On the Vigil of Pentecost, Pope Leo gave a homily which touched on the themes of synodality, our common home, and contemplation—themes that are, probably in ascending order, core to the way I have been working on this blog since it restarted.

The heart of this meditation, at least from the perspective of Christian contemplation, is the following: “The Spirit inspires the contemplative dimension of life that rejects self-assertion, complaining, rivalry and the temptation to control consciences and resources.” Pope Leo is telling us that there are seemingly moral dimensions—modesty, humility, non-concupiscent love for the integrity and constitution of other created beings, human and otherwise—which are nonetheless contemplative. In fact, it is here that contemplation finds a foothold in much of contemporary life.

That, however, is not all. Not only are these practical inclinations contemplative; they are, Leo says, God-breathed. It is the Holy Spirit who breathes into us (“in-spires” in us) these characteristics. Although seemingly mundane, they are a descent of the dove and the tongues of fire. Of course, if contemplation is Spirit-led and not some self-imposed meditative regime, that makes sense. Where there is Christian contemplation, there is God as the principal actor.

In all this, I feel like were are doing well to be in the Jubilee year still. Last year, when Pope Francis published the bull of indiction Spes Non Confundit, I paused a little on the contemplative themes in that document. Those themes remind me of Pope Leo’s this Pentecost. Among other topics, Papa Francisco mentions patience as connected to grateful contemplation of creation and also to our relationships with others (SNC 4). With the Pentecost Vigil homily of Leo, I see something similar—at least with my eyes. There is a connective tissue of contemplation. It has links to both creation in the non-human sphere and in the human sphere. In particular, we have synodality and creation care—in that order. This is the start of the reflection:

On the evening of my election, moved as I looked out at the people of God gathered here, I spoke of “synodality,” a word that aptly expresses how the Spirit shapes the Church. That word begins with the Greek word syn – meaning “with” – which speaks of the secret of God’s life. God is not solitary. God, as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, is a “with” in himself, and God with us. At the same time, the word “synodality” speaks to us of a road ahead – hodós – for where there is the Spirit, there is movement, a journey to be made. We are a people on the move. This does not set us apart but unites us to humanity like the yeast in a mass of dough, which causes it to rise. The year of the Lord’s grace, reflected in the current Jubilee, has this fermentation within it. In a divided and troubled world, the Holy Spirit teaches us to walk together in unity. The earth will rest, justice will prevail, the poor will rejoice and peace will return, once we no longer act as predators but as pilgrims. No longer each of us for ourselves, but walking alongside one another. Not greedily exploiting this world, but cultivating it and protecting it, as the Encyclical Laudato Si’ has taught us.

Immediately after this, Pope Leo continues:

Dear friends, God created the world so that we might all live as one. “Synodality” is the ecclesial name for this. It demands that we each recognize our own poverty and our riches, that we feel part of a greater whole, apart from which everything withers, even the most original and unique of charisms. Think about it. All creation exists solely in the form of coexistence, sometimes dangerous, yet always interconnected (cf. Laudato Si’, 16; 117). And what we call “history” only takes place as coexistence, living together, however contentiously, but always together. The opposite is lethal, but sadly, we are witnessing this daily. May your meetings and your communities, then, be training grounds of fraternity and sharing, not merely meeting places, but centres of spirituality. The Spirit of Jesus changes the world because he changes hearts. The Spirit inspires the contemplative dimension of life that rejects self-assertion, complaining, rivalry and the temptation to control consciences and resources. The Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (cf. 2 Cor 3:17). An authentic spirituality thus commits us to integral human development, to making Jesus’ words a reality in our lives. When this happens, there is always joy: joy and hope.

Evangelization, dear brothers and sisters, is not our attempt to conquer the world, but the infinite grace that radiates from lives transformed by the Kingdom of God.

The end of this part of the homily makes me think of Spes Non Confundit and also Evangelii Gaudium, echoed in the words “joy,” “hope,” and “evangelization.” Importantly, however, these are all connected to contemplation, which is breathed into us by the Spirit, not something self-constructed.

It delights and encourages me particularly that Pope Leo is linking together these threads, all of which I think were quite dear to his immediate predecessor—and which certainly are dear to the task of putting contemplation on the muddy roads that stretch this earth today. Where there is contemplation, the Spirit is at work, creating in us dispositions of docility, respect, and regard for the other that involves walking together with our fellow humans and the whole cosmos of the Creator.