scripture (Ep. 213,6).

The following four years were indeed of an extraordinary intellectual activity: Augustine carried out important works, he undertook new ones that were no less demanding, he held discussions with the heretics -- he always sought dialogue -- and he intervened to promote peace in the African provinces that were harassed by the southern barbarian tribes.

For this reason he wrote to Count Darius, who had come to Africa to put an end to the disagreement between Count Boniface and the Imperial Court, which the Mauri tribes were taking advantage of for their raids. "A greater title for glory," he affirmed in his letter, "is to kill war with words, rather than to kill men with the sword, and to get or maintain peace through peace and not through war. Certainly the fighters, if they are good, are also seeking peace, but at the cost of shedding blood. You, on the contrary, have been sent to prevent blood being spilt on any side" (Ep. 229, 2).

Unfortunately, the hope for peace in the African territories was not fulfilled: In May 429, the Vandals, invited to Africa out of spite by Boniface himself, crossed the Gibraltar strait and entered Mauritania. The invasion rapidly spread to other rich African provinces. In May or June 430, "the destroyers of the Roman Empire," as Possidius called these barbarians ("Vita," 30,1), laid siege to Hippo.

Boniface also sought shelter in town; he had reconciled too late with the Court and was now trying to stop the invaders, but to no avail. The biographer Possidius describes Augustine's pain: "More than usual, his tears became his bread day and night, and arriving almost to the end of his life, he was, more than others, dragging his old age into bitterness and mourning" ("Vita," 28,6). He explains: "That man of God was in fact witnessing the massacre and destruction of the cities; homes in the countryside destroyed and residents killed by the enemy, or forced to flee; churches deprived of their priests and ministers; sacred virgins and monks displaced; among them, some were tortured and killed, others murdered by the sword, others taken prisoners; they lost faith and the integrity of their soul and body, reduced to a grievous and long slavery by their enemies" (ibid., 28,8).

Despite being old and tired, Augustine remained strong, providing comfort for himself and others through prayer and meditation on the mysteries of God's will. He spoke of "the world's old age" -- and this Roman world really was old. He spoke of this old age as he had done years earlier to console the Italian refugees when the Goths from Alaric invaded the city of Rome. In old age sickness abounds: coughs, catarrh, anxiety, exhaustion. Though the world grows old, Christ is forever young.

So he invited them: "Don't refuse to be young again united with Christ, even in an old world. He tells you: Do not fear, your youth will be renewed like the eagle's youth" (cf. Serm. 81,8). Therefore, the Christian should not be let down even in difficult situations, but he must help those in need. This is what the great doctor advised, answering Honoratus, bishop of Tiabe, who had asked him whether a bishop, a priest or any man of Church could flee to save his life when under barbarian invasions: "When the danger is shared by all -- bishops, clergymen and laymen -- those in need should not be left alone. In this case they should all be transferred to safe places; but if some need to stay, they should not be left alone by those who have the duty to assist them with the sacred ministry, so either they all save themselves together, or together they bear the disaster that the Father wants them to suffer" (Ep. 228, 2).

And he concluded: "This is the supreme test of charity" (ibid., 3). How could we not recognize, in these words, the heroic message that many priests have embraced and identified with along the centuries?

Meanwhile, the town of Hippo held fast. Augustine's house-monastery had opened its doors to the colleagues in the episcopate who were seeking refuge. Among them was Possidius, already his disciple, who managed to leave us a direct account of those final, dramatic days. "In the third month of that siege," he tells us, "he was struck by fever: That was his last illness" ("Vita," 29,3). The holy, venerable, old man decided to dedicate his remaining time to intense prayer. He used to affirm that no one, bishop, monk or layman, however irreproachable his conduct may have been, could confront death without adequate penitence. That's why between tears he continually repeated the penitential psalms, that he had so often recited with his people (cf. ibid., 31,2).

