Letter from Pope Francis on the 160th anniversary of the death of the Curé d'Ars

To my brother priests.

Dear brothers,

We are celebrating the 160th anniversary of the death of the Curé d’Ars, whom Pius XI presented as the patron saint of all the world’s priests[1]. I want to write this letter on his feast day, not only to the parish priests, but also to all you brother priests who, without making a fuss, “leave” everything to commit yourselves to the daily life of your communities. To you who, like the Curé d’Ars, work in the “trenches”, carrying on your shoulders the weight of the day and the heat (cf. Mt 20:12) and, exposed to countless situations, “take risks” there daily and without giving yourself too much importance, in order to care for and accompany the People of God. I address myself to each of you who, so often, unnoticed and sacrificed, in weariness or fatigue, sickness or solitude, assume the mission in the service of God and his people and, even with all the difficulties along the way, write the most beautiful pages of priestly life.

Some time ago I expressed my concern to the Italian bishops that our priests, in many regions, feel ridiculed and “blamed” for crimes they have not committed. And I told them that they needed to find in their bishop the figure of the elder brother and father who would encourage them in these difficult times, stimulate them and support them along the way[2].

As an older brother and as a father, I too wish to be close to you, firstly to thank you on behalf of God’s holy faithful people for all that they receive from you, and in return to encourage you to renew those words which the Lord spoke so tenderly on the day of our ordination, and which are the source of our joy: “I no longer call you servants… I call you my friends” (Jn 15:15)[3].

SUFFERING

“I have seen the misery of my people” (Ex 3:7)

In recent times, we have been able to hear more clearly the cry, often silent and silenced, of our brothers and sisters who are victims of abuse of power, abuse of conscience and sexual abuse by ordained ministers. Without a doubt, this is a time of suffering in the lives of victims who have suffered various forms of abuse; it is also the case for their families and for all God’s people.

As you know, we’re firmly committed to implementing the reforms needed to stimulate, right from the root, a culture based on pastoral care, so that the culture of abuse doesn’t find room to develop, let alone perpetuate itself. It’s not an easy task, and in the short term it requires everyone’s commitment. If, in the past, omission could be transformed into a form of response, today we want conversion, transparency, sincerity and solidarity with the victims to become our way of making history, helping us to be more attentive to all human suffering[4].

Priests are not indifferent to this suffering either. I’ve been able to see this for myself during various pastoral visits, both in my own diocese and in others where I’ve had the opportunity to meet and have personal discussions with priests. Many of them expressed their indignation at what had happened, and also a certain helplessness, since “in addition to the effort of dedication, they experienced the suffering engendered by suspicion and questioning, which may have provoked doubt, fear and lack of confidence in some or many of them”[5]. Many letters from priests share this sentiment. On the other hand, it’s comforting to meet pastors who, when they see and hear about the suffering of the victims and of God’s people, are mobilized, looking for words and paths of hope.

Without denying or rejecting the damage caused by some of our brothers, it would be unjust not to be grateful for so many priests who, in a constant and honest way, give all that they are and possess for the good of others (cf. 2 Cor 12:15) and develop a spiritual paternity capable of weeping with those who weep. There are countless priests who make their lives a work of mercy, in regions and situations that are so often inhospitable, remote or abandoned, even at the risk of their own lives. I salute and appreciate your courageous and constant example which, in times of trouble, shame and suffering, shows us that you continue to take risks with joy for the sake of the Gospel[6].

I am convinced that, insofar as we are faithful to God’s will, the times of purification of the Church that we are living through will make us happier and simpler, and will be, in the near future, very fruitful. “Let’s not be discouraged! The Lord is purifying His Bride and converting us all to Himself. He is making us experience trial, so that we understand that without Him we are dust. He is saving us from hypocrisy and the spirituality of appearances. He breathes his Spirit to restore beauty to his Bride, caught in the act of adultery. It will do us good to read Ezekiel chapter 16 today. It’s the story of the Church. It’s my story, each of us can say. And in the end, but through your shame, you will continue to be the shepherd. Our humble repentance, which remains silent, in tears, in the face of the monstrosity of sin and the unfathomable greatness of God’s forgiveness, this humble repentance is the beginning of our holiness”[7].

GRATITUDE

“I never cease to give thanks when I remember you” (Eph 1:16)

More than a choice on our part, vocation is the response to a free call from the Lord. It’s good to keep returning to those passages of the Gospel where we see Jesus praying, choosing and calling disciples to be “with him and to send them out to proclaim the Good News” (Mk 3:14).

