I was told this story which comes from Africa: during a Mass some faithful moved to drop their mite in a tray. A small African child seeing that his turn had arrived, and not having any coin, found nothing better than to put himself in the tray. He had nothing to offer other than himself. What better gift can we do that the gift of ourselves!

I’ve often thought of the gesture of this child during a recent trip to Benin in West Africa. Oh, I assure you that I was not there for sightseeing. There is little tourism in Benin and that’s a shame. I was in Benin to visit a religious community related to religious people of my diocese.

Statistics indicate that there are in Benin 27% Christians, 22% Muslims and 37% animists. The animist religion, “voodoo”, is probably more important than what the statistics say. Besides, many Christians or Muslims are animist as well.

During this trip, I went to schools, orphanages, hospitals, seminaries. I celebrated Mass in a small parish village. There I could see the radiant joy of these people despite their great poverty, where children often have just one meal a day as they travel several kilometers on foot to get to school.

In the orphanage we visited, we were surrounded by very young children, some suffering from malnutrition due to lack of milk, whereas in Europe milk is destroyed mostly not to cut down prices.
I was touched by the commitment of the people, religious or secular, who are unrelentingly dedicated to these children, whether they are orphans or deaf children attending school with hearing children, all learning the two languages, the sign language and lip-reading, and oral of course.

The first shock on landing in Benin is dust. A dust so thick that the sun eclipses. Dust they eat, they breathe, and some are covered by it. Therefore, when we discover the living conditions of these people, it is understandable that some choose to become migrants.
In this context, some of our Franco-French problems become derisory and it is somehow relaxing to be denied French media, which broadcast us for such long time the political show and the spectacle of the human comedy.

Last Ash Wednesday Lent opened for Catholics. The priest then pronounces these words scattering some ash on the heads of the faithful: “Remember that you are dust and to dust you will return”. How not to link this with the dust of Benin?
Lent is not only a period of deprivation, it is also a time of solidarity with the poor, and migrants are part of them.

So let’s not forget the child on the tray of the quest.

Mi hanno raccontato una storia che viene dall’Africa: durante una Messa alcuni fedeli si spostavano per depositare il loro obolo nel piatto. Un bambino africano vedendo arrivare il suo turno e non avendo neanche una monetina da offrire non ha trovato di meglio che mettersi lui stesso nel piatto. Non aveva altro da offrire che lui stesso. Quale più bel dono si può offrire che quello di se stessi!

Ho pensato spesso al gesto di questo bambino durante un mio recente viaggio nel Benin, in Africa occidentale. Vi rassicuro, non vi ero andato per turismo. D’altra parte ce n’è talmente poco di turismo nel Benin, ed è un peccato. Ero in Benin per visitare una comunità religiosa legata a delle suore della mia diocesi. Le statistiche dicono che in Benin il 27% della popolazione è cristiano, il 22% musulmano e il 37% animista. La religione animista, il “vaudou”, è probabilmente più importante di quanto non indichino le statistiche. E d’altra parte molti tra i cristiani e i musulmani sono anche animisti.

Durante il mio soggiorno ho visitato delle scuole, degli orfanotrofi, degli ospedali, dei seminari. Ho celebrato la Messa nella piccola parrocchia di un villaggio. Qui ho potuto vedere la gioia radiosa di questo popolo malgrado la sua grande povertà, dove i bambini spesso non hanno che un pasto al giorno ma percorrono chilometri a piedi per andare a scuola.

Nell’orfanotrofio che abbiamo visitato eravamo circondati da bambini piccoli alcuni dei quali malnutriti per mancanza di latte, mentre in Europa lo buttiamo per non farne abbassare il prezzo.

Sono stato colpito dall’impegno delle persone, religiose e laiche, che si donano senza riserve per questi bambini, che si tratti di numerosi orfani o di bambini sordi scolarizzati con gli altri bambini, tutti imparando lo stesso linguaggio, dei segni, della lettura labiale e ovviamente orale.

Il primo choc arrivando in Benin è la polvere. Una polvere così spessa che oscura il sole. La polvere la mangiano, la respirano e ne sono ricoperti. E quando si scoprono le condizioni di vita di questo popolo si può capire come alcuni facciano la scelta di diventare migranti.

In questo contesto alcuni dei nostri problemi franco-francesi diventano derisori ed è in un certo senso riposante essere privi dei media francesi che trasmettono tutta la giornata lo spettacolo della politica e quello della commedia umana.

È in questo Mercoledì delle ceneri che la Quaresima è cominciata per i cattolici. Il prete pronuncia queste parole versando un po’ di cenere sul capo dei fedeli: “Ricordati che sei polvere e in polvere ritornerai”. Come non fare riferimento alla polvere del Benin?

