Bulletins, Newsletters, and Flocknotes

At the end of the meeting with members of the Spanish Parliament, the Holy Father transferred by car to the headquarters of the Spanish Episcopal Conference, where the meeting with the bishops of Spain took place.

Upon arrival, the Pope was welcomed by the president of the Spanish Episcopal Conference, Archbishop Luis Javier Argüello García, the Metropolitan Archbishop of Madrid, His Eminence Cardinal José Cobo Cano, and the secretary of the Episcopal Conference, Bishop Francisco César García Magán. As he entered, he greeted some ecclesiastical leaders and proceeded to the Plenary Assembly Hall, on the first floor.

After the words of welcome from the president of the Spanish Episcopal Conference, the Holy Father delivered his address.

Then, after the signing of the Guest Book, the exchange of gifts and the blessing, the Pontiff greeted the bishops personally in the office of the president of the Spanish Episcopal Conference.

At the end, he went down to the ground floor for the unveiling of a plaque commemorating his visit, and proceeded to the Press Office of the Conference for a photograph with lay personnel.

The Holy Father then transferred by car to the Apostolic Nunciature, where he dined with the bishops.

The following is the address delivered by Pope Leo XIV to those present at the meeting:

 

Address of the Holy Father

Dear Brothers in the Episcopate,

It is a great joy for me to be with you on the third day of my Apostolic Journey to Spain. After greeting the political representatives who welcomed me in Parliament, I would now like to take advantage of this time together to rekindle our communion, as Jesus counseled his apostles to do (cf.  Mk  6:31). I thank Bishop Luis Javier Argüello García for his kind words as President of the Conference and on behalf of all of you. I hope that my own words will contribute to that dialogue in the Spirit, which involves welcoming all the good that the Lord speaks to us through our brothers and sisters. The synodal journey undertaken by the Church is a process of attentive listening. Being able to recognize the voice of God speaking through the ecclesial community is one of its fundamental values.

Yours is a fruitful dialogue which, as a Church, you are formulating in various ways. One concrete example is the conferences that you hold. I would like to focus on those that took place in 2020 and 2025, which have had a significant impact: “People of God Going Forth” and “For Whom Am I? Assembly of Those Called to Mission.” The themes address essential questions: How can we face today’s challenges? And who is called to take up this challenge?

In my contribution to this reflection, I would like to propose the image of a journey whose destination is God, toward whom we lift our gaze. It is a  sui generis  journey, since we do not move physically, but we wish to let our hearts soar.

One temptation that can arise when traveling is that of fixating on what we leave behind — places, things, ways of life — without opening ourselves, in docility to the Spirit, to the newness of what we encounter. Along with this temptation, there is also that of our luggage, which, for similar reasons, we fill with useless things that end up being a burden. At the same time, we must not forget something we learn from the troubles of so many migrants: a person who is alone, without roots and without resources, suffers terribly and finds it very difficult to establish solid bonds in the place where they arrive.

Thus, in this first phase of our journey, our response to the question of how to face the challenge before us must prudently combine freedom and courage, so that we may leave behind structures that do not help us, do not respond to our needs, or even lead us away from our goal, while having the strength to treasure what facilitates it. How can we fail to recall here the immense Christian heritage of your land, the enormous power of attraction that this richness offers: through its beauty, which reaches even the non-believer, or through the bonds of belonging weaved into the spiritual identity of every corner of this beloved people, and which remains present even in moments when their faith wavers? This is undoubtedly a tremendous challenge, to which we are called to respond with courage, so that this heritage may reach its potential in bearing good fruit.

Another treasure we cannot forget in our backpack is the pilgrim’s Viaticum. The Bread of the Word and of the Eucharist are even more necessary to us than material food because they open for us the way to salvation. It is not a matter of how to make the celebration more or less attractive; it is about feeling that, if we are part of him, his absence causes in us a restlessness comparable to physical hunger. The sacramental life gives rhythm to our existence, like that of a child receiving nourishment from its mother, or like that of an athlete gauging the strength needed to reach the finish line.

One great difficulty that arises when traveling is that of communicating with others. Whether due to different languages and cultures, mistrust of the unknown, or the quarrels and misunderstandings that can arise even among those close to us, we feel limited when it comes to expressing ourselves or understanding the person with whom we are speaking. We can apply this experience to the proclamation of the Gospel, to welcoming others, to the ability to respond to the questions of the world around us, or to the need to foster shared responsibility among community members in our pastoral actions. We previously said that we must leave behind everything that holds us back and isolates us; here, the guiding principle is that our heritage should be an instrument and an opportunity for dialogue with those we encounter along the way.

As happens to pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago, on our journey we see before us those vast and bare Castilian plains. The few encounters pilgrims have with some elderly people or foreign workers can serve as a metaphor for many social situations that, unfortunately, exist in some of your ecclesial realities. This is not the first time Spain has faced such a situation: in the past, for example, when the Church had to rebuild its presence in scorched lands, models of evangelization emerged that were later exported to the Americas, and they can help us here in our mission.

We too are called to build a new reality through respectful dialogue and the use of new languages, like the famous “holy mufti” of Granada, Friar Hernando de Talavera, and later Saint Toribio de Mogrovejo in the Americas, an exemplary bishop who reached out to others in a time of mission and ecclesial reorganization and whose third centenary of canonization we are celebrating. Although the languages in this digital age are different and the cultures that now make up the mosaic of our realities — with migrants from all parts of the world — have also changed, the spirit must remain.

What are the essential elements of that spirit? The first is the ability to communicate, to speak to every reality present in our territory, to humble oneself so as not only to understand, but to share. Only by gathering all the good that exists in our own heritage, with each of us doing our part, can we build a new reality in which faith can take deep root. Naturally, to make this happen, we must begin by learning the language of the other, initiating processes and weaving bonds where we can sow the seed of the kingdom. The second is the call to create realities that are capable in themselves of communicating the experience of faith, that are capable of bringing — as Toribio did — the experience of Granada to the Americas, that is, of packing in our luggage the resources that allow us to face with openness the ever-new challenges of evangelization in every circumstance.

