Dear young people,
It is good to be here with you in this Night of Prayer. After finishing your brave and moving testimony, Rand asked us for something. He told us: “I earnestly ask you to pray for my beloved country.” A story marked by war, pain, loss, which ends with a request: that of prayer. What better way to start our vigil than by praying.
We come from different parts of the world, from continents, countries, languages, cultures, different peoples. We are “children” of nations, which may be facing conflicts, fighting over various issues, or even at war. Others come from countries that may be in “peace,” which do not have armed conflicts, where many of the painful things happening in the world are only part of the news and the press. But let us be aware of a reality: for us, here and now, coming from different parts of the world, the pain, the war that many young people live through, ceases to be anonymous, ceases to be just a news story, it has a name, a face, a story, a closeness. Today, the war in Syria is the pain and suffering of so many people, of so many young people like brave Rand, who is here among us asking us to pray for his beloved country.
There are situations that may seem distant until, in some way, we touch them. There are realities we do not understand because we only see them through a screen (of a cellphone or computer). But when we come into contact with life, with those concrete lives no longer mediated by screens, then something important happens: we feel the invitation to get involved: “No more forgotten cities,” as Rand says: never again can there be brothers “surrounded by death and murders” feeling that no one will help them. Dear friends, I invite you to pray together for the suffering of so many victims of war, to pray for so many families in beloved Syria and other parts of the world, so that once and for all we can understand that nothing justifies the blood of a brother, that nothing is more valuable than the person next to us. And in this prayer request, I also want to thank Natalia and Miguel, because you have also shared your battles, your inner wars. You have shown us your struggles and how you managed to overcome them. You are a living sign of what mercy wants to do in us.
We are not going to shout now against anyone, we are not going to fight, we do not want to destroy. We do not want to conquer hatred with more hatred, violence with more violence, terror with more terror. Today we are here because the Lord has called us. And our response to this war-torn world has a name: it is called fraternity, it is called brotherhood, it is called communion, it is called family. Let us celebrate the coming of different cultures and unite to pray. May our best word, our best speech, be to unite ourselves in prayer. Let us have a moment of silence and pray; present before the Lord the testimonies of these friends, identify with those for whom “family is an nonexistent concept, and the house only a place to sleep and eat,” or with those who live in fear of believing that their mistakes and sins have left them permanently outside. Let us also bring your “wars,” the struggles each one carries within their heart, before our God.
[Silence]
While we were praying, the image of the Apostles on Pentecost came to me. A scene that can help us understand everything that God dreams of doing in our lives, in us, and with us. That day, the disciples were locked up out of fear. They felt threatened by an environment that persecuted them, cornered them in a small room, forcing them to stay still and paralyzed. Fear had taken hold of them. In that context, something spectacular, something grand, happened. The Holy Spirit came and tongues like fire rested on each one, pushing them into an adventure they had never dreamed of.
We have heard three testimonies, we have touched, with our hearts, their stories, their lives. We have seen how they, like the disciples, have lived similar moments, have gone through times when they were filled with fear, when it seemed everything was collapsing. The fear and anguish that come from knowing that when leaving home, one may not see loved ones again, the fear of not feeling valued or loved, the fear of not having another chance. They shared with us the same experience the disciples had—they experienced the fear that only leads to one place: confinement. And when fear hides in confinement, it is always accompanied by its “twin sister”: paralysis, feeling paralyzed. Feeling that in this world, in our cities, in our communities, there is no longer space to grow, to dream, to create, to look at horizons, ultimately to live, is one of the worst evils that can take hold of our lives. Paralysis makes us lose the charm of enjoying encounters, friendship; the charm of dreaming together, of walking with others.
But in life, there is another paralysis that is even more dangerous and often difficult to identify; and that costs us a lot to discover. I like to call it the paralysis that arises when “happiness” is confused with a “sofa/kanapa (canapé).” Yes, believing that to be happy we need a good sofa/canapé. A sofa that helps us be comfortable, calm, and secure. A sofa — like the modern ones now with soothing massages included — that guarantees us hours of tranquility to move into the world of video games and spend hours in front of the computer.
A sofa against all kinds of pains and fears. A sofa that makes us stay at home, locked in, without tiring or worrying. The “happiness-sofa,” “kanapa-szczcie,” is probably the silent paralysis that can harm us the most, because little by little, without realizing it, we fall asleep, we become dazed and dull while others — perhaps the most lively, but not the best — decide the future for us. It is true, for many it is easier and more beneficial to have young people dazed and dull, confusing happiness with a sofa; for many, that is more convenient than having young people awake, restless, responding to God’s dream and all the aspirations of the heart.
