Charity in truth is ‘demanded by economic logic’ (CV, n. 36). Benedict XVI gives body to this statement when talking about the ‘principle of gratuitousness’ and ‘the logic of gift as an expression of fraternity’ (CV, n. 36) Thus, at a stroke, two cardinal features of the newness of the conception of ‘overall development’ proposed by this encyclical are identified.

The first relates the very idea of the economy which, as is repeated by many in this time of crisis, demands to be thought about anew. In what direction? Certainly in the direction of the ethics that the economy needs for its correct working. Benedict XVI, however, goes beyond this: ethics is a necessary but not sufficient condition for suitable economic logic. He even says that ‘the adjective “ethical” can be abused’ (CV, n. 45) and is often employed in such a general sense that it acts to cover up choices that are contrary to justice and to the common good founded on an adequate anthropology. The dignity of the person, the need for good relationships with other people and with God, thereby become constitutive elements of the economic sphere.

We are distant from a totalising vision of the economy, corrected at the most by the political power which is not, however, able to bear upon its structural dynamisms.

Evidently, categories such as ‘market, ‘company’, or ‘political authority’ are redesigned. They can be applied to the process of globalisation that is underway, a phenomenon that in itself is neither good not bad, as long as that process is guided by good life practice. There re-emerges the original value, which is connatural to man, of the economy itself: the government – according to its etymological roots – of the common home of the human family.

The second cardinal feature of the newness contained in this encyclical contains a creative force worthy of the radical changes that are required in this third millennium. Indeed, to speak about the ‘principle of gratuitousness’, dedicating an entire chapter to describing overall economic development in terms of fraternity, means not only to formulate a critique of how the relationship between ethics and the economy is usually understood but also to impede an overly general reference to anthropology. ‘Economic logic’ cannot be effected in a full way – and we will not exit from the crisis – if it does not know how to give space to the logic of gift. What does this consist of? This shines forth in the very title of this encyclical: charity in truth.

A gift, as an elementary experience specific to man, realises the demand for happiness that every person and every society brings with him or it. Charity, the self-giving that the Son of God made flesh accomplished on the cross for us, reaches every man. In the same way socio-economic autonomy is not called into question by this explicit reference to Jesus Christ. There is no desire for interference by the Church in the specific sphere of the economic and the social. If anything, the magisterium of the Pope, with the weight of a long tradition – one may think here of St. Benedict and St. Francis – but with the vigour required by the present time, invites the actors of this necessary thinking anew about the economic and the social to verify the validity of this proposal.

This encyclical does not fail to show some of its decisive features. First of all, the extending of the specific range of an economy of gratuitousness and fraternity from civil society to the market and the state: ‘Today we can say that economic life must be understood as a multi-layered phenomenon: in every one of these layers, to varying degrees and in ways specifically suited to each, the aspect of fraternal reciprocity must be present’ (CV, n. 38).

The three cornerstones of the social doctrine of the Church – the dignity of the person, the principle of solidarity, and the principle of subsidiarity – are thus revisited beginning with a concrete form of economic democracy. Gratuitousness should not be understood as the pure beauty culture of justice and the common good, without which, however, one can speak of nether charity nor truth. Benedict XVI leaves no room for doubt: ‘today it is clear that without gratuitousness, there can be no justice in the first place’(CV, n. 38).
The consequences of such a vision are held up with a great deal of realism in this encyclical. Here reference can be made to two: a suitable conception of the market and the need to organise company theory and practice in a better way.

The market, and thus the market economy, are not in fact made by nature – they are made by culture. From this point of view, Caritas in Veritate reduces the weight of capitalism.
As regards companies, it postulates a market in which operate, with equal opportunities, not only the actors of private and public enterprise but also productive organisations with social goals and goals based upon mutual help.

Forty years after Populorum progressio, Benedict XVI locates the question of overall human development, which, as ever, cannot be postponed, within the context of the civilising of the economy. This also allows him to address in an effective way the subjects of rights and duties, life, the environment, hunger, the development of peoples, human cooperation, and technology.
Caritas in veritate represents a good investment for the hope of men and peoples.

