Dear brothers and sisters, good evening!

This evening has become a great hymn of faith, and I am pleased to join my voice with yours in praising God and in strengthening the bonds of such a beautiful ecclesial family, which is learning the art of polyphony, namely of unity in diversity.  I thank your Archbishop, Cardinal José Cobo Cano, for introducing the symbolism of song, which shows us that numbers, data and facts alone are insufficient for building community.  Our hearts must sing — that is, we must interpret events and situations by celebrating their meaning with others.  For the Church, this occurs in a unique way through the liturgy, the great memorial of the events that saved us.  

Singing is a necessity that permeates our shared life and also challenges culture, urging it to remain open and in constant evolution.  You are a diocesan Church in the midst of a people who love music, dance and being together, but who also know of conflict, resignation and, at times, despair.  In these situations, the Gospel can open up a path toward hope.  You bear witness to the Gospel in the capital of a great European country, the seat of institutions and organizations where important decisions for the present and the future are made.  It is also a destination for millions of visitors and brothers and sisters who come in search of new opportunities.  Your joy will become contagious if you transform it from a fleeting emotion into a stable way of being, into a deep sentiment that renews individuals, groups and the diocesan community.  It is no coincidence that the apostles often invited the Churches to rejoice in their writings, almost as if it were a commandment.  It is the Evangelii gaudium, a response we can sing together to God’s work in Jesus Christ.  His life, death and resurrection have forever changed the perception of history for those who have encountered and followed him, albeit in different ways and along different paths.  Even today, the love of Christ urges us on (cf.  2 Cor 5:14).  The verb Saint Paul uses, synèchei, also means “captivates us,” “holds us together,” “seizes us” — and thus calls us to responsible action.

Yes, dear brothers and sisters, as some of you have testified this evening, baptism truly changes lives.  Our sensibilities, backgrounds and priorities come together in Christ and draw their life from him, like the branches from the vine.  This means that much of what was already within us becomes transformed and ceases to be a private gift.  It is now directed toward the service of the common good.  We need not fear that this will ever lead to uniformity.  In this regard, the New Testament, through its variety of voices, bears witness to communion in diversity — the understanding that was lost at Babel. According to the biblical account, everyone was compelled by a totalitarian, purely human project and ended up failing to understand their neighbor.

In the encyclical letter Magnifica Humanitas, I proposed the figure of Nehemiah as an alternative to standardization and confusion.  Nehemiah involved the entire community in rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem.  “Rebuilding today means recognizing that, precisely from the plurality of voices and visions, even though they sometimes remind us of the confusion caused by the diversity of spoken languages, a bright possibility emerges.  Indeed, this is the possibility of building together, of transforming diversity into a resource and of making listening and dialogue the common ground upon which to cultivate justice and fraternity. Within this shared task, Christians discover their unique role of guiding actions toward God so that, in his light, pluralism does not dissipate into disorder, but instead, through the practice of synodality, it becomes the space in which humanity rediscovers its solid foundations and its final end” (No. 10).

There is a special relationship between the Church and a city, and this assumes an even greater importance in our changing times.  Naturally, the relationship takes shape among real people, through work-related and social interactions, but also through various communities, associations and neighborhood organizations.  The need for a particular approach to Christian mission in large urban areas, where a “new culture has come to life and continues to grow” (Francis, Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, 73), is becoming increasingly evident.  This idea has been clarified and deepened throughout the synodal journey, allowing us to know one another and listen to each other more deeply in the contexts where the diocesan community exists and takes shape.  The most important question becomes: does who we are as Christians and what we do reach “where new narratives and paradigms are being formed,” that is, the “the inmost soul of our cities” (No. 74)?  Providing an answer may well be difficult, but it is possible if we seek the truth together.  

