Visit of the Holy Father to the Pontifical Gregorian University / 3

Good morning, sisters and brothers.

At the invitation of the Father General Arturo Sosa, I am here with you today, in the wake of the incorporation of the Pontifical Biblical Institute and the Pontifical Oriental Institute into the Pontifical Gregorian University, now designated Collegium Maximum. Upon receiving the proposal to incorporate the two institutes, I embraced it, confident that it was not merely an administrative restructuring, but rather an opportunity to revitalise the mission that the Bishops of Rome have consistently entrusted to the Society of Jesus. Proceeding in this direction would be a mistake if the approach were to be driven by a visionless desire for efficiency, limited to incorporations, suspensions and closures, neglecting instead all that is happening in the world and in the Church, which calls for a supplement of spirituality and a rethinking of everything in the light of the mission entrusted to us by the Lord Jesus, losing the specific charism of the Society of Jesus. This cannot be. When one walks only worrying about not tripping, one ends up bumping into things. Have you asked yourselves where you are going and why you are doing the things you are doing? It is necessary to be aware of one’s destination without losing sight of the horizon that unites each individual’s path with the present and the ultimate goal. Likewise, in a university, the vision and awareness of the final goal prevents the “Coca-Cola-sation” of research and teaching, which would lead to spiritual “Coca-Cola-sation”. Unfortunately, there are many disciples of “Coca-Cola” spirituality!

When Father General invited me, he asked me a question: What role can the Gregorian University play today? As I reflected on this question, I remembered a passage from the Letter of St Francis Xavier, preserved in the Office of Readings, which he wrote from Cochin in January 1544: “Certain thoughts have persuaded me to come here.” St Francis Xavier expressed the desire to go around to the universities that existed at the time “crying out like a madman, riveting the attention of those with more learning than charity” so as to stir them into becoming missionaries for the love of their brothers and sisters, “so they would cry out with all their heart: Lord, I am here! What do you want me to do?”

No need to worry, I will not start crying out, but the intentions are the same, that is, to remind you to be missionaries for the love of your brothers and sisters, and to be responsive to the call of the Lord, purifying everything (tools and inspiration) in discipleship of Christ. It is the Lord who inspires the mission and who sustains it. It is not for us to dare to take His place with our own pretensions, which make God’s plan bureaucratic, overbearing, rigid and unwelcoming, too often imposing our own agendas and ambitions on the plans of Divine Providence.

This is a place where the mission should be expressed through formative action, wholeheartedly.

To educate is first and foremost about caring for others, and therefore it is a discreet, precious and delicate act of charity. When this does not happen, education turns into sterile intellectualism or into a form of warped narcissism, a veritable spiritual concupiscence where others exist merely as cheering spectators, empty vessels to be filled by the ego of the person in charge of teaching.

I was told an interesting story about a professor who one morning found his classroom empty. This professor was always so engrossed in his teaching that he realized there was no one there only the podium. The classroom was a large lecture hall and it took him several paces to arrive at what looked like a ‘professor’s throne’. When he realized that nobody was there, he decided to leave the classroom and asked the janitor what had happened. The man, previously timid, had changed attitude, he seemed more at ease... He pointed at the note that had been posted on the door after he had entered, which read: “Lecture hall occupied by immeasurable Ego. No open seats.”

It was a prank by the students during the 1968 protests.

When there is no heart, you can see it... really see it.

In my latest encyclical, Dilexit nos, I mentioned Stavrogin, a central character in Dostoyevsky’s novel The Demons. Through this negative character, I wanted to underline, by way of contrast, that the heart is the origin and destination of every relationship, with God and with our brothers and sisters. Relationships with everyone. This is well expressed in the beautiful motto of Saint John Henry Newman, which he took from the writings of St Francis de Sales: “Cor Ad Cor Loquitur: Heart Speaks to Heart” - which Benedict XVI was so fond of. With regard to Stavrogin, I recently came across a book by Romano Guardini, who portrays him as the embodiment of evil, since his chief trait is his heartlessness. Hence “he can draw close to no one and no one can ever truly draw close to him.”