An article published by Il Sole 24 Ore on 9 July 2009

]]> http://english.angeloscola.it/2009/05/17/ratzinger-realism-the-lesson-of-the-eight-days-of-benedict-xvi-in-the-holy-land-an-article-by-the-patriarch-of-venice/feed/ 0 http://english.angeloscola.it/2009/04/05/the-truth-is-not-only-morality-is-this-man/ http://english.angeloscola.it/2009/04/05/the-truth-is-not-only-morality-is-this-man/#comments Sun, 05 Apr 2009 17:23:33 +0000 ufficiostampa http://english.angeloscola.it/?p=98 “The passion of Our Lord is not a myth, but it consumes itself «under Pontius Pilate» and standing on the solid base of history. However, in the same time, the manifestation of what sorrowfully accompanies the whole history of humanity from the beginning to the end: God is beaten and held in contempt while He humbles himself to the extreme level for us and to take over himself our sins (kenosis is the total emptying of oneself).
Let us therefore com-move ourselves and get involved in the life of this Man. Truth is not a doctrine, but it is first of all this Man, the Man of sorrows who for love experiences suffering….

The Palm Sunday’s homily of the Patriarch His Eminence cardinal Angelo Scola given in the Basilica of Saint Mark.

1. As we have often mentioned, Holy Week, starting with this solemn celebration, is the typical week: the events that our Mother the Church makes us live on today and during the Easter Triduum give sense to time and history, enlightening the existence of each one of us and of all men of every time.
The passion of Our Lord is not a myth, but it consumes itself «under Pontius Pilate» and standing on the solid base of history. However, in the same time, the manifestation of what sorrowfully accompanies the whole history of humanity from the beginning to the end: God is beaten and held in contempt while He humbles himself to the extreme level for us and to take over himself our sins (kenosis is the total emptying of oneself).
Let us therefore com-move ourselves and get involved in the life of this Man. Truth is not a doctrine, but it is first of all this Man, the Man of sorrows who for love experiences suffering.

2. The account of the Passion according to Mark is a kind of a transcript of the events. The evangelist offers us facts, an objective narration, highly dramatic, without any reference to feelings. Through violent actions and pressing dialogues is described the fight between good – yet this Man «did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave, and became as men are, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross» (Phil 2: 6-8) – and evil without excluding the tremendous blows.

3. Mark is not afraid of scandalizing us with his strong expressions. In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus is afraid («and a sudden fear came over him, and great distress» Mk 14: 33), he stagers exhausted («threw himself on the ground» Vs. 35). In the account of the arrest and in the pressing events one perceives the violent fury overwhelming over him: «Even while he was still speaking, Judas one of the Twelve, came up with a number of men armed with swords and clubs, sent by the chief priests and the scribes and the elders» (Vs. 43). In Mark’s narration, unlike that of the other synoptic Gospels, Jesus does not say anything to the traitor nor to the disciple hitting the servant of the high priest.
His silence impresses in front of the deafening clamour of evil («Several, indeed, brought false evidence against him» (Vs. 57); «And they all gave their verdict: he deserved to die. Some of »hem started spitting at him and, blindfolding him, began hitting him with their fists and shouting, “Play the prophet!” And the attendants rained blows on him» Vs. 64-65). Peter, after having followed him from a distance, terrified he persists in his betrayal («but he denied it saying: I do not know, I do not understand , what you are talking about» (Vs. 71). At the end of the scene Jesus is abandoned by all.

4. After the supplication of the Son of God crucified «My God, my God , why have you abandoned me?» (Mk 15:34), «But Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last» (Vs. 37): the life of the Saviour of the world ends with an appalling cry giving voice to the inconceivable and unspeakable injustice. Yet, it does not manage to detach Him from the relationship that connects him with the Father. Suffering, even dreadfully, which without Him is an inescapable principle of suspicion leading to hostility and separation, while with Jesus man recoups the possibility to open himself and to abandon himself totally. This firm certainty of God’s love is witnessed in the passage of Isaiah which we have just listened in the First Reading. The servant of Yahweh, prophecy of Christ the Lord – the Passion according to Mark is full of scripture quotations – is he who receives everything from the Father:- «The Lord has given me a disciple’s tongue. Each morning he wakes me to hear, to listen like a disciple. The Lord has opened my ear. For my part, I made no resistance, neither did I turn away… The Lord comes to my help» (Is 50; 4-7).