I would like to recall here a great master of priestly life in my native country, Father Lucio Gera, who, speaking to a group of priests at a time of various trials in Latin America, told them: “Always, but especially in times of trial, we must return to those luminous moments when we experience the Lord’s call to dedicate our whole lives to his service”. It’s what I like to call “the deuteronomic memory of vocation” that allows us to return “to that incandescent point where God’s grace touched me at the beginning of the path. It’s at this spark that I can light the fire for today, for every day, and bring warmth and light to my brothers and sisters. To this spark is kindled a humble joy, a joy that does not offend pain and despair, a joy that is good and sweet”[8].

One day, we pronounced a “yes” that was born and grew within a Christian community thanks to those saints “next door”[9] who showed us with simple faith that it was worth giving everything for the Lord and his Kingdom. A “yes” whose impact has been and will continue to be so inconceivably important that we often can’t imagine all the good it has done and is capable of generating. How beautiful it is when an elderly priest sees himself surrounded and visited by these little ones – already adults – whom he baptized as children and who, with gratitude, come to introduce their families to him! We discover that we have been anointed for the sake of anointing, and that God’s anointing never disappoints, which makes me say with the Apostle: “I never cease to give thanks when I remember you” (Eph 1:16) and all the good you do.

In times of tribulation and fragility, as well as in times of weakness and the manifestation of our limits, when the worst temptation of all is to remain brooding in despair[10] by splitting our gaze, our judgment and our hearts, it is important – I would even go so far as to say crucial – not only not to lose the grateful memory of the Lord’s passage through our lives, the memory of his merciful gaze that has invited us to rely on him and on his people, but also to have the courage to pass it on in our actions and, with the psalmist, to be able to intone our own song of praise, for “eternal is his mercy” (Ps 135).

Recognition is always a “powerful weapon”. Only by being able to contemplate and concretely appreciate all the gestures of love, generosity, solidarity and trust, as well as forgiveness, patience, endurance and compassion with which we have been treated, will we let the Spirit offer us that fresh air capable of renewing (not patching up) our life and mission. As with Peter on the morning of the “miraculous catch”, may the awareness of so much good received awaken in us the capacity for wonder and gratitude that leads us to declare: “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man” (Lk 5:8). And let us listen once again to the Lord’s call: “Do not be afraid, from now on you will take men” (Lk 5:10), for “his mercy is eternal” (Ps 135).

Dear brothers, thank you for your loyalty to our commitments. It’s significant that, in a society and culture that has turned “the superficial” into a value, there are people who risk and seek to take on commitments that demand a lifetime. In essence, we’re saying that we continue to believe in God, who has never broken his covenant, even though we’ve broken it countless times. This invites us to celebrate the faithfulness of God, who never stops trusting, believing and taking risks, despite our limitations and sins, and invites us to do the same. Aware that we carry a treasure in earthen vessels (cf. 2 Cor 4:7), we know that the Lord triumphs in weakness (cf. 2 Cor 12:9), that he never ceases to sustain us and to call us, giving us a hundred for one (cf. Mk 10:29-30), for “his mercy is eternal”.

Thank you for the joy with which you have given your lives, revealing a heart that over the years has struggled and struggles not to shrink and become bitter, but to be, on the contrary, enlarged every day by the love of God and his people, a heart that time has not made sour, but has made better and better, like good wine, for “eternal is his mercy”.

Please strive to strengthen the bonds of brotherhood and friendship within the presbyterate and with your bishop, supporting one another, caring for the sick, seeking out the isolated, appreciating and learning the wisdom of the elder, sharing possessions, laughing and crying together. How necessary these spaces are! And even by being constant and persevering when you had to face a difficult mission or encourage a brother to assume his responsibilities, because “eternal is his mercy”.

Thank you for your testimony of perseverance and “endurance” (hypomoné) in the pastoral commitment that so often leads us, driven by the pastor’s parresía[11]to wrestle with the Lord in prayer, like Moses in his courageous and risky intercession for the people (cf. Num 14:13-19; Ex 32:30-32; Deut 9:18-21), for “his mercy endures forever”.

Thank you for celebrating the Eucharist every day and for grazing with mercy in the sacrament of reconciliation, without rigorism or laxity, taking charge of people and accompanying them on the path of conversion towards the new life that the Lord offers us all. We know that, thanks to the steps of mercy, we can descend to the depths of our human condition – frailty and sins included – and, at the same time, touch the summit of divine perfection: “Be merciful […] as your Father is merciful”[12]. And so we can be “able to warm people’s hearts, to walk with them in the night, to know how to dialogue and even to descend into their night and darkness without getting lost”[13], for “eternal is his mercy”.

