Pope´s Remarks After Venerating the Holy Shroud
"In the Hour of Extreme Solitude We Will Never Be
Alone"
TURIN, Italy, MAY 2, 2010 (Zenit.org).-
Dear
Friends,
This is a moment that I have been waiting for for quite
some time. I have found myself before the sacred Shroud on another
occasion but this time I am experiencing this pilgrimage and this pause
with particular intensity: perhaps because the years make me more
sensitive to the message of this extraordinary icon; perhaps, and I would
say above all, because I am here as Successor of Peter, and I carry in my
heart the whole Church, indeed, all of humanity. I thank God for the gift
of this pilgrimage, and also for the opportunity to share with you a brief
meditation, which was suggested to me by the title of this solemn
exhibition: “The Mystery of Holy Saturday.” One could say that
the Shroud is the icon of this mystery, the icon of Holy Saturday. It is in
fact a winding sheet, which covered the corpse of a man who was crucified,
corresponding to everything that the Gospels say of Jesus, who was
crucified about noon and died at about 3 in the afternoon.
Once
evening came, since it was Parasceve, the eve of the solemn Sabbath of
Passover, Joseph of Arimathea, a wealthy and influential member of the
Sanhedrin, courageously asked Pontius Pilate to be able to bury Jesus in
his new tomb, that he had made in the rock not far from Golgotha. Having
received the permission, he bought linen and, taking the body of Jesus
down from the cross, wrapped him in the linen and put him in that tomb
(cf. Mark 15:42-46). This is what is related by the Gospel of St. Matthew
and the other evangelists. From that moment, Jesus remained in the
sepulcher until the dawn of the day after the Sabbath, and the Shroud of
Turin offers us the image of how his body was stretched out in the tomb
during that time, which was brief chronologically (about a day and a
half), but was immense, infinite in its value and its meaning.
Holy
Saturday is the day of God’s concealment, as one reads in an ancient
homily: “What happened? Today there is great silence upon the earth,
great silence and solitude. Great silence because the King sleeps …
God died in the flesh and descended to make the kingdom of hell (‘gli
inferi’) tremble” (“Homily on Holy Saturday,” PG
43, 439). In the Creed we confess that Jesus Christ “was crucified
under Pontius Pilate, died and was buried; he descended into hell
(‘negli inferi’), and the third day he rose again from the
dead.”
Dear brothers and sisters, in our time, especially
after having passed through the last century, humanity has become
especially sensitive to the mystery of Holy Saturday. God’s
concealment is part of the spirituality of contemporary man, in an
existential manner, almost unconscious, as an emptiness that continues to
expand in the heart. At the end of the 18th century, Nietzsche wrote:
“God is dead! And we have killed him!” This celebrated
expression, if we consider it carefully, is taken almost word for word
from the Christian tradition, we often repeat it in the Via Crucis,
perhaps not fully realizing what we are saying. After the two World Wars,
the concentration camps, the gulags, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, our epoch has
become in ever great measure a Holy Saturday: the darkness of this day
questions all those who ask about life, it questions us believers in a
special way. We too have something to do with this darkness.
And
nevertheless, the death of the Son of God, of Jesus of Nazareth, has an
opposite aspect, totally positive; it is a font of consolation and hope.
And this makes me think that the sacred Shroud acts as a
“photographic” document, with a “positive” and a
“negative.” And in effect, this is exactly how it is: The most
obscure mystery of faith is at the same time the most luminous sign of a
hope without limits. Holy Saturday is the “no man’s
land” between death and resurrection, but into this “no
man’s land” has entered the One, the Only One, who has crossed
it with the signs of his passion for man: “Passio Christi. Passio
hominis.” And the Shroud speaks to us precisely of that moment; it
witnesses precisely to the unique and unrepeatable interval in the history
of humanity and the universe, in which God, in Jesus Christ, shared not
only our dying, but also our remaining in death. The most radical
solidarity. In that “time-beyond-time” Jesus Christ
“descended into hell” (“agli inferi”) What does
this expression mean? It means that God, made man, went to the point of
entering into the extreme and absolute solitude of man, where no ray of
love enters, where there is total abandonment without any word of comfort:
“hell” (“gli inferi”). Jesus Christ, remaining in
death, has gone beyond the gates of this ultimate solitude to lead us too
to go beyond it with him.
We have all at times felt a frightening
sensation of abandonment, and that which makes us most afraid of death is
precisely this [abandonment]; just as when as children we were afraid to
be alone in the dark and only the presence of a person who loves us could
reassure us. So, it is exactly this that happened in Holy Saturday: In the
kingdom of death there resounded the voice of God. The unthinkable
happened: that Love penetrated “into hell” (“negli
inferi”): that in the most extreme darkness of the most absolute
human solitude we can hear a voice that calls us and find a hand that
takes us and leads us out. The human being lives by the fact that he is
loved and can love; and if love even has penetrated into the realm of
death, then life has also arrived there. In the hour of extreme solitude
we will never be alone: “Passio Christi. Passio
hominis.”