La Quaresima non è solo un periodo di privazione, è anche il tempo della solidarietà con i poveri, e i migranti sono tra questi.

Allora, non dimentichiamo il bambino sul piatto dell’offertorio.

The attacks in early January, a drama that becomes a spectacle. The attacks in the Bardo Museum, a drama that becomes a spectacle. The crash of Airbus A320, the carnage in the Mediterranean, drama which become a show. And I quote only the most recent examples.

Ten years ago, in a book written together with Msgr. Jean-Charles Descubes we already underlined this: “The direct, the immediate and real time stand out as criteria of authenticity and truth. […] It is no longer a matter of temporal distance, it is the space one that is changed. No one can remain aloof from what is happening. […] Such a process hinders the vocation of the media to keep the distance when approaching the event or the person which is object of the information. The image makes the intervention of the media more disconcerting than the story itself. The imagery and the emotion are no longer called into question in duration and freedom”.

So, where does the information finishes and where does the show start? The information ends when it endangers people, as we have seen during the live calls of the hostages at the Bardo Museum. The information ends when it no longer respects the dignity of a man, a woman, the body. When it shows us a beheading or the naked body of a person stoned. The information ends when it no longer wants to inform but to do audience, mixing speculation, blood and intimacy. The information ends when, as Le Canard enchaîné told us, a journalist is fired because he dared to write to his director that the channel is haunted by the audience and privileges what is sensationalistic to information ethics. The information ends when it might win an Oscar.

“The retention of information is a form of constipation of knowledge”, said Théophraste Renaudot, the founder of the press, in the 17^th century. Today, in my opinion, he would denounce the reverse excess: “The show information is a form of diarrhea (often foul-smelling) of the media”.

Les attentats de début janvier, drame qui vire au spectacle. Les attentats du musée du Bardo, drame qui vire au spectacle. Le crash de l’A320 qui vire au spectacle, le carnage dans la Méditerranée, qui vire au spectacle. Je ne cite là que les exemples les plus récents.

Il y a dix ans, dans un livre co-écrit avec Mgr Jean-Charles Descubes, nous soulignions déjà la chose suivante : “Le ‘direct’, l’immédiat et le temps réel s’imposent comme critères d’authenticité et de vérité. […] Ce n’est plus seulement la distance temporelle, mais aussi spatiale qui est modifiée. Personne ne peut rester extérieur à ce qui se passe. […] Un tel processus contrecarre la vocation des médias à maintenir la distance tout en rapprochant de l’événement ou de la personne, objet de l’information. L’image rend l’intervention des médias plus percutante que le récit. L’imaginaire et l’affectivité ne sont plus mobilisés dans la durée et dans la liberté”.

Alors, où s’arrête l’information et où commence le spectacle. L’information s’arrête quand elle met en danger les personnes comme nous l’avons vu lors des appels téléphoniques en direct des otages du musée du Bardo. L’information s’arrête quand elle ne respecte pas la dignité de l’homme, de la femme, du corps. Quand elle nous montre une décapitation ou le corps dénudée d’une personne lapidée. L’information s’arrêteencore quand elle en vient plus informer mais faire de l’audimat en mélangeant spéculation, sang et intimité. L’information s’arrête quand, comme nous l’annonce Le Canard enchaîné, un journaliste est viré car il a osé écrire à son patron que sa chaîne était obsédée par l’audience et qu’elle privilégiait le sensationnel sur l’éthique due à l’information. L’information s’arrête quand elle pourrait être primée aux Oscars.

“La rétention de l’information est une forme de constipation du savoir”, disait Théophraste Renaudot, le fondateur de la presse au XVII^e siècle. Aujourd’hui, c’est à mon avis l’excès inverse qu’il dénoncerait : ”L’information spectacle est une forme de diarrhée (parfois puante) des médias”.

If the means of communication we have today had existed at the time of Christ, here is the news that you could have heard during the Holy Week:

“Jerusalem – the death sentence of one Jesus of Nazareth has provoked strong emotions in people. Judged by the Sanhedrin and then by the authorities of Roman occupation, he was sentenced to death and crucified with two thieves. And that’s because he had presented himself as the Son of God and King.
Some observers have noted that his entry into Jerusalem had caused great agitation. Many people had crowded together to his passage to cheer him. These are however the same crowds who demanded his death.
It is said in well-informed environments that Jesus was betrayed by one close to him. One thing is certain in any case: you will hear about Jesus of Nazareth again and again; he already has many followers”.

In those days no radio, no television and no news agency. But there were witnesses. And thanks to them, more than 2000 years after the death and resurrection of Christ, many millions of men, women, children, have worldwide founded their hope on him and found in him the strength to love and forgive.

