If anyone would feel moved to support the development of this site, and the associated Inside the Vatican site, www.insidethevatican.com (new site under development, to be launched this summer), please feel free to become one our supporters. The new site will offer a digital version of Inside the Vatican magazine, which I founded almost 20 years ago. We are also looking for qualified writers to contribute news and analysis. These sites will become a true news service, with reports on economic, social, technological and political affairs, like other global news services, as well as on the life of the Vatican, but animated by the same vision in which I write these letters. Your support would be very welcome, and is needed to make this hope a reality. I will be in personal contact with all supporters of this work. —Robert Moynihan)

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Seven Years… And a Prayer for Seven More

“And now, at this moment, weak servant of God that I am, I must assume this enormous task, which truly exceeds all human capacity. How can I do this? How will I be able to do it? All of you, my dear friends, have just invoked the entire host of Saints, represented by some of the great names in the history of God’s dealings with mankind. In this way, I too can say with renewed conviction: I am not alone. I do not have to carry alone what in truth I could never carry alone. All the Saints of God are there to protect me, to sustain me and to carry me. And your prayers, my dear friends, your indulgence, your love, your faith and your hope accompany me.” —Pope Benedict XVI, Homily at the Mass for the Imposition of the Pallium and Conferral of the Fisherman’s Ring for the Beginning of the Petrine Ministry of the Bishop of Rome, St. Peter’s Square, April 24, 2005

“The purpose of our lives is to reveal God to men. And only where God is seen does life truly begin. Only when we meet the living God in Christ do we know what life is. We are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary. There is nothing more beautiful than to be surprised by the Gospel, by the encounter with Christ. There is nothing more beautiful than to know Him and to speak to others of our friendship with Him. The task of the shepherd, the task of the fisher of men, can often seem wearisome. But it is beautiful and wonderful, because it is truly a service to joy, to God’s joy which longs to break into the world.” —Ibid.

“My dear friends – at this moment I can only say: pray for me, that I may learn to love the Lord more and more. Pray for me, that I may learn to love his flock more and more – in other words, you, the holy Church, each one of you and all of you together. Pray for me, that I may not flee for fear of the wolves.” —Ibid.

The sun in Rome is shining on this 19th of April, the 7th anniversary of Pope Benedict XVI’s election to the See of Peter. It is a holiday in the Vatican for that reason.

I remember this day seven years ago. It was a Tuesday evening, about 6 p.m., when the smoke began to fly up from the Sistine Chapel roof. It looked grey, then, white, then grey again, and then fully white. The Pope had been elected. Who was he?

Pope Benedict XVI greets the crowd in St. Peter's Square after his election to Pope.

A few minutes later the Square was filled, and people were pouring in through all the columns of the colonnade. And then the announcement came: “We have a Pope. His name is Joseph Ratzinger. He has chosen to call himself Benedict XVI.”At the balcony, Benedict’s first words to the crowd, given in Italian before he gave the traditional Urbi et Orbi blessing in Latin, were:

“Dear brothers and sisters, after the great Pope John Paul II, the Cardinals have elected me, a simple, humble laborer in the vineyard of the Lord. The fact that the Lord knows how to work and to act even with insufficient instruments comforts me, and above all I entrust myself to your prayers. In the joy of the Risen Lord, confident of his unfailing help, let us move forward. The Lord will help us, and Mary, His Most Holy Mother, will be on our side. Thank you.”

Then the new Pope appeared. He seemed happy, peaceful.

The most important thing to say is to wish the Holy Father well (he turned 85 three days ago, on April 16).

My prayer for him would be something like this:

May the Lord be with you as you continue in the task God has called you to, of leading and ruling Christ’s Church, of teaching the truths of the faith, and of bearing witness to the final, eternal reality, the glorious holiness and the immeasurable justice, mercy and loving-kindness of the triune God. May you be consoled in moments of difficulty, may you be strengthened in moments of weakness — moments all flesh is heir to — and may you be protected by Mary, the Mother of God, and of the Church, and richly blessed with profound joy and peace as you continue your mission. Ad multos annos… unto many more years. As you yourself prayed on Holy Saturday, just 12 days ago, “Let us pray to the Lord at this time that He may grant us to experience the joy of his light; let us pray that we ourselves may become bearers of his light, and that through the Church, Christ’s radiant face may enter our world (cf. LG 1). Amen.”

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“It Was On the Third Day of the Council…”

Archbishop Lefebvre with Padre Pio in 1967, a year before Padre Pio's death

“On 29 June 1976, (Archbishop) Lefebvre went ahead with planned priestly ordinations without the approval of the local Bishop and despite receiving letters from Rome forbidding them. As a result Lefebvre was suspended a collatione ordinum, i.e., forbidden to ordain any priests. A week later, the Prefect of the Congregation for Bishops informed him that, to have his situation regularized, he needed to ask the Pope’s pardon. Lefebvre responded with a letter claiming that the modernisation of the Church was a ‘compromise with the ideas of modern man’ originating in a secret agreement between high dignitaries in the Church and senior Freemasons prior to the Council. Lefebvre was then notified that, since he had not apologised to the Pope, he was suspended a divinis…” —Wikipedia, Marcel Lefebvre, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcel_Lefebvre

“On 18 September 1991, Cardinal Silvio Oddi, who had been Prefect of the Congregation for the Clergy from 1979 to 1986, visited Lefebvre’s tomb, knelt down at it, prayed, afterwards saying aloud: “Merci, Monseigneur”. Thereafter Cardinal Oddi said he held Archbishop Lefebvre to have been ‘a holy man’ and suggested that the Society of St Pius X could be granted a personal prelature by the Holy See like that of Opus Dei. —Ibid.

