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Pope Benedict XVI- Homilies |
 "We Are Not Called to Darkness, But to Light"
Easter
Vigil Homily
H.H. Benedict XVI
March 22, 2008
www.zenit.org
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
In his farewell discourse, Jesus announced his imminent death
and resurrection to his disciples with these mysterious words:
"I go away, and I will come to you", he said (Jn 14:28). Dying
is a "going away". Even if the body of the deceased remains
behind, he himself has gone away into the unknown, and we cannot
follow him (cf. Jn 13:36). Yet in Jesus’s case, there is
something utterly new, which changes the world.
In the case of our own death, the "going away" is definitive,
there is no return. Jesus, on the other hand, says of his death:
"I go away, and I will come to you." It is by going away that he
comes. His going ushers in a completely new and greater way of
being present. By dying he enters into the love of the Father.
His dying is an act of love. Love, however, is immortal.
Therefore, his going away is transformed into a new coming, into
a form of presence which reaches deeper and does not come to an
end. During his earthly life, Jesus, like all of us, was tied to
the external conditions of bodily existence: to a determined
place and a determined time.
Bodiliness places limits on our existence. We cannot be
simultaneously in two different places. Our time is destined to
come to an end. And between the "I" and the "you" there is a
wall of otherness. To be sure, through love we can somehow enter
the other’s existence.
Nevertheless, the insurmountable barrier of being different
remains in place. Yet Jesus, who is now totally transformed
through the act of love, is free from such barriers and limits.
He is able not only to pass through closed doors in the outside
world, as the Gospels recount (cf. Jn 20:19). He can pass
through the interior door separating the "I" from the "you", the
closed door between yesterday and today, between the past and
the future. On the day of his solemn entry into Jerusalem, when
some Greeks asked to see him, Jesus replied with the parable of
the grain of wheat which has to pass through death in order to
bear much fruit. In this way he foretold his own destiny: these
words were not addressed simply to one or two Greeks in the
space of a few minutes.
Through his Cross, through his going away, through his dying
like the grain of wheat, he would truly arrive among the Greeks,
in such a way that they could see him and touch him through
faith. His going away is transformed into a coming, in the Risen
Lord’s universal manner of presence, in which he is there
yesterday, today and for ever, in which he embraces all times
and all places. Now he can even surmount the wall of otherness
that separates the "I" from the "you". This happened with Paul,
who describes the process of his conversion and his Baptism in
these words: "it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives
in me" (Gal 2:20). Through the coming of the Risen One, Paul
obtained a new identity. His closed "I" was opened. Now he lives
in communion with Jesus Christ, in the great "I" of believers
who have become -- as he puts it -- "one in Christ" (Gal 3:28).
So, dear friends, it is clear that, through Baptism, the
mysterious words spoken by Jesus at the Last Supper become
present for you once more. In Baptism, the Lord enters your life
through the door of your heart. We no longer stand alongside or
in opposition to one another.
He passes through all these doors. This is the reality of
Baptism: he, the Risen One, comes; he comes to you and joins his
life with yours, drawing you into the open fire of his love. You
become one, one with him, and thus one among yourselves. At
first this can sound rather abstract and unrealistic. But the
more you live the life of the baptized, the more you can
experience the truth of these words. Believers -- the baptized
-- are never truly cut off from one another. Continents,
cultures, social structures or even historical distances may
separate us.
But when we meet, we know one another on the basis of the same
Lord, the same faith, the same hope, the same love, which form
us. Then we experience that the foundation of our lives is the
same. We experience that in our inmost depths we are anchored in
the same identity, on the basis of which all our outward
differences, however great they may be, become secondary.
Believers are never totally cut off from one another. We are in
communion because of our deepest identity: Christ within us.
Thus faith is a force for peace and reconciliation in the world:
distances between people are overcome, in the Lord we have
become close (cf. Eph 2:13).
The Church expresses the inner reality of Baptism as the gift of
a new identity through the tangible elements used in the
administration of the sacrament. The fundamental element in
Baptism is water; next, in second place, is light, which is used
to great effect in the Liturgy of the Easter Vigil. Let us take
a brief look at these two elements. In the final chapter of the
Letter to the Hebrews, there is a statement about Christ which
does not speak directly of water, but the Old Testament
allusions nevertheless point clearly to the mystery of water and
its symbolic meaning. Here we read: "The God of peace … brought
again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the
sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant" (13:20).