5. “Waste” is the measure of love. The whole Passion is under the sign of “auto-waste” of God’s love for man.
The woman anointing Jesus’ head is not called by her name. She does not pronounce one word. Her gesture speaks for her. And it was so loud that Jesus himself declares: «Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached all over the world, what she has done will be told in memory of her» (Vs. 9).The expression «in memory of he» recalls the words pronounced in the Eucharistic Supper «Do this in memory of me» and seals the forever an essential component of love.

6. «The centurion, who was standing in front of him, had seen how he had died and he said: “In truth this man was a son of God”» (Mk 15:39).
In this moment of pitch dark Jesus’ mystery is fully revealed. The witness is he who has limpid eyes and a simple heart to recognize Him and proclaim Him to all.
We beseech the Holy Virgin to accompany us in following Jesus our beloved Saviour, in this Holy Week. Amen!

]]> http://english.angeloscola.it/2009/04/05/the-truth-is-not-only-morality-is-this-man/feed/ 0 http://english.angeloscola.it/2008/06/23/the-freedom-to-convert-the-serious-case-of-religious-freedom/ http://english.angeloscola.it/2008/06/23/the-freedom-to-convert-the-serious-case-of-religious-freedom/#comments Mon, 23 Jun 2008 10:21:20 +0000 ufficiostampa http://english.angeloscola.it/?p=70 The nexus between truth and freedom is for man one of the always resurgent questions because in the ultimate analysis it cannot be mastered or deduced in purely conceptual terms. The journey of Oasis, which on more than one occasion in recent years was near to touching upon this subject, by then suggested dedication to a broader and more precise approach. However, the characteristic attention to the data of reality that constitutes the inescapable method of our common project led us to privilege in this edition an approach to the question that would contextualise in today’s world both reflection on the intrinsic direction of freedom towards truth and reflection on the truth of freedom. These arguments, indeed, find in the burning question of the freedom to convert, as a culminating expression of the freedom of religion and conscience, a decisive terrain of examination.

Two Opposing Difficulties
At the meeting of the scientific committee that was held in Amman on 21-25 June 2008 we had already observed that from the point of view of Western societies, religious freedom, freedom of conscience and freedom to convert cohabit with a paradox. They are certain recognised by juridical systems and the common mentality. However, two facts point to the frailty of this recognition. On the one hand, conscience is conceived in terms that we may define as ‘creative’ in an equivocal sense [cf. Veritatis splendor, n.54], whereas conscience does not have the power to ‘actively’ establish of its own accord what is good and evil. On the other hand, these freedoms are substantially thought of as a mere prerogative of the individual: ‘something’ that refers to the sphere of the private and thus that cannot seek to have public relevance. The risk is that these two declinations of religious freedom (and freedom of conscience) become emptied of real contents in their practical exercise. In this way, indeed, one neither recognises the intrinsic dimension of truth of the religious experience nor admits that the religious experience expresses itself as a fact of a community and a people.

If we now turn our attention to the experience of countries that have Muslim majorities, we are faced with a situation that is completely different. Both the dimension of truth of the religious experience and the popular dimension belong to the DNA of these peoples. They demonstrate great attachment to their own tradition. And yet one cannot deny the existence of a grave deficit in the sphere of religious freedom: one may think here of restrictions on worship in some countries and on citizenship for non-Muslims in others, and one may think above all else of the decisive question of the possibility of changing one’s religion. In some situations it would appear that whereas one can tolerate a certain level of diversity for those already born to another faith, the request for religious freedom becomes intolerable if the person who asks to convert is a Muslim. The way out that not rarely is implicitly imposed on these people is illuminating here: if you want to leave Islam you have to abandon the country in order to avoid the ‘scandal’ of a public gesture.

