Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger's
Homily before the Conclave
Jesus Christ:
"The Measure of True Humanism"
Mass Readings:
Isaiah 61:1-3a. 6a. 8b-9
Ephesians 4:11-16
John 15:9-17
At this hour of great responsibility, let us listen with particular attention
to what the Lord says to us in his own words. I would like to choose only
a passage of the three readings, which affects us directly in a moment such
as this.
The first reading offers a prophetic portrait of the figure of the Messiah,
a portrait that attains all its meaning at the moment when Jesus reads this
text in the synagogue of Nazareth, when he says: "Today this scripture
has been fulfilled in your hearing" (Luke 4:21). At the heart of this
prophetic text, we find a phrase that, at least at first glance, seems contradictory.
In speaking of himself, the Messiah says that he has been sent "to proclaim
the year of the Lord's favor, on the day of vengeance of our God" (Isaiah
61:2).
We listen with joy to the proclamation of the year of mercy: Divine mercy
puts a limit to evil, the Holy Father said to us. Jesus Christ is divine mercy
in person: To find Christ means to find the mercy of God. Christ's mandate
has become our mandate through priestly unction; we are called to promulgate
not only with words but also with our life and with the effective signs of
the sacraments "the year of the Lord's favor."
But what does Isaiah mean when he proclaims "the day of vengeance of
our God"? When reading the prophetic text in Nazareth, Jesus did not
pronounce these words; he concluded by proclaiming the year of favor. Was
this, perhaps, the reason for the scandal that took place after his preaching?
We do not know. In any case, the Lord gave his authentic commentary to these
words with his death on the cross. "He himself bore our sins in his body
on the tree," says St. Peter (1 Peter 2:24). And St. Paul writes to the
Galatians: "Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become
a curse for us -- for it is written, 'Cursed be every one who hangs on a tree'
-- that in Christ Jesus the blessings of Abraham might come upon the gentiles,
that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith" (Galatians
3:13).
The mercy of Christ is not a cheap grace; it does not imply the trivialization
of evil. Christ bore in his body and soul all the weight of evil, all its
destructive force. The day of vengeance and the year of favor coincide in
the paschal mystery, in Christ, dead and risen. This is the vengeance of God:
He himself, in the person of the Son, suffered for us. The more we are touched
by the mercy of the Lord, the more we are in solidarity with his suffering,
the more disposed we are to complete in our flesh "what is lacking in
Christ's afflictions" (Colossians 1:24).
Let us go on to the second reading, the letter of Paul to the Ephesians. It
addresses essentially three arguments: in the first place, the ministries
and charisms of the Church, as gifts of the risen Lord ascended to heaven;
then maturity in faith and in knowledge of the Son of God, as condition and
content of unity in the body of Christ; and, finally, the common participation
in the growth of the Body of Christ, that is, the transformation of the world
in communion with the Lord.
Let us reflect on two points. The first is the path to the "maturity
of Christ," as it states, simplifying the text in Italian. More concretely,
we would have to speak, according to the Greek text, of the "measure
of the fullness of Christ," which we are called to attain to truly be
adults in the faith. We should not remain as children in the faith, in the
state of minors. And what does it mean to be children in the faith? St. Paul
answers: It means to be "tossed to and from and carried about with every
wind of doctrine" (Ephesians 4:14). A very timely description!
How many winds of doctrine we have known in these last decades, how many ideological
currents, how many fashions of thought? The small boat of thought of many
Christians has often remained agitated by the waves, tossed from one extreme
to the other: from Marxism to liberalism, to libertinism; from collectivism
to radical individualism; from atheism to a vague religious mysticism; from
agnosticism to syncretism, etc.
Every day new sects are born and we see realized what St. Paul says on the
deception of men, on the cunning that tends to lead into error (cf. Ephesians
4:14). To have a clear faith, according to the creed of the Church, is often
labeled as fundamentalism. While relativism, that is, allowing oneself to
be carried about with every wind of "doctrine," seems to be the
only attitude that is fashionable. A dictatorship of relativism is being constituted
that recognizes nothing as absolute and which only leaves the "I"
and its whims as the ultimate measure.