Here with you today, with teachers and students coming from all over the world, what Guardini adds is especially meaningful: “Only the heart knows how to welcome and offer a home [1]».

The foundations of this educational mission remain relevant for the Gregorian University community, teachers, students, administrative and service staff. In this respect, the words of St. Ignatius’ secretary about the reasons that led Ignatius to found the Collegio Romano after the successful establishment of the Collegio di Messina deserve to be mentioned. Unfortunately – I’m sorry, it pains me to say it - we have missed the opportunity to recover the title “Collegio Romano” (Roman College), which was linked to the original purpose, whose significance remains undiminished. I hope that something can still be done. “The good of Christianity and of the whole world depends on the good formation of the youth, for which there is a great need of virtuous and wise masters, the Society [of Jesus] took on itself the task, less visible but no less important, of this formation.” This is what the secretary of Saint Ignatius wrote in 1556, five years after a group of fifteen Jesuit students settled into a modest house not far from where the Via Aracoeli is now. The door of the house bore the following inscription: “School of grammar, humanity, Christian doctrine. Free.” It was most likely inspired by the invitation of the prophet Isaiah: “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come” (Isaiah 55:1). In those days, education was a privilege, a condition that still exists today. This confirms the contemporary relevance of Don Lorenzo Milani’s statement that schools are “hospitals that treat the healthy and reject the sick.” But by losing the poor, schools would be lost [2].

What is the meaning of the inscription on the door of the house where the Gregorian University was founded? It is an invitation to humanise the knowledge of the faith, to light and revive the spark of grace in the human person, safeguarding transdisciplinarity in research and teaching. Let me ask: are you implementing Veritatis Gaudium? Are you considering the impact of Artificial Intelligence on teaching and research? No algorithm can replace poetry, irony and love. Students need to rediscover the power of creativity, to see inspiration blossom, to reconnect with their emotions and to know how to express their feelings. In this way, students learn to be themselves, to come into contact with the great thinkers according to their own abilities, without shortcuts that take away the freedom of choice, stifle the joy of discovery and rob them of the opportunity to make mistakes. We learn from our mistakes. It is often the mistakes that define the characters of our formative novels. As for the inscription on the door of the first seat of the Collegio Romano, the main point is to give contemporary relevance to the notion of gratuitousness in relationships, methods and goals. Gratuitousness is what makes everyone servants without masters, all serving each other, all recognizing each person’s dignity, no one excluded.

Gratuitousness is what opens us to the surprises from God who is mercy, and frees us from cravings. Gratuitousness makes wise men and teachers virtuous. Gratuitousness educates without manipulating and binding to oneself, it achieves fulfilment in growth and fosters creativity. Gratuitousness reveals the mystery of God as love, the God of love that is closeness, compassion, tenderness that always takes the first step, the first step towards everyone, no one excluded, in a world that seems to have lost its heart. That is why we need a University that has the smell of the people, a university that does not trample on differences under the illusion of a unity that is only homogeneity, a University that is not afraid of virtuous contamination or of the imagination that revives what is dying.

Brothers and sisters, we are here in Rome, where we live in a state of constant meditation on what passes and what remains, as described in the poem by the 17th century Spanish writer Francisco de Quevedo.

I quote:

O Pilgrim! you seek Rome in Rome,
but in Rome itself you cannot find Rome:
a cadaver are the walls Rome boasted,

and, filed down by time, its medals
appear more ruined by battles
with time than a Roman shield.

Only the Tiber remains, whose current
watered the city; now it mourns her,
a sepulchre, with dark, dolorous sounds

O Rome, in your greatness and beauty,
you fled what was solid; and alone
what flees lasts permanently!

These verses should give us pause for thought: so often we build monuments in the hope of outliving ourselves, and leave behind earthly marks that we imagine to be imperishable.