 Lefebvre, the Council, the Mass…

The report which follows concerns a matter of great importance — a matter that cannot be dealt with in one email. I will try to follow the story as it unfolds, as it is, in some ways, the story of the Church, and her trials, in our age…

Yesterday, the Vatican Press Office released a little note which almost all observers agree marks a pivotal moment in one of the most important developing news stories in the Church, and in the world, at this time.

The note said that a letter had been received in the Vatican from the head of the Society of St. Pius X.

That is all the note said.

And yet, the internet and the press was soon filled with reports that this note marked a “breakthrough” in the multi-year process of negotiations between Rome and Society of St. Pius X, which is not in full communion with Rome.

Here is the text of the note, entitled: Communique of the Pontifical Commission “Ecclesia Dei” (a commission now under the auspices of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the chief doctrinal office in the Church).

The communique reads:

“The text of the response of His Excellency Bp. Bernard Fellay, Superior General of the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Pius X, requested during the meeting in the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith of March 16, 2012, was delivered on April 17, 2012. This text will be examined by the Dicastery and submitted afterwards to the judgment of the Holy Father.”

Why is this little note generating so much excitement?

Because many believe the note presages a solution to the break between Rome and the Society, and expect that solution to be announced within days, or weeks.

Some are even saying that this letter received, referred to in this note, is a “birthday present” to the Holy Father on his 85th birthday.

However, that goes beyond what we know for sure.

Father Federico Lombardi, S.J., the spokesman of the Holy Father, yesterday in the Press Office, had this to say (the following is a transcription of his oral comments to journalists; I bold-face the two phrases which are the “news” in this comment):

“Today’s news means that yesterday Bp. Fellay’s response, that had been requested by Cardinal Levada at the last meeting, was delivered to the Congregation, to the Ecclesia Dei Commission, to the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Now, this response, it is a reponse that, according to the words of those who could see it, is a very different response from the previous one, and this is encouraging, we proceed forward. But, naturally, we also find in the response the addition of some details or integrations to the text of the doctrinal preamble that had been proposed by the Congregation for a doctrinal agreement, and this response will be discussed, it will be examined first by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, in one of its meetings of the next few weeks and, afterwards, it will also naturally be examined directly by the Pope. It can be said that steps forward have been taken, that is to say, that the response, the new response, is rather encouraging, but there are still developments that will be made, and examined, and decisions that should be taken in the next few weeks. I think the wait will not be long because there is the desire to reach a conclusion in these discussions, in these contacts.”

A spokesman for the Society of St. Pius X was, if anything, even less positive about this letter than Lombardi. He said the following:

Communiqué of the General House of the Society of Saint Pius X

The media are announcing that Bishop Bernard Fellay has sent a “positive response” to the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and that consequently the doctrinal question between the Holy See and the Society of St. Pius X is now resolved.

The reality is different.

In a letter dated April 17, 2012, the Superior General of the Society of St. Pius X responded to the request for clarification that had been made to him on March 16 by Cardinal William Levada concerning the Doctrinal Preamble delivered on September 14, 2011. As the press release dated today [April 17] from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith indicates, the text of this response “will be examined by the dicastery then submitted to the Holy Father for his judgment”.

This is therefore a stage and not a conclusion.

Menzingen, April 18, 2012

How this matter is resolved — and how it will finally be resolved is still not at all clear — will have much to do with how Benedict XVI’s pontificate is viewed by future historians.

Benedict now finds himself at the center of many very powerful interests who will wish to sway his judgment as he decides this matter. For this reason, he will need our prayers.

But more important than the effect on the historical judgment of this pontificate, the way this matter is resolved will have a profound impact on the Church herself, on how she views herself and her mission in the world, in time, in history, and, therefore, on how the Church orients her activity and life with regard to the secular world outside of the Church.

The matter at issue is the traditionalist Society of St. Pius X and whether it will be received back into full communion with Rome, but the deeper question is the Second Vatican Council and how that Council should be interpreted.

Therefore, the matter directly concerns several hundred thousand Catholics who followed and sympathized with the French Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre, and who ended up in an irregular position on the edges of the Church — “Traditionalist Catholics,” they are labeled — after Lefebvre was suspended a divinis (from all sacramental activities) by Pope Paul VI in the 1970s, and then excommunicated latae sententiae (i.e., automatically) by Pope John Paul II in 1988, after he ordained four bishops against the Pope’s explicit request not to do so.

Lefebvre died in 1991. I did not know him personally, but I have spoken with cardinals who did know him, including with Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI). All have praised him for his upright moral character, his personal integrity, and his profound desire to be faithful to Catholic tradition; in short, for his personal goodness. Lefebvre was a missionary for many years in Africa, and then one of many bishops — for the sake of simplicity, let us say there were about 600 of them — who at the Second Vatican Council composed a “conservative” group concerned that the Council was moving too far, too fast. So he was by no means unique, or marginal, or “bizarre,” at that time. It is a sign of how rapidly and profoundly the times and mentalities have changed that he should be so regarded by some today. In the 1960s, he was well within the “norm” of a large group of bishops who agreed with him.

But, he was the only bishop who, after the Council, founded a functioning Society which had a structure capable of surviving over time, and of carrying on his ideas which, in effect, were the ideas of the 600 conservative Catholic bishops at the Council.