We have another measure: the Son of God, true man. He is the measure of true
humanism. "Adult" is not a faith that follows the waves in fashion
and the latest novelty. Adult and mature is a faith profoundly rooted in friendship
with Christ. This friendship opens us to all that is good and gives us the
measure to discern between what is true and what is false, between deceit
and truth.
We must mature in this adult faith; we must lead the flock of Christ to this
faith. And this faith, the only faith, creates unity and takes place in charity.
St. Paul offers us a beautiful phrase, in opposition to the continual ups
and downs of those who are like children tossed by the waves, to bring about
truth in charity, as fundamental formula of Christian existence. Truth and
charity coincide in Christ. In the measure that we come close to Christ, also
in our life, truth and charity are fused. Charity without truth would be blind;
truth without charity would be like "a clanging cymbal" (1 Corinthians
13:1).
Let us now turn to the Gospel, from whose richness I would like to draw only
two small observations. The Lord addresses these wonderful words to us: "No
longer do I call you servants ... but I have called you friends" (John
15:15). Many times we simply feel like useless servants, and it is true (cf.
Luke 17:10). And, despite this, the Lord calls us friends; he makes us his
friends; he gives us his friendship. The Lord defines friendship in two ways.
There are no secrets between friends: Christ tells us everything he hears
from the Father; he gives us his full confidence and, with confidence, also
knowledge. He reveals his face to us, his heart. He shows us his tenderness
for us, his passionate love that goes to the folly of the cross.
He gives us his confidence; he gives us the power to speak with his I: "This
is my body," and "I absolve you." He entrusts his body to us,
the Church. He entrusts his truth to our weak minds, our weak hands, the mystery
of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; the mystery of the God who "so
loved the world that he gave his only Son" (John 3:16). He has made us
his friends and, we, how do we respond?
The second element with which Jesus defines friendship is the communion of
wills. "Idem velle -- idem nolle," was also for Romans the definition
of friendship. "You are my friends if you do what I command you"
(John 15:14). Friendship with Christ coincides with what the third petition
of the Our Father expresses: "Thy will be done, on earth as it is in
heaven."
In the hour of Gethsemane, Jesus transformed our rebellious human will in
a will conformed and united with the divine will. He suffered all the drama
of our autonomy and, in carrying our will in God's hands, he gave us true
freedom: "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will" (Matthew
26:39). In this communion of wills our redemption takes place: to be friends
of Jesus, to become friends of God. The more we love Jesus, the more we know
him, and the more our genuine freedom grows, as well as the joy of being redeemed.
Thank you, Jesus, for your friendship!
The other element of the Gospel that I would like to mention is Jesus' discourse
on bearing fruit: "I […] chose you and appointed you to go and
bear fruit that will remain" (John 15:16). Here the dynamism of the Christian's
existence appears, of the apostle: "I appointed you to go." We must
be animated by a "holy anxiety," the anxiety of taking the gift
of faith, of friendship with Christ, to all. In truth, love, friendship with
God, has been given to us so that it will also reach others.
We have received the faith to give it to others; we are priests to serve others.
And we must bear fruit that abides. But, what abides? Money does not last.
Buildings do not last, or books. After a certain time, more or less long,
all this disappears. The only thing that abides eternally is the human soul
-- man created by God for eternity.
The fruit that abides, therefore, is the one we have sown in human souls,
love, knowledge; the gesture capable of touching the heart; the word that
opens the soul to the joy of the Lord. So, let us go and ask the Lord to help
us to bear fruit, a fruit that abides. Only thus is the earth transformed
from a vale of tears into a garden of God.
Finally, let us return once more to Ephesians. The letter says, with the words
of Psalm 68, that Christ, when "he ascended on high ... gave gifts to
men" (Ephesians 4:8). The victorious distribute gifts. And these gifts
are apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers. Our ministry is
a gift of Christ to men to build his body, the new world. Let us live our
ministry in this way, as a gift of Christ to men! But, in this moment, let
us ask our Lord insistently that, after the great gift of Pope John Paul II,
he will again give us a pastor according to his heart, a pastor who will lead
us to knowledge of Christ, to his love, to true joy.
Amen.
