Catéchèse a Propos de la Famille (10.2): "Le Mariage" par Pape François I (translated into French)

Place Saint-Pierre, Mercredi 6 mai 2015

Chers frères et sœurs, bonjour !

            Sur notre chemin de catéchèse sur la famille, nous abordons aujourd’hui directement la beauté du mariage chrétien. Celui-ci n’est pas simplement une cérémonie qui a lieu à l’église, avec des fleurs, des vêtements de cérémonie, des photographies... Les mariage chrétien est un sacrement qui a lieu dans l’Église, et qui fait aussi l’Église, marquant le début d’une nouvelle communauté familiale.

            C’est cela que l’apôtre Paul résume dans sa célèbre expression : « Ce mystère est grand : je le dis en pensant au Christ et à l’Église » (Ep 5, 32). Inspiré par l’Esprit Saint, Paul affirme que l’amour entre les conjoints est l’image de l’amour entre le Christ et l’Église. Une dignité impensable ! Mais en réalité, elle est inscrite dans le dessein créateur de Dieu, et avec la grâce du Christ d’innombrables couples chrétiens, malgré leurs limites, leurs péchés, l’ont réalisée !

            Saint Paul, en parlant de la nouvelle vie en Christ, dit que les chrétiens — tous — sont appelés à s’aimer comme le Christ les a aimés, c’est-à-dire « soumis les uns aux autres » (Ep 5, 21), ce qui signifie au service les uns des autres. Et il introduit ici l’analogie entre le couple mari-femme et celui Christ-Église. Il est clair qu’il s’agit d’une analogie imparfaite, mais nous devons en saisir le sens spirituel qui est très élevé et révolutionnaire, et dans le même temps simple, à la portée de chaque homme et femme qui se confient à la grâce de Dieu.

            Le mari — dit Paul — doit aimer sa femme « comme son propre corps » (Ep 5, 28) ; l’aimer comme le Christ « a aimé l’Église et s’est livré pour elle » (v. 25). Mais vous les maris qui êtes ici présents, comprenez-vous cela ? Aimer votre femme comme le Christ aime l’Église ? Il ne s’agit pas de plaisanteries, mais de choses sérieuses ! L’effet de ce radicalisme du dévouement demandé à l’homme, pour l’amour et la dignité de la femme, à l’exemple du Christ, doit avoir été immense, dans la communauté chrétienne elle-même.

            Cette semence de la nouveauté évangélique, qui rétablit la réciprocité originelle du dévouement et du respect, a mûri lentement au cours de l’histoire, mais à la fin a prévalu.

            Le sacrement du mariage est un grand acte de foi et d’amour : il témoigne du courage de croire en la beauté de l’acte créateur de Dieu et de vivre cet amour qui le pousse à aller toujours au-delà, au-delà de soi-même et aussi au-delà de sa propre famille. La vocation chrétienne à aimer sans réserve et sans mesure est ce qui, avec la grâce du Christ, se trouve également à la base du libre consentement qui constitue le mariage.

            L’Église elle-même participe pleinement à l’histoire de chaque mariage chrétien: elle s’édifie par ses réussites et souffre de ses échecs. Mais nous devons nous interroger avec sérieux: acceptons-nous jusqu’au bout, nous-mêmes, en tant que croyants et que pasteurs également ce lien indissoluble de l’histoire du Christ et de l’Église avec l’histoire du mariage et de la famille humaine ? Sommes-nous disposés à prendre sérieusement cette responsabilité, c’est-à-dire que chaque mariage prend la route de l’amour que le Christ a pour l’Église ? Cela est grand !

            Dans cette profondeur du mystère propre à la créature, reconnu et rétabli dans sa pureté, s’ouvre un deuxième grand horizon qui caractérise le sacrement du mariage. La décision de « se marier dans le Seigneur » contient aussi une dimension missionnaire, qui signifie avoir dans son cœur la disponibilité à devenir l’intermédiaire de la bénédiction de Dieu et de la grâce du Seigneur pour tous. En effet, les époux chrétiens participent en tant qu’époux à la mission de l’Église. Il faut du courage pour cela ! C’est pourquoi quand je salue les nouveaux époux, je dis : « Voilà les courageux », car il faut du courage pour s’aimer ainsi comme le Christ aime l’Église.