As he worsened, the more the dying bishop felt the need for solitude and prayer: "About 10 days before he left his body, in order not to be troubled in his concentration, he begged us to not let anyone enter his room outside of the medical visiting hours or the eating time schedule. His wishes were carried out and during all that time he prayed" (ibid., 31,3). He died Aug. 28, 430: His great heart finally rested in God.

"We assisted in the removal of his body," Possidius informs us, "dedicated to God, and then he was buried" (Life, 31,5). At a certain point -- date unknown -- his body was transferred to Sardinia, and from there to Pavia around 725, to the Basilica of San Pietro in Ciel d'oro, where he rests today.

His first biographer has the following conclusive judgment about him: "He left a large clergy to the Church, as well as male and female monasteries with people dedicated to the obedience of their superiors. He left us libraries with books and speeches by him and other holy men from which, with God's grace, we can deduce his merit and stature in the Church, and in which the faithful always rediscover him" (Possidius, "Vita," 31, 8).

We can associate ourselves with this judgment: In his writings we also "rediscover him." When I read St. Augustine's works, I don't have the impression that he died more or less 1,600 years ago, I feel he is a modern man: a friend, a contemporary who speaks to me, he speaks to us with his fresh and modern faith.

In St. Augustine, who speaks to us -- who speaks to me at us in his writings -- we see the permanent actuality of his faith; of the faith that comes from Christ, eternal word made flesh, Son of God and son of man. This faith does not belong to yesterday, though it was preached yesterday. It is always of today, because Christ is truly yesterday, today and always. He is the way, the truth and the life. St. Augustine encourages to entrust ourselves to the living Christ and to find through him the way to life.

[After praying the Angelus, the Holy Father greeted pilgrims in six languages. In English, he said:]

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Our catechesis this week is again centred on the life and writings of the great Doctor of the Church, Saint Augustine. Some four years before he died, Augustine designated his successor in the See of Hippo, desiring to devote the rest of his life to the study of the Scriptures. Nevertheless, those proved to be years of extraordinary activity, as the aged Bishop sought to reconcile divided Christians and to bring peace to the troubled African provinces of the Empire. During the Vandal invasion of Africa, Augustine found solace in reflection on the mystery of God's providence. The world, he said, is growing old and failing, yet Christ remains eternally young and brings renewed youth to those who put their faith in him. Amid the calamities of the time, he encouraged the clergy not to abandon their flock, but to offer the supreme witness of Christian charity. Augustine died in 431, during the siege of Hippo, having devoted his last days to penance and prayer. At last his great heart found its rest in God. Today, as in past centuries, may Augustine's example and the rich treasury of his writings be a source of instruction, inspiration and strength as the Church makes her pilgrim way to the fullness of God's Kingdom.

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On St. Augustine's Search for Truth
"Faith and Reason Are the Two Forces That Lead Us to Knowledge "

VATICAN CITY, JAN. 30, 2008 - Here is a translation of the address Benedict XVI delivered today at the general audience in Paul VI Hall. The reflection is the third in a series on St. Augustine, bishop of Hippo.

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Dear friends,

After the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, we return today to the great figure of St. Augustine. In 1986, on the 1,600th anniversary of his conversion, my beloved predecessor John Paul II dedicated a long and detailed document to St. Augustine, the apostolic letter "Augustinium Hipponensem."

The Pope himself chose to describe this text as "thanksgiving to God for the gift he bestowed on the Church and on all humanity with that wonderful conversion" (AAS, 74, 1982, p. 802). I would like to return to the subject of his conversion in a future audience. It is a fundamental subject, not only for St. Augustine's own personal life but for ours too. In last Sunday's Gospel, the Lord himself summarized his preaching with the words "be converted." In following the path of St. Augustine we can consider what this conversion revolves around: It is definitive, decisive, but the fundamental decision must be developed and must be accomplished throughout our lives.

Today instead, the catechesis is dedicated to the subjects of faith and reason, which are the defining themes of St. Augustine's biography. As a child he learned the Catholic faith from his mother Monica. As an adolescent he abandoned the faith because he could not see how it could be reasoned out and did not want a religion that was not also for him an expression of reason -- that is to say, truth.

