Pope’s Holy Thursday Chrism Mass:
full text of homily
Pope Francis on April 18 led the Holy Thursday Chrism Mass
in Rome’s St. Peter’s Basilica in commemoration of the institution of the Holy
Eucharist as well as the priesthood by Jesus at the Last Supper.
At the annual Chrism Mass, priests of dioceses gather around
their bishops to celebrate their priesthood symbolizing the unity of the local
church. Patriarchs, cardinals, archbishops, bishops and priests present
in Rome joined Pope Francis in St. Peter’s Basilica Thursday morning, to renew
the promises they made on the day of their ordination. The blessing of
the holy oils or chrism that is used in the various sacraments during the year
takes place during the Chrism Mass.
Below please find the text of the homily of Pope
Francis:
The Gospel of Luke, which we just heard, makes us relive the excitement of that
moment when the Lord made his own the prophecy of Isaiah, as he read it
solemnly in the midst of his people. The synagogue in Nazareth was filled with
his relatives, neighbours, acquaintances, friends… and not only. All had
their eyes fixed on him. The Church always has her eyes fixed on Jesus
Christ, the Anointed One, whom the Spirit sends to anoint God’s people.
The Gospels frequently present us with this image of the Lord in the midst of a
crowd, surrounded and pressed by people who approach him with their sick ones,
who ask him to cast out evil spirits, who hear his teachings and accompany him
on the way. “My sheep hear my voice. I know them and they follow
me” (Jn 10:27-28).
The Lord never lost that direct contact with people. Amid those crowds,
he always kept the grace of closeness with the people as a whole, and with each
individual. We see this throughout his public life, and so it was from
the beginning: the radiance of the Child gently attracted shepherds, kings and
elderly dreamers like Simeon and Anna. So it was on the cross: his Heart
draws all people to himself (Jn 12:32): Veronicas, Cyreneans,
thieves, centurions…
The term “crowd” is not disparaging. Perhaps to some people’s ears, it
can evoke a faceless, nameless throng… But in the Gospel we see that when
the crowd interacts with the Lord – who stands in their midst like a shepherd
among his flock – something happens. Deep within, people feel the desire
to follow Jesus, amazement wells up, discernment grows
apace.
I would like to reflect with you on these three graces that characterize the
relationship between Jesus and the crowd.
The grace of following
Saint Luke says that the crowds “looked for Jesus” (4:42) and “travelled with
him” (14:25). They “pressed in on him” and “surrounded him” (8:42-45);
they “gathered to hear him” (5:15). Their “following” is something
completely unexpected, unconditional and full of affection. It contrasts
with the small-mindedness of the disciples, whose attitude towards people
verges on cruelty when they suggest to the Lord that he send them away, so that
they can get something to eat. Here, I believe, was the beginning of
clericalism: in this desire to be assured of a meal and personal comfort
without any concern for the people. The Lord cut short that temptation:
“You, give them something to eat!” was Jesus’ response. “Take care of the
people!”
The grace of amazement
The second grace that the crowd receives when it follows Jesus is that of
joy-filled amazement. People were amazed by Jesus (Lk 11:14),
by his miracles, but above all by his very person. People loved to meet
him along the way, to receive his blessing and to bless him, like the woman in
the midst of the crowd who blessed his Mother. The Lord himself was
amazed by people’s faith; he rejoiced and he lost no opportunity to speak about
it.
The grace of discernment
The third grace that people receive is that of discernment. “The crowds
found out [where Jesus had gone], and followed him” (Lk 9:11).
They “were astounded by his teaching, for he taught them as one having
authority” (Mt 7:28-29; cf. Lk 5:26).
Christ, the Word of God come in the flesh, awakens in people this charism of
discernment, which is certainly not the discernment of those who specialize in
disputed questions. When the Pharisees and the teachers of the law
debated with him, what people discerned was Jesus’ authority, the power of his
teaching to touch their hearts, and the fact that evil spirits obeyed him
(leaving momentarily speechless those who tried to trap him by their questions;
the people liked that).
Let us take a closer look at the way the Gospel views the crowd. Luke
points out four large groups who are the preferred beneficiaries of the Lord’s
anointing: the poor, the blind, the oppressed and captives. He speaks of
them in general terms, but then we are glad to see that, in the course of the
Lord’s life, these anointed ones gradually take on real names and faces.