            La célébration du sacrement ne peut faire abstraction de cette coresponsabilité de la vie familiale à l’égard de la grande mission d’amour de l’Église. Et ainsi, la vie de l’Église s’enrichit chaque fois de la beauté de cette alliance sponsale, de même qu’elle s’appauvrit chaque fois qu’elle est défigurée. L’Église, pour offrir à tous les dons de la foi, de l’amour et de l’espérance, a également besoin de la fidélité courageuse des époux à la grâce de leur sacrement! Le peuple de Dieu a besoin de leur chemin de foi quotidien, dans l’amour et dans l’espérance, avec toutes les joies et les difficultés que ce chemin comporte dans un mariage et dans une famille.

            La route est ainsi tracée pour toujours, c’est la route de l’amour. Le Christ ne cesse de prendre soin de l’Église : il l’aime toujours, il la protège toujours, comme lui-même. Le Christ ne cesse d’ôter de son visage humain les taches et les rides de toutes sortes. Ce rayonnement de la force et de la tendresse de Dieu qui se transmet d’un couple à un autre, d’une famille à une autre, est émouvant est très beau. Saint Paul a raison : c’est vraiment un « grand mystère » ! Des hommes et des femmes, assez courageux pour porter ce trésor dans les « vases d’argile » de notre humanité, sont — ces hommes et ces femmes si courageux — une ressource universelle pour l’Église, également pour le monde entier ! Que Dieu les bénisse mille fois pour cela !

APPEL

            Dans les prochains jours sera commémoré dans certaines capitales le 70e anniversaire de la fin de la Deuxième guerre mondiale en Europe. A cette occasion, je confie au Seigneur, par l’intercession de Marie Reine de la Paix, le souhait que la société humaine apprenne des erreurs du passé et qu’également face aux conflits actuels, qui déchirent certaines régions du monde, tous les responsables civils s’engagent dans la recherche du bien commun et dans la promotion de la culture de la paix.

* * *

Je salue cordialement les pèlerins francophone venus de France, de Suisse et de Belgique, en particulier le pèlerinage diocésain de Cambrai avec Monseigneur François Garnier, et les familles de la Garde Suisse Pontificale.

En ce début de mois de Marie je vous invite à renouveler votre amour envers la Mère de Jésus, passant un peu plus de temps auprès d’elle. Présentez lui avec confiance toutes vos intentions.

Bon pèlerinage à Rome !

Sonnet XXXVII by William Shakespeare (in English)

As a decrepit father takes delight,
To ſee his actiue childe do deeds of youth,
So I , made lame by Fortunes deareſt ſpight
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty,birth,or wealth,or wit,
Or any of theſe all,or all,or more
Intitled in their parts,do crowned ſit,
I make my loue ingrafted to this ſtore:
So then I am not lame,poore, nor diſpiſ'd,
Whilſt that this ſhadow doth ſuch ſubſtance giue,
That I in thy abundance am ſuffic'd,
And by a part of all thy glory liue:
   Looke what is beſt,that beſt I wiſh in thee,
   This wiſh I haue,then ten times happy me.

Two Untitled Poems by José Thiesen (in English)

Faço uma canção velha -
todas as canções de amor
são velhas, estúpidas e tolas.
Faço uma canção velha
para outro amor nascido velho,
triste eco de outros.que foram
sempre a busca pelo antigo
amor primeiro - e, como sempre,
o que trouxe o novo amor
foram solidão e tristeza, velhas.

                   * * *

Entro no quarto, te vejo a dormir.

És assim como um lago sereno ao luar;

tua respiração tranquila me enternece

e me pergunto em que mundo estás.

Deito ao teu lado assim como u'aragem

que vem suave, que vem de perto de Deus,

e o universo inteiro é apenas a visão 

de ti, tranquilo e leve a dormir.

"Let There Be...Darkness!" by Denny O'Neil (in English)

 art by Mike Grell and Bill Draut - The Flash vol.1 #237 - DC Comics, August 1975.

 

“Murmúrios da Tarde” by Castro Alves (in Portuguese)

Êcoute! tout se tait; songe à ta bien-aimée,

Ce soir, sous les tilleuls, à la sombre ramée,

Le rayon du couchant laisse un adieu plus doux;

Ce soir, tout va fleurir: l'immortelle nature

Se remplit de parfums, d'amour et de murmure,

Comme le lit joyeux de deux jeunes époux.

