Holy Mass at Shrine of Santa Maria della Rotonda (Albano)
On 17 August 2025, the 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time, the Holy Father celebrated the Sunday Eucharist in the Sanctuary of Santa Maria della Rotonda (Albano). In his homily, the Pope reflected on the Lord's words that He came to bring not peace, but division (Lk 12:51).
Dear brothers and sisters,
It is a joy to be together to celebrate the Sunday Eucharist, which gives us an even deeper joy. Indeed, if it is already a gift to be close today and to overcome distance by looking into each other's eyes, as true brothers and sisters, a greater gift is to conquer death in the Lord. Jesus conquered death—Sunday is His day, the day of the Resurrection—and we are already beginning to conquer it with Him. It is like this: each of us comes to church with some weariness and fear—sometimes small, sometimes greater—and immediately we are less alone, we are together and we find the Word and the Body of Christ. Thus our hearts receive a life that transcends death. It is the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of the Risen One, who does this among us and in us, silently, Sunday after Sunday, day after day.
We find ourselves in an ancient sanctuary whose walls embrace us. It is called the "Rotonda," and its circular shape, like that of St. Peter's Square and other churches both old and new, makes us feel welcomed into God's bosom. From the outside, the Church, like every human reality, may appear rough. Its divine reality, however, is revealed when we cross its threshold and find acceptance. Then our poverty, our vulnerability, and above all the failures for which we may be despised and judged—and sometimes we despise and judge ourselves—are finally embraced in the gentle strength of God, a love without rough edges, an unconditional love. Mary, the mother of Jesus, is for us a sign and anticipation of God's motherhood. In her, we become a mother Church, which generates and regenerates not by virtue of worldly power, but by the virtue of charity.
Perhaps what Jesus says in the Gospel we have just read may have surprised us. We seek peace, but we have heard: "Do you think that I have come to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division" ( Lk 12:51). And we almost reply: "But how so, Lord? You too? We already have too many divisions. Weren't you the one who said at the Last Supper: 'Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you'?" "Yes," the Lord might reply, "it is I. Remember, however, that that evening, my last evening, I immediately added regarding peace: "Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid" (cf. Jn 14:27).
Dear friends, the world accustoms us to exchanging peace for comfort, goodness for tranquility. Therefore, so that his peace, God's shalom , may come among us , Jesus must tell us: "I have come to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!" ( Lk 12:49). Perhaps our own families, as the Gospel foretells, and even our friends will be divided on this. And some will advise us not to take risks, to spare ourselves, because it is important to be calm and others do not deserve to be loved. Jesus, however, courageously immersed himself in our humanity. This is the "baptism" he speaks of (v. 50): it is the baptism of the cross, a total immersion in the risks that love entails. And when we, as they say, "take communion," we are nourished by this bold gift of his. The Mass nourishes this decision. It is the decision to no longer live for ourselves, to bring fire into the world. Not the fire of weapons, nor even that of words that incinerate others. No, not that. But the fire of love, which humbles itself and serves, which opposes indifference with care and arrogance with meekness; the fire of goodness, which doesn't cost as much as weapons, but freely renews the world. It may cost misunderstanding, ridicule, even persecution, but there is no greater peace than having its flame within oneself.
For this reason, today I would like to thank, along with your Bishop Vincenzo, all of you who in the diocese of Albano are committed to bringing the fire of charity. And I encourage you not to distinguish between those who assist and those who are assisted, between those who seem to give and those who seem to receive, between those who appear poor and those who feel they are offering their time, skills, and help. We are the Church of the Lord, a Church of the poor, all precious, all subjects, each bearer of a unique Word of God. Each is a gift to others. Let us break down walls. I thank those who work in every Christian community to facilitate encounters between people of different backgrounds, economic, psychological, and emotional situations: only together, only by becoming a single Body in which even the most fragile participate with full dignity, are we the Body of Christ, the Church of God. This happens when the fire that Jesus came to bring burns away the prejudices, prudence, and fears that still marginalize those who bear the poverty of Christ written in their history. Let us not exclude the Lord from our churches, our homes, and our lives. Let us instead allow it to enter the poor, and then we will also make peace with our own poverty, the poverty we fear and deny when we seek tranquility and security at all costs.
May the Virgin Mary, who heard the holy old man Simeon point out to her son Jesus as a "sign of contradiction" ( Luke 2:34), intercede for us. May the thoughts of our hearts be revealed, and may the fire of the Holy Spirit make them no longer hearts of stone, but hearts of flesh.
Holy Mary of the Rotonda, pray for us!
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