Thank you for anointing and proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ to all, with enthusiasm, “in season and out of season” (cf. 2Tm 4:2), probing the hearts of your respective communities “to seek where God’s desire is alive and burning, and also where this dialogue, which was in love, has been stifled or has failed to bear fruit”.[14]for “his mercy is eternal”.

Thank you for all the times when, moved to the core, you have welcomed the fallen, tended their wounds and warmed their hearts, showing tenderness and compassion like the Samaritan in the parable (cf. Lk 10:25-37). Nothing is more urgent than this: closeness, being-with, making ourselves close to the flesh of the suffering brother. How good it is to see the example of a priest who is close to his brothers and does not shy away from their wounds![15] It’s a reflection of the pastor’s heart, who has learned the spiritual taste of being one with his people.[16]He never forgets that he comes from this people, and that it is only in their service that he will find and be able to unfold his most authentic and full identity, which leads him to adopt an austere and simple lifestyle, without accepting privileges that do not have the flavor of the Gospel, for “eternal is his mercy”.

Let us also give thanks for the holiness of God’s faithful people, whom we are invited to shepherd, and through whom the Lord also shepherds us, and preserves the gift of being able to contemplate this people in those “parents who so lovingly educate their children, in those men and women who work to bring home the bread, in the sick, in the elderly nuns who continue to smile. I see the sanctity of the Church militant in this constancy to forge ahead every day”.[17]. Let us give thanks for each of them, and let them help and encourage us with their witness, for “eternal is his mercy”.

COURAGE

“I fight so that their hearts may be filled with courage” (Col 2:2)

My second great desire, echoing the words of Saint Paul, is to lead you to renew our priestly courage, the fruit above all of the Holy Spirit’s action in our lives. In the face of painful experiences, we all need comfort and encouragement. The mission to which we have been called does not make us immune to suffering, pain and even misunderstanding.[18] On the contrary, it urges us to face them head-on and take them on, to let the Lord transform them and configure us ever more closely to Him. “Basically, the absence of sincere, painful and prayerful recognition of our limitations is what prevents grace from working better in us, since we leave it no room to realize that possible good that is part of a sincere and real journey of growth”[19].

A good “test” to find out how our shepherd’s heart is is to ask ourselves how we react to pain. We can often act like the Levite or the priest in the parable who make a detour and ignore the fallen man (Lk 10:31). Others approach it in the wrong way, intellectualizing it by taking refuge in commonplaces: “life is like that”, “there’s nothing we can do”, giving rise to fatalism and despair; or they approach it with a selective outlook that only generates isolation and exclusion. “Like the prophet Jonah, we have within us the latent temptation to flee to a place of safety which can have many names: individualism, spiritualism, withdrawal into small circles, …”.[20] which, far from touching our insides, end up distracting us from our own wounds, from those of others, and consequently, from the wounds of Jesus.[21].

In the same vein, I’d like to point out another subtle and dangerous attitude which, as Bernanos liked to say, is “the devil’s most prized elixir”.[22] and the most harmful for those of us who want to serve the Lord, because it sows discouragement, a feeling of abandonment and leads to despair[23]. Disappointed by reality, by the Church and by ourselves, we can experience the temptation to cling to a sweet sadness, which the Eastern fathers called acedia. Cardinal Tomáš Špidlίk said: “If sadness assails us because of life as it is, because of the company of others, because we are alone, then there is always some lack of faith in God’s Providence and His work. Sadness paralyzes our courage to continue working and praying, and makes us unsympathetic to those who live next to us. Monastic writers who devote a long description to this vice call it the worst enemy of the spiritual life”.[24].

We’re all familiar with the sadness that leads to habituation and, little by little, to the naturalization of evil and injustice, with the faint murmur of “we’ve always done it this way”. Sadness that renders all attempts at transformation and conversion sterile by spreading resentment and animosity. “It’s not the choice of a full and dignified life, it’s not God’s desire for us, it’s not the life in the Spirit that springs from the heart of the Risen Christ” and for which we have been called[25]. Brothers, when that sweet sadness threatens to take hold of our lives or our communities, let’s ask the Spirit to “come and wake us up, shake us out of our slumber, free us from inertia. Let’s face up to habituation, let’s open our eyes and ears, and above all our hearts, to let ourselves be moved by what’s happening around us and by the cry of the living and effective Word of the Risen One”.[26].

