TENTH WORLD DAY OF THE SICK

MESSAGE OF THE HOLY FATHER 
FOR THE WORLD DAY OF THE SICK 
FOR THE YEAR 2002 

 

1. For some years 11 February, the day on which the Church commemorates the apparition of Our Lady at Lourdes, has fittingly come to be associated with an important event: the celebration of the World Day of the Sick. The year 2002 marks the tenth such celebration, which will take place at the well-known Marian pilgrimage centre in South India, the Shrine of Our Lady of Good Health at Vailankanny, known as “the Lourdes of the East” (Angelus, 31 July 1988). Sure of the Divine Mother’s unfailing help in their needs, with profound devotion and trust millions flock to this Shrine situated on the shore of the Bay of Bengal amid the calm surroundings of palm groves. Vailankanny attracts not only Christian pilgrims but also many followers of other religions, especially Hindus, who see in Our Lady of Good Health the caring and compassionate Mother of suffering humanity. In a land of such ancient and deep religiosity like India, this Shrine dedicated to the Mother of God is truly a meeting-point for members of different religions, and an outstanding example of interreligious harmony and exchange.

The World Day of the Sick will begin with a moment of intense prayer for all who are suffering pain and infirmity. In this way we will express our solidarity with those who suffer, a solidarity arising from our awareness of the mysterious nature of suffering and its place in God’s loving plan for every individual. The Day will continue with serious reflection and study on the Christian response to the world of human suffering, which seems to grow by the day, not least on account of man-made calamities and unsound choices made by individuals and societies. In re-examining the role and task of Christian health care facilities, hospitals and personnel, this reflection will emphasize and reaffirm the true Christian values which should inspire them. To walk in the footsteps of Jesus, the Divine Healer, who came “that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (Jn 10:10) – the theme of the Day’s reflection – implies an unambiguous stance in favour of the culture of life and a total commitment to the defence of life from conception to natural death.

2. Seeking new and effective ways to alleviate suffering is a valid quest, but suffering nevertheless remains a fundamental fact of human life. In a way it is as deep as man himself and touches upon his very essence (cf. Salvifici Doloris, 3). Medical research and treatment neither wholly explain nor fully overcome suffering. In its depth and its many forms it needs to be considered from a perspective which transcends the merely physical. The various religions of humanity have always sought to answer the question of the meaning of suffering, and they recognize the need to show compassion and kindness towards all who are suffering. Thus religious convictions have given rise to systems of medicine to treat and cure diseases, and the history of various religions tells of organized health care of the sick practised from very ancient times.

Even though the Church finds much that is valid and noble in non-Christian interpretations of suffering, her own understanding of this great human mystery is unique. In order to discover the fundamental and definitive meaning of suffering “we must look to the revelation of divine love, the ultimate source of the meaning of everything that exists” (Salvifici Doloris, 13). The answer to the question of the meaning of suffering has been “given by God to man in the Cross of Jesus Christ” (ibid., 13). Suffering, a consequence of original sin, takes on a new meaning; it becomes a sharing in the saving work of Jesus Christ (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1521). Through his suffering on the Cross, Christ has prevailed over evil and enables us too to overcome it. Our sufferings become meaningful and precious when united with his. As God and man, Christ has taken upon himself the sufferings of humanity, and in him human suffering itself takes on a redemptive meaning. In this union between the human and the divine, suffering brings forth good and overcomes evil. In expressing my profound solidarity with all those who are suffering, I earnestly pray that the celebration of the World Day of the Sick will be for them a providential moment opening a new horizon of meaning in their lives. 

Faith teaches us to seek the ultimate meaning of suffering in Christ’s Passion, Death and Resurrection. The Christian response to pain and suffering is never one of passivity. Urged on by Christian charity, which finds its supreme expression in the life and works of Jesus, who “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38), the Church goes out to meet the sick and suffering, bringing them comfort and hope. This is not a mere exercise of benevolence, but is motivated by compassion and concern leading to care and dedicated service. It ultimately involves the unselfish gift of self to others, especially to those who are suffering (cf. Salvifici Doloris, 29). The Gospel parable of the Good Samaritan captures very well the noblest sentiments and response of someone confronted with a fellow human being in suffering and need. A Good Samaritan is anyone who stops to attend to the needs of those who are suffering. 