But the truth is another: dear young people, we did not come into this world to “vegetate,” to pass comfortably, to turn life into a sofa that puts us to sleep; on the contrary, we came for something else, to leave a mark. It is very sad to go through life without leaving a mark. But when we choose comfort, when we confuse happiness with consumption, then the price we pay is very, very high: we lose our freedom.
That is precisely a great paralysis, when we begin to think that happiness is synonymous with comfort, that being happy means walking through life asleep or drugged, that the only way to be happy is to go around dazed. It is true that drugs are harmful, but there are many other socially accepted drugs that end up making us slaves just as much or more. Both kinds strip us of our greatest good: freedom.
Friends, Jesus is the Lord of risk, of always “going beyond.” Jesus is not the Lord of comfort, security, and convenience. To follow Jesus, you need a dose of courage, you need to dare to change the sofa for a pair of shoes that help you walk new, unimagined, and less thought-of paths, paths that open new horizons, capable of spreading joy, that joy born from God’s love, the joy that leaves in your heart every gesture, every attitude of mercy. Walk the paths following the “madness” of our God who teaches us to find Him in the hungry, in the thirsty, in the naked, in the sick, in the fallen friend, in the imprisoned, in the fugitive and migrant, in the lonely neighbor. Walk the paths of our God who invites us to be political actors, thinkers, social mobilizers.
He urges us to think of a more solidary economy. In all the areas where you find yourselves, that love of God invites us to bring good news, making our own lives a tribute to Him and others.
You might say to me: “Father, but that’s not for everyone, it’s only for some chosen ones.” Yes, and these chosen ones are all those willing to share their lives with others. Just as the Holy Spirit transformed the hearts of the disciples on Pentecost, He also did so with our friends who shared their testimonies. Using your words, Miguel, you told us that the day they entrusted you at the Facenda with the responsibility to help the house run better, that’s when you began to understand that God was asking something of you. That’s how the transformation began.
That is the secret, dear friends, that we are all called to experience. God expects something from you, God wants something from you, God is waiting for you. God comes to break our closures, to open the doors of our lives, our visions, our perspectives. God comes to open everything that encloses you. He is inviting you to dream, He wants to show you that the world with you can be different. But yes, if you do not put your best forward, the world will not be different.
The time we are living in today does not need young sofa-ers, mody-kanapa, but young people with shoes; even better, with boots on. Only accept starters on the field, there is no room for substitutes. Today’s world asks you to be protagonists of history because life is always beautiful when we want to live it, when we want to leave a mark. Today history asks us to defend our dignity and not let others decide our future. The Lord, just like at Pentecost, wants to perform one of the greatest miracles we can experience: to make your hands, my hands, our hands become signs of reconciliation, communion, creation. He wants your hands to continue building today’s world. He wants to build it with you.
You might say, “Father, but I am very limited, I am a sinner, what can I do?” When the Lord calls us, He does not think about what we are, what we were, what we have done or failed to do. On the contrary: at that moment when He calls us, He is looking at everything we could give, all the love we are capable of sharing. His bet is always on the future, on tomorrow. Jesus projects you toward the horizon. That’s why, friends, today Jesus invites you, calls you to leave your mark in life, a mark that shapes history, your history, and the history of many others.
Today’s life tells us that it is much easier to focus on what divides us, on what separates us. They try to make us believe that locking ourselves in is the best way to protect ourselves from what harms us. Today, adults need you to teach us to live in diversity, in dialogue, in sharing multiculturalism, not as a threat but as an opportunity: have the courage to show us that it is easier to build bridges than to raise walls.
And let us all ask that we be challenged to walk the paths of fraternity. Building bridges: do you know what the first bridge to build is? A bridge that we can make here and now: shake hands, give each other a hand. Dare, do it now, here, that essential bridge, and give each other your hand. It is the great fraternal bridge, and hopefully the great ones of this world learn to do it… but not just for a photo, but to keep building bigger and bigger bridges. May this human bridge be a seed for many others; it will be a mark.
Today Jesus, who is the way, calls you to leave your mark in history. He, who is life, invites you to leave a mark that fills your story and that of many others with life. He, who is truth, invites you to retrace the paths of misunderstanding, division, and meaninglessness. Are you willing? What do your hands and feet respond to the Lord, who is the way, truth, and life?