The ‘Serious Case’ of the Relationship between Truth and Freedom
The gravity and urgent importance of the questions raised in the short and necessarily incomplete picture that I have outlined indicate how much the question of religious freedom touches upon the heart of man. Without any doubt, access to the ‘foundation’ or better to the desire to enter into a relationship with it constitutes one of the most powerful stimuli that animate man’s heart. As the famous phrase of St. Augustine observes: ‘quid enim fortius desiderat anima quam veritatem?’. Man is made for truth, he is directed towards it, as in various forms the religions of the world never cease to remind us and as the Muslim faith in a particularly insistent and positive way stresses. In it, so perceived is the decisiveness of the nexus between man and truth that the German orientalist Franz Rosenthal was able to describe the whole Arab-Islamic civilisation beginning with the category of ‘knowledge’.

Here I was very struck to learn that in Arabic one word alone (haqq) means at the same time ‘true’ and ‘real’. If one adds that the same term in the Jewish Bible designates law (hoqq, ‘ordinance’, ‘precept’), one cannot but be amazed by the vastness of the reflections that are thrown open beginning with this evocative polysemy. The life of mankind is truly an incessant return to the great questions connected with the Truth.

However, the equation ‘true’ and ‘real’ that the etymology of this Arabic term would suggest, if interpreted in a rationalistic fashion, betrays a possible risk, that of deducing truth in a conceptualistic way, understanding it as a complete and formally consistent system of conceptual propositions. The act by which conscience relates to reality, that is to say the affirmation of truth, is thus ‘the fruit, of a representative character, of a mere conceptual operation’. And as a consequence an action is said to be ‘the carrying out of this previously known ideal’.

A practical variant of this approach, which is well described in the Gospel story of the young rich man, is the legalism that ‘has it that freedom is possessed before being expressed in an act, arguing that its meaning has already been given once and for ever in the norm’. This vision of truth in the ultimate analysis is a form of idolatrous gnosis, because it conceals the claim that man possesses through his limited outlook the complete physiognomy of God. But as we read in the last edition of Oasis, ‘praise be to He who had given to his creatures no other way of knowing Him than their inability to know Him’. These are the words of Abû Bakr, the first successor to the Prophet of Islam, which the author of the article rightly puts side by side with the si comprehendis, non est Deus of St. Augustine. A relationship of possession with truth, almost as though we could dispose of it as just one thing amongst others, is not possible; in essential terms it is not even thinkable. Both Islam and Christianity well know why this is: truth is not a packet of notions but a living and personal reality which continually calls freedom into play. Its manifestation cannot be inserted a priori into the narrow boxes of a reason understood geometrically.

In other words, the Truth itself, which is transcendent and absolute, requires, in order to be attested to man, the act of his decision. Reflecting in the past on this subject, I emphasised that ‘truth places man in the need for a free decision not only because it opens up to him the area of the answer but because it requires it because man by his origins is destined for truth’.
There thus emerges in evident fashion the importance of modern reflection on freedom, not only in a political sense (the freedom of peoples and nations) but first of all in relation to its intrinsic relationship with truth. The truth of freedom implies freedom to adhere to truth. If this is true for our Western history, one can equally say the same of the Arab-Islamic world.

The Community Dimension
Benedict XVI in his recent address to the United Nations stated that ‘The rights associated with religion are all the more in need of protection if they are considered to clash with a prevailing secular ideology or with majority religious positions of an exclusive nature. The full guarantee of religious liberty cannot be limited to the free exercise of worship, but has to give due consideration to the public dimension of religion, and hence to the possibility of believers playing their part in building the social order’.
These words of the Holy Father oblige us to bear in mind the community dimension of religious freedom. Objectively, this is a critical point: indeed, what happens to the identity of a community if a sizeable number of people begin to call it into question either because they come from another religion or because they convert to another religion? It is not difficult to understand that this fact is potentially a source of tensions.