3. At this point my thoughts go to the countless men and women all over the world who are active in the field of health care, as directors of health care centres, chaplains, doctors, researchers, nurses, pharmacists, paramedical workers and volunteers. As I mentioned in my Post-Synodal Exhortation Ecclesia in Asia, on numerous occasions during my visits to the Church in different parts of the world I have been deeply moved by the extraordinary Christian witness of various groups of health care workers, especially those working with the handicapped and the terminally ill, as well as those contending with the spread of new diseases such as AIDS (cf. No. 36). Through the celebration of the World Day of the Sick, the Church expresses her gratitude and appreciation for the dedicated services of the many priests, religious, and laity engaged in health care, who selflessly minister to the sick, the suffering and the dying, drawing strength and inspiration from their faith in the Lord Jesus and from the Gospel image of the Good Samaritan. The command of the Lord at the Last Supper: “Do this in memory of me”, besides referring to the breaking of bread, also alludes to the body given and the blood poured out by Christ for us (cf. Lk 22:19-20), in other words, to the gift of self for others. A particularly significant expression of this gift of self lies in service to the sick and suffering. Hence those who dedicate themselves to this service will always find in the Eucharist an unfailing source of strength and a stimulus to ever renewed generosity.

4. In her approach to the sick and the suffering, the Church is guided by a precise and all-round view of the human person “created in the image of God and endowed with a God-given dignity and inalienable human rights” (Ecclesia in Asia, 33). Accordingly, the Church insists on the principle that not all that is technologically feasible is morally admissible. The tremendous progress in medical science and skills in recent times places a supreme responsibility on us all with regard to God’s gift of life – which always remains a gift in all its stages and conditions. We must be vigilant against every possible violation and suppression of life. “We are … guardians of life, not its proprietors ... From the moment of its conception, human life involves God’s creative action and remains forever in a special bond with the Creator, who is life’s source and its sole end” (Ecclesia in Asia, 35).

Solidly rooted in charity, Christian health care institutions continue Jesus’ own mission of caring for the weak and the sick. As places where the culture of life is affirmed and secured, I am confident that they will continue to meet the expectations that every suffering member of humanity has placed in them. I pray that Mary, Health of the Sick, will continue to grant her loving protection to all who are wounded in body and spirit, and will intercede for those who care for them. May she help us to unite our sufferings with those of her Son as we journey in joyful hope to the safety of the Father’s House.

From Castel Gandolfo, 6 August 2001

JOHN PAUL II

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Spe Salvi: II. Action and suffering as settings for learning hope

35. All serious and upright human conduct is hope in action. This is so first of all in the sense that we thereby strive to realize our lesser and greater hopes, to complete this or that task which is important for our onward journey, or we work towards a brighter and more humane world so as to open doors into the future. Yet our daily efforts in pursuing our own lives and in working for the world's future either tire us or turn into fanaticism, unless we are enlightened by the radiance of the great hope that cannot be destroyed even by small-scale failures or by a breakdown in matters of historic importance. If we cannot hope for more than is effectively attainable at any given time, or more than is promised by political or economic authorities, our lives will soon be without hope. It is important to know that I can always continue to hope, even if in my own life, or the historical period in which I am living, there seems to be nothing left to hope for. Only the great certitude of hope that my own life and history in general, despite all failures, are held firm by the indestructible power of Love, and that this gives them their meaning and importance, only this kind of hope can then give the courage to act and to persevere. Certainly we cannot “build” the Kingdom of God by our own efforts—what we build will always be the kingdom of man with all the limitations proper to our human nature. The Kingdom of God is a gift, and precisely because of this, it is great and beautiful, and constitutes the response to our hope. And we cannot—to use the classical expression—”merit” Heaven through our works. Heaven is always more than we could merit, just as being loved is never something “merited”, but always a gift. However, even when we are fully aware that Heaven far exceeds what we can merit, it will always be true that our behaviour is not indifferent before God and therefore is not indifferent for the unfolding of history. We can open ourselves and the world and allow God to enter: we can open ourselves to truth, to love, to what is good. This is what the saints did, those who, as “God's fellow workers”, contributed to the world's salvation (cf. 1 Cor 3:9; 1 Th 3:2). We can free our life and the world from the poisons and contaminations that could destroy the present and the future. We can uncover the sources of creation and keep them unsullied, and in this way we can make a right use of creation, which comes to us as a gift, according to its intrinsic requirements and ultimate purpose. This makes sense even if outwardly we achieve nothing or seem powerless in the face of overwhelming hostile forces. So on the one hand, our actions engender hope for us and for others; but at the same time, it is the great hope based upon God's promises that gives us courage and directs our action in good times and bad.