Let me repeat: we all need the consolation and strength of God and our brothers in difficult times. We can all benefit from St. Paul’s words to his communities: “Therefore, I ask you not to be discouraged in the face of trials” (Eph 3:13); “I fight so that their hearts may be filled with courage” (Col 2:2), and so be able to fulfill the mission the Lord offers us every morning: to pass on “good news, a joy to all the people” (Lk 2:10). But not as a theory or an intellectual or moral knowledge of what should be, but as men who in the midst of pain have been transformed and transfigured by the Lord, and like Job, manage to exclaim: “I knew you by hearsay, but now my eyes have seen you” (Job 42:5). Without this foundational experience, all our efforts lead to frustration and disenchantment.

Throughout our lives, we have been able to contemplate how “with Jesus Christ joy is always born and reborn”[27]. Although there are different stages in this experience, we know that beyond our frailties and sins, God always “allows us to pick up our heads and begin again, with a tenderness that never disappoints us and can always give us back joy”[28]. This joy is not born of our voluntaristic or intellectual efforts, but of the confidence of knowing that Jesus’ words to Peter are still relevant today: in those moments when you are shaken, don’t forget that “I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail” (Lk 22:32). The Lord is the first to pray and fight for you and for me. And he invites us to enter fully into his prayer. There may even be times when we need to immerse ourselves in “the prayer of Gethsemane, the most human and dramatic of Jesus’ prayers (…). There is supplication, sadness, anguish, almost disorientation (Mk 14:33ff)”[29].

We know it’s not easy to stand before the Lord and let him scrutinize our lives, heal our wounded hearts and wash our feet soaked with the worldliness that has adhered along the way and is keeping us from walking. In prayer we experience our blessed poverty, which reminds us that we are disciples in need of the Lord’s help, and frees us from that “Promethean tendency of those who ultimately trust only in their own strength and feel superior to others because they observe certain standards”.[30].

Brothers, Jesus knows more than ever our efforts and successes, as well as our failures and mishaps. He is the first to tell us: “Come to me, all you who labor under a heavy burden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and become my disciples, for I am gentle and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Mt 11:28-29).

In a prayer like this we know we’re never alone. The pastor’s prayer is a prayer inhabited as much by the Spirit “who cries out ‘Abba! “(Ga 4:6) than by the people entrusted to him. Our mission and identity are based on this double link.

The pastor’s prayer is nourished and incarnated in the hearts of God’s people. She bears the marks of the people’s wounds and joys, which she presents in silence to the Lord to anoint with the gift of the Holy Spirit. This is the hope of the pastor who trusts and fights for the Lord to heal our personal fragility and that of our people. But let’s not lose sight of the fact that it is precisely in the prayer of the People of God that the heart of the pastor is incarnated and finds its place. This frees us all from seeking or wanting easy, quick and prefabricated answers, allowing the Lord to show us a path of hope (and not our recipes and priorities). Let’s not lose sight of the fact that in the most difficult moments of the early community, as we read in the Book of Acts, prayer became the real protagonist.

Brothers, let’s acknowledge our fragility, yes, but let’s let Jesus transform it and push us again and again to mission. Let’s not lose the joy of feeling like “sheep”, of knowing that he is our Lord and our Shepherd.

To keep our hearts courageous, we must not neglect these two links that make up our identity: the first, with Jesus. Whenever we separate ourselves from Jesus or neglect our relationship with him, little by little our reserve dries up and our oil-starved lamp is no longer able to illuminate life (cf. Mt 25:1-13): “Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me (…) apart from me you can do nothing” (Jn 15:4-5). In this sense, I encourage you not to neglect spiritual accompaniment, to have a brother with whom to talk, confront, discuss and discern, in full confidence and transparency, one’s own path; a wise brother with whom to live the experience of knowing oneself to be a disciple. Look for it, find it and enjoy the joy of being guided, accompanied and advised. It is an irreplaceable help in living out the ministry by doing the Father’s will (Cf. Hb 10:9) and letting the heart beat with “the dispositions that are in Christ Jesus” (Phil 2:5). How good are the words of Ecclesiastes: “It is better to be two than one … If they fall, one lifts the other. Woe to the man who is alone: if he falls, no one will pick him up” (4,9-10).