His thirst for truth was radical and led him away from the Catholic faith. His radicality was such that he was not satisfied with philosophies that did not reach truth itself, and that did not reach God -- not a God as a last cosmological hypothesis, but the true God, God who gives life and joins our very lives.

The intellectual and spiritual itinerary of St. Augustine is also a valid model for today in the relationship between faith and reason, a topic not only for faithful individuals, but for every person who seeks the truth, a central theme for the equilibrium and destiny of every human being.

These two dimensions, faith and reason, should not be separated nor opposed, but rather go forward together. As Augustine himself wrote after his conversion, faith and reason are "the two forces that lead us to knowledge" ("Contra Academicos," III, 20, 43).

To this end the two famous Augustinian formulas ("Sermons," 43, 9) express this coherent synthesis between faith and reason: "Crede ut intelligas" (I believe in order to understand) -- faith opens the way to step through the door of truth -- but also, and inseparably, "intellige ut credas" (I understand in order to believe), in order to find God and believe, you must scrutinize truth.

The two assertions of St. Augustine express the synthesis of this problem in which the Catholic Church sees its own approach expressed with depth and immediacy. Historically speaking, this synthesis was formed even before the coming of Christ, with the coming together of the Jewish faith and Greek thought in Hellenistic Judaism. Subsequently, this synthesis was taken up again and developed by many Christian thinkers. The harmony between faith and reason means above all that God is not far away; he is not far from our reasoning or from our lives; he is close to every human being, close to our hearts and close to our reason if we truly follow his path.

It is precisely this closeness of God to man that Augustine experienced with extraordinary force. The presence of God in man is deep and at the same time mysterious. It can however be discovered and recognized deep down in oneself: Don't look outside of yourself, says the converted one, "but go back into yourself -- truth resides in the interior man, and if you find that your nature is changeable, transcend yourself. But remember, when you transcend yourself, that you transcend a soul which reasons. Then reach beyond -- to where the light of reason is lit" ("De vera religione," 39, 72).

He emphasizes this with a well-known assertion at the beginning of the "Confessions," a spiritual autobiography written in the praise of God: "You made us for you, and our heart is restless until it rests in you" (I, 1, 1).

Distance from God means distance from oneself. Addressing his words directly to God he acknowledges ("Confessions," III, 6, 11): "You are more intimately present to me than my inmost being and higher than the highest element in me," -- "interior intimo meo et superior summo meo" -- so that, he adds in another passage remembering the time preceding his conversion, "you were in front of me, but I, instead, had gone far from myself and could not find myself again, and even less could I find you again" (Confessiones, V, 2, 2).

Because Augustine personally experienced this intellectual and spiritual journey, he managed to convey it in his writings with immediacy, depth and wisdom; in another two famous passages of the "Confessions" (IV, 4, 9 and 14, 22), he acknowledged that man is "a great enigma" (magna quaestio) and "a deep abyss" (grande profundum), an enigma and an abyss that Christ alone enlightens and saves.

This is important: A man who is distant from God is also distant from himself, estranged from himself, he can find himself only by meeting God. This path leads to himself, to his true self and identity.

In "De Civitate Dei" (XII, 27) Augustine underlines the fact that the human being is by nature a social animal, but antisocial in his vices. Man is saved by Christ, the only mediator between God and humanity, and as repeated by my predecessor John Paul II ("Augustinium Hipponensem," 21), he is "the universal path to freedom and salvation."

In the same text, Augustine affirms that "no one has ever found freedom or will ever find freedom" ("De Civitate Dei," X, 32, 2) other than by following this path which has always been accessible to man. Christ, as the only route to salvation, is head of the Church and inscrutably united with it. Augustine affirms, "We have become Christ. In fact, if he is the head of man and we are the body, together we make up the whole" ("In Iohannis Evangelium Tractatus," 21, 8).