A. de Musset.

Rosa! Rosa de amor purpúrea e bela!

Garret.

Ontem à tarde, quando o sol morria,

A natureza era um poema santo,

De cada moita a escuridão saía,

De cada gruta rebentava um canto,

Ontem à tarde, quando o sol morria.

Do céu azul na profundeza escura

Brilhava a estrela, como um fruto louro,

E qual a foice, que no chão fulgura,

Mostrava a lua o semicirc'lo d'ouro,

Do céu azul na profundeza escura.

Larga harmonia embalsamava os ares!

Cantava o ninho — suspirava o lago...

E a verde pluma dos sutis palmares

Tinha das ondas o murmúrio vago...

Larga harmonia embalsamava os ares.

Era dos seres a harmonia imensa,

Vago concerto de saudade infinda!

"Sol — não me deixes", diz a vaga extensa,

"Aura — não fujas", diz a flor mais linda;

Era dos seres a harmonia imensa!

"Leva-me! leva-me em teu seio amigo"

Dizia às nuvens o choroso orvalho,

"Rola que foges", diz o ninho antigo,

"Leva-me ainda para um novo galho...

Leva-me! leva-me em teu seio amigo."

"Dá-me inda um beijo, antes que a noite venha!

Inda um calor, antes que chegue o frio. . . "

E mais o musgo se conchega à penha

E mais à penha se conchega o rio...

"Dá-me inda um beijo, antes que a noite venha!"

E tu no entanto no jardim vagavas,

Rosa de amor, celestial Maria...

Ai! como esquiva sobre o chão pisavas,

Ai! como alegre a tua boca ria...

E tu no entanto no jardim vagavas.

Eras a estrela transformada em virgem!

Eras um anjo, que se fez menina!

Tinhas das aves a celeste origem.

Tinhas da lua a palidez divina,

Eras a estrela transformada em virgem!

Flor! Tu chegaste de outra flor mais perto,

Que bela rosa! que fragrância meiga!

Dir-se-ia um riso no jardim aberto,

Dir-se-ia um beijo, que nasceu na veiga...

Flor! Tu chegaste de outra flor mais perto! ...

E eu, que escutava o conversar das flores,

Ouvi que a rosa murmurava ardente:

"Colhe-me, ó virgem, — não terei mais dores,

Guarda-me, ó bela, no teu seio quente..."

E eu escutava o conversar das flores.

"Leva-me! leva-me, ó gentil Maria!"

Também então eu murmurei cismando...

"Minh'alma é rosa, que a geada esfria...

Dá-lhe em teus seios um asilo brando...

"Leva-me! leva-me, ó gentil Maria!..."

“Tem Francesa no Morro” by Assis Valente (in French and Portuguese)

Donnez-moi s'il vous plaît l'honneur de danser avec moi

Danse Ioiô

Danse Iaiá

Si vous frequentez macumbe entrez na virada e fini pour sambá

Danse Ioiô

Danse Iaiá

Viens

Petite francesa

Dansez le classique

Em cime de mesa

Quand la danse commence on danse ici on danse aculá

Dance Ioiô

Dance Iaiá

Si vous ne veux pas danser, pardon mon chéri, adieu, je me vais

Danse Ioiô

Danse Iaiá

You can listen "Tem Francesa no Morro" sung by Aracy Cortes here.

“Fisherman and His Wife” by the Brothers Grimm (translated into English by Margaret Hunt)

There was once on a time a Fisherman who lived with his wife in a miserable hovel close by the sea, and every day he went out fishing. And once as he was sitting with his rod, looking at the clear water, his line suddenly went down, far down below, and when he drew it up again he brought out a large Flounder. Then the Flounder said to him, "Hark, you Fisherman, I pray you, let me live, I am no Flounder really, but an enchanted prince. What good will it do you to kill me? I should not be good to eat, put me in the water again, and let me go." "Come," said the Fisherman, "there is no need for so many words about it -- a fish that can talk I should certainly let go, anyhow," with that he put him back again into the clear water, and the Flounder went to the bottom, leaving a long streak of blood behind him. Then the Fisherman got up and went home to his wife in the hovel.

