Cardinal of Washington Takes Possession of St. Peter in Chains

Donald Wuerl, archbishop of Washington D.C., took possession of his titular church, the Basilica of St. Peter in Chains (above), at a Mass in Rome yesterday, Sunday, May 8

By Robert Moynihan,  from Rome

 

“Thy Kingdom Come” — motto on the coat-of-arms of Cardinal Donald Wuerl (photo above)

There are only three churches in Rome, as far as I know, dedicated to St. Peter: (1) the great St. Peter’s Basilica, at the heart of the Vatican and of the universal Church, where Peter is buried; (2) the tiny St. Peter in Montorio, just above Trastevere, where one tradition has it that St. Peter was crucified (though it seems more likely to me that St. Peter was crucified just next to St. Peter’s Basilica); and (3) St. Peter in Chains, where the chains which bound St. Peter when he was a prisoner in Jerusalem (the story is told in Acts 12:3-19) are preserved (see photo below, which shows the chains as they are now displayed below the main altar of the basilica).

St. Peter was freed by a miracle, when an angel came to him in the night.

So, for an American cardinal to receive possession of such an important basilica, and one so closely related to the life and suffering of St. Peter, seemed worthy of note.

Cardinal Donald Wuerl of Washington D.C. took possession of this third church dedicated to St. Peter, called San Pietro in Vincoli in Italian (St. Peter in Chains) at an 11 a.m. Mass. (The photo below is from Reuters by Max Rossi.)

It was an impressive, magnificent, solemn yet festive ceremony.

Wuerl moved with remarkable ease between English and Italian during his homily, which he preached in both languages, and after the ceremony, when he greeted well-wishers (many Americans in Rome never reach this level of fluent proficiency in the Italian language).

I was struck throughout the ceremony by Wuerl’s bearing. He seemed to sense that, by taking over this church — each cardinal is assigned a titular church in Rome — he is entering onto an entirely new level of responsibility and close collaboration with the Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI.

The Mass was distinguished by gorgeous chant in Latin — some Gregorian, some modern — sung by the choir of the North American College in Rome. (The rector of the college, Msgr. James Checchio, was present — he should be rightly proud of his choir.)

The Basilica of St. Peter in Chains is also known for the enormous and very powerful statue of Moses, sculpted by Michelangelo in about 1545 — one of Michelangelo’s greatest works and one of the greatest treasures of western culture.

It is said that many Jews living in Rome came to this church in great numbers to venerate the statue when it was erected.

(The statue has horns on the head which seem to be the result of a misunderstanding in reading the scriptural text which speaks of Moses descending from Mt. Sinai after receiving the Law from God; the text says “a radiance shone about his face” but the Latin Vulgate uses a phrase which could be interpreted as saying that he had horns.)

Interestingly, this church also has a sarcophagus dedicated to the seven Maccabee brothers, who were Jewish heroes who died in a war to defend the Mosaic law against the hellenism which had begun to infiltrate Jewish faith and practice in the second century before Christ. (I do not know whether this sarcophagus, which dates to the 300s and was translated here by Pope Pelagius in the 500s (he reigned from 556-561), actually contains the mortal remains of the Maccabee brothers, which would be astonishing; but that it has been here for 1,500 years and is dedicated to them suggests the profound connection of this basilica with important events and themes relating to Judaism.)

St. Peter in Chains is also the resting place of the body of one of the greatest intellects in the history of Catholicism, the Renaissance cardinal Nicholas of Cusa.

Nicholas was a profound philosopher and also a Church diplomat, and I would rank him as one of the greatest minds of the 1400s.

He was the titular cardinal of this church from 1449 to 1464 — precisely in the period when the Renaissance was beginning to come into its great flowering in Italy, and just at the time when western culture was about to experience the remarkable acceleration of the transmission of knowledge and ideas brought about by the printing press, discovered by Gutenberg in 1453 — which was also the year Byzantium finally fell to the Turks, sending a flood of scholars and manuscripts from “New Rome” back to “Old Rome,” sparking and nourishing the “Renaissance.”

In this sense, St. Peter in Chains can be seen as one great center of intellectual activity, as Nicholas of Cusa was cardinal here precisely in those critical years.