The other key link: growing and nurturing the bond with your people. Don’t isolate yourself from people, priests or communities. Let alone cloister themselves in closed, elitist groups. This basically suffocates and poisons the soul. A beloved minister is a minister who is always on the move; and “being on the move” leads us to walk “sometimes in front, sometimes in the middle, sometimes behind: in front, to guide the community; in the middle, to better understand, encourage and support it; behind, to keep it united and never too far behind…and sometimes for other reasons: because the people “smell”. They have a sense of smell in the search for new ways to walk, they have the “sensus fidei” (cf LG 12). Is there anything more beautiful?[31]. Jesus himself is the model of this evangelizing option, which takes us into the heart of the people. How good it is to see him in the midst of everyone! Jesus’ passion on the cross was nothing more than the culmination of the evangelizing style that characterized his entire life.

Brothers, the pain of so many victims, the pain of the People of God, like our own, cannot be in vain. It is Jesus himself who takes all this weight on his cross and invites us to renew our mission to be close to those who suffer, to be, without shame, close to human misery and, why not, live them as our own to make them Eucharist[32]. Our times, marked by old and new wounds, require us to be artisans of relationship and communion, open, trusting and awaiting the newness that the Kingdom of God wants to bring about today. A Kingdom of forgiven sinners, invited to bear witness to the Lord’s ever-increasing compassion “because his mercy is eternal”.

LOUANGE

“My soul magnifies the Lord” (Lk 1:46).

It is impossible to speak of gratitude and encouragement without contemplating Mary. She, the woman with the pierced heart (cf. Lk 2:35), teaches us the praise that opens our eyes to the future and gives hope to the present. His whole life is condensed in his hymn of praise (cf. Lk 1:46-55), which we are also invited to sing as a promise of fulfillment.

Whenever I go to a Marian shrine, I like to “save time” by looking at the Mother and letting her look at me, asking for the trust of the child, the poor and the simple who knows that there is his mother and is able to beg for a place in her arms. And as I look at her, hear once again as the Indian Juan Diego says: “What is it, my littlest son? What makes your heart sad? Perhaps I am not here, I who have the honor of being your mother”[33].

To look at Mary is “to believe anew in the revolutionary power of tenderness and affection. In her we see that humility and tenderness are not virtues of the weak, but of the strong, who do not need to mistreat others to feel important”[34].

And if ever our gaze begins to harden, or we feel that the seductive force of apathy or desolation wants to take root and seize our hearts; if the desire to feel like a living, integral part of God’s People begins to disturb and we feel pushed towards an elitist attitude… let’s not be afraid to contemplate Mary and sing her song of praise.

And if at times we are tempted to isolate ourselves and shut ourselves away from the ever-dusty paths of history, or if lament, complaint, criticism or irony take hold of our actions without any desire to fight, hope and love…let us look to Mary to cleanse our gaze of any “dust” that may prevent us from being attentive and awake to contemplate and celebrate Christ who lives in the midst of his People. And if we see that we’re not managing to walk straight, that we’re struggling to maintain our conversion objectives, let’s say it as that great parish priest, also a poet, from my previous diocese asked, almost with complicity: “Tonight, Mother, my promise is sincere. But just in case, don’t forget to leave the key outside”.[35]. “She’s the friend who’s always on hand to make sure there’s no shortage of wine in our lives. She is the one whose heart is pierced by the lance, who understands all sorrows. As mother of all, she is a sign of hope for peoples who suffer the pains of childbirth until justice is born… Like a true mother, she walks with us, fights with us, and constantly spreads the closeness of God’s love”.[36].

Brothers, once again, “I never cease to give thanks when I remember you” (Eph 1:16) for your dedication and your mission, with the confidence that “God removes the hardest stones against which hopes and expectations crash: death, sin, fear, worldliness. Human history does not end in front of a tombstone, for today it discovers the “Living Stone” (cf. 1P 2:4): The risen Jesus. We, as the Church, are founded on him, and even when we lose heart, when we are tempted to judge everything on the basis of our failures, he comes to make all things new”.[37].

Let gratitude inspire praise and encourage us once again in our mission to consecrate our brothers and sisters in hope. To be men who bear witness by their lives to the compassion and mercy that only Jesus can offer us.

May the Lord Jesus bless you and the Blessed Virgin protect you. And please don’t forget to pray for me.

Fraternally,

François

Given in Rome, near Saint John Lateran, on August 4, 2019, Liturgical memorial to the holy Curé d’Ars