People of God and house of God: The Church in the Augustinian vision is closely associated with the concept of the Body of Christ, based on the Christological rereading of the Old Testament and on the sacramental life centered on the Eucharist, in which the Lord gives us his Body and transforms us in his Body. It is then essential that the Church -- people of God in the Christological and not sociological sense -- be really placed in Christ, who "prays for us, prays in us, is prayed to by us," as Augustine affirms beautifully on the written page: "He prays for us as our priest, he prays in us as our chief, he is prayed to by us as our God: so we recognize in him our voice, and in ours, his" ("Enarrationes in Psalmos," 85, 1).

In the conclusion of the apostolic letter "Augustinum Hipponensem," John Paul II asked St. Augustine what he would say to the men of today, and he answers with the words that Augustine dictated in a letter shortly after his conversion: "It seems to me that men have to be guided toward the hope of finding the truth" (Epistulae, 1, 1); that truth is Christ himself, true God, to whom is dedicated one the most beautiful and famous prayers of the Confessions (X, 27, 38):

"Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new,
late have I loved you!
You were within me, but I was outside,
and it was there that I searched for you.
In my unloveliness
I plunged into the lovely things which you created.
You were with me, but I was not with you.
Created things kept me from you;
yet if they had not been in you
they would have not been at all.
You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness.
You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.
You breathed your fragrance on me;
I drew in breath and now I pant for you.
I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more.
You touched me, and I burned for your peace."

So Augustine found God and throughout his life experienced God to the point that this reality -- which was above all an encounter with a person, Jesus Christ -- changed his life, just as it changed the lives of so many men and women who have had the grace to meet him.

Let us pray that God grants us this favor and in so doing allows us to find his peace.

[After praying the Angelus, the Holy Father greeted pilgrims in six languages. In Italian, he said:]

I extend a warm welcome to the Italian-speaking pilgrims. In particular, I greet the bishops who came for the 40th anniversary of the foundation of the Community of Sant'Egidio, I pray that everyone strengthens the firm wish to announce Jesus Christ, the only Savior of the world to all men.

I extend a particularly special welcome to the faithful of the Parish of Santa Caterina of Nardo -- which I am told has a beautiful sea -- with a special thought for the young musicians.

Dear friends, I thank you for your presence here and I hope that this meeting increases in each of you the desire to witness with joy the Gospel in your every day life. I accompany you with my prayer, so that you may build your projects on the solid foundation of faithfulness to God. I also greet the Caritas staff from the Diocese of Sabina-Poggio Mirteto, and I encourage them to continue with generosity their work for the those most in need.
Finally, I address the young, the sick and the newlyweds.
Tomorrow we celebrate the liturgical memorial of St. John Bosco, a priest and educator. Dear young people, look to him as a true master of life, especially those of you preparing for confirmation from Serroni di Battipaglia. Dear sick ones, learn from his spiritual experience to trust in Christ whatever the circumstances. And you, dear newlyweds, ask for his intercession to help you engage in your mission of marriage with generous enthusiasm.

[Translation by Laura Leoncini]

[In English, he said:]

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

As we continue our catechesis on Saint Augustine of Hippo, I wish today to consider some of the teachings of this great Doctor of the Church. A passionate believer, he recognized the importance of bringing together faith and reason. It was he who taught that we should believe in order to understand, and understand in order to believe. God makes himself known to our reason, although he always transcends what we can know through reason alone. As Augustine beautifully expressed it, God is "more intimately present to me than my inmost being" and "higher than the highest element in me."

Saint Augustine taught that by belonging to the Church, we are so closely united to Christ that we "become" Christ, the head whose members we are. As our head, Christ prays in us, yet he also prays for us as our priest, and we pray to him as our God. If we ask what particular message Saint Augustine has for the men and women of today, it is perhaps his emphasis on our need for truth. Listen to the way he describes his own search for God's truth: "You were within me and I sought you outside, in the beautiful things that you had made. You were with me, but I was not with you. You called me, you cried out and broke open my deafness. I tasted you, and now I hunger and thirst for you." Let us pray that we too may discover the joy of knowing God's truth.