For those who loved and followed him, he was a modern St. Athanasius, alone against the world. (St. Athanasius in the 4th century was arrested, deposed from his see in Egypt, had to flee into exile, and was opposed by hundreds of bishops who had become Arian in their theology, that is, heretics, but was supported by the Pope of the time. That is why we speak of St. Athanasius as “Athanasius contra mundum” — Athanasius against the world. And when we speak of him using that phrase, we are praising him for his intransigence, for not giving in to the majority…)

(Note: In his biography of Lefebvre, The Horn of the Unicorn, David Allen White said that Lefebvre received a small number of votes — variously reported as three or “several” — in the August 1978 conclave that elected Pope John Paul I, a matter that, he said, caused some consternation among the cardinals, as Lefebvre was not a cardinal, and casting a vote for a non-cardinal in a papal election is unusual, although permitted by Church law.)

Joseph Ratzinger, who is now Pope Benedict, came to know Lefebvre well, for the two met personally to negotiate a possible agreement in the spring of 1988. (That negotiation was preceded by a 1987 investigatory visitation of the Lefebvre seminary at Econe and their houses and centers elsewhere by Cardinal Edouard Gagnon, whom I knew. Gagnon was impressed by the piety and discipline he observed.)

In fact, an agreement between Rome and Lefebvre was reached, and Lefebvre signed the agreement on May 5, 1988. The agreement would have avoided the schism that then occurred, and it suggests that Lefebvre found reason to trust Ratzinger enough to sign the agreement.

But that very night, Lefebvre, having returned to Albano outside of Rome — just next to Castel Gandolfo, the Pope’s summer residence — felt uneasy in spirit. His assistants told me that he stayed up late praying in his private chapel. He was on his knees for most of the night, asking for God’s guidance. (I went out to visit that chapel, and to talk to his assitants, not long after that night.)

In the morning, Lefebvre changed his mind. He felt, his assistants told me, that he could trust Cardinal Ratzinger, but not the Vatican, that the document he had signed allowed too much leeway for Vatican authorities to eventually influence who would become the leaders (the bishops) of his Society, and that the outwardly secure, safe agreement that Ratzinger had urged him to sign, and which he had agreed to sign, would slowly be unraveled, in time, by others, and that all his work would risk, eventually, being dismantled.

“He simply could not make a leap of trust,” one observer close to the negotiations told me.

But why could he not make that “leap” of trust?

Some argue that it was because of his character, that he was by nature a bit “rigid,” not “expansive” and trusting.

But others say there were solid reasons for his lack of trust. They note, especially, that he had observed how some actions in the Church had been “pushed through” even by almost violent means, breaking procedures previously agreed upon.

In order to understand this better, one must go back to the Council itself. And, in order to do that, I thought I needed to go talk with someone who had been present at the Council. So I went to talk to Monsignor Brunero Gherardini.

Gherardini lives inside the Vatican, in the Fabbrica of San Pietro, the palace between the Paul VI Hall and the back of St. Peter’s. He lives on the 5th floor.

He is a tall, slender, white haired-man with friendly eyes and a ready smile. He is almost 90, but his mind is crystal clear. He taught theology for decades at the Pontifical Lateran University. He is considered a “conservative” and some say he is the last great representative of the “Roman School” in theology.

I rang three times, and he wasn’t in — I was late for our meeting. I waiting five minutes, then left. I would have missed him, but he was walking into the archway below, with a newspaper he had gone out to purchase. “Hello!” he said. “Turn around and come back upstairs with me and we’ll talk.”

And so I joined him in his apartment. He moved two chairs until they faced each other, and we began to talk. We spoke of the Pope’s anniversary today, and then I asked about the possible reconciliation with the Lefebvrists. He said these days are historic, and he is hopeful of a good result.

Then I asked about the Council. Whenever I think about the Council, I said, I always have one image in my mind: an aging Cardinal Alfredo Ottaviani, now blind, about age 80, limping, the head of the Holy Office and so the chief doctrinal officer of the Church, born in Trastevere to parents who had many children, so a Roman from Rome, from the people of Rome, takes the microphone to speak to the 2,000 assembled bishops. And, as he speaks, pleading for the bishops to consider the texts the curia has spent three years preparing, suddenly his microphone was shut off. He kept speaking, but no one could hear a word. Then, puzzled and flustered, he stopped speaking, in confusion. And the assembled fathers began to laugh, and then to cheer…

“Yes,” Gherardini said. “And it was only the third day.”

“What?” I said.

“Ottaviani’s microphone was turned off on the third day of the Council.”

“On the third day?” I said. “I didn’t know that. I thought it was later, in November, after the progressive group became more organized…”

“No, it was the third day, October 13, 1962. The Council began on October 11.”

“Do you know who turned off the microphone?”

“Yes,” he said. “It was Cardinal Lienart of Lille, France.”

“But then,” I said, “it could almost be argued, perhaps, that such a breech of protocol, making it impossible for Ottaviani to make his arguments, somehow renders what came after, well, in a certain sense, improper…”

“Some people make that argument,” Gherardini replied.

Father Joseph Ratzinger was among the leaders of the progressive movement at the Council, along with Karl Rahner, Dominique Chenu, Yves Congar — “Congar was the master-mind of the group,” Gherardini said — and others.

But the ways of God are mysterious. Ratzinger failed to bring Lefebvre back into full communion with Rome in 1988, and in 2005, he was elected Pope — seven years ago today.

During his pontificate, one golden thread has been his effort to reverse that 1988 defeat, and to bring the Lefebvrists back into union with Rome.

On July 7, 2007, he promulgated Summorum Pontificum, against vociferous protests by many cardinals and bishops, encouraging free use throughout the Church of the traditional Tridentine liturgy.

And now, the final acts of the negotiation with the successors of Lefebvre are about to be played out.

(to be continued)

“Christ Is Risen, As He Said”

Rome was grey and cool this morning, but the sun broke out just before the consecration at Pope Benedict’s Easter Sunday Mass in St. Peter’s Square, bathing the square in light, and heat.

