Paolo Cugini
The homily occupies a unique place in the liturgy: it is not an
explanatory interlude between the readings and other rites, nor a religious
lecture added to the celebration. Its purpose is to make audible, in the
concrete present of the community, the power of the proclaimed Gospel.
Therefore, the fidelity of the preaching is not measured only by the
correctness of the ideas, but by the ability to bring the Word closer to life
without reducing one to the other. The homily must interpret the biblical text
from the perspective of the Church's faith and, at the same time, listen to the
questions, the wounds, and the hopes of the people gathered.
To speak of an updated reflection on the Gospel demands critical
attention. Updating does not mean making the message convenient, softening its
demands, or subjecting it to cultural trends and the personal preferences of
the preacher. It means recognizing that the Word, although received from a
living tradition, is addressed to people situated in specific historical
circumstances. A good homily brings out the relevance of the text without
instrumentalizing it. It avoids both literalism, which repeats formulas without
illuminating existence, and accommodation, which uses the Gospel only to
confirm previously established opinions.
The assertion that the homily should spring from the heart does not
authorize sentimentality or the indiscriminate exposure of the preacher's inner
self. Rather, it indicates that the proclaimed Word needs to have been
received, meditated upon, and confronted with one's own life. The preacher does
not speak as an external observer, but as someone also judged, comforted, and
converted by the Gospel. Without this inner work, the homily risks becoming a
rhetorical exercise: correct in form, but devoid of spiritual depth.
However, the authenticity of the testimony should not shift the focus of
the celebration to the personality of the speaker. Personal experience only
serves the homily when it becomes a discreet mediation of the Word, and not
when it transforms the pulpit into a stage for self-reference. The preacher
shares something of his journey not to present himself as a finished model, but
to testify that he too remains on a journey. His authority arises less from the
display of certainties than from the coherence between what he proclaims and
the willingness to be transformed. The spiritual journey of the preacher is
inseparable from his presence among the people. A homily prepared only in the
office may be cultured and organized, but remain detached from the real community.
Knowing the people does not mean presuming their needs or speaking on their
behalf in a paternalistic way; it means living with them, listening to them,
and perceiving the concrete signs of life: work, family conflicts, poverty,
mourning, joys, injustices, and everyday forms of hope. This closeness prevents
preaching from being reduced to abstractions and allows the Gospel to be
proclaimed as a word that touches recognizable situations.
This sensitivity also demands prudence. The homily loses its pastoral
quality when it offers easy answers to complex sufferings, transforms social
problems into individual guilt, or uses fear as an instrument of persuasion.
Similarly, it fails when it avoids any demanding word so as not to cause
discomfort. The challenge lies in uniting truth and mercy: denouncing what
dehumanizes without humiliating people, calling for conversion without imposing
hasty condemnations, and announcing hope without concealing the gravity of
suffering.
Rejecting a purely aesthetic presentation does not mean disregarding
language, preparation, or knowledge. A confusing, excessively long, or
improvised homily can obscure the message as much as a vain speech. Form serves
communication: clarity, brevity, appropriate imagery, and coherent flow help
the community to listen. The problem arises when verbal beauty becomes the end
goal, when erudition creates distance, or when quotations replace a living
encounter with the proclaimed text. Responsible preparation, therefore, needs
to integrate study, prayer, and pastoral listening. Separated, these elements
produce predictable distortions: study without prayer can generate coldness;
prayer without study can favor arbitrary interpretations; and both, without
listening to the people, can result in a word incapable of reaching the
assembly. A mature homily is born from the encounter of these dimensions and
accepts the limitation of not saying everything. Its task is not to exhaust the
Gospel, but to open a door so that the community continues to meditate on it
and live it.
The homily, understood within the pastoral horizon of the Church, is a
service of mediation between the proclaimed Word and the concrete life of the
community. It demands interiority, study, closeness, and humility from the
preacher. It cannot be a spectacle, a self-sufficient lecture, or a moralizing
discourse; nor can it be reduced to personal impressions. Its power appears
when the Gospel permeates the life of the one who proclaims it and encounters,
through simple and responsible language, the life of the one who listens. In
this encounter, preaching ceases to be a demonstration of knowledge and becomes
a sharing of faith: a human word that seeks to serve, faithfully, the Word that
precedes and surpasses it.
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