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On St. Augustine's Conversion
"A Journey That Remains a True Example for Each One of Us"

VATICAN CITY, FEB. 26, 2008 - Here is a translation of the greetings Benedict XVI gave today at St. Peter's Basilica to those who could not be accommodated in Paul VI Hall for the general audience, and a translation of the catechesis he delivered in the Vatican auditorium. This is the fifth and final address the Pope has dedicated to the figure of St. Augustine.

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Dear brothers and sisters,

Today we conclude our presentation of St. Augustine. Having dwelt on his life, his works, and some aspects of his writings, today I would like to return to the process of his interior conversion, which was one of the greatest conversions in Christian history.

It is to this journey in particular that I dedicated my reflections during my pilgrimage to Pavia last year, to pay homage to the mortal remains of this Father of the Church. In so doing, I wanted to demonstrate the admiration and reverence of the entire Catholic Church toward St. Augustine, and my own personal devotion and recognition of a figure with whom I feel I have close ties to due to the part he has played in my theological life, in my life as a priest and a pastor.

Even today it is possible to revisit the experiences of St. Augustine; above all this is thanks to the "Confessions," written in the praise of God and which is the basis of a more specific Western literary form -- the autobiography. That is, a personal expression of the knowledge of oneself.

Anyone who gets close to this extraordinary and fascinating book, which is still read by many today, will soon realize that the conversion of St. Augustine was not sudden or completed quickly, but it is better described as a journey that remains a true example for each one of us.

This journey culminated with his conversion and subsequent baptism, but was not concluded with the Easter vigil of 387, when the African rhetorician was baptized by Bishop Ambrose of Milan.

In fact, Augustine’s journey of conversion continued with humility until the end of his life. We can state that all the stages of his life -- and we can easily distinguish three phases -- together make up a single long conversion.

St. Augustine was from the start, a passionate seeker of the truth: He remained so his whole life. The first stage of his journey toward conversion was realized through his gradual approach to Christianity.

In reality, he received a Christian education from his mother, Monica, with whom he was always very close. Even though he lived an errant life in his youth, he was deeply tied to the love of Christ's name, as he himself underlined (cfr. "Confessions," III, 4, 8).

Philosophy, and especially Platonic philosophy, led him closer to Christ by revealing to him the existence of the Logos, or creative reason. The books of the philosophers showed him the existence of 'reason' from which the whole world is derived, but did not tell him how to reach this Logos, which seemed so inaccessible.

It was only through reading the letters of St. Paul, in the faith of the Catholic Church, that he came to a fuller understanding. This experience was summarized by Augustine in one of the most famous passages of the "Confessions." He tells us that in the torment of his reflections, he withdrew into a garden, when suddenly he heard a child's voice singing a lullaby he had never heard before: "Tolle, lege, tolle, lege," -- take and read, take and read (VIII, 12,29).

He was reminded at that moment of the conversion of Anthony, the father of monasticism. He hastily returned to the writings of Paul, which he had been looking at a short time before. His eyes fell on the passage of the Letter to the Romans, in which the apostle urges the abandonment of the pleasures of the flesh in favor of Christ (13:13-14).

He understood that those words were specifically meant for him. They came from God, through The Apostle, and showed him what he had to do in that moment. Augustine felt the dark cloud of doubt disperse and was free to give himself completely to Christ: “You converted my being to you,” he notes ("Confessions," VIII, 12,30). This was the first and decisive conversion.

It is thanks to his passion for men and for the truth that the African rhetorician arrived at the most important stage of his long journey; a passion that brought him to seek God, the great and inaccessible. His faith in Christ made him understand that God, seemingly so distant, was in truth not distant at all. In fact he has come near us, becoming one of us. In this sense his faith in Christ allowed Augustine to accomplish his long search for truth. Only a God who made himself 'touchable,' one of us, was a God to whom one could pray, for whom and with whom one could live.