After the deserted plains, we will also encounter large cities, where silence and distance are not spatial but interpersonal. The responses will be different, but the processes for reaching them are analogous: listening, understanding, respect, generosity and openness.

Pilgrims often set out at night, and the initial darkness of the path can often frighten them. The vespers hymn, “Night is the time of salvation,” reminds us that if we are in good company, the difficulties of the journey and the danger of getting lost are reduced. It is the Lord who leads us; he is the master of history and of each of our stories. He determines the rhythm. We walk behind him; indeed, we walk with him as members of one body. This profound bond demands of the Church, in this time of increasingly drastic polarizations and oppositions, a witness to unity in diversity: a communion capable of embracing the richness of the gifts, charisms and sensibilities that the Holy Spirit stirs up in the people of God. The image of Christ is made visible in the living mosaic of the Church, where many tiles, without blending together, converge to reveal the beauty of the one Lord.

In this task, the ministry of the bishop takes on a particular significance. We are called to be a visible sign of communion: first and foremost, of communion with Christ, lovingly safeguarding the faith we have received, in docility to the Word of God and to the living Tradition of the Church. Secondly, in communion with the Successor of Peter and with the universal Church, with the presbyterate and with the diocesan community itself, with consecrated life, with movements, with associations, and with every authentic charism that the Spirit bestows for the common good. Your mission calls you to safeguard unity, foster dialogue, heal divisions and accompany the journey of the people entrusted to your care.

Communion lived in this way also brings about missionary vitality. A Church that is interiorly at peace can speak more freely to brothers and sisters of other Christian denominations and other religions, to those who do not believe, to civil authorities, and to all people of good will who work for the common good.

This call to be a sign of communion in Christ — walking in unity and reaching out to the brother or sister we meet — places us before another challenge that touches the hearts of many today: the difficulty of making definitive commitments and profound life decisions. For so many young people — and not only them — the question, “For whom am I?” resonates as a sincere search for meaning, belonging and self-giving. The human heart is not filled by accumulating experiences, possibilities or a fleeting sense of security; it is filled when it discovers a calling, when it understands that life reaches its fullness only if it is given away.

For this reason, vocational ministry cannot be reduced to a mere pursuit of numbers. It springs from living communities, from happy priests, from families capable of bearing witness to the beauty of fidelity, from a Church that knows how to show with simplicity that following Christ does not impoverish existence, but rather expands it. Where the Gospel is lived with joy, service and communion, the Lord’s call can also be heard anew as a promise of life.

Previously, we mentioned burdensome luggage. Pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago know well that only the essentials should be carried in a backpack. As  Pope Francis  often said, in the current vocational context, the preservation of structures cannot take precedence over the good of the vocation itself. Seminarians have a right to the best possible formation, and the Church, for her part, has a right to well-formed priests. The criterion for seminaries to be authentic houses of formation is that they ensure an adequate experience of community life; that they have formators fully dedicated to study and teaching, with experience in spiritual accompaniment; and that they have centers of higher theological learning, equipped with the necessary means to fulfill their mission. To this end, it is essential not only to join forces but also to learn to work together in managing these challenges.

In this sphere, difficulties can be seen as opportunities. At times, we find it difficult to explain the vocation of the laity and their integration into this journey of life that we as a Church are undertaking. On the other hand, we see how in many ministries, traditionally managed by religious, lay collaborators are being called upon to continue the work. It is a difficulty that we can turn into an opportunity for encounter, dialogue and communication. It is up to us to ensure that these laypeople come to perceive their participation in this ecclesial service as a call from God to take on their responsibility as Christians, internalizing the spirit and feeling part of the mission that the Lord entrusted to the religious who established it.

As you can see, our journey is made up of encounters, and we will also meet people who are going through dark times and who call on us to be their Good Samaritans. One of the most painful encounters is with those who have been wounded precisely by those who were supposed to care for them, including members of the clergy. Faced with this scourge, the ecclesial community is called to respond with listening, truth, justice, reparation and an ever more determined commitment to prevention and a culture of care. Every wounded person must be able to find sincere listening, welcome, protection and real paths to healing.

This same logic also applies to the challenges of a secularized world. Many men and women of our time do not directly reject God; often they carry in their hearts a deep thirst for meaning, truth, belonging and hope, even when they do not know how to name it. The Church is called to recognize these longings, to listen to them with respect, and to offer — as Peter and John did to the paralytic at the temple gate — the treasure entrusted to her: Jesus Christ, in whose name a person can rise and walk (cf.  Acts  3:1–10). When collaborating with other religious or civil institutions, and also when offering material aid, education, assistance or support for human development, the Church never ceases to offer what is uniquely her own: the love of God revealed in Christ. That message resonates in society, which does not hesitate to express its appreciation for many of these works. Thus, every gesture of Christian charity born of the Gospel carries within it a greater promise: to restore to the person the conviction of being loved.

On our journey, we are travelling through what  Saint John Paul II  chose to call “Mary’s Land” ( Homily at the Celebration of the Word and National Marian Ceremony , Zaragoza, 6 November 1982, 1). In the Blessed Virgin, the mother of communion and hope, you have your first companion on the journey and your greatest treasure, for she shows us through her life how to welcome the Word and keep it in our hearts, how to accompany the disciples on this path and how to remain present on the Church’s journey. To her I entrust your ministry, that she may help you to be, in the midst of the people entrusted to you, that hidden leaven mentioned in the Gospel. Small in the eyes of the world, yet capable, when united to Christ, of leavening the dough (cf.  Mt  13:33). The strength of the Church does not come from the greatness of her resources, but from the holiness of her children, from the communion of her pastors, and from the humble and persevering fidelity of those who allow themselves to be guided by the Spirit.