When oil is applied to one part of the body, its beneficial effect is
felt throughout the entire body. So too, the Lord, taking up the prophecy
of Isaiah, names various “crowds” to whom the Spirit sends him, according to
what we may call an “inclusive preferentiality”: the grace and the charism
given to one individual person or a particular group then redounds, like every
action of the Spirit, to the good of all.
The
poor (in Greek, ptochoi) are those who are bent over, like
beggars who bow down and ask for alms. But poor too (ptochè) was
that widow who anointed with her fingers the two small coins which were all she
had to live on that day. The anointing by the widow to give almswent
unnoticed by the eyes of all except Jesus, who looks kindly on her lowliness.
Through her, the Lord can accomplish fully his mission of proclaiming the
Gospel to the poor. Paradoxically, the disciples heard the good news that
people like her exist. She – the generous woman – could not imagine that
she would “make it to the Gospel”, that her simple gesture would be recorded in
the Gospel. Like all those men and women who are the “saints next door”,
she lives interiorly the joyful fact that her actions “carry weight” in the
Kingdom, and are worth more than all the riches of the world.
The
blind are represented by one of the most likable figures in the
Gospel: Bartimaeus (cf. Mt 10:46-52), the blind beggar who
regained his sight and, from that moment on, only had eyes to follow Jesus on
his journey. The anointing of the gaze! Our gaze, to
which the eyes of Jesus can restore the brightness which only gratuitous love
can give, the brightness daily stolen from us by the manipulative and banal
images with which the world overwhelms us.
To refer to the oppressed (in Greek, tethrausmenoi),
Luke uses a word that contains the idea of “trauma”. It is enough to
evoke the parable – perhaps Luke’s favourite – of the Good Samaritan, who
anoints with oil and binds the wounds (traumata: Lk 10:34)
of the man who had been beaten by robbers and left lying at the side of the
road. The anointing of the wounded flesh of Christ! In
that anointing we find the remedy for all those traumas that leave individuals,
families and entire peoples ignored, excluded and unwanted, on the sidelines of
history.
The
captives are prisoners of war (in Greek, aichmalotoi),
those who had been led at the point of a spear (aichmé). Jesus
would use the same word in speaking of the taking of Jerusalem, his beloved
city, and the deportation of its people (Lk 21:24). Our
cities today are taken prisoner not so much at spear point, but by more subtle
means of ideological colonization.
Only the anointing of culture, built up by the labour and the
art of our forebears, can free our cities from these new forms of slavery.
As for us, dear brother priests, we must not forget that our evangelical models
are those “people”, the “crowd” with its real faces, which the anointing of the
Lord raises up and revives. They are the ones who complete and make real
the anointing of the Spirit in ourselves; they are the ones whom we have been
anointed to anoint. We have been taken from their midst, and we can
fearlessly identify with these ordinary people. They are an image of our
soul and an image of the Church. Each of them incarnates the one heart of
our people.
We priests are the poor man and we would like to have the heart of the poor
widow whenever we give alms, touching the hand of the beggar and looking him or
her in the eye. We priests are Bartimaeus, and each morning we get up and
pray: “Lord, that I may see”. We priests are, in some point of our
sinfulness, the man beaten by the robbers. And we want first to be in the
compassionate hands of the good Samaritan, in order then to be able to show
compassion to others with our own hands.
I confess to you that whenever I confirm and ordain, I like to smear with
chrism the foreheads and the hands of those I anoint. In that generous
anointing, we can sense that our own anointing is being renewed. I would
say this: We are not distributors of bottled oil. We anoint by
distributing ourselves, distributing our vocation and our heart. When we
anoint others, we ourselves are anointed anew by the faith and the affection of
our people. We anoint by dirtying our hands in touching the wounds, the
sins and the worries of the people. We anoint by perfuming our hands in
touching their faith, their hopes, their fidelity and the unconditional
generosity of their self-giving.
The one who learns how to anoint and to bless is thus healed of meanness, abuse
and cruelty.
By setting us with Jesus in the midst of our people, may the Father renew
deep within us the Spirit of holiness; may he grant that we be one in
imploring his mercy for the people entrusted to our care and for all the world.
In this way, the multitude of the peoples, gathered in Christ, may become the
one faithful people of God, which will attain its fullness in the Kingdom
(cf. Prayer of Priestly Ordination).
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