Some 200,000 people gathered in and near St. Peter's Square for Easter Mass at the Vatican. Photo credit: AP/Pier Paolo Cito

Cardinal Jean-Louis Tauran, one of the Vatican's top diplomats and the head of the Vatican's dialogue with Islam seemed to feel not well and could not continue to celebrate the papal Mass this morning.

In fact, one of the two con-celebrants with the Pope, Cardinal Jean-Louis Tauran, seemed to feel faint, and was helped to a seat near the altar to sit down, and he remained there, unable to complete the celebration of the Mass at the Pope’s side. (I was able to observe the incident from a few yards away.)

The other concelebrant was Cardinal Raymond Burke, an American, who is the head of the Apostolic Signature, the supreme court of appeals in the Catholic Church.

Who is Cardinal Tauran? He is one of the Vatican’s most learned, thoughtful and courageous diplomats. Born on April 3, 1943, he is a relatively young 69 years old. His career in the Church has been almost meteoric. Born and educated in France, he was made the Vatican’s Secretary for Relations with States of the Secretariat of State on December 1, 1990, by Pope John Paul II, at the young age of 47. He received his episcopal consecration on January 6, 1991, from John Paul II himself, with Archbishops Giovanni Battista Re and Justin Francis Rigali serving as co-consecrators, in St. Peter’s Basilica. As Secretary, Tauran  served, in effect, as the “foreign minister” of the Holy See. This put Tauran in the center of a number of tense conflicts, including the conflict bewteen the US-led coalition and Iraq. In regard to that conflict, he repeatedly emphasized the importance of dialogue and the role of the United Nations, and said that “a unilateral war of aggression would constitute a crime against peace and against the Geneva Conventions.”

He was elevated to the cardinalate in 2003, and is the current Cardinal Protodeacon.

Several years ago, he began to suffer from what is diagnosed as Parkinson’s Disease. However, because his condition seemed to be stable or improving, and because of his immense talent, in 2007 Pope Benedict chose him to be President of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue in the Roman Curia. In this office he also heads the Commission for Religious Relations with Muslims.

In recent years, Tauran been one of the clearest voices in the Church on behalf of dialogue, especially between the Church and Islam, as a way to increase mutual understanding and avoid tensions and possible bloodshed. Tauran made an historic trip to India last fall, and just a few days ago was in Nigeria for a week, participating in meetings with Muslims and in religious ceremonies in Lagos, Jos, and Kafanchan, where there have been violent clases between Muslims and Christians.

It is perhaps not by chance, then, that among the points touched upon by Pope Benedict was the need for dialogue and peace between Christians and Muslims in Nigeria.

Pope Benedict, though slightly hoarse in comparison to recent days, seemed strong despite a grueling schedule which included his 6-day trip to Mexico and Cuba two weeks ago, then a demanding series of Holy Week liturgies.

There was no homily during the Easter Sunday liturgy, just a moment of silence to reflect on the meaning of the Gospel account of the resurrection.

Then Benedict delivered his “Urbi et Orbi” (“To the city (of Rome) and to the world”) message, precisely at noon, from the main loggia in the middle of the facade of St. Peter’s Basilica, about 20 minutes after the end of the Mass. Here is the complete text of that message.

URBI ET ORBI GREETING OF POPE BENEDICT XVI
ST PETER’S SQUARE
EASTER SUNDAY
8 APRIL 2012

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Rome and throughout the world!

“Surrexit Christus, spes mea” – “Christ, my hope, has risen” (Easter Sequence).

May the jubilant voice of the Church reach all of you with the words which the ancient hymn puts on the lips of Mary Magdalene, the first to encounter the risen Jesus on Easter morning. She ran to the other disciples and breathlessly announced: “I have seen the Lord!” (Jn 20:18). We too, who have journeyed through the desert of Lent and the sorrowful days of the Passion, today raise the cry of victory: “He has risen! He has truly risen!”

Every Christian relives the experience of Mary Magdalene. It involves an encounter which changes our lives: the encounter with a unique Man who lets us experience all God’s goodness and truth, who frees us from evil not in a superficial and fleeting way, but sets us free radically, heals us completely and restores our dignity. This is why Mary Magdalene calls Jesus “my hope”: he was the one who allowed her to be reborn, who gave her a new future, a life of goodness and freedom from evil. “Christ my hope” means that all my yearnings for goodness find in him a real possibility of fulfilment: with him I can hope for a life that is good, full and eternal, for God himself has drawn near to us, even sharing our humanity.

But Mary Magdalene, like the other disciples, was to see Jesus rejected by the leaders of the people, arrested, scourged, condemned to death and crucified. It must have been unbearable to see Goodness in person subjected to human malice, truth derided by falsehood, mercy abused by vengeance. With Jesus’ death, the hope of all those who had put their trust in him seemed doomed. But that faith never completely failed: especially in the heart of the Virgin Mary, Jesus’ Mother, its flame burned even in the dark of night. In this world, hope can not avoid confronting the harshness of evil. It is not thwarted by the wall of death alone, but even more by the barbs of envy and pride, falsehood and violence. Jesus passed through this mortal mesh in order to open a path to the kingdom of life. For a moment Jesus seemed vanquished: darkness had invaded the land, the silence of God was complete, hope a seemingly empty word.

And lo, on the dawn of the day after the Sabbath, the tomb is found empty. Jesus then shows himself to Mary Magdalene, to the other women, to his disciples. Faith is born anew, more alive and strong than ever, now invincible since it is based on a decisive experience: “Death with life contended: combat strangely ended! Life’s own champion, slain, now lives to reign”. The signs of the resurrection testify to the victory of life over death, love over hatred, mercy over vengeance: “The tomb the living did enclose, I saw Christ’s glory as he rose! The angels there attesting, shroud with grave-clothes resting”.

