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Surprised by Joy
The media commentaries focused on Francis’ “program”–reorganization of the Curia, dealing with boring homilies, saying “no” to an economy of exclusion... But what is striking about Evangelii Gaudium lies elsewhere, in the decisiveness with which it re-proposes the “first Christian proclamation,” and the emphasis on a word: experience.

by Davide Perillo

It is a text to be studied carefully and calmly–in part because it is the first substantial document written entirely by Pope Francis (the encyclical Lumen Fidei was openly coauthored with Benedict XVI), but mainly for what the Pope himself affirms, in point 25: “What I am trying to express here has a programmatic significance and important consequences.” It is not by chance that Evangelii Gaudium–the apostolic exhortation on the “joy of the Gospel”–was given to the people of God at the conclusion of the historic Year of Faith, when the Pope had just placed the chest containing the relics of St. Peter on the altar, exposing them for the first time.
The commentaries centered mostly on his “program;” they spoke of reorganization of the Church and “conversion of the Papacy,” boring homilies and economy of exclusion, even hazarding predictions regarding Communion for the divorced and other such matters. There is much truth in this, and it is all interesting, but the most striking things lie elsewhere, and they come one after another, starting from the first paragraphs, which are rich in launching  points that would each merit further examination. 

Liberation. Let’s just consider a few examples. The joy that gives the text its title, and that “fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus,” coincides with liberation: “Those who accept His offer of salvation are set free from sin, sorrow, inner emptiness, and loneliness” (1). It is the response to the question, “What is faith for?” Then, the whole measure of our humanity does not lie in what we do or the mistakes that we make, but in being loved by One who “time and time again... bears us on His shoulders. No one can strip us of the dignity bestowed upon us by this boundless and unfailing love” (3). Or, Christian joy is the reflection of the joy with which God Himself celebrates man, vibrating for our humanity: “He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will renew you in His love; He will exult over you,” says the Pope, citing Zephaniah (4). But one could–or should–go back even to the words used incidentally, like that “renewed encounter” with God’s love (8) that, by itself, re-proposes a fundamental issue for Christianity: the possibility to encounter Christ in every instant; His contemporaneousness.
All of the Exhortation is like this, nonstop. Anything but organizational problems! And though it is true that the Pope gets into the details of the life of the Church–from relations between bishops and the people, to how to prepare homilies (dedicating a good 25 paragraphs to the topic, not in order to offer a handbook, but to give value back to a moment that is very important and often mistreated)–the heart of it is not in these details. There is something that comes before.
It is the centrality of Christ. It is the same forceful cry of Pope Francis in St. Peter’s Square during the homily of the Closing Mass of the Year of Faith, the same that emerges in the points dedicated to the kerygma–that is, the announcement to which he asks that we continually return: “The first proclamation...: ‘Jesus Christ loves you; He gave His life to save you; and now He is living at your side every day to enlighten, strengthen and free you.’ This first proclamation is called ‘first’ not because it exists at the beginning and can then be forgotten or replaced by other more important things. It is first in a qualitative sense because it is the principal proclamation, the one... which we must announce one way or another” (164). Everything depends on that. And, in looking at this, many themes become much clearer–even those that, in recent months, have become familiar to us in this magazine.
“Presence,” for example: it’s not a strategy, it doesn’t depend on what we do, but it coincides with responding to the question about oneself, with the growth of one’s own self-awareness. “When the Church summons Christians to take up the task of evangelization, she is simply pointing to the source of authentic personal fulfillment,” writes the Pope (10). And he later adds, “My mission of being in the heart of the people is not just a part of my life or a badge I can take off.... Instead, it is something I cannot uproot from my being without destroying my very self. I am a mission on this earth; that is the reason why I am here in this world” (273). But there are also very clear passages regarding witness, the necessity that the faith take flesh in order to communicate itself: “Jesus wants evangelizers who proclaim the good news not only with words, but above all by a life transfigured by God’s presence” (259). Only a changed life can change other lives.
But if there is a common thread that should be examined with care, because it is truly fundamental, it is experience. For Pope Francis, experience is a decisive factor in knowledge. It is there that reality makes us discover itself and ourselves; it is there that faith finds confirmation; it is there that it reveals its pertinence to the questions and needs of life. So much for all of the theologians who continue to regard this category with suspicion, as if it were something sentimental or subjective.
We cannot dwell on this topic here; it is best done by those who have the instruments to do so. But even to those who are not experts, the Pope’s words are very clear. “We have a treasure of life and love which cannot deceive, and a message which cannot mislead or disappoint,” he writes. “It penetrates to the depths of our hearts, sustaining and ennobling us. It is a truth which is never out of date because it reaches that part of us which nothing else can reach.... But this conviction has to be sustained by our own constantly renewed experience of savoring Christ’s friendship and His message. It is impossible to persevere in a fervent evangelization unless we are convinced from personal experience that it is not the same thing to have known Jesus as not to have known Him, not the same thing to walk with Him as to walk blindly, not the same thing to hear His word as not to know it, and not the same thing to contemplate Him, to worship Him, to find our peace in Him, as not to” (265-266). Experience: the heart that judges and recognizes what happens, because it can–it is given by God for this. “In your heart you know that it is not the same to live without Him; what you have come to realize, what has helped you to live and given you hope, is what you also need to communicate to others” (121).

Incarnation. But there’s more. This necessity of reflection and of becoming aware of what happens is so imposing because it is only there that the truth is revealed: that experience is decisive not only for the individual believer, but also for the Church itself, for the awareness that it has of itself. It is not something static and immutable–the Church is alive, and as such, it learns by living, it ventures ever further into its own message by experiencing it. Here, too, there is material for future follow-ups, because it’s so important to understand. This is where Pope Francis seems to point when he writes, “The Church is herself a missionary disciple; she needs to grow in her interpretation of the revealed Word and in her understanding of truth;” her judgment must mature (40). And he adds that “in some areas people have grown in their understanding of God’s will on the basis of their personal experience” (148). He even goes so far as to indicate a criterion about which there is much to study and discuss, reminding the bishops that their duty is sometimes “allowing the flock to strike out on new paths” (31). It’s not a question of democracy or opinion surveys, but an appeal to a criterion that is simultaneously personal, objective, and communal. And the theologians will delve further into this, as well.
Thus, as on many other points, the work of months, perhaps even years, will be needed in order to fully grasp how certain indications open new paths, even on themes that, at first glance, are politically correct or, in any case, often cited, even by different cultural traditions. Take the poor, for example: the Church truly prefers them–with no ifs, ands, or buts (“sine glossa,” he says forcefully)–not for sociological reasons, but because those with an “inability to repay you” (Lk 14:14) are in some way the test of the absolute gratuity to which the Gospel calls us (see points 197-201). And it is the same Gospel that shows us that “our brothers and sisters are the prolongation of the Incarnation for each of us: ‘As you did it to one of these, the least of my brethren, you did it to Me’” (179).
These are, of course, only a few points. But, in the end, the decisive and “always new” word is this: Incarnation. Christ. It all comes back to Him, because it all starts with Him–and, on top of it all, He is the true joy of life.