Given this history, it is in a certain sense appropriate that Cardinal Wuerl, a learned man in his own right and a leading figure in catechesis and higher education in the Catholic Church in the United States — Wuerl is known for his catechetical and teaching ministry, and he is the Chancellor of the Catholic University of America, as well as being Chairman of the John Paul II Cultural Foundation, the Papal Foundation, and the US bishops’ Committee on Doctrine — should become the successor of Nicholas of Cusa in this spectacular and important basilica just a few yards from Rome’s Colosseum. (The president of another important American Catholic university located in Washington, John De Gioia of Georgetown, was in attendance at the Mass.)

The ceremony was solemn. A choir from Rome’s North American College — the college where many US bishops send their seminarians to study — filled the ancient basilica with magnificent Latin chant, some of it traditional Gregorian chant, some of it modern Latin chant: “Ecce Sacerdos Magnus” (“Behold the great priest”), “Vidi Aquam” (“I saw the water”), “Jubilate Deo” (“Shout joyfully to God”), a powerful “Gloria in exclesis Deo” (“Glory to God in the highest”), a simple, clear “Credo in unum Deum” (“I believe in one God”), and heart-felt renditions of the “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus” (“Holy, holy, holy”), “Pater Noster” (“Our Father”), and “Agnus Dei” (“Lamb of God”), followed by a moving Communion hymn — “Ubi caritas et amor, ibi Deus est” (“Where there is charity and love, there God is”) — and a joyful recessional hymn — “Laudate Dominum, laudate Dominum omnes gentes, alleluia, alleluia” (“Praise the Lord, praise the Lord all peoples, alleluia, alleluia”).

Wuerl began the ceremony by kissing a crucifix — the sign for Christians of Christ’s innocent suffering and sacrificial death out of his love for all mankind and each one of us (I take the time to make this point because our society has evolved in such a secular way in recent decades that this obvious meaning is often unknown or forgotten today, which has, for example, complicated the recent European Union debate over the public display of the crucifix in Italy).

The crucifix was brought to Rome especially for this occasion from America — it is the crucifix Wuerl kissed when he took possession of his cathedral on becoming the bishop of Pittsburgh, and then on becoming the archbishop of Washington D.C.

As he walked down the aisle to begin the Mass, Wuerl was smiling, nodding to the many well-wishers who had come from Pittsburgh and Washington to Rome for the occasion.

Don Bruno Giuliani, the Abbot General of the Canons Regular of the Lateran and the Rector of the Basilica of St. Peter in Chains greeted Wuerl. (Though Wuerl now is officially the “possessor” of St. Peter in Chains, and so has authority offer the church, Giuliani will continue to administer the basilica’s day-to-day affairs, as the American cardinal will of course spend most of his time in Washington.)

I spoke for some time with Giuliani after the ceremony. Giuliani, who spent 40 years in Brazil as a missionary.

All cardinals of the Catholic Church are given titles to churches in Rome to symbolize their roles as collaborators with the Pope and to establish the seat of their authority in the diocese of Rome. (Photo, Wuerl with Pope Benedict)

A Note of the Freeing of St. Peter

The Liberation of St. Peter is a story told in the Acts of the Apostles in which St. Peter is rescued from prison by an angel.

Acts 12:3–19 tells how Peter was put into prison by King Herod, but the night before his trial an angel appeared to him, and told him to leave. Peter’s chains fell off, and he followed the angel out of prison, thinking it was a vision (verse 9). The prison doors opened of their own accord, and the angel led Peter into the city.

When the angel suddenly left him, Peter came to himself and returned to the house of Mary, the mother of John Mark. A servant girl called Rhoda came to answer the door, and when she heard Peter’s voice she was so overjoyed that she rushed to tell the others, and forgot to open the door for Peter (verse 14). Eventually Peter is let in and describes “how the Lord had brought him out of prison” (verse 17). When his escape is discovered, Herod orders the guards put to death (verse 19).

The Vatican Without the Pope

On his way to Venice

By Robert Moynihan,  from Rome

A few minutes ago, at about 3:30 pm, the Pope drove out of the Vatican his his black limousine.

I happened to be in the Vatican, and was able to wave to him as he passed by the back of St. Peter’s Basilica.

I don’t know why he chose not to use the papal helicopter to fly to Ciampino airport; I asked a Vatican police officer why he was driving, not flying, and the officer said he didn’t know, but that evidently there was some reason the Pope preferred to drive from the Vatican down to Ciampino rather than to take the helicopter.