This is the mystery of Holy Saturday! It is from
there, from the darkness of the death of the Son of God, that the light of
a new hope has shone: the light of the Resurrection. And it seems to me
that looking upon this cloth with the eyes of faith one perceives
something of this light. In effect, the Shroud was immersed in that
profound darkness, but it is luminous at the same time; and I think that
if thousands and thousands of people come to see it -- without counting
those who contemplate copies of it -- it is because in it they do not see
only darkness, but also light; not so much the defeat of life and love but
rather victory, victory of life over death, of love over hatred; they
indeed see the death of Jesus, but glimpse his resurrection [too]; in the
heart of death there now beats life, inasmuch as love lives there. This is
the power of the Shroud: from the countenance of this “Man of
sorrows,” who takes upon himself man’s passion of every time
and every place, even our passion, our suffering, our difficulties, our
sins -- “Passio Christi. Passio hominis” -- from this moment
there emanates a solemn majesty, a paradoxical lordship. This face, these
hands and these feet, this side, this whole body speaks, it is itself a
word that we can hear in silence. How does the Shroud speak? It speaks
with blood, and blood is life! The Shroud is an icon written in blood; the
blood of a man who has been scourged, crowned with thorns, crucified and
wounded in his right side. Every trace of blood speaks of love and of
life. Especially that large mark near the side, made by blood and water
that poured copiously from a great wound caused by a Roman spear, that
blood and that water speak of life. It is like a spring that speaks in
silence, and we can hear it, we can listen to it, in the silence of Holy
Saturday.
Dear friends, let us praise the Lord always for his
faithful and merciful love. Departing from this holy place, we carry in
our eyes the image of the Shroud, we carry in our heart this word of love,
and we praise God with a life full of faith, of love and of
charity.
Thank you.
Papal Homily in Turin
"If
We Are United to Christ, We Can Truly Love"
TURIN, Italy,
MAY 2, 2010 (Zenit.org)
Dear brothers and sisters!
I am happy to find myself with you on this festive day and
to celebrate this solemn Eucharist for you. I greet everyone present, in
particular the pastor of your archdiocese, Cardinal Severino Poletto, whom
I thank for the warm address to me on behalf of everyone. I also greet the
archbishops and bishops present, the priests, religious, the
representatives of ecclesial associations and movements. I turn
deferentially to the mayor, Dr. Sergio Chiamparino, grateful for the
courteous address and greeting, to the representatives of the government
and to the civil and military officials, with a special thanks to those
who generously offered their cooperation for the realization of this
pastoral visit of mine. I bear in mind those who were not able to be
present, especially the sick, those who are alone and those who find
themselves in difficulty. I entrust to the Lord the city of Turin and all
its inhabitants in this Eucharistic celebration, which, as every Sunday,
invites us to participate in a communal way at the twofold table of the
Word of truth and the Bread of eternal life.
We are in the Easter
season, which is the time of the glorification of Jesus. The Gospel that
we have just heard reminds us that this Glorification is realized through
the Passion. In the paschal mystery, Passion and Glorification are closely
joined; they form an indissoluble unity. Jesus says: “Now the Son of
Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him” (John 13:31) and he
says this when Judas leaves the Upper Room to carry out the plan of his
betrayal, which will lead to the Master’s death: precisely at that
moment Jesus’ glorification begins. The Evangelist John makes it
clear: he does not, in fact, say that Jesus was glorified only after his
passion, through his resurrection, but shows that his glorification is
begun precisely with the passion. In it Jesus manifests his glory, which
is the glory of love, which gives its entire self. He loved the Father,
doing his will to the very end, with a perfect oblation; he loved
humanity, giving his life for us. Thus, already in his Passion he was
glorified, and God is glorified in him.
But the Passion is
only the beginning. Thus Jesus says that his glorification is also to come
(cf. 13:32). Then the Lord, in the moment that he announces his departure
from this world (cf. 13:33), almost as a testament to his disciples to
continue his presence among them in a new way, gives them a new
commandment: “I give you a new commandment: that you love one
another. As I loved you, love one another” (13:34). If we love each
other, Jesus will continue to be present in our midst.
Jesus speaks
of a “new commandment.” But what is new about it? Already in
the Old Testament, God gave the commandment of love; now, however, this
commandment has become new insofar as Jesus makes a very important
addition to it: “As I loved you, love one another.” What is
new is precisely this “loving as Jesus loved.” The Old
Testament did not give any mode of love but only formulated the precept to
love. Jesus, however, gave himself to us as model and source of love. This
is a love without limits, universal, able to transform all the negative
circumstances and all the obstacles into occasions for progress in love.
In centuries past the Church that is in Turin knew a rich tradition of
sanctity and generous service -- as the archbishop and the mayor pointed
out -- thanks to the work of zealous priests, men and women in both active
and contemplative religious communities and faithful laypeople.
Jesus’ words thus acquire a particular resonance for this Church, a
Church that is generous and active, beginning with her priests. Giving us
the new commandment, Jesus asks us to live his own love, which is the
truly credible, eloquent and efficacious sign that announces to the world
the Kingdom of God.
