At 9:30 a.m., August 17, 2025, the 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time, the Holy Father Leo XIV presided over Mass in the Sanctuary of Santa Maria della Rotonda in Albano, with the poor assisted by the Diocese and the workers of Diocesan Caritas.

The Pope recalled that “we are the Church of the Lord, a Church of the poor, all precious.”

Below we publish the homily the Pope delivered during the Eucharistic celebration, following the proclamation of the Gospel:

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Homily of the Pope

Dear brothers and sisters,

It is a joy to be together, to celebrate the Sunday Eucharist, which gives us an even deeper joy. If it is already a gift to be close today and overcome distance by looking into each other’s eyes, as true brothers and sisters, it is a greater gift to overcome death in the Lord. Jesus has conquered death—Sunday is His day, the day of the resurrection—and we are already beginning to conquer it with Him. Thus, each of us comes to church with certain weariness and fears—sometimes smaller, sometimes greater—and suddenly we are less alone; we are together and encounter the Word and the Body of Christ. In this way, our hearts receive a life that goes beyond death. It is the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of the Risen One, who does this among us and in us, silently, Sunday after Sunday and day after day.

We find ourselves in an ancient sanctuary whose walls embrace us. It is called the “Rotunda,” and its circular shape, like that of St. Peter’s Square and other churches, both old and new, makes us feel welcomed into the bosom of God. The church on the outside, like some human realities, may seem harsh to us; but its divine reality is revealed when we pass through the door and find acceptance. Then our poverty, our vulnerability, and above all the failures for which we may be despised and judged—and at times we despise and judge ourselves—are finally welcomed into the gentle power of God, a love without harshness, an unconditional love. Mary, the mother of Jesus, is for us a sign and anticipation of God’s motherhood. In her, we become a mother Church, which generates and regenerates not by virtue of worldly power, but with the virtue of charity.

Perhaps we might have been surprised by what Jesus says in the Gospel we just read. We seek peace, but we heard: “Do you think I have come to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, I have come to bring division” (Lk 12:51). And we would almost reply: “But how, Lord, you too? We already have too many divisions. Aren’t you the one who said at the Last Supper: ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you’?” “Yes,” the Lord could answer us, “it is I. But remember that that evening, my last evening, I immediately added, regarding peace: ‘I give you my peace, not as the world gives it. Do not be anxious or afraid!’ (Jn 14:27).”

Dear friends, the world accustoms us to exchanging peace for comfort, goodness for tranquility. Therefore, for his peace to come among us, the  shalom  of God, Jesus must tell us: “I have come to bring fire upon the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” ( Luke 12:49). Perhaps our own relatives, as the Gospel foreshadows, and even our friends, will be divided on this. And some will advise us not to take risks or to wear ourselves out, because the important thing is to be at peace and others do not deserve to be loved. Jesus, on the other hand, courageously immersed himself in our humanity. This is the “baptism” he speaks of (v. 50): it is the baptism of the cross, a total immersion in the risks that love entails. And we, when—as it is said—”we receive communion,” are nourished by this bold gift of his. The Mass strengthens this decision; It is the decision to no longer live for ourselves and to bring fire to the world. Not the fire of weapons, nor the fire of words that incinerate others. Not this. Rather, the fire of love, which humbles itself and serves, which contrasts caring with indifference and meekness with arrogance; the fire of goodness, which doesn’t cost as much as weapons, but renews the world for free. It may cost misunderstanding, ridicule, and even persecution, but there is no greater peace than having its flame within us.

For this reason, today I would like to thank, together with your Bishop Vincenzo, all of you in the Diocese of Albano, who are committed to carrying the fire of charity. And I encourage you not to distinguish between those who assist and those who are assisted, between those who seem to give and those who seem to receive, between those who present themselves as poor and those who feel the need to offer their time, abilities, and help. We are the Church of the Lord, a Church of the poor, all precious, all participants, each bearer of a unique Word of God. Each one is a gift to others. Let us tear down the walls. I thank those who work in every Christian community to facilitate encounters between people who are different, based on their origins, their economic, psychological, and emotional situations. Only together, only as one body in which even the most fragile participate in full dignity, will we be the Body of Christ, the Church of God. This happens when the fire Jesus came to bring burns away the prejudices, caution, and fears that continue to marginalize those who bear the poverty of Christ written in their own history. Let us not leave the Lord out of our churches, our homes, and our lives. Rather, let us allow him to enter into the poor, and then we will also make peace with our poverty, which we fear and deny when we seek tranquility and security at all costs.

May the Virgin Mary, who listened to the holy elder Simeon, intercede for us when he pointed to her Son Jesus as a “sign that was spoken against” (Lk 2:34). May the intentions of our hearts be revealed, and may the fire of the Holy Spirit transform them from hearts of stone to hearts of flesh.

Saint Mary of the Rotunda, pray for us.