The press office was empty this morning, as all the Vatican press corps has traveled up to Venice to be there when the Pope arrives.

We will have a long interview with the Cardinal Patriarch of Venice, Angelo Scola, in the upcoming June-July issue of Inside the Vatican.

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Eating lunch today, I had another interesting conversation, this time with two members of the Pontifical Biblical Commission, which has just ended several days of meetings here.

The commission’s main focus for this 5-year period — founded more than 100 years ago, in 1909, the commission studies a single issue for five years at a time — is the inspiration and inerrancy of Scripture. In short, what does the inspiration of Scripture really mean about the truthfulness of the text.

The two said some sessions of the meeting were heated — that there was intense debate.

One of the men made an interesting observation.

He said he had been trained by Jesuits, for many years, and appreciated that training enormously, but that he fears the Jesuit order is in precipitous decline.

He said he thought that the single most important task for any Pope in this period of history would be the restoration, the renewal, of the Jesuit order.

But he also said that we was not sure a renewal would be possible.

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I also spoke with Cardinal Jozef Tomko,former head of Propaganda Fide. I mentioned that I was thinking of taking a trip this summer to Russia, but was not sure about whether I really should go. “Go to Russia,” he told me. “It is important.”

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“Only the Wise Are Rich”

Pope Benedict on Wednesday, at his General Audience, began a new series of talks. The topic: prayer.

This means that over the next several weeks, we will receive a series of talks from the Pope which will summarize his understanding of the meaning and value of prayer. I will try to cover each of these talks as they occur.

The most interesting this about this first talk was the emphasis on the universal aspect of prayer. Prayer is not something important only to Catholics, or Christians, or even religious people of any religious tradition.

Prayer is something which is connected to the very nature of being human, to the very fact of being human, because every single human being is intrinsically in the image and likeness of God, and therefore seeks to be in relationshiop with, in convewrsation with, the God in whose image he or she was made.

This is a profound insight — and it is not “syncretistic.” It is entirely in keeping with the fundamental Catholic and Christian teaching on the nature of man, and the dignity of man.

In this sense, the teaching on prayer which we now await from this Pope with be “anthropological.” It will illuminate the dignity and nature of human beings. It will serve to help create a climate of dialogue between human beings, at a time when religious tensions and ideological divisions seem to be looming ever larger, obscuring the chances for a time of peace in our world.

The Pope gave an example of the ancient Greek culture where, “the great philosopher Plato tells of a prayer of his teacher, Socrates, who is rightly considered one of the founders of Western thought: grant that I may become beautiful within, and that whatever outward things I have may be in harmony with the spirit inside me. May I understand that it is only the wise who are rich, and may I have only as much money as a temperate person needs. For me, that prayer is enough.”

Pope Benedict continued by saying that “divine revelation purifies and fulfils man’s innate desire for God and offers us, through prayer, the possibility of a deeper relationship with our heavenly Father. With the disciples, then, let us ask the Lord: ‘Teach us to pray’ (cf. Lk 11:1)”.

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Here is the full text of the Pope’s teaching on Wednesday:

ON PRAYER: 1ST AUDIENCE IN NEW SERIES

“Virtually Always and Everywhere, People Have Turned to God”

VATICAN CITY, MAY 4, 2011 (Zenit.org).- Here is a translation of the Italian-language catechesis Benedict XVI gave Wednesday during the general audience held in St. Peter’s Square. With his address the Pope began a new series of catecheses on the subject of prayer.

* * *

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Today I would like to begin a new series of catecheses.

After the catecheses on fathers of the Church, on great theologians of the Middle Ages, on great women, I would now like to choose a subject that we all have very much at heart: It is the subject of prayer, specifically, Christian prayer, which is the prayer that Jesus taught us and that the Church continues to teach us.

It is in Jesus, in fact, that man is made capable of approaching God with the depth and intimacy of the relationship of fatherhood and sonship. Together with the first disciples, we now turn with humble trust to the Master and ask: “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1).

In the forthcoming catecheses, approaching sacred Scripture, the great tradition of the fathers of the Church, the teachers of spirituality, and the liturgy, we will learn to live yet more intensely our relationship with the Lord, as though in a “school of prayer.”

We know well, in fact, that prayer cannot be taken for granted: We must learn how to pray, almost as if acquiring this art anew; even those who are very advanced in the spiritual life always feel the need to enter the school of Jesus to learn to pray with authenticity.