In this sentence, there is an echo of the prophecy of Isaiah, in
which Moses is described as the shepherd whom the Lord brought
up from the water, from the sea (cf. 63:11). Jesus appears as
the new, definitive Shepherd who brings to fulfillment what
Moses had done: he leads us out of the deadly waters of the sea,
out of the waters of death. In this context we may recall that
Moses’ mother placed him in a basket in the Nile. Then, through
God’s providence, he was taken out of the water, carried from
death to life, and thus -- having himself been saved from the
waters of death -- he was able to lead others through the sea of
death. Jesus descended for us into the dark waters of death.
But through his blood, so the Letter to the Hebrews tells us, he
was brought back from death: his love united itself to the
Father’s love, and thus from the abyss of death he was able to
rise to life. Now he raises us from death to true life. This is
exactly what happens in Baptism: he draws us towards himself, he
draws us into true life. He leads us through the often murky sea
of history, where we are frequently in danger of sinking amid
all the confusion and perils. In Baptism he takes us, as it
were, by the hand, he leads us along the path that passes
through the Red Sea of this life and introduces us to
everlasting life, the true and upright life. Let us grasp his
hand firmly! Whatever may happen, whatever may befall us, let us
not lose hold of his hand! Let us walk along the path that leads
to life.
In the second place, there is the symbol of light and fire.
Gregory of Tours recounts a practice that in some places was
preserved for a long time, of lighting the new fire for the
celebration of the Easter Vigil directly from the sun, using a
crystal. Light and fire, so to speak, were received anew from
heaven, so that all the lights and fires of the year could be
kindled from them. This is a symbol of what we are celebrating
in the Easter Vigil.
Through his radical love for us, in which the heart of God and
the heart of man touched, Jesus Christ truly took light from
heaven and brought it to the earth -- the light of truth and the
fire of love that transform man’s being. He brought the light,
and now we know who God is and what God is like. Thus we also
know what our own situation is: what we are, and for what
purpose we exist. When we are baptized, the fire of this light
is brought down deep within ourselves. Thus, in the early
Church, Baptism was also called the Sacrament of Illumination:
God’s light enters into us; thus we ourselves become children of
light.
We must not allow this light of truth, that shows us the path,
to be extinguished. We must protect it from all the forces that
seek to eliminate it so as to cast us back into darkness
regarding God and ourselves. Darkness, at times, can seem
comfortable. I can hide, and spend my life asleep. Yet we are
not called to darkness, but to light. In our baptismal promises,
we rekindle this light, so to speak, year by year. Yes, I
believe that the world and my life are not the product of
chance, but of eternal Reason and eternal Love, they are created
by Almighty God. Yes, I believe that in Jesus Christ, in his
incarnation, in his Cross and resurrection, the face of God has
been revealed; that in him, God is present in our midst, he
unites us and leads us towards our goal, towards eternal Love.
Yes, I believe that the Holy Spirit gives us the word of truth
and enlightens our hearts; I believe that in the communion of
the Church we all become one Body with the Lord, and thus we
encounter his resurrection and eternal life. The Lord has
granted us the light of truth. This light is also fire, a
powerful force coming from God, a force that does not destroy,
but seeks to transform our hearts, so that we truly become men
of God, and so that his peace can become active in this world.
In the early Church there was a custom whereby the Bishop or the
priest, after the homily, would cry out to the faithful: "Conversi
ad Dominum" -- turn now towards the Lord. This meant in the
first place that they would turn towards the East, towards the
rising sun, the sign of Christ returning, whom we go to meet
when we celebrate the Eucharist. Where this was not possible,
for some reason, they would at least turn towards the image of
Christ in the apse, or towards the Cross, so as to orient
themselves inwardly towards the Lord.
Fundamentally, this involved an interior event; conversion, the
turning of our soul towards Jesus Christ and thus towards the
living God, towards the true light. Linked with this, then, was
the other exclamation that still today, before the Eucharistic
Prayer, is addressed to the community of the faithful: "Sursum
corda" -- "Lift up your hearts", high above the tangled web of
our concerns, desires, anxieties and thoughtlessness -- "Lift up
your hearts, your inner selves!" In both exclamations we are
summoned, as it were, to a renewal of our Baptism: Conversi ad
Dominum -- we must distance ourselves ever anew from taking
false paths, onto which we stray so often in our thoughts and
actions.
We must turn ever anew towards him who is the Way, the Truth and
the Life. We must be converted ever anew, turning with our whole
life towards the Lord. And ever anew we must allow our hearts to
be withdrawn from the force of gravity, which pulls them down,
and inwardly we must raise them high: in truth and love. At this
hour, let us thank the Lord, because through the power of his
word and of the holy Sacraments, he points us in the right
direction and draws our heart upwards. Let us pray to him in
these words: Yes, Lord, make us Easter people, men and women of
light, filled with the fire of your love. Amen.
[Translation distributed by the Holy See]
© Copyright 2008 -- Libreria Editrice Vaticana
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