Dear brothers and sisters,

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Dedication of the Basilica of Saint John Lateran, which took place in the fourth century under Pope Sylvester I.  This Basilica, the Cathedral of Rome, was built at the behest of Emperor Constantine, after he granted Christians the freedom to profess their faith and practice their religion in the year 313.

Why is it that we commemorate this event to the present day?  Certainly to recall, with joy and gratitude, a historical event of great importance for the life of the Church, but this is not the only reason.  This Basilica, in fact, the “Mother of all Churches,” is much more than a monument or a historical memorial.  It is “a sign of the living Church, built with chosen and precious stones in Christ Jesus, the cornerstone (cf. 1 Pet 2:4-5)” (Italian Episcopal Conference, Rite of the Blessing of the Oils and Dedication of the Church and Altar, Introduction).  As such, it reminds us that we too are “living stones here on earth… built into” a spiritual temple (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church Lumen Gentium, 6).  For this reason, as Saint Paul VI noted, the early Christian community soon began to apply the “name of Church, which means the assembly of the faithful, to the temple that gathers them together” (Angelus, 9 November 1969).  It is the ecclesial community, “the Church, the society of believers, [which] gives Saint John Lateran its most solid and striking external structure” (ibid.).  Therefore, as we gaze upon this building, let us reflect on what it means to be Church in light of today’s readings.

Firstly, let us consider its foundations.  Their importance is obvious and, even somewhat unsettling.  If the builders had not dug deep enough to find a solid base on which to construct the rest, the entire building would have collapsed long ago or would be at risk of doing so at any moment, which would put us in grave danger.  Fortunately, however, those who came before us laid solid foundations for our Cathedral, digging deep with great effort before raising the walls that welcome us, and this makes us feel much more at ease.

This is a cause for reflection.  As laborers in the living Church, we too must first dig deep within ourselves and around ourselves before we can build impressive structures.  We must remove any unstable material that would prevent us from reaching the solid rock of Christ (cf. Mt 7:24-27).  This is precisely what Saint Paul speaks about in the second reading when he says that “no one can lay any foundation other than the one that has been laid; that foundation is Jesus Christ” (1 Cor 3:11).  This means constantly returning to Jesus and his Gospel and being docile to the action of the Holy Spirit.  Otherwise, we risk overloading a building with heavy structures whose foundations are too weak to support.

Dear brothers and sisters, as we diligently labor in the service of God’s Kingdom, let us be neither hasty nor superficial.  Let us dig deep, unhindered by worldly criteria, which too often demand immediate results and disregard the wisdom of waiting.  The millennial history of the Church teaches us that with God’s help, a true community of faith can only be built with humility and patience.  Such a community is capable of spreading charity, promoting mission, proclaiming, celebrating and serving the Apostolic Magisterium of which this temple is the first seat (cf. Angelus, 9 November 1969).

The scene presented to us in today’s Gospel (Lk 19:1-10) is particularly enlightening in this regard: Zacchaeus, a wealthy and powerful man, feels moved to meet Jesus.  However, he realizes that he is too short to see him and so decides to climb a tree.  This is an unusual and inappropriate gesture for someone of his rank who is accustomed to getting whatever he wants at the tax office as though it were his due.  This time, however, the road is longer and climbing the branches means that Zacchaeus recognizes his own limitations and overcomes the inhibitions of his pride.  In doing so, he is able to meet Jesus, who tells him, “I must stay at your house today” (v. 5).  That encounter marks the beginning of a new life for Zacchaeus (cf. v. 8).

When Jesus calls us to take part in God’s great project, he transforms us by skillfully shaping us according to his plans for salvation.  In recent years, the image of a “construction site” has often been used to describe our ecclesial journey.  It is a beautiful image that speaks of activity, creativity and dedication, as well as hard work and sometimes complex problems to be solved.  It captures the concrete, tangible efforts of our communities as they grow every day, sharing their charisms under the guidance of their pastors.  The Church of Rome, in particular, stands as a witness to this in the current implementation phase of the Synod.  What has matured over years of work now needs to be put to the test and evaluated “in the field.”  This implies an uphill journey, but we must not be discouraged.  Instead, we should continue with confidence in our efforts to grow together.

The construction of the majestic building in which we find ourselves has had its share of critical moments, delays and changes to the original plans.  Yet thanks to the tenacity of those who came before us, we can now gather in this wonderful place.  In Rome, a great good is growing thanks to the efforts of many.  Let us not allow fatigue to prevent us from recognizing and celebrating this good, so that we may nourish and renew our enthusiasm.  After all, it is through charity in action that the face of our Church is shaped, making it ever clearer to all that she is a “mother,” the “mother of all Churches,” or even a “mom,” as Saint John Paul II said when speaking to children on this very feast day (cf. Address for the Dedication of the Basilica of Saint John Lateran, 9 November 1986).

Finally, I would like to mention an essential aspect of the Cathedral’s mission: liturgy.  The liturgy is “the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed... the source from which all its power flows” (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy Sacrosanctum Concilium, 10).  In it, we find the same themes we have already mentioned: we are built up as God’s temple, as his dwelling place in the Spirit and we receive strength to preach Christ in the world (cf. ibid., 2).  Therefore, care for the liturgy, especially here at the See of Peter, must be such that it can serve as an example for the whole people of God.  It must comply with the established norms, be attentive to the different sensibilities of those participating and keep with the principle of wise inculturation (cf. ibid., 37-38).  At the same time, it must remain faithful to the solemn sobriety typical of the Roman tradition, which can do so much good for the souls of those who actively participate in it (cf. ibid., 14).  Every care should be taken to ensure that the simple beauty of the rites expresses the value of worship for the harmonious growth of the whole Body of the Lord.  As Saint Augustine said, “beauty is nothing but love, and love is life” (Discourse 365, 1).  This truth is realized in an eminent way within the liturgy, and I hope that those who approach the altar of Rome’s Cathedral go away filled with the grace that the Lord wishes to flood the world (cf. Ezek 47:1-2, 8-9, 12).