We receive the first lesson from the Lord through his example. The Gospels describe to us Jesus in intimate and constant dialogue with the Father: It is a profound communion of the One who came into the world not to do his will but that of the Father who sent him for man’s salvation.

In this first catechesis, by way of introduction, I would like to propose some examples of prayer present in ancient cultures, to reveal how, virtually always and everywhere, people have turned to God.

I begin with ancient Egypt, as an example. Here a blind man, asking the divinity to restore his sight, attests to something universally human, as is the pure and simple prayer of petition on the part of one who is suffering. This man prays: “My heart desires to see you … You who made me see the darkness, create light for me, that I may see you! Bend over me your beloved face” (A. Barucq — F. Daumas, Hymnes et prieres de l’Egypte ancienne, Paris, 1980, translated into Italian as Preghiere dell’umanita, Brescia, 1993, p. 30).

That I may see you; here is the heart of prayer!

Prevailing in the religions of Mesopotamia was a mysterious and paralyzing sense of guilt, though not deprived of the hope of rescue and liberation by God.

Hence we can appreciate a supplication by a believer of those ancient cults, which sounds like this: “O God who are indulgent even in the most serious fault, absolve my sin … Look, Lord, to your weary servant, and blow your breeze on him: Forgive him without delay. Alleviate your severe punishment. Free from the shackles, make me breathe again; break my chain, loosen my ties” (M. J. Seux, Hymnes et prieres aux Dieux de Babylone at d’Assyrie, Paris, 1976, translated into Italian in Preghiere dell’umanita, op. cit., p. 37).

These are expressions that show how, in his search for God, man intuited, though confusedly, on one hand his guilt and on the other, aspects of divine mercy and kindness.

At the heart of the pagan religion of ancient Greece we witness a very significant evolution: prayers, though continuing to invoke divine help to obtain heavenly favor in all circumstances of daily life and to obtain material benefits, are oriented progressively toward more selfless requests, which enable believing man to deepen his relationship with God and to become better. For example, the great philosopher Plato reported a prayer of his teacher, Socrates, who is justly regarded as one of the founders of Western thought. Socrates prayed thus: “Make me beautiful within. That I may hold as rich one who is wise and possess no more money than the wise man can take and carry. I do not ask for anything more” (Opere I. Fedro 279c, translated into Italian by P. Pucci, Bari, 1966).

Above all he wanted to be beautiful and wise within, and not rich in money.

In the Greek tragedies — those outstanding literary masterpieces of all time that still today, after 25 centuries, are read, meditated and performed — there are prayers that express the desire to know God and to adore his majesty. One of these reads thus: “Support of the earth, who dwell above the earth, whoever you are, difficult to understand, Zeus, be the law of nature or of the thought of mortals, I turn to you: given that, proceeding by silent ways, you guide human affairs according to justice” (Euripide, Troiane, 884-886, translated into Italian by G. Mancini, in Preghiere dell’umanita, op. cit., p. 54).

God remains somewhat nebulous and yet man knows this unknown God and prays to him who guides the affairs of the earth.

Also with the Romans, who constituted that great Empire in which a large part of the origins of Christianity was born and spread, prayer — though associated to a utilitarian conception fundamentally bound to the request for divine protection on the life of the civil community — opens at times to admirable invocations because of the fervor of personal piety, which is transformed into praise and thanksgiving.

Apuleius, an author of Roman Africa of the 2nd century after Christ, is a witness to this. In his writings he manifests contemporaries’ dissatisfaction at comparing the traditional religion and the desire for a more authentic relationship with God. In his masterpiece, titled Metamorphosis, a believer addresses a feminine divinity with these words: “You, yes, are a saint, you are at all times savior of the human species, you, in your generosity, always give your help to mortals, you offer the poor in travail the gentle affection that a mother can have. Not a day or a night or an instant passes, no matter how brief it is, that you do not fill him with your benefits” (Apuleius of Madaura, Metamorphosis IX, 25, Translated into Italian by C. Annaratone, in Preghiere dell’umanita, op. cit., p. 79).

In the same period the emperor Marcus Aurelius — who was as well a thoughtful philosopher of the human condition — affirmed the need to pray to establish a fruitful cooperation between divine and human action. He wrote in his Memoirs: “Who has told you that the gods do not help us even in what depends on us? Begin then to pray to them and you will see” (Dictionnaire de Spiritualite XII/2, col. 2213).