This is what Pope Francis wants to celebrate summoning a Year of Mercy. It will begin on December 8th, 2015, and end on November 20th, 2016. In this way he wanted to hit like a punch to put Christians in the face of the madness of faith, of love and forgiveness.

For those who are not familiar with the religious vocabulary we’ll specify that the term “mercy” means the goodness of God who forgives the sins of men in order to restore them to their human dignity. Men are also encouraged themselves to practice mercy, for this they need the mercy of God to become merciful in their turn.

Mercy is a theme particularly dear to Pope Francis. “The whole Church, the Pope says, will find in this Jubilee the joy of finding God’s mercy and make it fruitful; with it we are all called to give comfort to every man and woman of our time”.

When next December Pope Francis will make the symbolic gesture of opening the door of the Holy Year, he will invite the Christians, strengthened by their reconciliation with God, but also all men of good will, to be open to an extraordinary movement of brotherhood passing through the need for conversion and reconciliation.

Then, in this world shocked, in societies injured and divided, the Church shows itself, with the wounds of his own weaknesses, as a sign of love. It would like to remind humanity that its vocation is to live reconciliation and forgiveness and to find strength in the love and mercy of God.

This year will have to be lived only with demanding revisions of one’s own life, in which everyone can measure the part that we occupy in the disorder of the world.

Si les moyens d’information qui sont les nôtres aujourd’hui avaient existé au temps du Christ, voici la dépêche que vous auriez pu entendre au cours de la Semaine sainte:

« Jérusalem — La condamnation à mort d’un certain Jésus de Nazareth a causé une très vive émotion dans la population. Jugé par le sanhédrin, puis par l’autorité d’occupation romaine, il a été condamné à mort et crucifié avec deux voleurs. Et c’est parce qu’il se présentait comme Fils de Dieu et Roi.
Des observateurs ont noté que son entrée à Jérusalem avait fait grand bruit. Nombreux étaient ceux qui se pressaient sur son passage pour l’acclamer. Ce sont cependant les mêmes foules qui ont réclamé sa mort.
On dit, dans les milieux bien informés, que Jésus a été trahi par l’un de ses proches. Une chose est en tout cas certaine, on entendra parler et reparler de Jésus de Nazareth qui compte déjà de nombreux disciples. »

En ce temps-là, ni radio, ni télévision, et pas d’agence de presse. Mais il y avait des témoins. Et grâce à eux, plus de 2000 ans après la mort et la résurrection du Christ, plusieurs millions d’hommes, de femmes, d’enfants, à travers le monde, ont fondé sur lui leur espérance et puiser la force d’aimer et de pardonner.

C’est cela que veut célébrer le pape François en annonçant la convocation d’une Année de la Miséricorde. Elle commencera le 8 décembre 2015, et s’achèvera le 20 novembre 2016. Faisant cela il a voulu frapper comme un grand coup pour remettre les chrétiens face à la folie de la foi, de l’amour et du pardon.

Pour ceux qui ne sont pas des familiers du vocabulaire religieux précisons que le terme « miséricorde » désigne la bonté de Dieu qui pardonne les fautes humaines afin de rétablir les hommes dans leur dignité. Les hommes sont eux aussi invités à pratiquer la miséricorde, pour cela ils ont besoin de la miséricorde de Dieu afin de devenir à leur tour miséricordieux.

La miséricorde est un thème particulièrement cher au pape François. « Toute l’Église, dit le pape, pourra trouver dans ce jubilé la joie de retrouver et de rendre féconde la miséricorde de Dieu avec laquelle nous sommes tous appelés à donner la consolation à chaque homme et à chaque femme de notre temps. »

Lorsqu’il accomplira en décembre prochain le geste symbolique d’ouverture de la porte de l’Année sainte, le pape François invitera les chrétiens, fortifiés par leur réconciliation avec Dieu, mais aussi tous les hommes de bonne volonté, à s’ouvrir à un extraordinaire mouvement de fraternité qui passe par les exigences de la conversion et de la réconciliation.

Alors, dans ce monde écorché, dans des sociétés meurtries, divisées, l’Église se présente avec les blessures de ses propres faiblesses comme signe d’amour. Elle voudrait rappeler à l’humanité que sa vocation c’est de vivre la réconciliation et le pardon et d’en puiser la force dans l’amour et la miséricorde de Dieu.

Cette année ne pourra se vivre que dans d’exigeantes révisions de vie individuelles, au cours desquelles chacun pourra mesurer la part qu’il prend lui aussi au désordre du monde.

