(Vatican Radio) Pope Francis delivered the homily at the Chrism Mass of the Rome diocese
on Holy Thursday morning, in St. Peter's Basilica. The Chrism Mass is the traditional
liturgy, during the course of which the oils to be used in the sacraments of initiation,
Holy Orders and healing throughout the coming year are blessed. It is also a particularly
profound moment of unity among the clergy of the diocese together with the bishop.
The theme of the Holy Father's homily was the joy of priestly service. Below, please
find the official English translation of the Holy Father's prepared remarks.
In the eternal “today”
of Holy Thursday, when Christ showed his love for us to the end (cf. Jn 13:1), we
recall the happy day of the institution of the priesthood, as well as the day of our
own priestly ordination. The Lord anointed us in Christ with the oil of gladness,
and this anointing invites us to accept and appreciate this great gift: the gladness,
the joy of being a priest. Priestly joy is a priceless treasure, not only for the
priest himself but for the entire faithful people of God: that faithful people from
which he is called to be anointed and which he, in turn, is sent to anoint.
Anointed
with the oil of gladness so as to anoint others with the oil of gladness. Priestly
joy has its source in the Father’s love, and the Lord wishes the joy of this Love
to be “ours” and to be “complete” (Jn 15:11). I like to reflect on joy by contemplating
Our Lady, for Mary, the “Mother of the living Gospel, is a wellspring of joy for God’s
little ones” (Evangelii Gaudium, 288). I do not think it is an exaggeration to say
that priest is very little indeed: the incomparable grandeur of the gift granted us
for the ministry sets us among the least of men. The priest is the poorest of men
unless Jesus enriches him by his poverty, the most useless of servants unless Jesus
calls him his friend, the most ignorant of men unless Jesus patiently teaches him
as he did Peter, the frailest of Christians unless the Good Shepherd strengthens him
in the midst of the flock. No one is more “little” than a priest left to his own
devices; and so our prayer of protection against every snare of the Evil One is the
prayer of our Mother: I am a priest because he has regarded my littleness (cf. Lk
1:48). And in that littleness we find our joy.
For me, there are three significant
features of our priestly joy. It is a joy which anoints us (not one which “greases”
us, making us unctuous, sumptuous and presumptuous), it is a joy which is imperishable
and it is a missionary joy which spreads and attracts, starting backwards – with those
farthest away from us.
A joy which anoints us. In a word: it has penetrated
deep within our hearts, it has shaped them and strengthened them sacramentally. The
signs of the ordination liturgy speak to us of the Church’s maternal desire to pass
on and share with others all that the Lord has given us: the laying on of hands, the
anointing with sacred chrism, the clothing with sacred vestments, the first consecration
which immediately follows… Grace fills us to the brim and overflows, fully, abundantly
and entirely in each priest. We are anointed down to our very bones… and our joy,
which wells up from deep within, is the echo of this anointing.
An imperishable
joy. The fullness of the Gift, which no one can take away or increase, is an unfailing
source of joy: an imperishable joy which the Lord has promised no one can take from
us (Jn 16:22). It can lie dormant, or be clogged by sin or by life’s troubles, yet
deep down it remains intact, like the embers of a burnt log beneath the ashes, and
it can always be renewed. Paul’s exhortation to Timothy remains ever timely: I remind
you to fan into flame the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of
my hands (cf. 2 Tim 1:6).
A missionary joy. I would like especially to share
with you and to stress this third feature: priestly joy is deeply bound up with God’s
holy and faithful people, for it is an eminently missionary joy. Our anointing is
meant for anointing God’s holy and faithful people: for baptizing and confirming them,
healing and sanctifying them, blessing, comforting and evangelizing them.
And
since this joy is one which only springs up when the shepherd is in the midst of his
flock (for even in the silence of his prayer, the shepherd who worships the Father
is with his sheep), it is a “guarded joy”, watched over by the flock itself. Even
in those gloomy moments when everything looks dark and a feeling of isolation takes
hold of us, in those moments of listlessness and boredom which at times overcome us
in our priestly life (and which I too have experienced), even in those moments God’s
people are able to “guard” that joy; they are able to protect you, to embrace you
and to help you open your heart to find renewed joy.
A “guarded joy”: one
guarded by the flock but also guarded by three sisters who surround it, tend it and
defend it: sister poverty, sister fidelity and sister obedience.
