Immigrants who died at sea, from that boat that, instead of being a way of hope
was a way of death. This is the headline in the papers! When, a few weeks ago, I
heard the news – which unfortunately has been repeated so many time – the
thought always returns as a thorn in the heart that brings suffering. And then I
felt that I ought to come here today to pray, to make a gesture of closeness,
but also to reawaken our consciences so that what happened would not be
repeated. Not repeated, please! But first I want to say a word of sincere
gratitude and encouragement to you, the residents of Lampedusa and Linosa, to
the associations, to the volunteers and to the security forces that have shown
and continue to show attention to persons on their voyage toward something
better. You are a small group, but you offer an example of solidarity! Thank
you! Thanks also to Archbishop Francesco Montenegro for his help and his work,
and for his pastoral closeness. I warmly greet the Mayor, Mrs Giusy Nicolini.
Thank you so much for all you have done, and for all you do. I give a thought,
too, to the dear Muslim immigrants that are beginning the fast of Ramadan, with
best wishes for abundant spiritual fruits. The Church is near to you in the
search for a more dignified life for yourselves and for your families. I say to
you “O’ scia’!” [trans.: a friendly greeting in the local dialect].
This
morning, in light of the Word of God that we have heard, I want to say a few
words that, above all, provoke the conscience of all, pushing us to reflect and
to change certain attitudes in concrete ways.
“Adam, where are you?”
This is the first question that God addresses to man after sin. “Where are you
Adam?” Adam is disoriented and has lost his place in creation because he thought
to become powerful, to dominate everything, to be God. And harmony was broken,
the man erred – and this is repeated even in relations with his neighbour, who
is no longer a brother to be loved, but simply someone who disturbs my life, my
well-being. And God puts the second question: “Cain, where is your brother?” The
dream of being powerful, of being as great as God, even of being God, leads to a
chain of errors that is a chain of death, leads to shedding the blood of the
brother!
These two questions resonate even today, with all their force!
So many of us, even including myself, are disoriented, we are no longer
attentive to the world in which we live, we don’t care, we don’t protect that
which God has created for all, and we are unable to care for one another. And
when this disorientation assumes worldwide dimensions, we arrive at tragedies
like the one we have seen.
“Where is your brother?” the voice of his
blood cries even to me, God says. This is not a question addressed to others: it
is a question addressed to me, to you, to each one of us. These our brothers and
sisters seek to leave difficult situations in order to find a little serenity
and peace, they seek a better place for themselves and for their families – but
they found death. How many times to those who seek this not find understanding,
do not find welcome, do not find solidarity! And their voices rise up even to
God! And once more to you, the residents of Lampedusa, thank you for your
solidarity! I recently heard one of these brothers. Before arriving here, he had
passed through the hands of traffickers, those who exploit the poverty of
others; these people for whom the poverty of others is a source of income. What
they have suffered! And some have been unable to arrive!
“Where is your
brother?” Who is responsible for this blood? In Spanish literature there is a
play by Lope de Vega that tells how the inhabitants of the city of Fuente
Ovejuna killed the Governor because he was a tyrant, and did it in such a way
that no one knew who had carried out the execution. And when the judge of the
king asked “Who killed the Governor?” they all responded, “Fuente Ovejuna, sir.”
All and no one! Even today this question comes with force: Who is responsible
for the blood of these brothers and sisters? No one! We all respond this way:
not me, it has nothing to do with me, there are others, certainly not me. But
God asks each one of us: “Where is the blood of your brother that cries out to
me?” Today no one in the world feels responsible for this; we have lost the
sense of fraternal responsibility; we have fallen into the hypocritical attitude
of the priest and of the servant of the altar that Jesus speaks about in the
parable of the Good Samaritan: We look upon the brother half dead by the
roadside, perhaps we think “poor guy,” and we continue on our way, it’s none of
our business; and we feel fine with this. We feel at peace with this, we feel
fine! The culture of well-being, that makes us think of ourselves, that makes us
insensitive to the cries of others, that makes us live in soap bubbles, that are
beautiful but are nothing, are illusions of futility, of the transient, that
brings indifference to others, that brings even the globalization of
indifference. In this world of globalization we have fallen into a globalization
of indifference. We are accustomed to the suffering of others, it doesn’t
concern us, it’s none of our business.
The figure of the Unnamed of
Manzoni returns. The globalization of indifference makes us all “unnamed,”
leaders without names and without faces.
“Adam, where are you?” “Where
is your brother?” These are the two questions that God puts at the beginning of
the story of humanity, and that He also addresses to the men and women of our
time, even to us. But I want to set before us a third question: “Who among us
has wept for these things, and things like this?” Who has wept for the deaths of
these brothers and sisters? Who has wept for the people who were on the boat?
For the young mothers carrying their babies? For these men who wanted something
to support their families? We are a society that has forgotten the experience of
weeping, of “suffering with”: the globalization of indifference has taken from
us the ability to weep! In the Gospel we have heard the cry, the plea, the great
lament: “Rachel weeping for her children . . . because they are no more.” Herod
sowed death in order to defend his own well-being, his own soap bubble. And this
continues to repeat itself. Let us ask the Lord to wipe out [whatever attitude]
of Herod remains in our hears; let us ask the Lord for the grace to weep over
our indifference, to weep over the cruelty in the world, in ourselves, and even
in those who anonymously make socio-economic decisions that open the way to
tragedies like this. “Who has wept?” Who in today’s world has wept?
O
Lord, in this Liturgy, a Liturgy of repentance, we ask forgiveness for the
indifference towards so many brothers and sisters, we ask forgiveness for those
who are pleased with themselves, who are closed in on their own well-being in a
way that leads to the anaesthesia of the heart, we ask you, Father, for
forgiveness for those who with their decisions at the global level have created
situations that lead to these tragedies. Forgive us, Lord!
O Lord, even
today let us hear your questions: “Adam, where are you?” “Where is the blood of
your brother?” Amen.
Text from page http://en.radiovaticana.va/news/2013/07/08/pope_on_lampedusa:_%E2%80%9Cthe_globalization_of_indifference%E2%80%9D/en1-708541
of the Vatican Radio website
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