This advice of the philosopher-emperor was put into practice effectively by innumerable generations of men before Christ, thus demonstrating that human life without prayer, which opens our existence to the mystery of God, is deprived of meaning and reference.

Expressed in every prayer, in fact, is the truth of the human creature, which on one hand experiences weakness and indigence, and because of this asks for help from heaven, and on the other is gifted with extraordinary dignity, as, preparing himself to receive divine Revelation, he discovers himself capable of entering into communion with God.

Dear friends, emerging from these examples of prayer from various periods and civilizations is the human awareness of his condition as a creature and his dependence on Another superior to him and the source of every good.

The man of all times prays because he cannot fail to ask himself what is the meaning of his existence, which remains dark and discomforting, if he is not placed in relationship with the mystery of God and of his plan for the world.

Human life is an interlacing of good and evil, of unmerited suffering and of joy and beauty, which spontaneously and irresistibly drives us to pray to God for that interior light and strength which aid us on earth and reveal a hope that goes beyond the boundaries of death. The pagan religions remain an invocation that from the earth awaits a word from Heaven.

Proclus of Constantinople, one of the last great pagan philosophers, who lived already at the height of the Christian age, gave voice to this expectation, saying: “Unknowable, no one contains you. Everything that we think belongs to you. Our ills and goods are from you, every breath depends on you, O Ineffable One, may our souls feel you present, raising a hymn of silence to you” (Hymn,ed. E. Vogt, Wiesbaden, 1957, in Preghiere dell’umanita, op. cit., p. 61).

In the examples of prayer from the various cultures that we considered, we can see a testimony of the religious dimension and of the desire for God inscribed in the heart of every man, which receive fulfillment and full expression in the Old and New Testaments. Revelation, in fact, purifies and leads to fullness man’s original longing for God, offering him, with prayer, the possibility of a more profound relationship with the heavenly Father.

At the beginning of this journey of ours in the “school of prayer” we now wish to ask the Lord to illumine our minds and hearts so that our relationship with him in prayer is ever more intense, affectionate and constant. Once again, let us say to him: “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1).

[Translation by ZENIT]

[The Holy Father then greeted pilgrims in several languages. In English, he said:]

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

The new series of catecheses which we begin today are devoted to prayer and, in particular, the prayer proper to Christians. Christian prayer is grounded in the gift of new life brought by Christ; it is an “art” in which Christ, the Son of God, is our supreme teacher. At the same time, prayer is a part of the human experience, as we see from the ancient cultures of Egypt, Mesopotamia, Greece and Rome. There we find eloquent expressions of a desire to see God, to experience his mercy and forgiveness, to grow in virtue and to experience divine help in all that we do. In these cultures there is also a recognition that prayer opens man to a deeper understanding of our dependence on God and life’s ultimate meaning. The pagan religions, however, remain a plea for divine help, an expression of that profound human yearning for God which finds its highest expression and fulfilment in the Old and New Testaments. Divine revelation, in fact, purifies and fulfils man’s innate desire for God and offers us, through prayer, the possibility of a deeper relationship with our heavenly Father. With the disciples, then, let us ask the Lord: “[t]each us to pray” (cf. Luke 11:1).

I welcome all the English-speaking visitors present at today’s Audience, especially those from Denmark, Finland, Sweden, Japan, Singapore and the United States. My particular greeting goes to the pilgrimage group from the Archdiocese of Kampala, led by Archbishop Cyprian Kizito Lwanga. Upon all of you I invoke an abundance of joy and peace in the Risen Christ!

The Vatican’s Intelligence: “Best in the World”?

The words of a former Swiss Guard

By Robert Moynihan, from Rome

Eating lunch today here in Rome, I had an interesting conversation with a former Swiss Guard.

He is here from Switzerland to attend the swearing-in ceremony of 34 new Swiss Guards, which will take place in the Cortile San Damaso at 5 this afternoon.

The former guard recalled that we are now at the 13th anniversary of the death of the commandant of the Swiss Guard, Alois Estermann. Estermann was shot to death in his own apartment on May 4, 1998 — 13 years and two days ago. Estermann’s wife, Gladys, who was from Venezuala, was also killed on that occasion. The double murder was attributed to a young Swiss Guard named Cedric Tornay. Tornay, whose corpse was found in the Estermann apartment, is said to have committed suicide there, a few steps inside the Santa Anna Gate, moments after the murders. The murders occurred at about 9 pm on the evening of May 4, nine hours after the noon announcement that Estermann had been named commandant of the guard after a hiatus of many months in the Guard’s leadership, during which he had been acting commandant.