The city of Rome is a prime example: only ruins remain of what was thought to be indestructible, while what was supposed to ebb and flow - the river - is in fact what has withstood the test of time. Once again, as always, the logic of the Gospel reveals its truth: to gain something, you must lose something. [3]

What are we prepared to lose in the face of challenges? The world is in flames, the madness of war shrouds every hope in the shadow of death. What is there to be done? How can we hope? The promise of salvation is wounded. This word - salvation - cannot be held hostage by those who feed illusions, associating it with bloodstained victories, while our words seem devoid of the faith in our Lord, our Saviour, of his Gospel, which speaks to us and shows us the true acts of salvation. Jesus came into this world and revealed to us the meekness of God. Do our thoughts seek to imitate him or, I wonder, do they use him to disguise the worldliness that unjustly condemned and killed him? Let us disarm our words; gentle words, please! We need to recover the path of an incarnate theology capable of reviving hope, a philosophy capable of rekindling the desire to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment, to stand at the threshold of his mystery. We need an exegesis capable of opening the eyes of the heart; one that celebrates the Word that in every age grows with the lives of those who read it with faith. The study of the Eastern traditions is necessary to promote the exchange of gifts between the different traditions and to show that differences can be reconciled.

In this University, learning should not originate from abstract ideas conceived only on a theoretical plane, but rather from observing and feeling the travails of concrete history, rooted in the close contact with the life of peoples and the symbols of their cultures, in the willingness to listen to the hidden questions and hear the cry that comes from the suffering flesh of the poor.

It is necessary to touch this flesh, to have the courage to walk in the mud and to get one’s hands dirty. The University must produce God-given knowledge acquired through dialogue with humanity, leaving behind the “us and them” approach, if it intends to be the place and instrument of the Church’s mission. For many centuries there has been a condescending attitude on the part of those engaged in sacred studies. As a result, we have made many mistakes! Now is the time for all of us to be humble, to admit that we do not know, and to recognise that we need others, especially those whose views differ from our own. This is a complex world and research requires everyone’s contribution. No one, whether people with specialised skills or world views, can assume to be enough on their own. No single thought alone is the perfect answer to problems that arise at different levels. Fewer chairs, more non-hierarchical tables, side by side, all hungry for knowledge, touching the wounds of history. This is the style in which the Gospel can convert the hearts and answer existential questions.

Sisters and brothers, for this to happen, the university must become the home of the heart. Nurturing relationships requires a heart open to dialogue. The heart unites the fragments and with the hearts of others bridges of encounter are built. The heart is essential for the University: a place of research for building a culture of encounter, not one of rejection. The University is a place of dialogue between the past and the present, between tradition and life, between history and stories. It reminds me of a famous scene from the Iliad in which Hector, before confronting Achilles, pays a visit to his wife Andromache and their baby child Astyanax. The sight of Hector heavily armoured scares Astyanax and causes him to cry. Hector takes off his helmet and lays it on the ground. He then gently takes his son in his arms and lifts him up to eye level. Only then does he speak to him [4]. This beautiful passage shows us the steps that lead to dialogue: laying down arms, putting oneself on an equal footing with the other person in order to look him in the eye. Disarming oneself, disarming one’s thoughts, disarming one’s words, disarming one’s gaze and only then can one meet on the same level in order to look each other in the eye. There is no top-down dialogue, none at all.

Only in this way does learning become an act of mercy, the essence of which Shakespeare so beautifully describes: “The quality of mercy is not strained: it drops on to the world as the gentle rain does – from heaven. It’s doubly blessed. It blesses both the giver and the receiver” [5] that is, both the teacher and the student. The expectation is that there will be learning on both sides. The dialogue established in relation to tradition and history should be compassionate towards the present - how many wounds are waiting to be healed! - while respecting the past. Showing compassion today and honouring “yesterday”. The Trojan War provides another beautiful image, this time told in the Aeneid. The war revealed its all too tragic face, and when all hope seemed lost, Aeneas did two things. First, in order to save his father Anchises from the burning Troy, Aeneas lifted the old man onto his back. At first Anchises, who was crippled, tried to persuade his son to flee without him, arguing that his weight would slow them down. Secondly, Aeneas protected his son Ascanius with a firm grip on his right hand [6]. Thus, continues the famous line sublato patre montem petivi (in the Aeneid, the exact line is Cessi, et sublato montem genitore petivi, meaning “I gave way to fate and, carrying my father on my shoulders, made for the mountain”). And so, we too must go forward.