Obviously with our own power we are weak and
limited. There is always a resistance to love in us and in our existence,
there are many difficulties that provoke divisions, resentment and rancor.
But the Lord promised us to be present in our life, making us capable of
this generous and total love, which knows how to overcome all obstacles.
If we are united to Christ, we can truly love in this world. Loving others
as Jesus loved us is possible only with that strength that is communicated
to us in our relationship with him, especially in the Eucharist, in which
his Sacrifice of love that generated love is made present in a real
way.
I would like to say, then, a word of encouragement especially
to the priests and deacons of this Church, who dedicate themselves with
generosity to pastoral work, and to the religious. Sometimes being a
worker in the Lord’s vineyard can be tiring, duties multiply, there
are so many demands, there is no lack of problems: Know how daily to draw
from this relationship of love with the Lord in prayer the strength to
convey the prophetic announcement of salvation; re-center your existence
on what is essential in the Gospel; cultivate a real dimension of
communion and fraternity in the presbyterate, in your communities, in
relationships with the People of God; in service testify to the power of
love that comes from on high.
The first reading that we heard indeed
presents a special way of glorifying Jesus: the apostle and his fruits.
Paul and Barnabas, at the end of their first apostolic trip, return to the
cities that they have already visited and reanimate the disciples,
exhorting them to remain solid in the faith, because, as they say,
“we must enter into the Kingdom of God through many
tribulations” (Acts 14:22). Christian life, dear brothers and
sisters, is not easy; I know that there is no lack of difficulties,
problems, worries in Turin: I think in particular of those who concretely
live their lives in precarious conditions, because of the scarcity of
jobs, the uncertainty of the future, physical and moral suffering; I think
of families, young people, of old people who often live in solitude, the
marginalized, immigrants. Yes, life leads to many difficulties, many
problems, but it is precisely the certainty that comes from faith, the
certainty that we are not alone, that God loves everyone without
distinction and is near to everyone with his love, that makes it possible
to face, to live through and to overcome the toil of daily problems. It
was the universal love of the risen Christ that moved the apostles to go
out of themselves, to spread the word of God, to spend themselves without
reserve for others, with courage, joy and serenity. The Risen One has a
strength of love that overcomes every limit, that does not stop at any
obstacle. And the Christian community, especially in the situations that
are the most pastorally demanding, must be a concrete instrument of this
love of God.
I exhort families to live the Christian dimension of
love in simple daily actions, in family relationships, overcoming
divisions and misunderstandings, in cultivating faith, which makes
communion still stronger. Also in the rich and diverse world of the
university and culture, witness to the love that today’s Gospel
speaks of is not lacking, in the capacity for attentive listening and
humble dialogue in the search for Truth, certain that it is the same truth
that comes to meet us and draws us. I would like also to encourage the
effort, often difficult, of those who are called to look after the public
sphere: Collaboration to pursue the common good and make the city ever
more human and habitable is a sign that Christian thought about man is
never against his liberty but in favor of a greater fullness that finds
its realization only in a “civilization of love.” To everyone,
in particular the young people, I want to say never to lose hope, that
which comes from the risen Christ, from God’s victory over sin and
death.
Today’s second reading shows us precisely the final
outcome of Jesus’ resurrection: it is the new Jerusalem, the holy
city, that comes down from heaven, from God, prepared as a bride for her
husband (cf. Revelation 21:2). He who was crucified, who shared our
suffering -- as the sacred Shroud also reminds us in an eloquent way -- is
he who is risen and wants to reunite all of us in his love. It is a
stupendous, “powerful,” solid hope, because, as Revelation
says: “[God] will wipe away every tear from their eyes and death
will be no more, nor will there be any mourning or lament anymore, because
the former things will pass away” (21:4). Does the holy Shroud not
communicate the same message? In it we see, as in a mirror, our sufferings
in the sufferings of Christ: “Passio Christi. Passio hominis.”
It is because of this that the Shroud is a sign of hope: Christ faced the
cross to put up a wall against evil; to make us see, in his passion, the
anticipation of that moment in which for us too, every tear will be wiped
away, when there will be no death, no mourning, no lament
anymore.
The passage from Revelation ends with this statement:
“He who sits upon the throne says: ‘Behold, I make all things
new’” (21:5). The first absolutely new thing realized by God
was Jesus’ resurrection, his heavenly glorification. It is the
beginning of a whole series of “new things” in which we also
have a share. “New things” are a world full of joy, in which
there are no more suffering and destruction, there is no rancor and hate,
but only the love that comes from God and transforms
everything.
Dear Church that is in Turin, I have come among you to
confirm you in the faith. I would like to exhort you, firmly and with
affection, to remain solid in that faith that you have received and that
gives meaning to life; never to lose the light of hope in the Risen
Christ, who is able to transform reality and make all things new; to live
God’s love in a simple and concrete way in the city, in the
neighborhoods, in communities, in families: “As I have loved you,
love one another.”
Amen.