Dear brothers and sisters! If Jesus is risen, then – and only then – has something truly new happened, something that changes the state of humanity and the world. Then he, Jesus, is someone in whom we can put absolute trust; we can put our trust not only in his message but in Jesus himself, for the Risen One does not belong to the past, but is present today, alive. Christ is hope and comfort in a particular way for those Christian communities suffering most for their faith on account of discrimination and persecution. And he is present as a force of hope through his Church, which is close to all human situations of suffering and injustice.

May the risen Christ grant hope to the Middle East and enable all the ethnic, cultural and religious groups in that region to work together to advance the common good and respect for human rights. Particularly in Syria, may there be an end to bloodshed and an immediate commitment to the path of respect, dialogue and reconciliation, as called for by the international community. May the many refugees from that country who are in need of humanitarian assistance find the acceptance and solidarity capable of relieving their dreadful sufferings. May the paschal victory encourage the Iraqi people to spare no effort in pursuing the path of stability and development. In the Holy Land, may Israelis and Palestinians courageously take up anew the peace process.

May the Lord, the victor over evil and death, sustain the Christian communities of the African continent; may he grant them hope in facing their difficulties, and make them peacemakers and agents of development in the societies to which they belong.

May the risen Jesus comfort the suffering populations of the Horn of Africa and favour their reconciliation; may he help the Great Lakes Region, Sudan and South Sudan, and grant their inhabitants the power of forgiveness. In Mali, now experiencing delicate political developments, may the glorious Christ grant peace and stability. To Nigeria, which in recent times has experienced savage terrorist attacks, may the joy of Easter grant the strength needed to take up anew the building of a society which is peaceful and respectful of the religious freedom of its citizens.

Happy Easter to all!

(Following the noontime message to a crowd which spilled over St. Peter’s Square and so must have been more than 200,000, the Pope delivered Easter greetings in 65 languages.)

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“Let There Be Light”

The night before, on Holy Saturday, the Holy Father presided over a majestic 3-hour liturgy inside St. Peter’s Basilica for the vigil of Easter.

(Below is the complete text of the Pope’s Easter Vigil homily.)

One thing I noted in the homily which struck me was the Pope’s use of a quotation of Christ’s words from a non-biblical source. Here is the passage:

“‘Whoever is close to me is close to the fire,’ as Jesus is reported by Origen to have said.” (I have bold-faced the passage in the text below; it is toward the end.)

The use of a citation of Christ’s words from a source outside of the Bible struck me as quite unusual. I am not able now to determine how unusual it is, but I do not recall another instance of it occurring in a papal address.

Usually, all citations of Christ’s words in papal discourses are taken from the scriptures, that is, from the Gospels, or the Epistles.

In this case, the words of Christ cited are not found in any of the Gospels, or Epistles, but only in one of the writings of Origen, a third century Christian theologian who was arguably one of the greatest theologians, and perhaps the greatest theogian, of the early centuries of the Church.

However, as a creative, brilliant theologian, Origen was also quite speculative, and in his speculations, he risked taking certain positions, especially in regard to the universal salvation of all souls, which were later judged to be heterodox or even heretical. And this, tragically, cast a certain shadow on all the great, marvellous corpus of Origen’s writings.

Therefore, Origen has, to my knowledge, not been cited often by previous pontiffs. (If I am wrong on this point, i will be happy to receive correction.)

Benedict XVI, however, has cited Origen on more than one occasion. This alone would be enough to raise some eyebrows, at least a tad. But last night, by citing Origen’s citation of a non-biblical expression of Jesus, Pope Benedict raised  some eyebrows — my own, anyway — a little bit further.

At the very least, what this suggests is that Benedict feels that it is possible that some citations of Christ’s words by early Church Fathers which do not appear anywhere in the Gospels or Epistles are actually worthy of being considered as authentic, or at least valuable and useful. If this is so, we logically must admit the possibility of expanding our search for Christ, for his authentic words, into writings outside of the Gospels and Epistles, which are of course canonical, and authoritative. Others will be more able than I am to comment further on this decision of the Pope, and what it may mean for biblical scholarship and for Christology; for the moment, I simply note that the Pope made this unusual citation.

After the Mass, as the basilica emptied, I was able to greet briefly near the altar a friend from Moscow, Russia, Archpriest Igor Vyzhanov, pastor of the Russian Orthodox Church of St. Catherine of Alexandria, which is on the grounds of the Russian Embassy to Italy. I first met him in 1999, in the Catholic cathedral in Moscow, and was with him when he met Pope John Paul II after a papal general audience in October, 2001.

I also had the privilege of meeting the US Ambassador to the Holy See, Miguel Diaz, and his wife, who also attended the Easter Vigil liturgy.

HOMILY OF POPE BENEDICT XVI
EASTER VIGIL OF THE LORD’S RESURRECTION
SAINT PETER’S BASILICA
7 APRIL 2012

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Easter is the feast of the new creation. Jesus is risen and dies no more. He has opened the door to a new life, one that no longer knows illness and death. He has taken mankind up into God himself. “Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God”, as Saint Paul says in the First Letter to the Corinthians (15:50).

On the subject of Christ’s resurrection and our resurrection, the Church writer Tertullian in the third century was bold enough to write: “Rest assured, flesh and blood, through Christ you have gained your place in heaven and in the Kingdom of God” (CCL II, 994).

A new dimension has opened up for mankind. Creation has become greater and broader. Easter Day ushers in a new creation, but that is precisely why the Church starts the liturgy on this day with the old creation, so that we can learn to understand the new one aright.