We also had the chance to speak about the recent beatification of Pope John Paul II.

The former guard recalled that John Paul’s Secretary of State, Cardinal Agostino Casaroli, whom I also knew, spoke nine languages fluently.

“He was an amazing intellect,” the guard said. “He spoke Spanish, German, French, so many languages. Whenever he met with diplomats from anywhere in the world, he almost always was able to speak with them directly, without any need of an interpreter.

“In fact,” he said, “the general calibre of the Vatican’s diplomatic service is extraordinarily high. I believe independent analysts have also seen and acknowledged this. You have an author on strategic affairs in America who has written that the Vatican’s intelligence is Number One in the world, even ahead of the Mossad and the CIA. From my experience, observing men like Cardinal Casaroli, I think it’s true.”

The Beatification of John Paul: The Photo Chosen for the Ceremony

The photo chosen to hang from the central balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica for the Beatification of Pope John Paul II was taken by Polish photographer Grzegorz Galazka, the photographer for Inside the Vatican magazine

By Robert Moynihan, from Rome

Just a brief note on Monday morning from Rome, as the special Mass in memory of Blessed Pope John Paul II is taking place in a crowded St. Peter’s Square on a cool Roman morning under a grey sky, but without rain, so far.

It has been little noted in the press that the photo hanging from the main balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica was taken by Grzegorz (Gregorio) Galazka, a Polish photographer who also is the photographer for Inside the Vatican magazine.

The photo image was also prepared for publication and graphically elaborated — the colors of the image and the white, halo-like cloud around the Pope’s head — by graphic designer Giuseppe Sabatelli, an Italian who is the chief graphic designer for Inside the Vatican magazine, and by the technicians at Michalineum publishing house in Warsaw, Poland.

The photo was taken in Rome in 1989.

This connection between some of the staff of Inside the Vatican and the May 1 beatification ceremony is a matter of a certain pride for all of us at the magazine, so I thought I would mention it here. Also, I wanted to give a biot of recognition to Gregorio, as many do not know that it was his photo that was chosen.

When the magazine was first launched in 1993, Grzegorz and I were able to present our “zero issue” to Pope

John Paul during a general audience at Castel Gandolfo in the summer of 1993. John Paul encouraged us to continue our modest journalistic initiative at that time, and we did so, attempting to do what we could, in words and images, to chronicle his pontificate, and, in some small way, to help in the task of working for justice and peace, and in announcing the triumphant Gospel of christ’s resurrection in a world where the shadow of sin and death darkens and finally extinguishes our existence.

Now, 18 years have passed by.

In some way, the choice of one of Gregorio’s photos to hang from the facade of St. Peter’s Basilica during the Mass in which John Paul was declared “Blessed” — a benediction to all mankind — was deeply moving to all of us.

—Robert Moynihan

The Beatification of John Paul: The Homily of Pope Benedict XVI

The homily of Pope Benedict in St. Peter’s Square for the Beatification of Pope John Paul II on May 1

By Robert Moynihan, from Rome

Here is the text of the homily of Pope Benedict XVI for the beatification of Pope John Paul II, his predecessor and friend, delivered yesterday, May 1, in St. Peter’s Square in front of hundreds of thousands who filled the Square and the entire length of via della Conciliazione and beyond.

Benedict talks about his personal relationship to John Paul in the last paragraph of the homily below.

 

HOMILY OF POPE BENEDICT XVI

BEATIFICATION OF POPE JOHN PAUL II

ST PETER’S SQUARE

1 MAY 2011

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Six years ago we gathered in this Square to celebrate the funeral of Pope John Paul II. Our grief at his loss was deep, but even greater was our sense of an immense grace which embraced Rome and the whole world: a grace which was in some way the fruit of my beloved predecessor’s entire life, and especially of his witness in suffering. Even then we perceived the fragrance of his sanctity, and in any number of ways God’s People showed their veneration for him. For this reason, with all due respect for the Church’s canonical norms, I wanted his cause of beatification to move forward with reasonable haste. And now the longed-for day has come; it came quickly because this is what was pleasing to the Lord: John Paul II is blessed!