On this journey, Saint John of Avila, patron of the Spanish clergy, also accompanies you as we commemorate this year the fifth centenary of his priestly ordination.  Saint Paul VI  described him as “a benevolent and wise teacher of the spiritual life, an exemplary renovator of ecclesiastical life and Christian customs” and, at the same time, “a simple priest” ( Homily at the Canonization of Blessed John of Avila , 31 May 1970). In this holy Doctor of the Church, the Church recognizes the priestly life that every bishop is called to safeguard and foster within his own presbyterate.

Looking to him, I am reminded of those who are the bishops’ closest companions on this journey: “simple priests,” in the highest and most demanding sense of the term. Our journey with them should convey the importance of the essentials: to be priests who are in love with Christ, rooted in prayer, faithful to the Church, close to the people, and capable of uniting sound doctrine, apostolic zeal and pastoral charity. Priests who find in the bishop not only a recognized authority, but a father who accompanies them; and in the other priests, brothers with whom to share the hardships and joys of this pilgrimage that is full of encounters, through which we all seek Christ.

Let us conclude this spiritual journey with a prayer from the holy Doctor, who reminds us that every ecclesial renewal is born of a heart conformed to Christ: “If you command me, Lord, to do what you did, give me your heart” ( Sermon  57:20). Let this also be our plea: Lord, give us your heart, a heart capable of lifting its gaze toward you, of setting out on the journey, of listening, of discerning, of serving, of correcting with charity, of attending with patience and of proclaiming with joy. For the Church that receives the heart of Christ carries with her the pillar of fire that guides her, sustains her, defends her and comforts her — necessary provisions to face any challenge.

God bless you. Thank you very much.

At 9.30 this morning, after celebrating Holy Mass in private, the Holy Father Leo XIV met privately with the President of the Government of Spain, Pedro Sánchez Pérez-Castejón.

Subsequently, at 10.15, the Pope left the Apostolic Nunciature and transferred by car to the Palacio de las Cortes for the meeting with the members of the Spanish Parliament.

Upon arrival, at 10.30, Pope Leo XIV was welcomed at the main entrance by the President of the Congress of Deputies, Francina Armengol, the President of the Senate, Pedro Rollán Ojeda, and another six leaders.

After the playing of the national anthems of Spain and Vatican City, the Presidents of the Congress and the Senate accompanied the Holy Father to the Salón de Pasos Perdidos.

Then, after the official photograph, the Pope signed the Guest Book and a reproduction of the Book of Hours was presented.

Subsequently, in the Salón de Plenos , following the words of welcome by the President of the Congress of Deputies, Pope Leo XIV delivered his address.

At the conclusion, the Holy Father travelled by car to the headquarters of the Spanish Episcopal Conference.

The following is the address the Pope delivered to those present during the meeting:

 

Address of the Holy Father

Mr Prime Minister, Madam President of the Congress of Deputies, Mr President of the Senate, Mr President of the Constitutional Court, Madam President of the Supreme Court and the General Council of the Judiciary, Members of the Congress of Deputies and the Senate, Ladies and gentlemen,

I thank the President for her kind words, as well as for the invitation the Apostolic See received on the occasion of my visit to this country. I am also grateful for the courtesy of welcoming me to this historic Palace of the Congress of Deputies, a prominent center of the institutional, legal and democratic life of the Kingdom of Spain. I come before you as the Bishop of Rome and Shepherd of the Catholic Church, aware that the mission entrusted to the Successor of the Apostle Peter, as the principle and foundation of the unity of the Bishops and the faithful (cf.  Lumen Gentium , 23), places the Holy See, in a special way, in dialogue with peoples and with States.

My presence among you is intended as a gesture of closeness to Spain, within the framework of mutual cooperation, and as a message offered in the spirit of service to the human person. The Church “walks alongside humanity,” shares its hopes and its wounds, listens to the questions of every age and allows herself to be challenged by “everything concerning the lives of contemporary men and women.” For this reason, when the Church addresses anything concerning public life, she does so while respecting the proper mission of institutions and the legitimate responsibility of those who have received the mandate to legislate. She recognizes “the autonomy of earthly realities” and “the distinction between the ecclesial community and the political community”; and, precisely from this awareness, the Church offers a reflection born of the desire to serve the common good and to recall what makes human coexistence truly human (cf.  Magnifica Humanitas , 18, 19, 22).

In this chamber, social coexistence takes legal form. Here, differences are heard, sorted out, and, when possible, transformed into shared decisions. For this reason, beyond the legitimate diversity of positions, every legislative task ultimately confronts a decisive question: what conception of the human person inspires laws, and what kind of society do those laws build?

In this regard, Spain has a particularly rich heritage. Its geographical and political identity is intertwined with a history in which faith and reason, art and law, tradition and thought have come together in a fruitful manner. In its cathedrals and universities, its immortal literature, its legal institutions and the very spirit of its people, endures a heritage that has shaped its way of living out freedom, practicing justice and organizing communal life.

From the timeless pages of Don Quixote, where Cervantes proclaimed that “freedom… is one of the most precious gifts that heaven has bestowed upon men” ( Don Quixote de la Mancha , II, 58), to the spiritual depth of Saint Teresa of Ávila, and from the great Spanish legal tradition to the metaphysical restlessness of Unamuno, who recalled that man “was not resigned to die utterly” ( The Tragic Sense of Life , I), Spain has known how to view the human being as more than just a cog in the social, economic or political order. It has recognized the human being as a creature open to truth, endowed with freedom, and driven by a thirst for eternity that no temporal reality can quench — in a word, as someone whose dignity takes precedence over all utility and to whose service legislative action is subject.

For this reason, when speaking today of the human person, this reflection naturally leads to Salamanca and the thought that matured there. The symbolic presence in this hall of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella recalls the moment when Spain found itself facing historic responsibilities of universal scope. A few years later, Salamanca would undertake, with particular clarity, the moral and legal reflection that the situation demanded. At that university, five hundred years ago, when new worlds and immense possibilities were opening up in relations among peoples, some teachers understood that reason could not be invoked to legitimize whatever force or self-interest that seemed convenient. They thus introduced into historical discernment the question of the irreducible value of every human being and the moral limits of power. It must be acknowledged that society and the Church herself did not always live up to these insights found in their own Christian tradition.