At the beginning of the Liturgy of the Word on Easter night, then, comes the account of the creation of the world. Two things are particularly important here in connection with this liturgy.

On the one hand, creation is presented as a whole that includes the phenomenon of time. The seven days are an image of completeness, unfolding in time. They are ordered towards the seventh day, the day of the freedom of all creatures for God and for one another. Creation is therefore directed towards the coming together of God and his creatures; it exists so as to open up a space for the response to God’s great glory, an encounter between love and freedom.

On the other hand, what the Church hears on Easter night is above all the first element of the creation account: “God said, ‘let there be light!’” (Gen 1:3). The creation account begins symbolically with the creation of light. The sun and the moon are created only on the fourth day. The creation account calls them lights, set by God in the firmament of heaven. In this way he deliberately takes away the divine character that the great religions had assigned to them.

No, they are not gods. They are shining bodies created by the one God. But they are preceded by the light through which God’s glory is reflected in the essence of the created being.

What is the creation account saying here? Light makes life possible. It makes encounter possible. It makes communication possible. It makes knowledge, access to reality and to truth, possible. And insofar as it makes knowledge possible, it makes freedom and progress possible. Evil hides. Light, then, is also an expression of the good that both is and creates brightness.

It is daylight, which makes it possible for us to act.

To say that God created light means that God created the world as a space for knowledge and truth, as a space for encounter and freedom, as a space for good and for love. Matter is fundamentally good, being itself is good. And evil does not come from God-made being, rather, it comes into existence through denial. It is a “no”.

At Easter, on the morning of the first day of the week, God said once again: “Let there be light”.

The night on the Mount of Olives, the solar eclipse of Jesus’ passion and death, the night of the grave had all passed.

Now it is the first day once again – creation is beginning anew. “Let there be light”, says God, “and there was light”: Jesus rises from the grave.

Life is stronger than death. Good is stronger than evil. Love is stronger than hate. Truth is stronger than lies.

The darkness of the previous days is driven away the moment Jesus rises from the grave and himself becomes God’s pure light. But this applies not only to him, not only to the darkness of those days.

With the resurrection of Jesus, light itself is created anew. He draws all of us after him into the new light of the resurrection and he conquers all darkness. He is God’s new day, new for all of us.

But how is this to come about? How does all this affect us so that instead of remaining word it becomes a reality that draws us in? Through the sacrament of baptism and the profession of faith, the Lord has built a bridge across to us, through which the new day reaches us.

The Lord says to the newly-baptized: Fiat lux – let there be light. God’s new day – the day of indestructible life, comes also to us. Christ takes you by the hand. From now on you are held by him and walk with him into the light, into real life. For this reason the early Church called baptism photismos – illumination.

Why was this? The darkness that poses a real threat to mankind, after all, is the fact that he can see and investigate tangible material things, but cannot see where the world is going or whence it comes, where our own life is going, what is good and what is evil.

The darkness enshrouding God and obscuring values is the real threat to our existence and to the world in general. If God and moral values, the difference between good and evil, remain in darkness, then all other “lights”, that put such incredible technical feats within our reach, are not only progress but also dangers that put us and the world at risk.

Today we can illuminate our cities so brightly that the stars of the sky are no longer visible. Is this not an image of the problems caused by our version of enlightenment?

With regard to material things, our knowledge and our technical accomplishments are legion, but what reaches beyond, the things of God and the question of good, we can no longer identify.

Faith, then, which reveals God’s light to us, is the true enlightenment, enabling God’s light to break into our world, opening our eyes to the true light.

Dear friends, as I conclude, I would like to add one more thought about light and illumination. On Easter night, the night of the new creation, the Church presents the mystery of light using a unique and very humble symbol: the Paschal candle. This is a light that lives from sacrifice. The candle shines inasmuch as it is burnt up. It gives light, inasmuch as it gives itself.

Thus the Church presents most beautifully the paschal mystery of Christ, who gives himself and so bestows the great light.

Secondly, we should remember that the light of the candle is a fire. Fire is the power that shapes the world, the force of transformation. And fire gives warmth.

Here too the mystery of Christ is made newly visible. Christ, the light, is fire, flame, burning up evil and so reshaping both the world and ourselves. “Whoever is close to me is close to the fire,” as Jesus is reported by Origen to have said. And this fire is both heat and light: not a cold light, but one through which God’s warmth and goodness reach down to us.

The great hymn of the Exsultet, which the deacon sings at the beginning of the Easter liturgy, points us quite gently towards a further aspect. It reminds us that this object, the candle, has its origin in the work of bees. So the whole of creation plays its part.

In the candle, creation becomes a bearer of light. But in the mind of the Fathers, the candle also in some sense contains a silent reference to the Church. The cooperation of the living community of believers in the Church in some way resembles the activity of bees. It builds up the community of light. So the candle serves as a summons to us to become involved in the community of the Church, whose raison d’être is to let the light of Christ shine upon the world.

Let us pray to the Lord at this time that he may grant us to experience the joy of his light; let us pray that we ourselves may become bearers of his light, and that through the Church, Christ’s radiant face may enter our world (cf. LG 1). Amen.

“It is not for man to seek, or even to believe in God. He has only to refuse to believe in everything that is not God. This refusal does not presuppose belief. It is enough to recognize, what is obvious to any mind, that all the goods of this world, past, present, or future, real or imaginary, are finite and limited and radically incapable of satisfying the desire which burns perpetually with in us for an infinite and perfect good… It is not a matter of self-questioning or searching. A man has only to persist in his refusal, and one day or another God will come to him.” —Simone Weil, the great French Jewish mystic who died in 1943 at the age of 34, On Science, Necessity and the Love of God, edited by Richard Rees, London, Oxford University Press, 1968.