The teaching of the protagonists of the Catholic orientalism of the twentieth century demonstrates that the Catholic Church does not have as its goal that of placing at risk the bases of shared social life in countries with Muslim majorities. It does not identify with an aggressive proselytising approach that demonises non-Christian cultures and religions. Father Anawati, a great Egyptian Dominican, a theologian and a philosopher, confessed at the end of his life: ‘I do not study Muslim culture in order to destroy it. What should I destroy it? It is something that is beautiful in itself. It should be appreciated’.

At the same time, however, respect for the identity of the community cannot be pushed to the point of violating the human freedom of the individual. Today this should be borne witness to in a decisive way in relation to our Muslim interlocutors. Catholic doctrine on the subject certainly does not think of religious freedom as an option in an imaginary ‘supermarket of religions’. It stresses that religious freedom is a consequence of the absolute and incumbent duty of everyone to adhere to the Truth, but with an objective and suitable conscience. It is this obedience mediated by the conscience that is the foundation of religious freedom, which should not be limited to the mere possibility of engaging in worship but which also includes the right to change one’s religion. Here as well a clarification is required: in doing this the Church does not state that every choice in this sphere is good. Error in itself does not have rights but a person with an upright conscience who falls into error possesses this freedom. Certainly not before God but before other people, society and the State. Only God is the judge of the choices of the individual in this field. Only He can know what is to be found in the heart of man and why he decides to abandon one religion to join another.

One could object that the State, even though it is evidently not able to enter the hearts of men, is nonetheless interested in maintaining the cohesion of the community. In this critical reservation truth is to be found and to such an extent that the fathers of the Second Vatican Council chose to add to the declaration on religious freedom contained in Dignitatis Humanae the restrictive clause ‘Provided the just demands of public order are observed’ (n. 4). However, granted this clarification, one cannot but ask oneself what good can follow for the truth from keeping people in a religion in which they no longer believe. Is it really more deleterious for a community to have an explicit abandonment of a religion than a profession of that religion which is only a façade? One of the fathers of modern Islamic reformism, the Egyptian Muhammad ‘Abduh (1849-1905), answered in the negative, inviting people to distinguish between the very early moments of Islam – where in his view the embryonic nature of that movement justified the use of coercion – and its subsequent epochs where such a need declined.

The Primacy of Witness
In presenting these questions for the reflection of our readers, I would like to end by recalling the short analysis (to which I referred at the beginning of this paper) of the opposing difficulties that the West and the world of a Muslim majority encounter in engaging in a correct approach to religious freedom, freedom of conscience, and the freedom to convert. These difficulties, in fact, well demonstrate that a due assent to truth is always dramatic because freedom must decide always and once again in every individual act.

How?
By the at times impervious pathway of witness understood as an approach that is both practical and speculative, and from which nobody, and even less Christians, can withdraw. Witness understood in these terms for us obliges us to present to our Muslim interlocutors what we believe to be the authentic cultural interpretation of Christian faith. And this is possible only through mutual involvement.

H.E. Card. Angelo Scola

]]> http://english.angeloscola.it/2008/06/23/the-freedom-to-convert-the-serious-case-of-religious-freedom/feed/ 0 http://english.angeloscola.it/2005/01/10/the-truth-of-calling-on-god-unites-men-and-cultures/ http://english.angeloscola.it/2005/01/10/the-truth-of-calling-on-god-unites-men-and-cultures/#comments Mon, 10 Jan 2005 08:42:34 +0000 ufficiostampa http://english.angeloscola.it/?p=11 On 27 October 1986 the representatives of the principle religions of the world were convened by Pope John Paul II to prayer together. Twenty years later that action still unlocks a great force of witness. Man perceives the need for his personal commitment to peace and realises that there is a profound connection between the will to power, and thus war, and sin.
Hence the decision to place one’s hope in God.