However, that question opened up an intellectual and moral horizon that transcended its historical moment. The intuition of the  totus orbis  — of a human community broader than any particular power — made it possible to affirm the existence of legal and moral bonds among peoples. From Spain, the reflections of the School of Salamanca — and in particular those of Fray Francisco de Vitoria, along with other Dominicans and Jesuits — helped to shape a legal and moral consciousness capable of remembering that authority always entails responsibility and that every human being must be recognized as a subject of rights and duties. That aspiration continues to resonate today: that dignity, justice and the common good should be the measure of social relations, both at the national and international levels.

This is one of Spain’s great legacies: having united historical action with the clarity of moral reason. That contribution, born on the banks of the Tormes, transcended classrooms and libraries, and became part of a broader consciousness, shared by the international community, which continues to ask itself how to build peace on the recognition of the person and not on the imposition of force. That legacy also lives on in this Parliament, every time lawmakers ask themselves how to ensure that what is possible is just, that what is legal is truly humane, and that the will of the majority safeguards those goods that belong to all and respects that which no majority can legitimately violate.

The “Salamanca Question” continues to guide the work of those who serve in public life. Today, the new worlds opening up before us are no longer marked on maps: they unfold in technology, the economy, biomedicine, and the digital realm, where human power reaches into increasingly sensitive areas of personal and social life.

Progress offers admirable possibilities, and today we see this in a unique way in the development of artificial intelligence and new technologies. As I recalled  in my recent Encyclical , technology in itself is not neutral because it takes on the face of those who conceive, finance, regulate and use it (cf.  Magnifica Humanitas , 9); therefore, in the face of the transformations of our time, our discernment must focus on the place of the human person in our decision making and on how the dignity of work, solidarity, social policy and the common good are today being addressed in new ways.

This discernment begins with a fundamental affirmation: every truly just society is built upon the recognition of the inviolable dignity of the human person. Such dignity precedes any concession by the State and cannot be subordinated to shifting social consensus or the whims of the majority at any given moment (cf. Benedict XVI,  Address to the German Federal Parliament , 22 September 2011). It belongs to every human being by the very fact of their existence, and for this reason, it must guide every positive legal system. The Christian faith proclaims it on the basis of Revelation; human reason can recognize it as a requirement inscribed in the truth of man (cf.  ibid. ). When this conviction remains alive, the law becomes a safeguard for all and a guarantee against the imposition of particular interests and agendas.

On this basis, it falls to me today to speak a calm and firm word to those who bear the grave responsibility of legally ordering social coexistence. This coexistence can be threatened by the throwaway culture, as  Pope Francis  so often warned (cf.  Address to the Plenary Assembly of the Pontifical Academy for Life , 27 September 2021). In this sense, if life ceases to be recognized as a fundamental value, what future can our societies have? Can a community that casts into the shadows the unborn child, the elderly, the sick, those who suffer in silence, or those who depend entirely on the care of others be called fully just? The defense of human life is neither a partisan issue nor a confessional interest: it is a goal of civilization. Every human life must be recognized and safeguarded from conception to its natural end, in every circumstance of its existence. When this certainty is obscured, the most vulnerable are the first victims, and the law loses its deepest meaning: to serve and protect every person. For this reason, the moral greatness of a nation is manifested, above all, in its capacity to accompany, protect and love those lives that are most fragile.

The common good is, in a certain sense, the “social expression of the dignity recognized in every person” ( Magnifica Humanitas , 59). It does not consist in the mere sum of particular interests, but rather in “the sum of those conditions of social life which allow social groups and their individual members relatively thorough and ready access to their own fulfillment” ( Gaudium et Spes , 26). When the common good ceases to be a shared horizon, public action runs the risk of fragmenting into partial interests, incapable of safeguarding what belongs to all.

In this context, the family — the primary human reality and the natural foundation of the community — takes on particular importance. In the home, generations intertwine and a living memory is passed on, giving inner continuity to society. Where the family is upheld, the spiritual and social stability of nations is also strengthened. The family will always be the first school of humanity, where one learns, before anywhere else, the basic grammar of living together: welcoming life, caring for others, forgiving, serving and belonging.

Educational institutions also play a decisive role in this task. In them, new generations can learn to seek and love the truth, to reflect on the meaning of life and the dignity of every person. For this reason, many parents who wish for their children to learn to relate to others, to think critically, and to acquire solid values place great hope in these institutions, seeing them as valuable allies in their children’s education. This collaboration must always respect the “primary and inalienable right” of parents to “choose the kind of education and formation for their children, in a manner consistent with their moral, cultural and religious convictions” (cf.  Magnifica Humanitas , 143; cf.  International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights , art. 18.4).

The affirmation of human dignity cannot remain abstract when so many people are forced to leave everything behind in search of peace, security, and a future. The tragic drama of migration also challenges the conscience of nations and the ethical foundation of the international order today. Numerous men, women, and children are forced, by often dramatic circumstances, to leave their communities and leave behind loved ones, histories, and ties. This reality goes beyond any purely demographic or economic analysis: it constitutes an eminently moral and legal issue. Wherever people are discriminated against because of their national, ethnic, religious or linguistic origin, or because of their economic or social status, the universal principle of the equal dignity of all human beings is seriously violated.

The situation of migrants and refugees calls for a response that focuses on people, addresses the root causes that force them to leave, and goes beyond the mere management of migration flows. This gives rise to a twofold demand for social justice: to offer safe and legal pathways, a respectful welcome and real opportunities for integration; and, at the same time, to promote the right to remain in one’s own land, working to ensure that no one has to leave their home due to a lack of peace, security or decent living conditions, including economic inequalities and the effects of the climate crisis (cf.  Magnifica Humanitas , 81).

