At 7:00am local time (1:00am EST) this morning, the Holy Father celebrated Mass in the chapel at the Casa Santa Marta.
Let us continue to pray together, at this time of epidemic, for the sick, for their families, for parents and their children at home, and above all, I want to ask you to pray for the Authorities. They have to decide, and often they have to make difficult decisions that people will not like, but these decisions are for our good. Many times, those in Authority feel as though they are alone, that they are not understood. Let us pray for our governments, who have to make decisions about the measures that are being put in place. May they feel that they are being accompanied by their people's prayers.
This story, told by Jesus, is very clear. It could also be a story written for children. It is very simple. With this story, Jesus wants to tell a story but also to point out the fact that it is possible that all of humanity might be living in this way, including us; we could all be living like this.
There are two men. One of them is rich, one who knew how to dress very well. Perhaps he sought to live according to the greatest styles of his time. He dressed in purple garments and fine linens ... and life was good ... he dined sumptuously each day (Lk 16:19). He was happy. He had no worries. Maybe he took a few precautions: maybe he took some pills to help control his cholesterol while he took part in those banquets ... but life was good. Everything was good.
At his door, there was a poor man. His name was Lazarus. The rich man knew that the poor man was there. He knew, but that was natural. I have a good life ... and this one, well, that's life. He'll take care of himself. At most, maybe, - the gospel doesn't speak of this - the rich man might have thrown him a few crumbs once in a while, left overs. And the life of these two men was spent in this way.
Both of them ended up like all of us will one day end up: they died. The rich man died, and Lazarus died. The gospel says that Lazarus was taken to heaven, with Abraham, to the bosom of Abraham; of the rich man, the gospel only says that he was buried. There are two things that we can draw from this: the fact that the rich man knew that there was this poor man at his door, and he also knew his name - Lazarus ... but that wasn't important. For him, it seemed to be a natural thing. Even as the rich man went about his business, which in the end were aimed against the wants and the needs of the poor. He knew. It was clear. He was informed about that reality.
The second thing that touches me is the word great chasm, which Abraham explains to the rich man (cf Lk 16:26). Between us, there is a great chasm, and we cannot cross it. We cannot go from one side to the other. This was the same abyss that, during their earthly lives, had existed between the rich man and Lazarus. The abyss did not begin there, the abyss began here. I thought about what this man's challenge might be: the challenge of being very very informed, but with a closed heart. Information that was in the mind of that rich man could never reach his heart. He did not know how to be moved, he could not be moved by the challenges that Lazarus faced.
Perhaps we have seen this even in the boys who have served Mass. Sometimes between young boys, there is information that does not descend from their heads into their hearts ... and this can also happen to us. All of us know ... because we have listened to the news on television, or we have read in the papers: how many children are dying of hunger today throughout the world? How many children do not have the medicine that they need? How many children cannot go to school? This drama is present on all the continents. We know this. Ah, poor them ... and we go on. This information doesn't descend from our minds to our hearts, and many of us, many groups of men and women live in this abyss between that which we think and that which we know, and that which we feel. Our hearts are far distant from our minds. We are indifferent, like the rich man was indifferent to Lazarus' sufferings. There is an abyss of indifference.
At Lampedusa, when I went there the first time, this word came to my mind: the globalization of indifference. Maybe today, we here in Rome we are worried because the shops are closed, we have to go and buy something, it seems that we can't take our daily walks ... we are always concerned with our own preoccupations. And we forget the hungry children, we forget the poor people who, even to the ends of the earth are searching for freedom: these immigrants who have been forced to flee from hunger and from war, and who only find death, death that does not let them go by. We know that these things exist but they remain in our minds and don't descend to our hearts. We live in indifference, the indifference of being well informed but incapable of feeling the realities that others are experiencing. This is the abyss, the abyss of indifference.
And there is something else that we should note. We know the name of the poor man - Lazarus - even the rich man knew his name, for when he was in hell, he called to Abraham and asked him to send Lazarus. He recognized Lazarus and asked for him to be sent ... but we do not know the name of the rich man. The gospel does not tell us the name of that man. He had no name. He had lost his name. There were only some adjectives to describe his life. He was rich, he was powerful ... there are many adjectives. This tendency creates egoism even in us, when we lose our true identity and our names, when we can only value adjectives ... and worldliness helps this reality to come true. We have fallen into a culture of adjectives, where your value is defined by what you have, what you can do ... but not by What is your name! You have lost your name. Indifference leads to this: to the loss of our names. We are only the rich ones, we are these ones and those ones, we are a group of adjectives.
Today, let us ask the Lord to grant us the grace not to fall into indifference. Let us ask for the grace we need so that all the information we receive about the sufferings of others might descend into our hearts and inspire us to do something for others.
