Dear brothers and sisters,

I am very pleased to preside over this Eucharistic celebration, in which we entrust the diocesan community of Metz and the whole of Europe to the Lord.  In this historic Moselle region, which has always been a crossroads for different peoples and has suffered as a result of its location on Europe’s frontier, God’s promise resounds today with extraordinary power.

In the first reading (cf. Is 32:15-18), the prophet Isaiah speaks of the coming of the Kingdom of God in terms of righteousness, justice and peace.  He draws on three images: the desert, the garden and the house.

In the desert — a place of sobriety and silence — justice is established; that is, the law that helps people to walk in the path of goodness.  This austere image reminds us of the importance of simplicity and what is essential, allowing us to assign the proper value to things, while at the same time teaching us renunciation and sacrifice.

The second image is that of a garden where justice reigns.  While the desert represents what is essential, the garden represents beauty.  There is water, seeds sprout, shoots emerge, and flowers bloom, each with their own particular beauty.  This is the effect of a righteous life, which enables a person to flourish fully by freely adhering to the Lord’s plans.

The third image is that of the house, a place of peace.  Note that while the desert and the garden are settings where God’s action prevails, causing things to sprout and grow, building a house, on the other hand, requires a more direct and significant contribution from human beings.  It involves applying strength and skill through shared effort — a true “construction project.”  Similarly, peace, a gift from God, requires a response from human beings through combined effort.  After all, a home is more than just a stone structure; it is a place of human presence and love.  In this sense, the prophet’s words remind us that, in a world marked by limitations, harmony can only be built through charity, a charity that knows how to share joys and sorrows, that knows how to encourage and forgive, without calculation or limit, just as in a family.

The Gospel we have just heard also addresses this (cf. Mt 5:38–48).  In a world marked by so much violence, manipulation and arrogance at various levels, Jesus teaches us how to transform deserts into oases, to plant gardens, and to build homes.  He shows us the path that leads through forgiveness, mercy and magnanimity: “If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give him your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile” (Mt 5:39–41).

To some, these words might seem like a sign of weakness, or a concession to evil, but that is not the case.  Let us look carefully at ourselves and our surroundings: What do attitudes such as vengeance, retaliation, and rejection bring about, both in the world and within ourselves?  What kind of future for humanity do relationships and systems imbued with the ruthless mentality stemming from these attitudes hold in store?  Those of you, who are the children of this land torn apart in the past by fratricidal conflicts, know full well that it is not true that those who seek revenge are stronger than those who forgive.  It is not true that those who refuse to yield are stronger than those who seek reconciliation.  It is not true that those who walk away are stronger than those who face the challenge of walking together.

Metz and Moselle bear witness to the whole world that reconciliation is only possible when one has the courage to break the chains of resentment.  It takes strength and great integrity not to be overwhelmed by evil, especially when the wounds inflicted are deep.  However, in the face of injustice, humanity’s only path to salvation is a love that cares for others and seeks to give trust regardless of the circumstances, even when confronted with the most difficult behavior to accept (cf. Mt 5:42).  Thus, law, justice and peace are stages on a path of conversion that begins as a personal journey and becomes increasingly communal, leading to a civilization that respects human beings and their Creator.

It is no coincidence that Saint Augustine defined the peace of the heavenly city as a harmonious communion in which people find joy in God and in one another through him (cf. De Civitate Dei, XIX, 13,1).  He also described peace among people as the fruit of a tranquillitas ordinis, whereby each person recognizes and respects the unique and sacred dignity and role of others.

Here in Metz, it is worth recalling that these are precisely the values upon which the Europe we know has been built over the centuries, with its spiritual and moral heritage preceding its economic and political heritage.  As Saint John Paul II recalled with emotion, it has its roots in the lives and deeds of men and women who lived, preached, and shared the teachings of the Gospel (cf. Address at the Pro-EU Event, Santiago de Compostela, 9 November 1982).  This can be seen in the great spiritual, cultural and even agricultural and artisanal contributions that monasticism has made to the continent’s history, as well as by the work of saints such as the great Chrodegang, the tireless shepherd of this community.  Indeed, in this very place, he gave visible form to ecclesial communion in the Rule of the Canons.

The moral principles that govern the world in which we live were handed down to us from there: principles such as the primacy of the person and the sacred and inviolable nature of human life at all stages and under all circumstances; the protection of individual freedom; the primary importance of the family as the foundation of society; caring for the poor and the most disadvantaged; welcoming the stranger; and respecting the elderly.

Your local Church, which preserves the unique legacy of a fruitful dialogue between civil society and faith by virtue of its special status, has the responsibility to be a living laboratory of this fidelity.  Remaining faithful to these principles has never been easy, even for those who came before us.  Nevertheless, through faithfulness and perseverance, our ancestors bequeathed them to us as treasures to be passed on in turn to future generations, and enriched by our experience, the value of our efforts and our stories.

The magnificent cathedral of this city where we gather today illustrates all of this very well.  It is known as the “Lanterne du Bon Dieu” thanks to its 6,500 square meters of stained-glass windows depicting biblical scenes.  It seems that the builders sought to minimize the walls — which remain solid — so that light might flood in abundantly to the faithful.  Anyone who enters is thus immersed in a rich “biblia pauperum,” a source of prayer and meditation, through the reflections of a thousand colors.  In this place of light, the splendor of the historic stained-glass windows has recently been enhanced by the genius of Marc Chagall.  The works of this great Jewish painter, set into the cathedral’s walls, transform the “Lanterne du Bon Dieu” into an extraordinary symbol of ecumenism and interreligious dialogue.  This cathedral teaches us that God’s light does not erase our unique identities but rather unites different histories and cultures into a single marvelous mosaic of peace — so necessary in our time, torn as it is by new divisions and conflicts.  As we contemplate these stained-glass windows, we learn that Europe’s future does not lie in uniformity, but in the harmony of differences, where the wounds of the past become openings through which light shines.

Herein lies a symbol of our identity as the Church.  We, too, make use of structures that only have meaning insofar as they help us to bring the light of the Gospel to the world.  Without these stained-glass windows, the windows of Saint Stephen’s Cathedral would be mere spaces flooded with blinding light.  With these stained-glass windows, however, they become “books” that bring us together to remember wonderful stories full of heroism, goodness, mercy, love and moral beauty, to which we, in turn, must be generous and courageous witnesses.

With gratitude and trust as my trip to France draws to a close, this is the wish I share with you for the community in Metz, which today more than ever is called to be a beacon of hope for this country, for Europe and for the world, and I entrust this to the intercession of the Virgin Mary and your patron saints.

Dear brothers and sisters,

This Holy Mass is the last public event of my visit to France, and so I have celebrated it with a deep sense of gratitude to the Lord; I also wish to express my thanks to all those who made it possible through their efforts.

I thank the President of the Republic and the various civil authorities who took care of the welcome in Paris, in Lourdes and here in Metz. I renew with affection my gratitude to the Presidency of the Bishops' Conference and to the Bishops most involved, and together with them the priests, deacons, consecrated persons, lay faithful, and all the volunteers who collaborated. Thank you all!

Dear friends, let us continue to walk together, united in holy mother Church, for the glory of God and in the service of his Kingdom of love, justice and peace. Thank you!