In recent years, increasingly dangerous routes have highlighted the extremely high cost of this reality, so often hidden or ignored. Many people remain prey to traffickers and smugglers who take advantage of their desperation. It is necessary to strengthen prevention, rescue and assistance for victims, especially within the framework of regional and multilateral cooperation.

No nation can face a challenge of this magnitude on its own. Therefore, a coordinated, supportive, and effective response is indispensable, one capable of guaranteeing protection, welcome, and real opportunities for integration to those who migrate. When the institutional response is accessible, just and coordinated, borders cease to be places of abandonment and can become spaces for the responsible protection of human dignity.

Ladies and gentlemen:

The world is undergoing a profound spiritual and cultural crisis, which manifests in multiple forms of violence, polarization and mutual distrust. In this context, peace emerges as a political aspiration and, even more so, as a true moral imperative. It calls for public discourse that respects those who think differently, institutions dedicated to fostering dialogue, a historical memory that seeks truth and reconciliation and a social life capable of sustaining civic friendship and mutual respect amid disagreement.

On the international level, peace demands diplomatic courage, ethical responsibility and a vision for the future grounded in respect for the identity of every people and in the obligation of States to resolve their disputes through the peaceful means offered by international law. Every war constitutes, ultimately, a painful defeat of the capacity to negotiate and also of that common human consciousness that recognizes bonds of justice among nations. Weapons may impose a temporary silence; but they can never build a genuine and lasting peace.

It is therefore a cause for concern that, in various parts of the world — and in Europe as well — rearmament is once again being presented as an almost inevitable response to the fragility of the international situation. True security, however, stems from justice, patient dialogue, respect for international law, and a policy capable of placing the lives of peoples above the interests that profit from war. The development of new technologies and artificial intelligence in the military sphere also demands rigorous ethical oversight, so that decisions regarding life and death are never left to automated systems nor removed from the moral responsibility of the human person (cf.  Address at the University of La Sapienza , 14 May 2026).

The international community is called to rediscover the indispensable value of dialogue as a patient path toward just and lasting agreements, founded on respect for treaties, on the transparency of diplomatic action and on the sincere will to prioritize peace over the use of force. From this spring confidence and hope.

As the motto of the European Union,  In varietate concordia , reminds us, true unity does not standardize, but rather unites in diversity, making cultures, sensibilities, and traditions an opportunity for mutual enrichment.

Likewise, within societies themselves, it is urgent to build a culture of reciprocity. Political pluralism should not degenerate into the constant disparagement of one’s adversary. In a mature society, even conflict can become a path to peace, when differences are softened by listening and directed toward recognizing the needs, aspirations and capabilities of all.

But peace is not merely a political or institutional reality. It is also the fruit of conscience, where resentment, indifference, and hatred give way to reconciliation. For this reason, it is also established and protected through language. Words can open paths or close them; they can illuminate reality or distort it to the point of making encounter impossible. Those who hold public office therefore have a special obligation to be mindful of their words in order to disarm language (cf.  Message for Lent 2026 , 13 February 2026). Firmness does not require contempt; disagreement does not entail humiliation.

From this respect for others also arises the duty to safeguard the space where their convictions, their conscience, and their relationship with God mature. Attention to this inner realm allows for a better understanding of a decisive issue for every truly democratic society: freedom of thought, conscience and religion, a fundamental right that protects the most intimate sphere of the person. The freedom upon which the contemporary state is built, if it is authentic, recognizes the religious dimension of the human person, respects it and protects it legally; and it ensures that faith is not a reason for which a person has to forfeit his or her contribution to society.

Without confusing the legal sphere with the moral one, it is also worth recalling that freedom must be understood in its fullness. Being free does not simply mean being free from coercion or having many choices; it means being able to recognize the good and commit to it responsibly. For this reason, every truly free society also requires a proper limitation of public power, so that the freedom of individuals, communities and associations is not unduly restricted (cf.  Dignitatis Humanae , 1). From this perspective, the legitimate autonomy of the temporal order must never see itself as hostile to religion. Faith does not seek to impose itself through privileges or coercion; yet neither can it be silenced as if it were irrelevant to public life.

In this context, the sacramental seal of confession holds special importance for the Catholic Church. It is part of the broader sphere of religious freedom, which guarantees believing communities their own space for life, organization and internal discipline (cf. Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe,  The Helsinki Final Act , 1 August 1975, Principle VII). To protect it legally, as is done in a similar way in some professions, means preserving a sacred space of inner freedom, where the believer can open his or her soul to God without fear of external pressures, as international norms also recognize (cf. International Criminal Court,  Rules of Procedure and Evidence , Rule 73.3).

Ladies and Gentlemen:

Allow me to pause for a moment to reflect on some of the images that adorn this Chamber. In this Chamber, natural light streams in through the skylight that crowns the room. That light coming from above may remind us that politics, too, must acknowledge a force that precedes and transcends it.

Likewise, the paintings on the upper part of the main wall, depicting the reception of the Gospel and the Decalogue, remind us of something essential. Without confusing the political order with the religious one, these symbols invite us to recognize that modern freedom has also been shaped by a long education of conscience, deeply marked by the Christian tradition. In that inner school, people learned that law must serve the good, that justice sets limits on force, that power requires legitimacy, that the poor belong fully to the community, that the foreigner must be welcomed in accordance with his dignity, and that human life can never be treated as a commodity.

A law does not attain its true greatness merely by having been formally enacted; it attains it when, in addition to being valid in form, it can stand before the dignity of the person and pass that test without shame.

I invite you, then, to lift your gaze to the world around you, not to turn away from reality, but to remember that every decision by public authorities affects real people, especially those who have less power to make their voices heard. The expanse of one’s vision consists precisely in looking more deeply at what is at stake in every public decision. This is why, alongside technical solutions and legal reforms, a moral renewal is also needed.

Spain has much to offer on this journey. It possesses a language that bridges continents; a cultural, legal and spiritual tradition that has successfully fostered a dialogue between faith and reason, law and conscience, unity and plurality. This historical experience also reminds us of the value of harmony and of the patient effort to build a peaceful and just society.

