The Church of Mercy (3 page)

Now I am going to speak about three things: one, two, three, the way the old-fashioned Jesuits did . . . One, two, three!

First of all, to start anew from Christ means
being close to him
, being close to Jesus. Jesus stresses the importance of this with the disciples at the Last Supper, as he prepares to give us his own greatest gift of love, his sacrifice on the cross. Jesus uses the image of the vine and the branches and says,
Abide in my love, remain attached to me, as the branch is attached to the vine
. If we are joined to him, then we are able to bear fruit. This is what it means to be close to Christ. Abide in Jesus! This means remaining attached to him, in him, and with him, talking to him. Abide in Jesus!

The first thing for a disciple is to be with the Master, to listen to him and learn from him. This is always true, and it is true at every moment of our lives. I remember, in the diocese, the diocese I had first, how I would often see catechists finish their training courses and say, “I have the title of catechist!” This means nothing; you have nothing, you took a little journey. What good will it do you? But one thing is true. Being a catechist is not a title; it is an attitude of abiding with him, and it lasts for a lifetime! It means abiding in the Lord’s presence and letting ourselves be led by him.

I ask you: How do you abide in the presence of the Lord? When you visit the Lord, when you look at the tabernacle, what do you do? Without speaking . . . “But I speak, I talk, I think, I meditate, I listen . . .” Very good! But do you let yourself be looked at by the Lord? [May we let] ourselves be gazed upon by the Lord. He looks at us, and this is itself a way of praying. Do you allow yourselves to be gazed upon by the Lord? But how do you do this? You look at the tabernacle and you let yourselves be looked at . . . it is simple! “It is a bit boring; I fall asleep.” Fall asleep then, sleep! He is still looking at you. But know for sure that he is looking at you! This is much more important than having the title of catechist. It is part of “being” a catechist. This warms the heart, igniting the fire of friendship with the Lord, making you feel that he truly sees you, that he is close to you and loves you.

In one of my visits here in Rome, at a Mass, a fairly young man came up to me and said, “Father, it is nice to meet you, but I don’t believe in anything! I don’t have the gift of faith!” He understood that faith is a gift. “I don’t have the gift of faith! What do you have to say to me?”

“Don’t be discouraged,” I said. “God loves you. Let yourself be gazed upon by him! Nothing else.” And this is the same thing I would say to you: let yourselves be gazed at by the Lord! I understand that for you it is not so easy, especially for those who are married and have children, it is difficult to find a long period of quiet time. Yet, thanks be to God, it is not necessary for everyone to do this in the same way. In the Church, there are a variety of vocations and a variety of spiritualities. What is important is to find the way best suited for you to
be with the Lord
, and this everyone can do; it is possible for every state of life. Now each one of you could ask, how am I experiencing “being” with Jesus? This is a question I leave you: “How do I experience this remaining with Jesus, abiding in Jesus? Do I find time to remain in his presence, in silence, to be looked upon by him? Do I let his fire warm my heart?” If the warmth of God, of his love, of his tenderness, is not in our own hearts, then how can we, who are poor sinners, warm the heart of others? Think about it!

The second element is this: starting anew with Christ means
imitating him by leaving ourselves behind and going out to encounter others
. This is a beautiful experience, and yet a paradox. Why? Because when we put Christ at the center of our life, we ourselves don’t become the center! The more that you unite yourself to Christ and he becomes the center of your life, the more he leads you out of yourself, leads you from making yourself the center and opens you to others. This is the true dynamism of love; this is the movement of God himself! God is the center, but he is always self-gift, relationship, love that gives itself away . . . and this is what we will become if we remain united to Christ. He will draw us into this dynamism of love. Where there is true life in Christ, there follows an openness to others, and so a going out from oneself to encounter others in the name of Christ. And this is the job of the catechist: constantly to go forth to others out of love, to bear witness to Jesus and to talk about Jesus, to proclaim Jesus. This is important because the Lord does it; it is the Lord himself who impels us to go forth.