I don’t know how many of you have seen Bernini’s statue depicting this scene in the Galleria Borghese in Rome. Go and see it, you will discover a story carved in marble, and you will discover your mission, which entails carrying on your shoulders the history of faith, wisdom and suffering of all times. Walking in the present that is in flames and needs your help, holding the future by the hand. Together, past, present and future.

As I mentioned earlier, I was asked about the role of the Gregorian University today. In order to answer this question, it is necessary for you to make an examination of conscience and ask yourselves: is this mission still capable of transmitting the charism of the Society? Does it express and give concreteness to its founding grace? We cannot look back on what gave birth to us and see it as a crippled Anchises, to be abandoned on the pretext that our present and our future cannot bear its burden. We are guided by our roots: they cannot be severed.

The fundamental grace has a name: Ignatius of Loyola, and a concrete formulation in the Spiritual Exercises and in the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus. Throughout the history of the Society, the founding grace has consistently been transformed into an intellectual experience, the composition of the will of God, who works and guides humanity in mysterious ways, through the choices made by generations of men and women on a journey. I remember an anecdote: Father Ledóchowski wanted to clearly define the spirituality of the Society and for this purpose he wrote the Epitome: everything was regulated, including the time for lunch... everything. He was a close friend of the Benedictine abbot, so he sent him the first copy, to which he replied: “Father Ledóchowski, with this document you have killed the Society of Jesus!” Because he had stopped its progress. And the Society is moving forward, it is moving forward with discernment.

Underlying all this is the direct relationship between the Creator and his creature. In the 15th annotation, the one who gives the exercises is asked to maintain a balance “so that the Creator can have direct contact with the creature and the creature with its Creator and Lord”. Applied to the role of the teacher, your ultimate goal is to promote, through study, the relationship with the Lord, and not to try to replace it.

Once again, the criterion that allows for the correction of our actions is the primacy of service. In order to serve God in everything we do, we ought to choose that which is more conducive to the end for which we were created (cf. SpEx 23). Discernment is needed to purify our intentions and to evaluate the appropriateness of our means. In other words, does this integration correspond to the founding grace? Those who govern and those who collaborate, do they do so in harmony with the founding grace, or do they just serve themselves?

Finally, feeling with the Church that asks us to put aside all our judgement and keep our minds disposed and ready to be obedient in everything to our Holy Mother Church (Cf. SpEx 353), a concept that might include the question of intellectual freedom and the limits of research.

I remember Fr. Kolvenbach’s comment on these regulations at the Congregation of Procurators held in 1987. He said: “Creativity, spiritual movements, prophetic and charismatic initiatives lose their direction, become scattered and wear out when they are disconnected from the purpose of a greater service, that is, one that transcends our worldly plans, our ambitions and our demands for efficiency. This is true even if we have a papal seal on it”.

 

The actualization of the rule of feeling with the Church is a very delicate matter for it gives rise to tensions and conflicts, and because of the difficulty of establishing boundaries between faith and reason, between obedience and freedom, between love and critical thinking, between personal responsibility and obedience to the Church. Each age has its own measures, a little less or a little more here, a little less or a little more there. Kolvenbach pointed out: “For what the Lord has joined together in the mystery of Christ and his Church, no one can separate” (cf. Ephesians 5:32). The Mystery transcends human measure, and union with it requires constant discernment. A constant journey. Honest, profound discernment, seeking what unites and never pursuing whatever separates us from the love of Christ and from the feeling of being one with the Church, a unity that cannot be limited to the words of doctrine alone, to the observance of rules.

The way in which doctrine is used, frequently reduces it to being without time, as if “caged” in a museum, whereas it is always evolving, always alive, expressing the communion of faith with all those who live according to the Gospel. Generation after generation, all waiting for the coming of the Kingdom of God. Kolvenbach added: “In all circumstances, our attitude should be this: to experience the pain of conflict and thereby participate in the process that leads to greater communion, thus fulfilling Jesus’ prayer: ‘that they shall be one, as we are one’ (John 17:21-22).” The pain of conflict and prayer. I remember Father Arrupe’s farewell, when he visited the host communities of the boat people, the slaves... and what did he say? “Work towards the integration of these people who are outside the system, many of them fleeing from their own cultures. But please don't neglect prayer.” This was the last thing Arrupe said before boarding the plane.