I would like to offer a cordial greeting to all of you who on this happy occasion have come in such great numbers to Rome from all over the world – cardinals, patriarchs of the Eastern Catholic Churches, brother bishops and priests, official delegations, ambassadors and civil authorities, consecrated men and women and lay faithful, and I extend that greeting to all those who join us by radio and television.

Today is the Second Sunday of Easter, which Blessed John Paul II entitled Divine Mercy Sunday. The date was chosen for today’s celebration because, in God’s providence, my predecessor died on the vigil of this feast. Today is also the first day of May, Mary’s month, and the liturgical memorial of Saint Joseph the Worker. All these elements serve to enrich our prayer, they help us in our pilgrimage through time and space; but in heaven a very different celebration is taking place among the angels and saints! Even so, God is but one, and one too is Christ the Lord, who like a bridge joins earth to heaven. At this moment we feel closer than ever, sharing as it were in the liturgy of heaven.

“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” (Jn 20:29). In today’s Gospel Jesus proclaims this beatitude: the beatitude of faith. For us, it is particularly striking because we are gathered to celebrate a beatification, but even more so because today the one proclaimed blessed is a Pope, a Successor of Peter, one who was called to confirm his brethren in the faith. John Paul II is blessed because of his faith, a strong, generous and apostolic faith. We think at once of another beatitude: “Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven” (Mt 16:17). What did our heavenly Father reveal to Simon? That Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. Because of this faith, Simon becomes Peter, the rock on which Jesus can build his Church. The eternal beatitude of John Paul II, which today the Church rejoices to proclaim, is wholly contained in these sayings of Jesus: “Blessed are you, Simon” and “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe!” It is the beatitude of faith, which John Paul II also received as a gift from God the Father for the building up of Christ’s Church.

Our thoughts turn to yet another beatitude, one which appears in the Gospel before all others. It is the beatitude of the Virgin Mary, the Mother of the Redeemer. Mary, who had just conceived Jesus, was told by Saint Elizabeth: “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord” (Lk 1:45). The beatitude of faith has its model in Mary, and all of us rejoice that the beatification of John Paul II takes place on this first day of the month of Mary, beneath the maternal gaze of the one who by her faith sustained the faith of the Apostles and constantly sustains the faith of their successors, especially those called to occupy the Chair of Peter. Mary does not appear in the accounts of Christ’s resurrection, yet hers is, as it were, a continual, hidden presence: she is the Mother to whom Jesus entrusted each of his disciples and the entire community. In particular we can see how Saint John and Saint Luke record the powerful, maternal presence of Mary in the passages preceding those read in today’s Gospel and first reading. In the account of Jesus’ death, Mary appears at the foot of the cross (Jn 19:25), and at the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles she is seen in the midst of the disciples gathered in prayer in the Upper Room (Acts 1:14).

Today’s second reading also speaks to us of faith. Saint Peter himself, filled with spiritual enthusiasm, points out to the newly-baptized the reason for their hope and their joy. I like to think how in this passage, at the beginning of his First Letter, Peter does not use language of exhortation; instead, he states a fact. He writes: “you rejoice”, and he adds: “you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls” (1 Pet 1:6, 8-9). All these verbs are in the indicative, because a new reality has come about in Christ’s resurrection, a reality to which faith opens the door. “This is the Lord’s doing”, says the Psalm (118:23), and “it is marvelous in our eyes”, the eyes of faith.

Dear brothers and sisters, today our eyes behold, in the full spiritual light of the risen Christ, the beloved and revered figure of John Paul II. Today his name is added to the host of those whom he proclaimed saints and blesseds during the almost twenty-seven years of his pontificate, thereby forcefully emphasizing the universal vocation to the heights of the Christian life, to holiness, taught by the conciliar Constitution on the Church Lumen Gentium. All of us, as members of the people of God – bishops, priests, deacons, laity, men and women religious – are making our pilgrim way to the heavenly homeland where the Virgin Mary has preceded us, associated as she was in a unique and perfect way to the mystery of Christ and the Church. Karol Wojtyła took part in the Second Vatican Council, first as an auxiliary Bishop and then as Archbishop of Kraków. He was fully aware that the Council’s decision to devote the last chapter of its Constitution on the Church to Mary meant that the Mother of the Redeemer is held up as an image and model of holiness for every Christian and for the entire Church. This was the theological vision which Blessed John Paul II discovered as a young man and subsequently maintained and deepened throughout his life. A vision which is expressed in the scriptural image of the crucified Christ with Mary, his Mother, at his side. This icon from the Gospel of John (19:25-27) was taken up in the episcopal and later the papal coat-of-arms of Karol Wojtyła: a golden cross with the letter “M” on the lower right and the motto “Totus tuus”, drawn from the well-known words of Saint Louis Marie Grignion de Montfort in which Karol Wojtyła found a guiding light for his life: “Totus tuus ego sum et omnia mea tua sunt. Accipio te in mea omnia. Praebe mihi cor tuum, Maria – I belong entirely to you, and all that I have is yours. I take you for my all. O Mary, give me your heart” (Treatise on True Devotion to the Blessed Virgin, 266).