The heart of a catechist always beats with this systolic and diastolic movement: union with Christ, encounter with others. Both of these: I am one with Jesus, and I go forth to encounter others. If one of these movements is missing, the heart no longer beats; it can no longer live. The heart of the catechist receives the gift of the
kerygma
and in turn offers it to others as a gift. What a little word:
gift
! The catechist is conscious of having received a gift, the gift of faith, and he or she then gives that gift in turn to others. This is something beautiful. We don’t keep a percentage for ourselves! Whatever we receive, we give! This is not commerce! It is not a business! It is pure gift: a gift received and a gift given. And the catechist is right there, at the center of this exchange of gifts. That is the nature itself of the
kerygma
: it is a gift that generates mission, that compels us to go beyond ourselves.

St. Paul says that “the love of Christ compels us,” but this “compels us” can also be translated as “possesses us.” And so it is: love attracts us and sends us; it draws us in and gives us to others. This tension marks the beating of the heart of the Christian, especially the heart of the catechist. Let us all ask ourselves, Is this what causes my heart to beat as a catechist, union with Christ and encounter with others? With this movement of systole and diastole? Are we being fed by our relationship with the Lord, so that we can bring him to others, and not keep it for ourselves? I’ll tell you, I don’t understand how a catechist can remain stationary, without this movement. I don’t understand!

The third element is along these lines: starting anew with Christ means
not being afraid to go with him to the outskirts
. Here I think of the story of Jonah, a really interesting figure, especially for these times of great change and uncertainty. Jonah is a devout man, with a tranquil and ordered life, which causes him to have a clear-cut way of seeing things and to judge everything and everyone accordingly. He has it all figured out: this is the truth! He is rigid! So, when the Lord calls him and tells him to go and preach to Nineveh, the great pagan city, Jonah doesn’t like it. “Go there? But I have the whole truth here!” He doesn’t like it. Nineveh is outside his comfort zone; it is on the outskirts of his world. So he escapes, he sets off for Spain; he runs away and boards a ship that will take him there. Go and reread the book of Jonah! It is short, but it is a very instructive parable, especially for those of us in the Church.

What does all this teach us? It teaches us not to be afraid to pass beyond our comfort zone and to follow God, because God is always pushing, pressing forward. But do you know something? God is not afraid! Do you realize this? He isn’t afraid. He is always bigger than our little way of seeing things! God is not afraid of the outskirts. If you go to the outskirts, you will find him there. God is always faithful and creative. But, really, is there such a thing as a catechist who is not creative? Creativity is what sustains us as catechists. God is creative; he is not closed, and so he is never inflexible. God is not rigid! He welcomes us, he meets us, he understands us.

To be faithful, to be creative, we need to be able to change. To change! And why must I change? So that I can adapt to the situations in which I must proclaim the Gospel. To stay close to God, we need to know how to set out; we must not be afraid to set out. If a catechist gives in to fear, then he or she is a coward. If a catechist has an easy time of it, he or she will end up being a statue in a museum. We have a lot of these! Please, no more statues in the museum! If a catechist is rigid, he or she will dry up and wither. I ask you: Do any of you want to be a coward, a statue in a museum, dried up and withered? Is that what you want to be? [The catechists reply, “No!”] No? Are you sure? Good! I am now going to say something I have already said many times before, but it comes from the heart.

Whenever we Christians are enclosed in our groups, our movements, our parishes, in our little worlds, we remain closed, and the same thing happens to us that happens to anything closed: when a room is closed, it begins to get dank. If a person is closed up in that room, he or she becomes ill! Whenever Christians are enclosed in their groups, parishes, and movements, they take ill. If a Christian goes to the streets, or to the outskirts, he or she may risk the same thing that can happen to anyone out there: an accident. How often have we seen accidents on the road! But I am telling you: I would prefer a thousand times over a bruised Church to an ill Church! A Church, a catechist, with the courage to risk going out, and not a catechist who is studious, who knows everything but is always closed—such a person is not well. And sometimes he or she is not well in the head . . .