These criteria for discernment, I believe, may help to provide the answer to the question of the mission of the Gregorian University, which can be summed up in one word: diakonia. A diakonia of culture at the service of the continuous restructuring of the fragments of every epochal change. A diakonia fulfilled without avoiding the effort of the incarnate concept, the fatigue of the concept seeking harmony with the Spirit, seeking communion after conflict: internal and external.

May you therefore aspire to thoughts that build bridges, that dialogue with different thoughts, that strive to reach the depths of the Mystery. I find the image of the labyrinth very helpful. The only way out of a labyrinth is from above, from high above. Take care of what remains, in the twilight of life, because we will be judged by our love, we will be judged on whether our talents have fed, quenched the thirst, clothed, sheltered, visited the least of those we have met (cf. Mt 25:31-46). Let us juxtapose this passage from Matthew with the teaching that sums up the whole search for wisdom among cultures, similarly expressed throughout the ages and summarized as follows: culture is what remains after we have forgotten what we have learned. The culture that remains is love.

The University is a place for dialogue. Suppose two students arrive at the university each with a book which they then exchange. Both will go home with just one book. However, if these students exchange a thought or an idea upon leaving, each will take home one more thought or idea. More than just quantity, each will owe something to the other, each will be part of the other.

At this time, it comforts me, it does me good to read St Basil’s teachings on the Holy Spirit, His accompaniment of the Church, everything emanates from Him. It’s Jesus’ promise that is fulfilled in time. The Holy Spirit is the harmonious composer of the history of salvation, He is the harmony. Like the Church, the University must be a harmonious ensemble of voices united in the Holy Spirit [7].

Each person has their own peculiarities, but these peculiarities must be incorporated into the symphony of the Church and her works, and only the Spirit can compose the right symphony. Indeed, the Spirit does. Our task is not to spoil it, no, our task is to make it resound. Every mission needs servants who are attuned to the Holy Spirit and who are able to compose music together, a Divine music that seeks the human flesh just as the score seeks the instrument. This is synodality. A university that carries out its mission with an ecclesial mandate has to make sure that this style is witnessed to and imparted.

Many times, authoritarian styles that do not listen or do not engage in dialogue prevail, assuming that only their own thoughts are right, and sometimes there is no thought, only ideology. Please be careful not to drift from thought to ideology. Ask yourselves if the choice of teachers, the choice of programs, the choice of deans, presidents, directors and, above all, the choice of the highest academic authorities, corresponds to that “quality” that still justifies the Bishop of Rome’s entrusting this University to the Society of Jesus. For St. Ignatius, the intellectual apostolate and the houses of higher learning clearly had great potential. However, an honest analysis of the achievements reveals some critical aspects that could cast doubt on the ability to spread and propagate the faith, which is ultimately expressed in culture, which is what Saint Ignatius had in mind when he highlighted the mission of education.

It is not uncommon for us to see students from the Society’s educational centres achieving high academic, scientific and even technical results, yet they seem not to have assimilated Ignatian spirituality. On many occasions we have been disappointed to see that some alumni, having reached high levels of governance, were not in harmony with the formation program. Reflection and honest self-criticism are needed here too. I encourage you, as I have said from the beginning, to reflect on the words of St Ignatius: “Where I am going and for what purpose” (SpEx 206). And above all: “where I am going and before whom I shall appear” (SpEx 131). Take note of these questions, for they will help you to discern your intentions and, if necessary, to purify them in order to better define your direction. Remember what distinguishes this University, for it could help you to rethink the mission of all the formation centres of the Society.