In his Testament, the new Blessed wrote: “When, on 16 October 1978, the Conclave of Cardinals chose John Paul II, the Primate of Poland, Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński, said to me: ‘The task of the new Pope will be to lead the Church into the Third Millennium’”. And the Pope added: “I would like once again to express my gratitude to the Holy Spirit for the great gift of the Second Vatican Council, to which, together with the whole Church – and especially with the whole episcopate – I feel indebted. I am convinced that it will long be granted to the new generations to draw from the treasures that this Council of the twentieth century has lavished upon us. As a Bishop who took part in the Council from the first to the last day, I desire to entrust this great patrimony to all who are and will be called in the future to put it into practice. For my part, I thank the Eternal Shepherd, who has enabled me to serve this very great cause in the course of all the years of my Pontificate”. And what is this “cause”? It is the same one that John Paul II presented during his first solemn Mass in Saint Peter’s Square in the unforgettable words: “Do not be afraid! Open, open wide the doors to Christ!” What the newly-elected Pope asked of everyone, he was himself the first to do: society, culture, political and economic systems he opened up to Christ, turning back with the strength of a titan – a strength which came to him from God – a tide which appeared irreversible. By his witness of faith, love and apostolic courage, accompanied by great human charisma, this exemplary son of Poland helped believers throughout the world not to be afraid to be called Christian, to belong to the Church, to speak of the Gospel. In a word: he helped us not to fear the truth, because truth is the guarantee of liberty. To put it even more succinctly: he gave us the strength to believe in Christ, because Christ is Redemptor hominis, the Redeemer of man. This was the theme of his first encyclical, and the thread which runs though all the others.

When Karol Wojtyła ascended to the throne of Peter, he brought with him a deep understanding of the difference between Marxism and Christianity, based on their respective visions of man. This was his message: man is the way of the Church, and Christ is the way of man. With this message, which is the great legacy of the Second Vatican Council and of its “helmsman”, the Servant of God Pope Paul VI, John Paul II led the People of God across the threshold of the Third Millennium, which thanks to Christ he was able to call “the threshold of hope”. Throughout the long journey of preparation for the great Jubilee he directed Christianity once again to the future, the future of God, which transcends history while nonetheless directly affecting it. He rightly reclaimed for Christianity that impulse of hope which had in some sense faltered before Marxism and the ideology of progress. He restored to Christianity its true face as a religion of hope, to be lived in history in an “Advent” spirit, in a personal and communitarian existence directed to Christ, the fullness of humanity and the fulfillment of all our longings for justice and peace.

Finally, on a more personal note, I would like to thank God for the gift of having worked for many years with Blessed Pope John Paul II. I had known him earlier and had esteemed him, but for twenty-three years, beginning in 1982 after he called me to Rome to be Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, I was at his side and came to revere him all the more. My own service was sustained by his spiritual depth and by the richness of his insights. His example of prayer continually impressed and edified me: he remained deeply united to God even amid the many demands of his ministry. Then too, there was his witness in suffering: the Lord gradually stripped him of everything, yet he remained ever a “rock”, as Christ desired. His profound humility, grounded in close union with Christ, enabled him to continue to lead the Church and to give to the world a message which became all the more eloquent as his physical strength declined. In this way he lived out in an extraordinary way the vocation of every priest and bishop to become completely one with Jesus, whom he daily receives and offers in the Eucharist.

Blessed are you, beloved Pope John Paul II, because you believed! Continue, we implore you, to sustain from heaven the faith of God’s people. Amen.