Priestly
joy is a joy which is sister to poverty. The priest is poor in terms of purely human
joy. He has given up so much! And because he is poor, he, who gives so much to others,
has to seek his joy from the Lord and from God’s faithful people. He doesn’t need
to try to create it for himself. We know that our people are very generous in thanking
priests for their slightest blessing and especially for the sacraments. Many people,
in speaking of the crisis of priestly identity, fail to realize that identity presupposes
belonging. There is no identity – and consequently joy of life – without an active
and unwavering sense of belonging to God’s faithful people (cf. Evangelii Gaudium,
268). The priest who tries to find his priestly identity by soul-searching and introspection
may well encounter nothing more than “exit” signs, signs that say: exit from yourself,
exit to seek God in adoration, go out and give your people what was entrusted to you,
for your people will make you feel and taste who you are, what your name is, what
your identity is, and they will make you rejoice in that hundredfold which the Lord
has promised to those who serve him. Unless you “exit” from yourself, the oil grows
rancid and the anointing cannot be fruitful. Going out from ourselves presupposes
self-denial; it means poverty.
Priestly joy is a joy which is sister to fidelity.
Not primarily in the sense that we are all “immaculate” (would that by God’s grace
we were!), for we are sinners, but in the sense of an ever renewed fidelity to the
one Bride, to the Church. Here fruitfulness is key. The spiritual children which
the Lord gives each priest, the children he has baptized, the families he has blessed
and helped on their way, the sick he has comforted, the young people he catechizes
and helps to grow, the poor he assists… all these are the “Bride” whom he rejoices
to treat as his supreme and only love and to whom he is constantly faithful. It is
the living Church, with a first name and a last name, which the priest shepherds in
his parish or in the mission entrusted to him. That mission brings him joy whenever
he is faithful to it, whenever he does all that he has to do and lets go of everything
that he has to let go of, as long as he stands firm amid the flock which the Lord
has entrusted to him: Feed my sheep (cf. Jn 21:16,17).
Priestly joy is a
joy which is sister to obedience. An obedience to the Church in the hierarchy which
gives us, as it were, not simply the external framework for our obedience: the parish
to which I am sent, my ministerial assignments, my particular work … but also union
with God the Father, the source of all fatherhood. It is likewise an obedience to
the Church in service: in availability and readiness to serve everyone, always and
as best I can, following the example of “Our Lady of Promptness” (cf. Lk 1:39, meta
spoudes), who hastens to serve Elizabeth her kinswoman and is concerned for the kitchen
of Cana when the wine runs out. The availability of her priests makes the Church
a house with open doors, a refuge for sinners, a home for people living on the streets,
a place of loving care for the sick, a camp for the young, a classroom for catechizing
children about to make their First Communion… Wherever God’s people have desires
or needs, there is the priest, who knows how to listen (ob-audire) and feels a loving
mandate from Christ who sends him to relieve that need with mercy or to encourage
those good desires with resourceful charity.
All who are called should know
that genuine and complete joy does exist in this world: it is the joy of being taken
from the people we love and then being sent back to them as dispensers of the gifts
and counsels of Jesus, the one Good Shepherd who, with deep compassion for all the
little ones and the outcasts of this earth, wearied and oppressed like sheep without
a shepherd, wants to associate many others to his ministry, so as himself to remain
with us and to work, in the person of his priests, for the good of his people.
On
this priestly Thursday I ask the Lord Jesus to enable many young people to discover
that burning zeal which joy kindles in our hearts as soon as we have the stroke of
boldness needed to respond willingly to his call.
On this priestly Thursday
I ask the Lord Jesus to preserve the joy sparkling in the eyes of the recently ordained
who go forth to devour the world, to spend themselves fully in the midst of God's
faithful people, rejoicing as they prepare their first homily, their first Mass, their
first Baptism, their first confession… It is the joy of being able to share with
wonder, and for the first time as God’s anointed, the treasure of the Gospel and to
feel the faithful people anointing you again and in yet another way: by their requests,
by bowing their heads for your blessing, by taking your hands, by bringing you their
children, by pleading for their sick… Preserve, Lord, in your young priests the joy
of going forth, of doing everything as if for the first time, the joy of spending
their lives fully for you.
On this priestly Thursday I ask the Lord Jesus
to confirm the priestly joy of those who have already ministered for some years.
The joy which, without leaving their eyes, is also found on the shoulders of those
who bear the burden of the ministry, those priests who, having experienced the labours
of the apostolate, gather their strength and rearm themselves: “get a second wind”,
as the athletes say. Lord, preserve the depth, wisdom and maturity of the joy felt
by these older priests. May they be able to pray with Nehemiah: “the joy of the Lord
is my strength” (cf. Neh 8:10).
Finally, on this priestly Thursday I ask the
Lord Jesus to make better known the joy of elderly priests, whether healthy or infirm.
It is the joy of the Cross, which springs from the knowledge that we possess an imperishable
treasure in perishable earthen vessels. May these priests find happiness wherever
they are; may they experience already, in the passage of the years, a taste of eternity
(Guardini). May they know the joy of handing on the torch, the joy of seeing new
generations of their spiritual children, and of hailing the promises from afar, smiling
and at peace, in that hope which does not disappoint.