36. Like action, suffering is a part of our human existence. Suffering stems partly from our finitude, and partly from the mass of sin which has accumulated over the course of history, and continues to grow unabated today. Certainly we must do whatever we can to reduce suffering: to avoid as far as possible the suffering of the innocent; to soothe pain; to give assistance in overcoming mental suffering. These are obligations both in justice and in love, and they are included among the fundamental requirements of the Christian life and every truly human life. Great progress has been made in the battle against physical pain; yet the sufferings of the innocent and mental suffering have, if anything, increased in recent decades. Indeed, we must do all we can to overcome suffering, but to banish it from the world altogether is not in our power. This is simply because we are unable to shake off our finitude and because none of us is capable of eliminating the power of evil, of sin which, as we plainly see, is a constant source of suffering. Only God is able to do this: only a God who personally enters history by making himself man and suffering within history. We know that this God exists, and hence that this power to “take away the sin of the world” (Jn 1:29) is present in the world. Through faith in the existence of this power, hope for the world's healing has emerged in history. It is, however, hope—not yet fulfilment; hope that gives us the courage to place ourselves on the side of good even in seemingly hopeless situations, aware that, as far as the external course of history is concerned, the power of sin will continue to be a terrible presence.

37. Let us return to our topic. We can try to limit suffering, to fight against it, but we cannot eliminate it. It is when we attempt to avoid suffering by withdrawing from anything that might involve hurt, when we try to spare ourselves the effort and pain of pursuing truth, love, and goodness, that we drift into a life of emptiness, in which there may be almost no pain, but the dark sensation of meaninglessness and abandonment is all the greater. It is not by sidestepping or fleeing from suffering that we are healed, but rather by our capacity for accepting it, maturing through it and finding meaning through union with Christ, who suffered with infinite love. In this context, I would like to quote a passage from a letter written by the Vietnamese martyr Paul Le-Bao-Tinh († 1857) which illustrates this transformation of suffering through the power of hope springing from faith. “I, Paul, in chains for the name of Christ, wish to relate to you the trials besetting me daily, in order that you may be inflamed with love for God and join with me in his praises, for his mercy is for ever (Ps 136 [135]). The prison here is a true image of everlasting Hell: to cruel tortures of every kind—shackles, iron chains, manacles—are added hatred, vengeance, calumnies, obscene speech, quarrels, evil acts, swearing, curses, as well as anguish and grief. But the God who once freed the three children from the fiery furnace is with me always; he has delivered me from these tribulations and made them sweet, for his mercy is for ever. In the midst of these torments, which usually terrify others, I am, by the grace of God, full of joy and gladness, because I am not alone —Christ is with me ... How am I to bear with the spectacle, as each day I see emperors, mandarins, and their retinue blaspheming your holy name, O Lord, who are enthroned above the Cherubim and Seraphim? (cf. Ps 80:1 [79:2]). Behold, the pagans have trodden your Cross underfoot! Where is your glory? As I see all this, I would, in the ardent love I have for you, prefer to be torn limb from limb and to die as a witness to your love. O Lord, show your power, save me, sustain me, that in my infirmity your power may be shown and may be glorified before the nations ... Beloved brothers, as you hear all these things may you give endless thanks in joy to God, from whom every good proceeds; bless the Lord with me, for his mercy is for ever ... I write these things to you in order that your faith and mine may be united. In the midst of this storm I cast my anchor towards the throne of God, the anchor that is the lively hope in my heart”[28]. This is a letter from “Hell”. It lays bare all the horror of a concentration camp, where to the torments inflicted by tyrants upon their victims is added the outbreak of evil in the victims themselves, such that they in turn become further instruments of their persecutors' cruelty. This is indeed a letter from Hell, but it also reveals the truth of the Psalm text: “If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I sink to the nether world, you are present there ... If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall hide me, and night shall be my light' —for you darkness itself is not dark, and night shines as the day; darkness and light are the same” (Ps 139 [138]:8-12; cf. also Ps 23 [22]:4). Christ descended into “Hell” and is therefore close to those cast into it, transforming their darkness into light. Suffering and torment is still terrible and well- nigh unbearable. Yet the star of hope has risen—the anchor of the heart reaches the very throne of God. Instead of evil being unleashed within man, the light shines victorious: suffering—without ceasing to be suffering—becomes, despite everything, a hymn of praise.