The sinking of Sept. 12, caused by the smugglers, which destroyed the lives of nearly 500 people in the Mediterranean Sea, was “one of the worst” accidents in recent years, according to the International Organization for Migration (IOM).

Meanwhile – a sign that candidates to leave Africa are more and more numerous – the Italian Navy reportedly rescued nearly 2,380 people last weekend, in the framework of the ‘Mare Nostrum’ programme.

Near Calais, in the Pas de Calais region in France, the many exiles who have been living for more than twelve years in precarious and humiliating conditions highlight the problem of the presence of foreigners on our territory.

These people who have fled war, persecution, and poverty, are now living on the north coast of France in the hope of building a future. A hope which is faced with an extremely violent reality: institutional mistreatment, the clear will to make them invisible, humiliation, dehumanizing living conditions, Kafkaesque European laws in the name of which people are being made bouncing as objects, as if they were the “hot potatoes of Europe”.

In Calais, a good number of people are refusing to reduce the presence of foreigners to an issue to be dealt with exclusively in terms of flow management.

Among them, many Christians, for whom the encounter with the exiles is first and foremost an encounter with a brother, an encounter with Christ: “I was a stranger and you welcomed me” (Matthew 25).

Although they are aware of the complexity of the migration issue, these Christians know that the ideal of free movement of people is a key objective, but given the current social and economic reality, it is not feasible in the short term.

First of all, they consider the encounter with the stranger, with the “clandestine,” as an encounter with a brother who invites us to change our vision. They reject the idea that the presence of migrants and asylum seekers is a problem, so they forget about listening to their stories, to the causes that made them leave everything behind. These Christians, however, have decided to meet other people in a different way. They try to live this encounter in truth, thus experiencing a possible way of living together.

Being actors in a more fraternal world is not an ideological position. It is enacted through concrete commitments, through a daily attitude which is anchored into the very essence of the Gospel message.

In the light of the experience of the network of Secours Catholique in Pas de Calais, through ten years of presence at the side of the exiles of Calais, we too must, no doubt, answer every now and then to the question: “What have I done with my brother?”.

Le 12 septembre dernier, un naufrage provoqué par des passeurs a fait jusqu’à 500 morts en Méditerranée, ce qui en ferait ”l’un des plus graves” depuis des années, selon l’Organisation internationale pour les migrations (OIM).

Dans le même temps, signe que les candidats au départ sont toujours plus nombreux, la marine italienne a rapporté lundi avoir secouru quelques 2 380 personnes au cours du week-end, dans le cadre du programme “Mare Nostrum”.

À proximité de Calais, sur le Calaisis, depuis plus de douze ans, les nombreux exilés vivants dans des conditions précaires et indignes posent la question de la présence d’étrangers sur notre territoire.

Ces personnes fuyants la guerre, la persécution et la misère, sont présentes sur le littoral du nord de la France dans l’espoir de se construire un avenir. Leur espoir se confronte à une réalité extrêmement violente : maltraitance institutionnelle, volonté de les rendre invisibles, humiliations, conditions de vie déshumanisantes, règlements européens kafkaïens au nom duquel on se renvoie les personnes comme des objets, comme les “patates chaudes de l’Europe”…

À Calais, bon nombre de citoyens refusent de réduire la présence des étrangers à un problème qu’il s’agirait d’aborder uniquement en terme de gestion des flux.

Parmi eux, de nombreux chrétiens, pour qui la rencontre de l’exilé est d’abord rencontre d’un frère, rencontre du Christ : “J’étais un étranger et vous m’avez accueilli” (Mat 25).

Conscients de la complexité des questions migratoires, ces chrétiens savent que l’idéal de la libre circulation des personnes est un objectif à atteindre, mais qu’au vu des réalités sociales et économiques actuelles il n’est pas réalisable à court terme.

Avant tout, ils voient dans la rencontre de l’étranger, du “sans papier”, la rencontre d’un frère qui nous invite à changer notre regard. Ils rejettent l’idée que la présence des migrants et des demandeurs d’asile est un problème, en oubliant d’écouter leur histoire, d’écouter les causes qui les ont fait tout quitter. Alors ces chrétiens font le choix de la rencontre avec l’autre différent. Ils tentent de vivre cette rencontre en vérité, expérimentent que vivre ensemble est possible.

Être acteurs d’une planète plus fraternelle n’est pas une position idéologique, cela passe par des engagements concrets, par une attitude quotidienne ancrée dans ce qui fait l’essence même du message évangélique.

À la lumière de l’expérience du réseau du Secours catholique du Pas-de-Calais, à travers dix années de présence auprès des exilés du Calaisis, nous devrions sans doute, nous aussi, nous reposer de temps en temps la question: “Qu’ai-je fait de mon frère?”.