This is a road to undertake with courage and humility, leading to a permanent purification, which everyone needs. That Easter vigil in 387, however, was not the end of Augustine’s journey. He returned to Africa and founded a small monastery where he retreated with a few friends, and dedicated himself to contemplation and study. This was his life's dream. He was called to completely dedicate his life to truth, in friendship with Christ, who is the truth. This dream lasted three years, until he was consecrated a priest in Hippo and destined to serve the believers, continuing to live with Christ and for Christ, but at the service of everyone.

This was very difficult for him, but since the beginning he understood that only by living for others, and not simply for his private contemplation, could he live with Christ and for Christ. So, by renouncing a life of only meditation, Augustine learned, not without difficulty, to put his knowledge at the disposal of others. He learned to communicate his faith to the ordinary people, and to live for them in what became his home town. He carryied out tirelessly a burdensome and generous activity that he describes in one of his beautiful sermons: "To preach continuously, discuss, reiterate, edify, be at the disposal of everyone -- it is an enormous responsibility, a great weight, an immense effort" (Sermon 339, 4). But he took this weight upon himself, knowing that this way he could be closer to Christ. His true second conversion was indeed to understand that one reaches others through simplicity and humility.

There is a last step -- a third conversion -- in the Augustinian journey: The one that led him to ask God for forgiveness every day of his life. At first he thought that once christened, in a life in communion with Christ, in the sacraments, and in the celebration of the Eucharist, he would attain a life as proposed in the Sermon on the Mount, which is one of perfection given through baptism and confirmed in the Eucharist.

In the latter period of his life he understood that what he had said in his first homilies on the Sermon on the Mount -- that we as Christians permanently live this ideal life -- was a mistake. Only Christ himself realizes truly and completely the Sermon on the Mount. We always need to be cleansed by Christ, who washes our feet, and be renewed by him. We need a permanent conversion. Up to the end we need to demonstrate a humility that acknowledges that we are sinners on a journey, until the Lord gives us his hand and leads us to eternal life. It is with this attitude of humility that Augustine lived out his final days until his death.
This deep humility in the face of the one Lord Jesus introduced him to an intellectual humility as well. In his last years, Augustine, who in fact was one of the greatest figures in philosophical history, wanted to critically examine his numerous works. This was the origin of the "Retractationes" -- Revisions -- that places his theological thinking, which is truly great, within the humble and holy faith of that which he refers to as simply Catholic, that is, the Church.
In this very original book he writes: "I understood that only one is truly perfect, and that the words of the Sermon on the Mount are completely realized in only one -- in Jesus Christ himself. The whole Church, instead -- all of us, including the Apostles -- must pray everyday: Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us" (I, 19, 1-3).
Converted to Christ, who is truth and love, Augustine followed him all his life and became a model for every human being, for all of us in search of God.

That is why I wanted to conclude my pilgrimage to Pavia by offering to the Church and the world, before the tomb of this great lover of God, my first encyclical -- "Deus Caritas Est." The encyclical owes a great deal to St. Augustine’s thinking, especially its first part.

Today, as then, mankind needs to know and to live this fundamental reality: God is love and meeting him is the only answer to the fears of the human heart. A heart where hope dwells, perhaps still dark and unenlightened for many of our contemporaries, but which for us Christians opens the doors to the future, so much so that St. Paul wrote "in hope we are saved" (Romans 8:24). I wanted to dedicate my second encyclical to hope -- "Spe Salvi" -- this one also owes a great deal to Augustine and to his meeting with God.

In a beautiful text St. Augustine defines prayer as an expression of desire, and affirms that God answers by moving our hearts closer to him. For our part we should purify our desires and our hopes in order to receive God's gentleness (cfr. "In I Ioannis," 4, 6). In fact, this alone -- opening ourselves up to others -- can save us.

Let us pray therefore that we are able to follow the example of this great man every day of our lives, and in every moment that we live, encounter the Lord Jesus -- the only one who can save us, purify us, and who gives us true joy and true life.

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On Leo the Great