Greetings of the Holy Father, Pope Francis
prior to the beginning of the Mass
Let us continue to pray together, at this time of epidemic, for the sick, for their families, for parents and their children at home, and above all, I want to ask you to pray for the Authorities. They have to decide, and often they have to make difficult decisions that people will not like, but these decisions are for our good. Many times, those in Authority feel as though they are alone, that they are not understood. Let us pray for our governments, who have to make decisions about the measures that are being put in place. May they feel that they are being accompanied by their people's prayers.
Homily of the Holy Father, Pope Francis
during the Mass celebrated on 12 March 2020
This story, told by Jesus, is very clear. It could also be a story written for children. It is very simple. With this story, Jesus wants to tell a story but also to point out the fact that it is possible that all of humanity might be living in this way, including us; we could all be living like this.
There are two men. One of them is rich, one who knew how to dress very well. Perhaps he sought to live according to the greatest styles of his time. He dressed in purple garments and fine linens ... and life was good ... he dined sumptuously each day (Lk 16:19). He was happy. He had no worries. Maybe he took a few precautions: maybe he took some pills to help control his cholesterol while he took part in those banquets ... but life was good. Everything was good.
At his door, there was a poor man. His name was Lazarus. The rich man knew that the poor man was there. He knew, but that was natural. I have a good life ... and this one, well, that's life. He'll take care of himself. At most, maybe, - the gospel doesn't speak of this - the rich man might have thrown him a few crumbs once in a while, left overs. And the life of these two men was spent in this way.
Both of them ended up like all of us will one day end up: they died. The rich man died, and Lazarus died. The gospel says that Lazarus was taken to heaven, with Abraham, to the bosom of Abraham; of the rich man, the gospel only says that he was buried. There are two things that we can draw from this: the fact that the rich man knew that there was this poor man at his door, and he also knew his name - Lazarus ... but that wasn't important. For him, it seemed to be a natural thing. Even as the rich man went about his business, which in the end were aimed against the wants and the needs of the poor. He knew. It was clear. He was informed about that reality.
The second thing that touches me is the word great chasm, which Abraham explains to the rich man (cf Lk 16:26). Between us, there is a great chasm, and we cannot cross it. We cannot go from one side to the other. This was the same abyss that, during their earthly lives, had existed between the rich man and Lazarus. The abyss did not begin there, the abyss began here. I thought about what this man's challenge might be: the challenge of being very very informed, but with a closed heart. Information that was in the mind of that rich man could never reach his heart. He did not know how to be moved, he could not be moved by the challenges that Lazarus faced.
Perhaps we have seen this even in the boys who have served Mass. Sometimes between young boys, there is information that does not descend from their heads into their hearts ... and this can also happen to us. All of us know ... because we have listened to the news on television, or we have read in the papers: how many children are dying of hunger today throughout the world? How many children do not have the medicine that they need? How many children cannot go to school? This drama is present on all the continents. We know this. Ah, poor them ... and we go on. This information doesn't descend from our minds to our hearts, and many of us, many groups of men and women live in this abyss between that which we think and that which we know, and that which we feel. Our hearts are far distant from our minds. We are indifferent, like the rich man was indifferent to Lazarus' sufferings. There is an abyss of indifference.
At Lampedusa, when I went there the first time, this word came to my mind: the globalization of indifference. Maybe today, we here in Rome we are worried because the shops are closed, we have to go and buy something, it seems that we can't take our daily walks ... we are always concerned with our own preoccupations. And we forget the hungry children, we forget the poor people who, even to the ends of the earth are searching for freedom: these immigrants who have been forced to flee from hunger and from war, and who only find death, death that does not let them go by. We know that these things exist but they remain in our minds and don't descend to our hearts. We live in indifference, the indifference of being well informed but incapable of feeling the realities that others are experiencing. This is the abyss, the abyss of indifference.
And there is something else that we should note. We know the name of the poor man - Lazarus - even the rich man knew his name, for when he was in hell, he called to Abraham and asked him to send Lazarus. He recognized Lazarus and asked for him to be sent ... but we do not know the name of the rich man. The gospel does not tell us the name of that man. He had no name. He had lost his name. There were only some adjectives to describe his life. He was rich, he was powerful ... there are many adjectives. This tendency creates egoism even in us, when we lose our true identity and our names, when we can only value adjectives ... and worldliness helps this reality to come true. We have fallen into a culture of adjectives, where your value is defined by what you have, what you can do ... but not by What is your name! You have lost your name. Indifference leads to this: to the loss of our names. We are only the rich ones, we are these ones and those ones, we are a group of adjectives.
Today, let us ask the Lord to grant us the grace not to fall into indifference. Let us ask for the grace we need so that all the information we receive about the sufferings of others might descend into our hearts and inspire us to do something for others.
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