But, careful! Jesus does not say,
Go off and do things on your own
. No! That is not what he is saying. Jesus says,
Go, for I am with you!
This is what is so beautiful for us; it is what guides us. If we go out to bring his Gospel with love, with a true apostolic spirit, with parrhesia, he walks with us, he goes ahead of us, and he gets there first. As we say in Spanish,
nos primerea
. By now you know what I mean by this. It is the same thing that the Bible tells us. In the Bible, the Lord says:
I am like the flower of the almond
. Why? Because that is the first flower to blossom in the spring. He is always the first! This is fundamental for us: God is always ahead of us! When we think about going far away, to an extreme outskirt, we may be a bit afraid, but in fact God is already there. Jesus is waiting for us in the hearts of our brothers and sisters, in their wounded bodies, in their hardships, in their lack of faith. But can I tell you about one of the “outskirts” which breaks my heart? I saw it in my first diocese. It is children who don’t even know how to make the sign of the cross. In Buenos Aires there are many children who can’t make the sign of the cross. This is one of the “outskirts”! And Jesus is there, waiting for you to help that child make the sign of the cross. He’s always there first.

Dear catechists, I have made my three points. Always start anew from Christ! I thank you for everything that you do, but above all, because you are part of the Church, the pilgrim People of God, and you accompany God’s people on that pilgrimage. Let us remain with Christ—abiding in Christ—and let us always try to be one with him. Let us follow him; let us imitate him in his movement of love, in his going forth to meet humanity. Let us go forth and open doors. Let us have the audacity to mark out new paths for proclaiming the Gospel.

Our faith in Christ, who became poor, and was always close to the poor and the outcast, is the basis of our concern for the integral development of society’s most neglected members.

Each individual Christian and every community is called to be an instrument of God for the liberation and promotion of the poor, and for enabling them to be fully a part of society. This demands that we be docile and attentive to the cry of the poor and come to their aid. A mere glance at the Scriptures is enough to make us see how our gracious Father wants to hear the cry of the poor: “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them . . . so I will send you” (Exod. 3:7–8, 10). We also see how he is concerned for their needs: “When the Israelites cried out to the Lord, the Lord raised up for them a deliverer” (Judg. 3:15). If we, who are God’s means of hearing the poor, turn deaf ears to this plea, we oppose the Father’s will and his plan; that poor person “might cry to the Lord against you, and you would incur guilt” (Deut. 15:9). A lack of solidarity toward his or her needs will directly affect our relationship with God: “For if in bitterness of soul he calls down a curse upon you, his Creator will hear his prayer” (Sir. 4:6). The old question always returns: “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods, and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” (1 John 3:17). Let us recall also how bluntly the apostle James speaks of the cry of the oppressed: “The wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts” (James 5:4).

The Church has realized that the need to heed this plea is itself born of the liberating action of grace within each of us, and thus it is not a question of a mission reserved only for a few: “The Church, guided by the Gospel of mercy and by love for humankind,
hears the cry for justice
and intends to respond to it with all her might.” In this context we can understand Jesus’ command to his disciples: “You yourselves give them something to eat!” (Mark 6:37). This means working to eliminate the structural causes of poverty and to promote the integral development of the poor, as well as small daily acts of solidarity in meeting the real needs we encounter. The word
solidarity
is a little worn and at times poorly understood, but it refers to something more than a few sporadic acts of generosity. It presumes the creation of a new mind-set that thinks in terms of community and the priority of the life of all over the appropriation of goods by a few.

For the Church, the option for the poor is primarily a theological category rather than a cultural, sociological, political, or philosophical one. God shows the poor “his first mercy.” This divine preference has consequences for the faith life of all Christians, because we are called to have “this mind . . . which was in Jesus Christ” (Phil. 2:5). Inspired by this, the Church has made an
option for the poor
, which is understood as a “special form of primacy in the exercise of Christian charity, to which the whole tradition of the Church bears witness.” This option—as Benedict XVI has taught—“is implicit in our Christian faith in a God who became poor for us, so as to enrich us with his poverty.” This is why I want a Church that is poor and for the poor. They have much to teach us. Not only do they share in the
sensus fidei
, but in their difficulties they know the suffering Christ. We need to let ourselves be evangelized by them. The new evangelization is an invitation to acknowledge the saving power at work in their lives and to put them at the center of the Church’s pilgrim way. We are called to find Christ in them, to lend our voice to their causes, but also to be their friends, to listen to them, to speak for them, and to embrace the mysterious wisdom that God wishes to share with us through them.