“To generate a world movement of prayer for peace” [cf. Homily of 25 January 1986]. This is the reason why John Paul II invited the representatives of the principal religions of the world to Assisi on 27 October 1986. It is rather significant that those who accepted the invitation of the Pope were many in number. This was an important confirmation of the fact that in the thousands of million of men who were symbolically present at Assisi through their religious leaders, the belief that the destiny of mankind, and of every individual man, is at stake in the complex and dramatic problem of war, is becoming increasingly rooted.
At this point to whom can man turn? Where can he find the energy to dominate the irresistible irrational forces that accompany the threatening preparations for war, and for nuclear war? Ordinary man, who is distant from the complex and balanced strategies of the few who can decide for war, perceives the need for his personal commitment to be at one with the commitment of other men so that peace can be established. He also realises that there is a profound connection between the will to power, and thus war, and sin. Hence the decision of people to place their hope in God.

Only God’s initiative in relation to man can infuse meekness of hearts, which is the necessary pre-condition for a peaceful life at a personal level, and at the level of intermediate communities and planetary powers.

A Unique and Identical Nature
To place again one’s own hopes for peace in a world movement of prayer and to invest one’s own energies in it means to uphold a very precise conception of peace itself. Indeed, who would not be led to smile when faced with an attempt to erect a bulwark of peace side by side with complex and insecure equilibriums that are built upon weapons endowed with the capacity to destroy the planet: an unarmed movement made up of humble and fervent prayer? A banal observation is sufficient to demonstrate the apparent paradox of this initiative. Has man during his history ever not been able to use objects that he has built at the price of so much hard work and the deployment of so many resources? Will the memory of Hiroshima be enough to halt the logic of the will to power that seems to push contemporary man towards applying to every field the irrational technological imperative: I can, therefore I must?
It is precisely this troubled question that opens up the path to understanding that peace is first and foremost a gift of God. Indeed, peace is not first of all the outcome of a balance between forces that diverge around interests of various kinds. It is, rather, a dimension of the life itself of man his good.
The anthropological foundation of peace can be experienced by every man in his daily existence. In that existence man realises that to obtain peace means to address the truth and the moral task that this comparison inevitably generates. The indissoluble relationship that peace has with truth bears witness to the fact that peace is a gift of God. Indeed, how could man find peace of heart outside the relationship with other men and with the things whose ultimate foundation is God Himself? The anthropological dimension of peace, that is to say being at peace with oneself and with all men, discovers a beginning in God, a beginning of order that governs the very idea of justice and thus of co-existence between men and between peoples. Indeed, only in truth is there freedom, and only in freedom is there the dignity of every man and of every people. This explains why men who share albeit very disparate religious experiences replied with readiness of spirit to the invitation that was extended by John Paul II.
There is no break in the continuum between peace understood as a dimension of the existence of each man and peace understood as the overcoming of the logic of war within a concordant co-existence between peoples. To state that peace is a gift of God means to recognise the unique and identical nature of peace which nonetheless expresses itself in different ways. Without falling into alienating simplistic concepts, one may say that there cannot be peace without the passionate work of every person for truth in itself and the construction of a civilisation of truth and love. War, however, beyond the various theories of experts on its origins, is always a decision taken by the few. This is a profound meaning of the great statement by St. Augustine which John Paul II tirelessly echoes: ‘peace is only obtained through peace and not through war!
But peace is a gift of God entrusted to man. It thus becomes a primary task for the life of every man, a task to which man is called to educate himself. The avoidance of war is possible only through a slow and patient building up of a new mankind. Education is the supreme pre-condition for this edification. St. Francis composed a famous prayer that may rightly be seen as constituting the contents of this pedagogic task: ‘Lord make us the builders of peace; where hatred reigns let us preach love; where offence wounds let us offer forgiveness; where discord hurts let us build peace!’
For Christians, to await the final return of Christ ‘living as far as this is possible in peace’ [cf. Rom 12:18] means to be aware that peace between peoples, and thus the peace of mankind, is only possible beginning with the peace of the person. In addition, Christians know that peace requires a struggle, and a struggle that can always endure a setback. For this reason, God, who is the only creator of peace in the full sense, should be called upon.