38. The true measure of humanity is essentially determined in relationship to suffering and to the sufferer. This holds true both for the individual and for society. A society unable to accept its suffering members and incapable of helping to share their suffering and to bear it inwardly through “com-passion” is a cruel and inhuman society. Yet society cannot accept its suffering members and support them in their trials unless individuals are capable of doing so themselves; moreover, the individual cannot accept another's suffering unless he personally is able to find meaning in suffering, a path of purification and growth in maturity, a journey of hope. Indeed, to accept the “other” who suffers, means that I take up his suffering in such a way that it becomes mine also. Because it has now become a shared suffering, though, in which another person is present, this suffering is penetrated by the light of love. The Latin word con-solatio, “consolation”, expresses this beautifully. It suggests being with the other in his solitude, so that it ceases to be solitude. Furthermore, the capacity to accept suffering for the sake of goodness, truth and justice is an essential criterion of humanity, because if my own well-being and safety are ultimately more important than truth and justice, then the power of the stronger prevails, then violence and untruth reign supreme. Truth and justice must stand above my comfort and physical well-being, or else my life itself becomes a lie. In the end, even the “yes” to love is a source of suffering, because love always requires expropriations of my “I”, in which I allow myself to be pruned and wounded. Love simply cannot exist without this painful renunciation of myself, for otherwise it becomes pure selfishness and thereby ceases to be love.

39. To suffer with the other and for others; to suffer for the sake of truth and justice; to suffer out of love and in order to become a person who truly loves—these are fundamental elements of humanity, and to abandon them would destroy man himself. Yet once again the question arises: are we capable of this? Is the other important enough to warrant my becoming, on his account, a person who suffers? Does truth matter to me enough to make suffering worthwhile? Is the promise of love so great that it justifies the gift of myself? In the history of humanity, it was the Christian faith that had the particular merit of bringing forth within man a new and deeper capacity for these kinds of suffering that are decisive for his humanity. The Christian faith has shown us that truth, justice and love are not simply ideals, but enormously weighty realities. It has shown us that God —Truth and Love in person—desired to suffer for us and with us. Bernard of Clairvaux coined the marvellous expression: Impassibilis est Deus, sed non incompassibilis[29]—God cannot suffer, but he can suffer with. Man is worth so much to God that he himself became man in order to suffer with man in an utterly real way—in flesh and blood—as is revealed to us in the account of Jesus's Passion. Hence in all human suffering we are joined by one who experiences and carries that suffering with us; hence con-solatio is present in all suffering, the consolation of God's compassionate love—and so the star of hope rises. Certainly, in our many different sufferings and trials we always need the lesser and greater hopes too—a kind visit, the healing of internal and external wounds, a favourable resolution of a crisis, and so on. In our lesser trials these kinds of hope may even be sufficient. But in truly great trials, where I must make a definitive decision to place the truth before my own welfare, career and possessions, I need the certitude of that true, great hope of which we have spoken here. For this too we need witnesses—martyrs—who have given themselves totally, so as to show us the way—day after day. We need them if we are to prefer goodness to comfort, even in the little choices we face each day—knowing that this is how we live life to the full. Let us say it once again: the capacity to suffer for the sake of the truth is the measure of humanity. Yet this capacity to suffer depends on the type and extent of the hope that we bear within us and build upon. The saints were able to make the great journey of human existence in the way that Christ had done before them, because they were brimming with great hope.

