Pope Francis
Homily at Papal Mass on Lampedusa, the Island of Refugees from Africa [July 8, 2013]
Immigrants dying at sea, in boats which
were vehicles of hope and became vehicles of death. That is how the headlines
put it. When I first heard of this tragedy a few weeks ago, and realized that
it happens all too frequently, it has constantly come back to me like a painful
thorn in my heart. So I felt that I had to come here today, to pray and to
offer a sign of my closeness, but also to challenge our consciences lest this
tragedy be repeated. Please, let it not be repeated!
First, however, I want to say a word of
heartfelt gratitude and encouragement to you, the people of Lampedusa and
Linosa, and to the various associations, volunteers and security personnel who
continue to attend to the needs of people journeying towards a better future.
You are so few, and yet you offer an example of solidarity! Thank you! I also
thank Archbishop Francesco Montenegro for all his help, his efforts and his
close pastoral care. I offer a cordial greeting to Mayor Giusi Nicolini: thank
you so much for what you have done and are doing. I also think with affection
of those Muslim immigrants who this evening begin the fast of Ramadan, which I
trust will bear abundant spiritual fruit. The Church is at your side as you
seek a more dignified life for yourselves and your families. To all of you: o’scià!
This morning, in the light of God’s word which has just been proclaimed, I wish to offer some thoughts meant to challenge people’s consciences and lead them to reflection and a concrete change of heart.
"Adam,
where are you?" This is the first question which God asks man after his
sin. "Adam, where are you?" Adam lost his bearings, his place in
creation, because he thought he could be powerful, able to control everything,
to be God. Harmony was lost; man erred and this error occurs over and over
again also in relationships with others. "The other" is no longer a
brother or sister to be loved, but simply someone who disturbs my life and my
comfort. God asks a second question: "Cain, where is your brother?"
The illusion of being powerful, of being as great as God, even of being God
himself, leads to a whole series of errors, a chain of death, even to the
spilling of a brother’s blood!
God’s
two questions echo even today, as forcefully as ever! How many of us, myself
included, have lost our bearings; we are no longer attentive to the world in
which we live; we don’t care; we don’t protect what God created for everyone,
and we end up unable even to care for one another! And when humanity as a whole
loses its bearings, it results in tragedies like the one we have witnessed.
"Where
is your brother?" His blood cries out to me, says the Lord. This is not a
question directed to others; it is a question directed to me, to you, to each
of us. These brothers and sisters of ours were trying to escape difficult
situations to find some serenity and peace; they were looking for a better
place for themselves and their families, but instead they found death. How
often do such people fail to find understanding, fail to find acceptance, fail
to find solidarity. And their cry rises up to God! Once again I thank you, the
people of Lampedusa, for your solidarity. I recently listened to one of these
brothers of ours. Before arriving here, he and the others were at the mercy of
traffickers, people who exploit the poverty of others, people who live off the
misery of others. How much these people have suffered! Some of them never made
it here.
"Where
is your brother?" Who is responsible for this blood? In Spanish literature
we have a comedy of Lope de Vega which tells how the people of the town of
Fuente Ovejuna kill their governor because he is a tyrant. They do it in such a
way that no one knows who the actual killer is. So when the royal judge asks:
"Who killed the governor?", they all reply: "Fuente Ovejuna,
sir". Everybody and nobody! Today too, the question has to be asked: Who
is responsible for the blood of these brothers and sisters of ours? Nobody!
That is our answer: It isn’t me; I don’t have anything to do with it; it must
be someone else, but certainly not me. Yet God is asking each of us:
"Where is the blood of your brother which cries out to me?" Today no
one in our world feels responsible; we have lost a sense of responsibility for
our brothers and sisters.
We
have fallen into the hypocrisy of the priest and the levite whom Jesus
described in the parable of the Good Samaritan: we see our brother half dead on
the side of the road, and perhaps we say to ourselves: "poor soul…!",
and then go on our way. It’s not our responsibility, and with that we feel
reassured, assuaged. The culture of comfort, which makes us think only of ourselves,
makes us insensitive to the cries of other people, makes us live in soap
bubbles which, however lovely, are insubstantial; they offer a fleeting and
empty illusion which results in indifference to others; indeed, it even leads
to the globalization of indifference. In this globalized world, we have fallen
into globalized indifference. We have become used to the suffering of others:
it doesn’t affect me; it doesn’t concern me; it’s none of my business!
Here
we can think of Manzoni’s character – "the Unnamed". The
globalization of indifference makes us all "unnamed", responsible,
yet nameless and faceless.
"Adam,
where are you?" "Where is your brother?" These are the two
questions which God asks
us at the dawn of human history, and which he also
asks each man and woman in our own day, which he also asks us. But I would like
us to ask a third question: "Has any one of us wept because of this
situation and others like it?" Has any one of us grieved for the death of
these brothers and sisters? Has any one of us wept for these persons who were
on the boat? For the young mothers carrying their babies? For these men who
were looking for a means of supporting their families?
We
are a society which has forgotten how to weep, how to experience compassion –
"suffering with" others: the globalization of indifference has taken
from us the ability to weep! In the Gospel we have heard the crying, the
wailing, the great lamentation: "Rachel weeps for her children… because
they are no more". Herod sowed death to protect his own comfort, his own
soap bubble. And so it continues… Let us ask the Lord to remove the part of
Herod that lurks in our hearts; let us ask the Lord for the grace to weep over
our indifference, to weep over the cruelty of our world, of our own hearts, and
of all those who in anonymity make social and economic decisions which open the
door to tragic situations like this. "Has any one wept?" Today has
anyone wept in our world?
Lord,
in this liturgy, a penitential liturgy, we beg forgiveness for our indifference
to so many of our brothers and sisters. Father, we ask your pardon for those
who are complacent and closed amid comforts which have deadened their hearts;
we beg your forgiveness for those who by their decisions on the global level
have created situations that lead to these tragedies. Forgive us, Lord!
Today
too, Lord, we hear you asking: "Adam, where are you?" "Where is
the blood of your brother?"