For this reason, it is so important not to be scattered or shut off within a group or environment where we already feel safe, among people who always sing the same tune.  In order to reach the heart of the city, we must cultivate an awareness that truth is symphonic and always surpasses us, and foster a desire to encounter the Risen One, who always goes before us.  He precedes us and may already be present where we have not yet sought him.  Indeed, seeking and following him is the condition for being able to point him out to others; otherwise, there is no evangelization, and today we can understand this better than in the past.  In large cities, more so than in other places, we sometimes feel that we no longer have the maps to navigate safely.  So we must relearn the spiritual art of kindness, without which proclaiming the Gospel risks becoming impersonal and ineffective repetition, leaving room for frustration and mistrust.

Dear brothers and sisters, Madrid is a great city where different traditions and “souls” exist together.  God knows the hearts of each and every one of its inhabitants.  He knows them as only he can, through love and therefore in freedom.  He is infinite mercy and wants everyone to be saved.  He desires this to the point that he became flesh and took upon himself all the sin, evil and negativity of the world.  Behold Jesus Christ!  Behold the Good News, the grace we have received and are called to share with everyone!  For all, without exception, are made for life, and for life in its fullness.  The presence of the Church in a great city is a parable of this mystery of salvation.  The Book of Jonah comes to mind — a gem of the Bible that I invite you to read or reread, personally and in your communities.  It is no coincidence that the apostles established the nascent Church in the cities, where they encountered not only rejection but also acceptance, for it is in cities where people are more accustomed to facing diversity and change.

Let nothing trouble you; let nothing frighten you!  Together, as a diocesan Church, you can offer a Gospel witness that will harness the best forces of a humanity that is bombarded with images and words, yet is hungry for justice and thirsty for truth.  Have confidence in the growing phenomenon of people who return to the faith or come to know it for the first time in adulthood.  Be ready to welcome new beginnings not as an exception, but as the rule of the mission.  The participation in parish and diocesan councils has no lesser goal than this: to adjust the sensibility of each person through listening closely to what the Spirit says to the Church.  It would be a pity to reduce them to mere bureaucratic formalities.  They are spaces of mutual listening for the exercise of discernment, without which not only does each person go their own way, but we also run the risk of failing to understand where the Lord wants us, what he expects of us, and what kind of conversion he is asking of us.  When we are present in these spaces, worship becomes life, and bonds of fraternity and projects of solidarity arise among people.

I invite priests to recognize the practice of communal discernment as one of the greatest opportunities that synodality offers to their ministry.  Dear brothers, without straying from the essential, pausing regularly with your people to interpret the life of neighborhoods, cultural changes, social tensions and ecclesial practices in the light of the Gospel will enrich and console your ministry.  It will also help each person and each community to break out of isolation and experience the joy of the Holy Spirit.  Indeed, when we reduce ecclesial life to a routine in which everyone remains locked into their habits and roles, what we lack is the Spirit.  The Spirit stirs up vocations and unites them, sometimes causing upheaval, discussion and a search for a new equilibrium.  Do not be frightened by all of this, but enjoy it.

The stories we have heard tonight tell us — or rather, “sing to us”— just how much life there is in this Church.  One person gave the following testimony: “I can say without a doubt that I deeply love the Church, the family of God, where we all have a place.”  Another said: “I felt great joy and responsibility as I became a more active member of the community and shared my gifts with the rest of the Church’s members.”  And still others said: “For us, serving in these programs is not only a way to help, but also a way to give back all the love and support we have received.”  Behold the Church, dear brothers and sisters! Behold the music of the Gospel, with its compelling rhythm.  When it reaches the heart, it makes people feel like they have been welcomed with open arms, like our sister who came from Peru to Madrid.  Many, like her and her family, are initially afraid to draw near, for they have heard of prejudices and disappointments.  Kindness, even if it comes from just a few, can overcome the fear of many.  Be, for everyone, like an open Bible: may the word of God be found in your faces and in your lives.  Love, indeed, is the language that makes everyone feel at home.  Thank you very much.