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For those of us taking part, the special assembly has been a time
to learn. On the one hand, the synod is purely consultative. The
Holy Father can act with or without the assembly's advice. Everyone
gets a chance to speak, and among the many scores of interventions,
some are outstanding, others repetitive. Some themes emerge; others
disappear. The attention required of participants, after a long
day of presentations, can be demanding.
But in hearing one another's concerns, each of us is being educated
in the wider life of the Church outside the boundaries of our own
dioceses and nations.
Bishops begin to listen to each other, form friendships across
languages and distances, and informally discuss issues. What develops
is a better understanding of the pastoral terrain we all share as
we approach the new millennium. In that sense, the pope very wisely
uses the synod not only to inform his own reflection, but to prepare
all of us, bishops included, for the Great Jubilee.
I miss Colorado very much. But being a "stranger in a strange land"
on Thanksgiving Day was a special kind of gift: It made me even
more grateful for my family of faith back home, and eager for the
time when I'm with you again. I have prayed for all of you every
day. I know you've remembered me in yours prayers too, because they
have kept my spirits strong and focused me on the lessons I will
bring back to share with you.
One of those lessons is that our faith, like Jesus Himself, is
the same yesterday, today and forever. And the guardian of that
unity through time and across cultures is Peter. That's why we revere
and follow the Holy Father, not because he is a king or a CEO, but
because he is Peter today, the man who Christ Himself chose to lead
us in His name, for the sake of our own salvation and the salvation
of the world.
If you were to drop a plumb line from the top of the dome on St.
Peter's Basilica, through the main altar far below, through the
more ancient altars beneath it, and into the ruins below the great
church, it would fall directly into the small first century shrine
which houses, historians believe, the bones of the first pope.
This is no accident. The architect, Michelangelo, designed it that
way for a purpose. He wanted to make Christ's words literally come
alive: "Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church."
Peter is the rock. So he remains today.
Editor's note: This week's column was delivered from Rome via
e-mail.
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