A Privileged Condition
The world movement of prayer for peace that John Paul II helped to create has solid roots. Indeed, in the history of peoples and religions prayer for peace has occupied a position of primary importance. This imposing flow of innovations indicates that the daily wish for peace has always been a reason that leads to an exploration of prayer that privileged form of the relationship between God and man. Essentially, it is a request. And a request that is born within the concrete historical circumstances in which it takes place. It is precisely these circumstances that lead man to explore this constitutive dialogue with God. From the core of this request arises the supplication for peace as a privileged condition in which man can know himself, and in which truth, goodness and beauty are experienced dimensions.
But this prayer also arises from the perception, which is dramatically confirmed by history, that man does not know how to give himself peace on his own because on his own he cannot dominate the will to power that sin sows in the heart. Peace, in its personal and planetary dimensions, is structurally threatened by the arbitrariness by which man is tempted to experience his relationship with himself, with God, and with other men.
In the always invoked gift of peace man discovers that He who creates us, creates us moment by moment. We are bound to Him, the tenacious vigour of being. In Him, St. Paul said, ‘we live, and move and have our being’ [Acts 17:28]. This is because we are, to a certain extent, His line. Invoking peace from God in this way becomes the best guarantee of peace. Certainly not because this can exempt us from an incessant and complete work in favour of the creation of the multiform conditions that allow a state of peace but, rather, because God alone can change the heart of man and oppose the peace-inducing power of His love to the will to power.

The Demand for Truth
At Assisi the representatives of the principal world religions found themselves together to pray to the God of peace to preserve mankind from destruction. Every representative brought the riches of his religious tradition and of the peoples that live out that tradition. For this reason, after being welcomed by the Supreme Pontiff, each group went to a pre-established place to pray according to its own religious rite. And secondly, when all the groups were subsequently in the Superior Basilica of St. Francis, each one of them in turn prayed in front of the others who listened in silence. More than praying together, this was a matter of being together to pray. Indeed, each person took part in this great movement of prayer for peace with their own countenance. This fully corresponds to the idea of life of those men who look for peace through prayer as well. In praying for peace, they bear witness to the fact that peace is not obtained without truth. Indeed, prayer, in the final analysis, is a request for truth. For this reason, every authentic religion, when it explores its own identity, increasingly comes to truth. And to objective truth, which is not understood as being on the level of an eclectic and undifferentiated synthesis of different religious identities but is, instead, passionately pursued, recognised and welcomed where its manifests itself.
Peace, therefore, is a value only if it is pursued. Otherwise, like every other value from within the request for truth, from the experience of truth by which every person sacrificed their own identity, it would become an empty word, and thus the path of peace would become impossible. Indeed, it has always been the case that men have called for peace from the four corners of the earth andwage war! What men are profoundly divided about is not peace but truth.
But the desire for peace, which has become even more burning after the still fresh evidence on atomic destruction and beginning with the thousands and thousands of daily testimonies of new and more murderous instruments of war, can be the great path to which today God calls all men to truth, which is the irremovable foundation of a lasting peace.
For this reason, the meeting at Assisi, at the very moment when it became prayer, was an event of culture and civilisation.
It was an event of culture because prayer itself receives from form the specific nature of the encounter with God and one’s brethren. And thus in prayer, too, this cultural form is communicated. In this sense the meeting at Assisi was a symphony in which one voice was in an ordered way harmonised with the other voices, precisely because it was the same voice!
The yearning that cannot be extinguished for peace that brought together the representatives of different religions also became a sign of civilisation. It was, in fact, an appeal directed towards all men but above all to the powerful of this world to recognise that the moral advance of humanity, which cannot but rest upon peace, requires an overcoming of ideologies. Indeed, ideologies hinder man from receiving the truth given by the nature of each person, and thus after a certain fashion something which in an embryonic way can be experienced by everyone but which is above all revealed by he who came to bring ‘peace among men with whom he is pleased’ [Lk 2:14].

Card. Angelo Scola Patriarch of Venice