“The concept of ‘hidden God’ (Deus absconditus) and the image of a weak or absent deity in history have been the subject of philosophical and theological debate after the tragedy of the Shoah. One question in particular has emerged: ‘Why did God allow Auschwitz?’… Rabbi Richard L. Rubenstein (1924- ) has written that the Holocaust has challenged the content of the Biblical covenant, together with the concept of divine omnipotence. The philosopher Emil Fackenheim (1916-2003) in his work has emphasized that the traditional philosophical and theological categories are insufficient to understand the Holocaust.” —Alberto Castaldini, The Hidden God and History: Philosophical and Theological Perspectives on the Holocaust, “Babeş-Bolyai” University – Cluj-Napoca, Romania, Faculty of European Studies, Ph.D. Dissertation, 2012

“When in Matthew’s account the ‘whole people’ say: ‘His blood be on us and on our children’ (27:25), the Christian will remember that Jesus’ blood speaks a different language from the blood of Abel (Heb 12:24): it does not cry out for vengeance and punishment; it brings reconciliation. It is not poured out against anyone; it is poured out for many, for all. ‘All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God… God put [Jesus] forward as an expiation by his blood’ (Rom 3:23, 25). Just as Caiaphas’ words about the need for Jesus’ death have to be read in an entirely new light from the perspective of faith, the same applies to Matthew’s reference to blood: read in the light of faith, it means that we all stand in need of the purifying power of love which is his blood. These words are not a curse, but rather redemption, salvation. Only when understood in terms of the theology of the Last Supper and the Cross, drawn from the whole of the New Testament, does this verse from Matthew’s Gospel take on its correct meaning.”
― Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth: From the Entrance Into Jerusalem to the Resurrection

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On Pilgrimage: From Assisi to Norcia…

Among the other great questions raised by Holy Week, are those, and cannot see or know him? How can the Jewish people belive in god, or the Covenant with Abraham, after the Holocaust? And why did so many of the Jewish people reject Christ, and ask Pilate to proceed to his crucifixion, during his trial 2,000 years ago?

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Today in Rome, Pope Benedict celebrated two liturgies, one a Chrism Mass in St. Peter’s Basilica, the other the Mass of the Lord’s Supper in St. John Lateran.

At the Chrism Mass, priests renew their ordination vows, and the oils used in liturgies throughout the year are blessed.

Today Benedict took the occasion to criticize a recent call by a group of priests in Austria to disobey a number of traditional Church teachings. Here is a link to a video of his homily, followed by key excerpts:

Benedict XVI:
“Recently a group of priests from a European country issued a summons to disobedience, and at the same time gave concrete examples of the forms this disobedience might take.”

(Among other points, the Austrian group has called for the ordination of women.)

Benedict XVI:
“But is disobedience really a way to do this? Do we sense here anything of that configuration to Christ which is the precondition for true renewal, or do we merely sense a desperate push to do something to change the Church in accordance with one’s own preferences and ideas?”

He called on priests to be holy, encouraging them to find inspiration through holy priests that have gone before them, mentioning Ignatius of Loyola and John Paul II.

Benedict XVI:
“The saints show us how renewal works and how we can place ourselves at its service. And they help us realize that God is not concerned so much with great numbers and with outward successes, but achieves his victories under the humble sign of the mustard seed.”

Benedict XVI:
“We preach not private theories and opinions, but the faith of the Church, of which we are servants.”

Roughly 1,600 priests attended the Mass.

Also today, Benedict XVI celebrated Mass at the Basilica of St. John Lateran. The Mass commemorates Jesus’ Last Supper.  During the celebration, the Pope washed the feet of 12 priests, as a reflection Jesus’ teaching.

During his homily, the Pope explained Jesus’ prayer at the Mount of Olives.

FULL TEXT OF BENEDICT XVI’s HOMILY – BELOW

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From Assisi to Norcia

We journeyed today, a group of pilgrims, from Assisi to Norcia, to begin the celebration of the Easter Triddum with the Benedictine monks of a recently re-established monastery in Norcia, birthplace of St. Benedict, the founder of the order, and the father of Western monsaticism.

Before we left Assisi, we met briefly near the Portiuncola, the little chapel built by St. Francis 800 years ago, with an Italian friar named Brother Alessandro, 34, who was filled with the joy of St. Francis, the joy of loving God above all else, and communicated that joy to us.

We then took the winding road through craggy mountain passes to Norcia, arriving in a grey afternoon with light rain.

We were met by Father Cassian Folsom, an American, who is living his life according to a different charism than that of the Franciscans, and is attracting ever greater attention around the world as one of the leading spirits in the 21st century renewal of Benedictine monasticism. Some in Norcia tell me they believe he is a saint.

Father Cassian spoke to our group briefly about the meaning of the washing of the feet.

The monks invited the men in our group to have our feet ceremonially washed during the liturgy, and we agreed.

The marble floor of the church was cold to my unshod foot, and the humility of the priest, Father Benedict, who washed my foot, then kissed it, moved me deeply…

(to be continued…)

FULL TEXT OF BENEDICT XVI’s HOMILY 

Dear Brothers and Sisters!

Holy Thursday is not only the day of the institution of the Most Holy Eucharist, whose splendour bathes all else and in some ways draws it to itself.

To Holy Thursday also belongs the dark night of the Mount of Olives, to which Jesus goes with his disciples; the solitude and abandonment of Jesus, who in prayer goes forth to encounter the darkness of death; the betrayal of Judas, Jesus’ arrest and his denial by Peter; his indictment before the Sanhedrin and his being handed over to the Gentiles, to Pilate.

Let us try at this hour to understand more deeply something of these events, for in them the mystery of our redemption takes place.