40. I would like to add here another brief comment with some relevance for everyday living. There used to be a form of devotion—perhaps less practised today but quite widespread not long ago—that included the idea of “offering up” the minor daily hardships that continually strike at us like irritating “jabs”, thereby giving them a meaning. Of course, there were some exaggerations and perhaps unhealthy applications of this devotion, but we need to ask ourselves whether there may not after all have been something essential and helpful contained within it. What does it mean to offer something up? Those who did so were convinced that they could insert these little annoyances into Christ's great “com-passion” so that they somehow became part of the treasury of compassion so greatly needed by the human race. In this way, even the small inconveniences of daily life could acquire meaning and contribute to the economy of good and of human love. Maybe we should consider whether it might be judicious to revive this practice ourselves.

ADDRESS TO THE PILGRIMS IN ROME FOR PADRE PIO'S BEATIFICATION

Monday, 3 may 1999

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

1. It is a great joy for me to meet you again in this square which yesterday witnessed an event you waited so long for: the beatification of Padre Pio of Pietrelcina. Today is the day of thanksgiving.

The solemn Eucharistic celebration, at which Cardinal Angelo Sodano, my Secretary of State, presided, ended a short while ago. I offer him a cordial greeting, which I extend to each of the other Cardinals and Bishops present, as well as to the many priests and faithful taking part.

Dear Capuchin Friars, I embrace you with special affection, as I do the other members of the great Franciscan family who are praising the Lord for the marvels he worked in the humble friar of Pietrelcina, an exemplary follower of the Poor Man of Assisi.

Many of you, dear pilgrims, are members of prayer groups founded by Padre Pio: I greet you affectionately together with all the other faithful who, prompted by their devotion to the new blessed, have wished to be here on this joyful occasion. Lastly, I would like to extend a special greeting to all the sick: you were dear to Padre Pio's heart and work; thank you for your treasured presence!

2. Divine Providence wanted Padre Pio to be beatified on the eve of the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000, as a dramatic century draws to a close. What is the message that the Lord would like to offer to believers and to all humanity with this event of major spiritual importance?

Padre Pio's witness, which is evident from his life and even from his physical condition, suggests to us that this message coincides with the essential meaning of the Jubilee now close at hand: Jesus is the one Saviour of the world. In him God's mercy was made flesh in the fullness of time, to bring salvation to humanity mortally wounded by sin. “By his wounds you have been healed” (1 Pt 2:24), the blessed father repeated to all in the words of the Apostle Peter, he whose body was marked with those wounds.

In 60 years of religious life, practically all spent at San Giovanni Rotondo, he was totally dedicated to prayer and to the ministry of reconciliation and spiritual direction. This was well emphasized by the Servant of God Pope Paul VI: “Look what fame he had.... But why?... Because he said Mass humbly, heard confessions from dawn to dusk and was ... the one who bore the wounds of our Lord. He was a man of prayer and suffering” (20 February 1971).

Totally absorbed in God, always bearing the marks of Jesus' Passion in his body, he was bread broken for men and women starving for God the Father's forgiveness. His stigmata, like those of Francis of Assisi, were the work and sign of divine mercy, which redeemed the world by the Cross of Jesus Christ. Those open, bleeding wounds spoke of God's love for everyone, especially for those sick in body and spirit.