The Gregorian University’s distinguishing features are represented by its coat of arms, which is to be kept in unison with the inscription on the door of that humble house, its place of origin, the ‘Collegio Romano’. If you look closely at the coat of arms, you will see a motto encapsulating the charism of the University: religiones et bonis artibus. In the context of Baroque epigraphy, this phrase has traditionally posed a dilemma, the resolution of which is found in the tension between the two elements. Religioni et bonis artibus. It is here that a horizon of understanding and a question to be explored are simultaneously revealed. In fact, this evokes what Ignatius articulates in the Constitutions concerning the means that unite the instrument with God (expressed in the definition of the term “religio”) and those that render it available to men (expressed as art). In this regard, I turn to you, entrusted with governing and guiding the mission of this University before God, and to your students: to what end are you doing what you are doing, and for whom? St. Ignatius emphasises the hierarchy of these means: “the means which unite the human instrument to God and so dispose it that it may be wielded dexterously by his divine hand are more effective than those which equip it in relation to men...the interior gifts upon which depends our effectiveness in reaching the goal set before us” (Constitutions X, 813).Furthermore, in the Gospel, we find a question that interrogates every project: “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21).

In the Exercises, Saint Ignatius revisits the concept of spiritual primacy, which should not be regarded as disincarnate spirituality. He repeatedly invites us to “ask for an interior knowledge of Our Lord, who became human for me, that I may love him more intensely and follow him more closely” (SpEx 104, 113, 130 etc.). In fact, Ignatius does not forget the ‘propter nos’ and the ‘propter nostram salutem’ of the Creed – for us and for our salvation – where universal salvation becomes concrete and existential in the expressions “for us”, “for me”. This is not an abstract concept, but a reality of which we experience a saved life, where ‘me’ and ‘us’ are inseparable, in the knowledge that not everything is salvation. How can there be salvation if all that drives us is the lust for power? This is a very topical question in matters of governance.

Finally, Ignatius teaches us that everything must be expressed as a prayer, an incessant petition, that is, as a grace to be asked for, not as the product of human effort. How sad it is to see that people put their trust primarily in human means, entrusting everything to the manager on duty. I ask those of you gathered here today, what is your relationship with the Lord? How is your prayer? Is it really formal or is it not? How is your heart-where is it? The university must be the home of the heart. As I have told you before, William of Saint Thierry teaches us that the heart is “a force of the soul which leads it as if by natural weight to its own place” [8].

Finally, I hereby wish to recall St. Francis Xavier and his desire to go around the universities of Europe, “riveting the attention of those with more learning than charity”, encouraging them to become missionaries out of love for their brothers and sisters. Remember: then as today, according to the Ignatian charism, culture is a mission of love. I leave you with this spur for inner reflection and means. And one more thing: don’t forget your sense of humour: a woman, a man, who has no sense of humour is not human. I invite you to pray that beautiful prayer of St Thomas Moore: “Grant me, O Lord, good digestion, and also something to digest”. Seek it, pray for it. I must confess one thing, I have been praying it every day for more than 40 years and it is good for me, it is good for me! Do not lose your sense of humour.

Before concluding, allow me to share with you a final quotation from St Ignatius, the second in the Spiritual Exercises, particularly relevant to you as students: “what fills and satisfies the soul consists, not in knowing much, but in our understanding the realities profoundly and in savouring them interiorly”. An honest assessment of the educational experience involves being shown the way and being helped to proceed independently on a deeper level, avoiding intellectualistic labyrinths or the mere accumulation of notions, and cultivating a taste for irony. Avoiding intellectualistic labyrinths from which one cannot escape on one’s own, and the accumulation of notions, and cultivating a taste for irony. On this path I wish you the joy of savouring the Mystery. Thank you.

________________________

[1] R. Guardini, Il mondo religioso di Dostoevskij, Brescia 1980, 236.

[2] Cfr. L. Milani, Lettera a una professoressa.

[3] Cf. Mt 10:39; 16:25; Mk 8:35; Lk 9:24; 17:33; Jn 12:25.

[4] Iliad 6. 394-502

[5] William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, act IV, scene I.

[6] Cf. Aeneid 2, 707-729.

[7] Cf. St. Basil, Homilies on the Psalms, 29:1; On the Holy Spirit, XVI, 38.

[8] William of Saint-Thierry, De natura et dignitate amoris, 1 PL 184, 379.