May this noble nation never lose sight of its roots nor the courage to look to the future. May Spain continue to be a land of encounter, of culture, of solidarity and of hope. And may its public life always know how to unite the firmness of convictions with the nobility of dialogue and the greatness of service.

May God grant peace to all nations of the earth, harmony to families and serenity to consciences. And may days of prosperity, justice and lasting peace descend upon the Kingdom of Spain, marked by the apostolic footprint of Saint James and by the maternal presence of Our Lady of the Pillar. Thank you very much.

At 17.30 this afternoon, the Holy Father Leo XIV left the Apostolic Nunciature and transferred by popemobile to the Movistar Arena in Madrid for the meeting “Building Networks with the World of Culture, Economy and Sport”, attended by around fifteen thousand people.

Upon arrival, at around 18.00, the Pope was welcomed by the Metropolitan Archbishop of Madrid, His Eminence Cardinal José Cobo Cano, and before taking the stage, he briefly toured on foot around the stands of the arena to greet the faithful.

After the hymn, the Cardinal Archbishop of Madrid addressed some words of welcome to the Holy Father.

This was followed by speeches and testimonies from Antonio Banderas; the rector of the Universidad Complutense, José María Coello de Portugal; Antonio Garamendi, president of the Confederación Española de Organizaciones Empresariales (CEOE); Unai Sordo, secretary general of the Comisiones Obreras ; and Ángela Lopez de Miguel, president of the Confederación Española de la Pequeña y Mediana Empresa (CEPYME), representing the world of the economy and labour, and finally the two athletes Carolina Marín and Teresa Perales. The testimonies were interspersed with an artistic performance by Sara Baras.

Pope Leo XIV then delivered his address.

After a musical performance and the Holy Father’s blessing, the meeting concluded with a final hymn.

At the end, Leo XIV left the stage accompanied by the Cardinal Archbishop of Madrid and travelled by car to the archbishop’s residence, where he dined with Cardinal Cobo Cano before returning to the Apostolic Nunciature.

The following is the address delivered by the Pope to those present during the meeting:

 

Address of the Holy Father

Your Eminence, Dear friends,

It is a pleasure to be with you in this place that not only welcomes sporting, artistic and cultural events, but also the deepest emotions of human beings: joy, admiration, enthusiasm and hope, as well as sadness and frustration.

In this beautiful country it is impossible not to admire the creative spirit that runs through its history and shapes its identity. A beauty that is evident in its cities, in its streets, its monuments, in its squares and gardens, in its universities and churches, its music, painting, dance, and in its cuisine. Here, too, one senses the spirit of the generations who transformed the landscape and gave it a character of its own, and this reveals to us, in every detail, the intelligence and determination that dwell in the human spirit.

After carefully considering these wonders created by previous generations, a question inevitably arises that challenges us all: what legacy are we leaving for the future and, by extension, what kind of community are we building?

I have listened intently to each of the panelists’ contributions, and I agree with you. Our society does indeed possess an extraordinary capacity to produce, innovate and communicate; however, it seems we still need to learn how to safeguard the  soul  of what it generates. Otherwise, we run the risk of becoming experts in the media and effective producers, yet uncertain as to why, for what purpose, with whom and for whom we produce. In this context, the Church, mindful of both its successes and its errors throughout history, longs to remain in dialogue with the contemporary world.

The desire for goodness, beauty and truth is rooted in the very DNA of humanity. It is on the basis of this profoundly human aspiration and our centuries-old experience that the Church proposes paths toward a life of dignity and the common good. In this regard,  Saint Paul VI  affirmed before the United Nations that, whatever one’s opinion of the Roman Pontiff may be, his mission is well known. As an “expert in humanity,” the Church does not turn a blind eye to anything truly human (cf.  Gaudium et Spes ,  1). For this reason, “openness to dialogue is an integral part of the Church’s vocation” ( Magnifica Humanitas , 2). Today we confirm that the decisive question remains the same: what does it mean to be truly human?

With humility and conviction, the Church shares what she has discovered through the experience of faith: that Jesus Christ provides the answer to the great questions concerning human life and its fulfilment, both in this world and ultimately in eternity. “For this reason, the human person always remains the ‘way for the Church’ and the heart of every authentic path of integral human development” ( ibid ., 50). Therefore, the Church cannot turn a blind eye to culture, because through it, man as man “is” more fully human (cf.  Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church , 554).

Precisely since “culture” calls to mind “cultivate,” just as the etymological roots that both words share suggest, we are rightly called to ask ourselves what it is that we are sowing today, what exactly is flourishing and what is silently withering in our society; what values are we preserving and which are we allowing to die. These are profound and necessary questions that cannot be ignored.

In order to address these questions, it is necessary to have a social dialogue that can be likened to the art of building networks, which involves coming together, listening, dialogue and respect.

In the various spheres of human activity, we must be mindful of the language we use — whether written, spoken or imagery in the digital realm — because communication is never neutral. Every form of expression speaks and conveys meaning; it can wound or heal, shatter expectations or open new horizons, sow division or awaken hope in the possibility of building something genuinely human together.

Thus, building networks is a dialogue among institutions which is centered on human dignity. This entails, for example, that the university not ignore the working world nor renounce the truth; that business not view the employee as just another factor in the equation of its interests. That art not be intended solely for the elites; that sports not be reduced to a spectacle or turned into mere business; and that technological progress take into account the elderly, the poor and those without a voice.

From a Christian perspective, our contribution to the dialogue concerning life recognizes that the Creator has woven human beings with threads of love; for they have been created in the image and likeness of God, God is love (cf.  1   Jn  4:8). Herein lies the foundation of inalienable human dignity, the absolute respect of which is the basis of dialogue.

Second, building networks means creating together. “Faith,”  Pope Benedict XVI  affirmed, “is love, and therefore creates poetry and music. Faith is joy, therefore it creates beauty” ( Catechesis , 21 May 2008). We have all experienced something beautiful — so much so that it changed us from within: a song, a poem, a quiet church, a voice, a glance, or even a basketball game enjoyed with friends.