3. And what can be said of his life, an endless spiritual combat, sustained by the weapons of prayer, centred on the sacred daily acts of Confession and Mass? Holy Mass was the heart of his whole day, the almost anxious concern of all his hours, his moment of closest communion with Jesus, Priest and Victim. He felt called to share in Christ's agony, an agony which continues until the end of the world.

Dear friends, in our time, when we are still under the illusion that conflicts can be resolved by violence and superior strength, and frequently give in to the temptation to abuse the force of arms, Padre Pio repeats what he once said: “What a dreadful thing war is! In every person wounded in the flesh, there is Jesus suffering”. Nor should we fail to note that both his works — the “House for the Relief of Suffering” and the prayer groups — were conceived by him in 1940, as the catastrophe of the Second World War loomed in Europe. He was not idle, but from his secluded friary in Gargano he responded with prayer, works of mercy and love for God and neighbour. And today, from heaven, he is telling everyone again that this is the authentic way of peace.

4. The prayer groups and the “House for the Relief of Suffering”: these are two significant “gifts” which Padre Pio has left us. Conceived and desired by him as a hospital for the sick poor, the “House for the Relief of Suffering” was planned from the start as a health-care facility open to everyone, but this was no reason for it to be less equipped than other hospitals. Indeed, Padre Pio wanted it to have most advanced scientific and technological equipment, so that it would be a place of authentic hospitality, loving respect and effective treatment for every suffering person. Is it not a true miracle of Providence that it continues to grow in accordance with its founder's spirit?

As for the prayer groups, he wanted them to be like beacons of light and love in the world. He longed for many souls to join him in prayer: “Pray”, he used to say, “pray to the Lord with me, because the whole world needs prayers. And every day, when your heart especially feels the loneliness of life, pray, pray to the Lord together, because God too needs our prayers!”. It was his intention to create an army of praying people who would be a “leaven” in the world by the strength of prayer. And today the whole Church is grateful to him for this precious legacy, admires the holiness of her son and invites everyone to follow his example.

5. Dear brothers and sisters, Padre Pio's witness is a powerful call to the supernatural dimension, not to be confused with exaggerated concern for miracles, a deviation which he always and resolutely shunned. Priests and consecrated persons in particular should look to him.

He teaches priests to become the docile and generous instruments of divine grace, which heals people at the root of their ills, restoring peace of heart to them. The altar and the confessional were the two focal points of his life: the charismatic intensity with which he celebrated the divine mysteries is a very salutary witness, to shake priests from the temptation of habit and help them rediscover, day by day, the inexhaustible treasure of spiritual, moral and social renewal which is placed in their hands.

To consecrated persons and especially to the Franciscan family, he offers a witness of extraordinary fidelity. Francis was his baptismal name, and he was a worthy follower of the Seraphic Father in poverty, chastity and obedience from the time he first entered the friary. He practised the Capuchin rule in all its rigour, generously embracing the life of penance. He found no gratification in pain but chose it as a way of expiation and purification. Like the Poor Man of Assisi, he aimed at conformity with Jesus Christ, desiring only “to love and to suffer”, in order to help the Lord in the exhausting and demanding work of salvation. In “firm, constant and iron” obedience (Letter I, p. 488), he found the highest expression of his unconditional love for God and the Church.

What a consolation to feel we have Padre Pio close to us, one who only wanted to be “a poor friar who prays”: a brother of Christ, a brother of Francis, a brother of the suffering, a brother of each one of us. May his help guide us on the way of the Gospel and make us ever more generous in following Christ!

May the Blessed Virgin Mary, whom he loved and helped others to love with profound devotion, obtain this for us. May his intercession, which we confidently invoke, obtain this for us.

I accompany these hopes with my Apostolic Blessing, which I cordially impart to you, dear pilgrims present here, and to all who are united in spirit with our festive gathering.