Jesus goes forth into the night.

Night signifies lack of communication, a situation where people do not see one another. It is a symbol of incomprehension, of the obscuring of truth.

It is the place where evil, which has to hide before the light, can grow.

Jesus himself is light and truth, communication, purity and goodness. He enters into the night.

Night is ultimately a symbol of death, the definitive loss of fellowship and life. Jesus enters into the night in order to overcome it and to inaugurate the new Day of God in the history of humanity.

On the way, he sang with his disciples Israel’s psalms of liberation and redemption, which evoked the first Passover in Egypt, the night of liberation.

Now he goes, as was his custom, to pray in solitude and, as Son, to speak with the Father. But, unusually, he wants to have close to him three disciples: Peter, James and John. These are the three who had experienced his Transfiguration – when the light of God’s glory shone through his human figure – and had seen him standing between the Law and the Prophets, between Moses and Elijah.

They had heard him speaking to both of them about his “exodus” to Jerusalem.

Jesus’ exodus to Jerusalem – how mysterious are these words! Israel’s exodus from Egypt had been the event of escape and liberation for God’s People.

What would be the form taken by the exodus of Jesus, in whom the meaning of that historic drama was to be definitively fulfilled?

The disciples were now witnessing the first stage of that exodus — the utter abasement which was nonetheless the essential step of the going forth to the freedom and new life which was the goal of the exodus.

The disciples, whom Jesus wanted to have close to him as an element of human support in that hour of extreme distress, quickly fell asleep. Yet they heard some fragments of the words of Jesus’ prayer and they witnessed his way of acting. Both were deeply impressed on their hearts and they transmitted them to Christians for all time.

Jesus called God “Abba.” The word means — as they add — “Father.” Yet it is not the usual form of the word “father,” but rather a children’s word — an affectionate name which one would not have dared to use in speaking to God. It is the language of the one who is truly a “child,” the Son of the Father, the one who is conscious of being in communion with God, in deepest union with him.

If we ask ourselves what is most characteristic of the figure of Jesus in the Gospels, we have to say that it is his relationship with God. He is constantly in communion with God. Being with the Father is the core of his personality. Through Christ we know God truly.

“No one has ever seen God,” says Saint John. The one “who is close to the Father’s heart … has made him known” (1:18).

Now we know God as he truly is. He is Father, and this in an absolute goodness to which we can entrust ourselves.

The evangelist Mark, who has preserved the memories of Saint Peter, relates that Jesus, after calling God “Abba,” went on to say: “Everything is possible for you. You can do all things” (cf. 14:36). The one who is Goodness is at the same time Power; he is all-powerful. Power is goodness and goodness is power. We can learn this trust from Jesus’ prayer on the Mount of Olives.

Before reflecting on the content of Jesus’ petition, we must still consider what the evangelists tell us about Jesus’ posture during his prayer.

Matthew and Mark tell us that he “threw himself on the ground” (Mt 26:39; cf. Mk 14:35), thus assuming a posture of complete submission, as is preserved in the Roman liturgy of Good Friday. Luke, on the other hand, tells us that Jesus prayed on his knees. In the Acts of the Apostles, he speaks of the saints praying on their knees: Stephen during his stoning, Peter at the raising of someone who had died, Paul on his way to martyrdom. In this way Luke has sketched a brief history of prayer on one’s knees in the early Church.

Christians, in kneeling, enter into Jesus’ prayer on the Mount of Olives. When menaced by the power of evil, as they kneel, they are upright before the world, while as sons and daughters, they kneel before the Father. Before God’s glory we Christians kneel and acknowledge his divinity; by that posture we also express our confidence that he will prevail.

Jesus struggles with the Father. He struggles with himself. And he struggles for us.

He experiences anguish before the power of death.

First and foremost this is simply the dread natural to every living creature in the face of death. In Jesus, however, something more is at work. His gaze peers deeper, into the nights of evil. He sees the filthy flood of all the lies and all the disgrace which he will encounter in that chalice from which he must drink.

His is the dread of one who is completely pure and holy as he sees the entire flood of this world’s evil bursting upon him.

He also sees me, and he prays for me.

This moment of Jesus’ mortal anguish is thus an essential part of the process of redemption. Consequently, the Letter to the Hebrews describes the struggle of Jesus on the Mount of Olives as a priestly event. In this prayer of Jesus, pervaded by mortal anguish, the Lord performs the office of a priest: he takes upon himself the sins of humanity, of us all, and he brings us before the Father.

Lastly, we must also pay attention to the content of Jesus’ prayer on the Mount of Olives. Jesus says: “Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet not what I want, but what you want” (Mk 14:36).

The natural will of the man Jesus recoils in fear before the enormity of the matter. He asks to be spared.

Yet as the Son, he places this human will into the Father’s will: not I, but you. In this way he transformed the stance of Adam, the primordial human sin, and thus heals humanity.

The stance of Adam was: not what you, O God, have desired; rather, I myself want to be a god.

This pride is the real essence of sin. We think we are free and truly ourselves only if we follow our own will. God appears as the opposite of our freedom. We need to be free of him — so we think — and only then will we be free.

This is the fundamental rebellion present throughout history and the fundamental lie which perverts life. When human beings set themselves against God, they set themselves against the truth of their own being and consequently do not become free, but alienated from themselves. We are free only if we stand in the truth of our being, if we are united to God.

Then we become truly “like God” — not by resisting God, eliminating him, or denying him. In his anguished prayer on the Mount of Olives, Jesus resolved the false opposition between obedience and freedom, and opened the path to freedom. Let us ask the Lord to draw us into this “yes” to God’s will, and in this way to make us truly free. Amen.