It is no wonder, then, that the proclamation of the Good News and the awareness that we are all brothers and sisters finds expression in the form of a  saeta  during Holy Week or in mystical poetry. Expression can also be found in the literary genius of authors such as Lope de Vega, Saint Teresa of Ávila, Saint John of the Cross, Calderón de la Barca, or in the serene prose of Saint Thomas Aquinas, from whom we have inherited the beautiful hymns of Corpus Christi, which we celebrate today. All of this reveals the bond between the material and the spiritual that constitutes our existence.

Third, building networks means to serve selflessly. An objective view reveals that men and women, moved by faith, have built hospitals and schools, begun initiatives of solidarity and spoken with a language that adorns people with dignity. For this reason we would do well to ask ourselves honestly if the world — and Europe in particular — would have forged its identity without that spiritual influence that has permeated its history. This is not meant to be provocative, but rather an invitation to consider whether eternity — which burst into time and space through the incarnation of Jesus Christ — can still be reconciled with everyday life.

Is it seriously possible to believe that Europe — which we deeply love — would be the same without the influence of faith? Why should we fear that eternity permeate everyday life? The cry of my predecessors lives on: do not be afraid! Open wide the doors to Christ! Jesus Christ takes nothing from us and gives us everything.

I ask myself: Who are the ones being excluded despite their virtues and abilities? We cannot ignore the fact that the condition of the poor is a cry that, in the history of humanity, constantly challenges our lives, our societies, our political and economic systems, and the Church (cf.  Dilexi Te , 9).

Indeed, Christ restores the common good to its rightful place as a wise arbiter who tempers the greed of some and nourishes the hope of others, while longing to save them all.

This Church, “an expert in humanity,” although at times going against the tide, insists that the “economic and institutional structures are just only to the extent that they serve the integral development of the person and promote the responsible participation of all” ( Magnifica Humanitas , 34).

Finally, let me draw your attention to a world that, as you know, is no stranger to me: the world of sports. Consider how many of us learned to respect our opponents on the field rather than by listening to a lecture. How many athletes teach us to lose without hatred, to win without humiliating others, or to get back up after falling.

Saint John Paul II, as an athlete and pastor, once said: “In these times when, unfortunately, various forms of violence — and thus of hatred — tend to tear apart the fabric of social solidarity, you [athletes] play your part in offering a shining example of cohesion, peace, and unity — in a word, of ‘knowing how to be together’” ( Address to the Participants in the 33rd Europe, Africa and Mediterranean Waterskiing Championships , 31 August 1979). These words are even more relevant and timely now than when they were first spoken.

Dear friends: I invite you, then, to be new protagonists for weaving new networks that harmonize all areas of life. To weave a renewed society where time is imbued with eternity, culture safeguards memory and fosters dialogue, education promotes the search for truth with a critical spirit, art awakens wonder and generates noble emotions, business recognizes the dignity of the person, and work remains a source of hope.

Let us be new protagonists by heeding Saint Paul’s counsel: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all” ( Rom  12:15–18). For all this determines whether, in the future, our “humanity in all its grandeur” will continue to shine forth. Thank you very much.

Let us all, then, be builders of this new community.

Thank you very much, and best wishes to everyone.

At 9.15 this morning, the Holy Father Leo XIV left the Apostolic Nunciature and transferred first by car, then popemobile, to Plaza de Cibeles for the celebration of Holy Mass on the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.

Upon arrival at the Palacio de Cibeles , the Pope was welcomed by the mayor of Madrid, José Luis Martínez-Almeida who, in the presence of Their Majesties the King and Queen of Spain and several members of the City Council, presented him with the golden key of the City. The Holy Father then signed the Guest Book and walked to the sacristy.

At 10.10, the Pope presided over the Eucharistic Celebration in Plaza de Cibeles, in the presence of one million two hundred thousand faithful.

Following the words of welcome by the Metropolitan Archbishop of Madrid, His Eminence Cardinal José Cobo Cano, during the introductory rites and the Liturgy of the Word, Pope Leo XIV delivered the homily.

At the end of Holy Mass, the Corpus Domini procession took place, which concluded with the solemn Eucharistic blessing imparted by the Pope.

The Holy Father then returned to the sacristy, and immediately transferred by car to the Apostolic Nunciature, where he met with approximately 220 Augustinian Fathers from various communities and several members of the Augustinian family in Spain.

After the greeting from the Provincial Superior, the Pope addressed to those present some words of gratitude for the opportunity to meet, emphasizing how the communion and unity of heart among the Augustinians can be a message to the world at this historic moment. A message to be brought to young people, such as the 600,000 gathered in Plaza de Lima yesterday evening, who were sharing their questions and their spiritual search. And, referring to the presence of the sisters of contemplative life, the Pope emphasized the value of their vocation, not least in giving meaning to social action, at a time when silence is being lost and humanity is losing the ability to look into its own heart. Finally, before greeting them individually, the Pope invited those present to pray the Lord’s Prayer together and imparted his blessing upon them.

The following is the homily delivered by Pope Leo XIV during the Holy Mass, after the proclamation of the Gospel:

 

Homily of the Holy Father

Your Eminences and Your Excellencies, Dear priests, men, women religious, Your Majesties, Dear brothers and sisters,

As I begin  my visit to Spain , it is with a heart filled with joy that I preside over this celebration on the Solemnity of Corpus Christi.

We are gathered around the Eucharist, the gift of Christ’s living presence among us. He who wished to offer us his life so that we might enter into communion with the Father and become his children, is here as the living Bread come down from heaven, to nourish us with the very life of God, with a love stronger than death.

This awareness of the Lord’s presence in the Eucharistic Bread is deeply rooted in the faith and the history of your people. Here in Madrid, as in many other parts of Spain, Corpus Christi is more than just another celebration on the liturgical calendar. It is a way of returning to the heart of the faith to renew our love and fidelity to God. The solemn processions held on this day have for centuries shaped the piety, art, music, architecture and life of the Spanish people. Even today, they still express and manifest the spiritual sentiments of this country through the beauty and elegance of the floral carpets, the altars erected in the streets, the carefully crafted monstrances and stands, the hymns and the liturgical vestments. This is not an exhibition, a remnant of folklore or a simple display of beauty. It is a profession of faith in the presence of the risen Lord, who is alive and continues to walk among us, who becomes bread to satiate our hunger for life, and visits the recesses of our hearts and history, even those shrouded in darkness.

Just as Christ gives himself as food in the Eucharistic celebration, the procession shows that he is not confined to the church, but comes out to meet us. Jesus travels the streets, crosses the squares and visits our neighborhoods, dwelling in the settings of our daily lives. He is a God who is close to us, who walks with his people, the Lord of history. He is comfort to the weak, light for families, hope for the sick and peace for those who suffer.  The Christ who processes through the streets in the monstrance is the same one who identifies with the poor, the downtrodden, those who are alone and forsaken.  It is no coincidence that the Church here in Spain has long combined the Solemnity of Corpus Christi with the Day for Charity.

It is not merely a matter of bringing out the monstrance, but of allowing ourselves to be brought out of our selfishness and indifference, of a comfortable, private faith, so as to respond to his invitation to conversion, to change our perspective, and to welcome his presence which transforms us and makes us builders of a new world.

For this reason, the historical memory of the Corpus Christi processions is not confined to wistful nostalgia. Instead, it stands as an invitation in the present moment, in our daily lives, in our relationships, in society, and in the building of the future. It is in this context that we must understand the invitation to “remember” that we heard in the first reading: “Remember the long way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness” ( Deut  8:3); remember how he fed you with manna when you were hungry. We must “remember” precisely so as not to forget who the Lord is, so as not to fall into the temptation of trusting in other idols and feeding on bread that does not satisfy.

Herein lies the task of Spain today and in the future: to ensure that the religiosity which has shaped and defined this country for centuries is not a museum of the past to be visited, but a school of faith from which to draw even today: A school that teaches us to kneel before God and before our neighbor, because no one can kneel before the Lord and despise their brother; A school that teaches us of the gratitude of love that becomes a gift, so that it may flow among us and break the chains of all selfishness; A school from which we learn that God is a real presence and that we too are called to be present in the realities and challenges of society, not shying away, but personally committing ourselves to the building of the common good.

Brothers and sisters, I wish to recall Saint Manuel González, the bishop of the abandoned tabernacle. His life reminds us that the Eucharist should be honored not only during great celebrations or on special occasions, but also through the silent fidelity of those who accompany the Lord with a humble and quiet friendship that is nourished day by day. I would also like to bring to mind the poetic verses of  Saint John of the Cross : “For I know well the spring that flows and runs, although it is night” ( Song of the Soul that Rejoices in Knowing God through Faith ). While imprisoned in harsh conditions in the convent prison of Toledo, precisely around the time of Corpus Christi in 1578, he recognized the hidden presence of the Lord in the darkness of his cell, a presence from which emanates a light that never fades and flows a life that never diminishes. The Eucharistic Jesus is “that eternal spring that is hidden” — a spring that flows and quenches thirst, yet without blinding, without imposing itself through outward power, without presenting itself in a spectacular way (cf. ibid.).

Let us return to him with sincere love. Let us open ourselves to the encounter with him, let us allow him to quench the thirst of our hearts, so that we may then go forth into the paths of life and history, bringing to the people this stream of fresh water, a stream of love, peace, justice and joy. Let us drink anew from this Eucharistic spring, which does not enclose us in private devotion, but sends us out to refresh our brothers and sisters, our families, the poor, the suffering, and those who have lost hope. Eucharistic grace transforms us and makes us protagonists of the transformation of history, a sign of hope for those we meet.

May the Lord Jesus, present in the Eucharist, transform you into bread that is broken, given, and offered, so that a life of fullness may spring forth for you, for your families, and for your country.

The following is the text of the Video Message sent by the Holy Father Leo XIV to participants in the Sixth World Apostolic Congress on Mercy, held in Vilnius, Lithuania, from 7 to 12 June 2026:

 

Video Message of the Holy Father

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

I am pleased to greet all of you who are participating in the sixth edition of the  World Apostolic Congress on Mercy  which was so strongly desired by my Venerable Predecessor, Saint Pope John Paul II. On this occasion, I would like extend a special greeting to His Excellency Archbishop Gintaras Grušas of Vilnius, who is welcoming to his diocese so many pilgrims of mercy from all over the world, as well as to His Excellency Mr Gitanas Nausėda, the President of the Republic of Lithuania, and not least to His Holiness Patriarch Bartholomew of Constantinople, who has graciously accepted to be present.

Saint Augustine writes in the  Confessions  that his only hope is in God’s exceeding great mercy (10, 40). Indeed, it is a source of great joy and true hope when we experience how merciful God is towards each one of us and how good it is for us to renew our trust in his mercy.

Today’s world, with its many fears and anxieties, tensions and wars, presents an increasingly urgent need for peace in the hearts of both individuals and peoples. Amid the vortex of violence that poisons relationships and destroys lives, the mercy of God asks to be allowed into our hearts with its amazing power of renewal. It is this mercy that is capable of turning our lives around, opening the way to love and forgiveness as distinctive features of the face of God manifested through us.

Dear friends, God never tires of showing His mercy. His love, as the Psalmist says (cf. Psalm. 136), endures forever, and how much our world is crying out for mercy at every level! But the peace that we so deeply desire cannot be attained without mercy. Let us therefore join our trust in the infinite mercy of God with our own personal commitment to build a more welcoming and merciful society, beginning with our families.

My hope is that you will live these days in Vilnius intensely, so that you may take back to your communities the richness of all that you have experienced in this international gathering. From the bottom of my heart, I impart the Apostolic Blessing of the most merciful God upon each one of you and on your families.