            "Husband," said the woman, "have you caught nothing to-day?" "No," said the man, "I did catch a Flounder, who said he was an enchanted prince, so I let him go again." "Did you not wish for anything first?" said the woman. "No," said the man; "what should I wish for?" "Ah," said the woman, "it is surely hard to have to live always in this dirty hovel; you might have wished for a small cottage for us. Go back and call him. Tell him we want to have a small cottage, he will certainly give us that." "Ah," said the man, "why should I go there again?" "Why," said the woman, "you did catch him, and you let him go again; he is sure to do it. Go at once." The man still did not quite like to go, but did not like to oppose his wife, and went to the sea.

            When he got there the sea was all green and yellow, and no longer so smooth; so he stood still and said,

"Flounder, flounder in the sea,

Come, I pray thee, here to me;

For my wife, good Ilsabil,

Wills not as I'd have her will."

Then the Flounder came swimming to him and said, "Well what does she want, then?" "Ah," said the man, "I did catch you, and my wife says I really ought to have wished for something. She does not like to live in a wretched hovel any longer. She would like to have a cottage." "Go, then," said the Flounder, "she has it already."

            When the man went home, his wife was no longer in the hovel, but instead of it there stood a small cottage, and she was sitting on a bench before the door. Then she took him by the hand and said to him, "Just come inside, look, now isn't this a great deal better?" So they went in, and there was a small porch, and a pretty little parlor and bedroom, and a kitchen and pantry, with the best of furniture, and fitted up with the most beautiful things made of tin and brass, whatsoever was wanted. And behind the cottage there was a small yard, with hens and ducks, and a little garden with flowers and fruit. "Look," said the wife, "is not that nice!" "Yes," said the husband, "and so we must always think it, - now we will live quite contented." "We will think about that," said the wife. With that they ate something and went to bed.

            Everything went well for a week or a fortnight, and then the woman said, "Hark you, husband, this cottage is far too small for us, and the garden and yard are little; the Flounder might just as well have given us a larger house. I should like to live in a great stone castle; go to the Flounder, and tell him to give us a castle." "Ah, wife," said the man, "the cottage is quite good enough; why should we live in a castle?" "What!" said the woman; "just go there, the Flounder can always do that." "No, wife," said the man, "the Flounder has just given us the cottage, I do not like to go back so soon, it might make him angry." "Go," said the woman, "he can do it quite easily, and will be glad to do it; just you go to him."

            The man's heart grew heavy, and he would not go. He said to himself, "It is not right," and yet he went. And when he came to the sea the water was quite purple and dark-blue, and grey and thick, and no longer so green and yellow, but it was still quiet. And he stood there and said -

"Flounder, flounder in the sea,

Come, I pray thee, here to me;

For my wife, good Ilsabil,

Wills not as I'd have her will."

"Well, what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said the man, half scared, "she wants to live in a great stone castle." "Go to it, then, she is standing before the door," said the Flounder.

            Then the man went away, intending to go home, but when he got there, he found a great stone palace, and his wife was just standing on the steps going in, and she took him by the hand and said, "Come in." So he went in with her, and in the castle was a great hall paved with marble, and many servants, who flung wide the doors; And the walls were all bright with beautiful hangings, and in the rooms were chairs and tables of pure gold, and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and all the rooms and bed-rooms had carpets, and food and wine of the very best were standing on all the tables, so that they nearly broke down beneath it. Behind the house, too, there was a great court-yard, with stables for horses and cows, and the very best of carriages; there was a magnificent large garden, too, with the most beautiful flowers and fruit-trees, and a park quite half a mile long, in which were stags, deer, and hares, and everything that could be desired. "Come," said the woman, "isn't that beautiful?" "Yes, indeed," said the man, "now let it be; and we will live in this beautiful castle and be content." "We will consider about that," said the woman, "and sleep upon it;" thereupon they went to bed.

            Next morning the wife awoke first, and it was just daybreak, and from her bed she saw the beautiful country lying before her. Her husband was still stretching himself, so she poked him in the side with her elbow, and said, "Get up, husband, and just peep out of the window. Look you, couldn't we be the King over all that land? Go to the Flounder, we will be the King." "Ah, wife," said the man, "why should we be King? I do not want to be King." "Well," said the wife, "if you won't be King, I will; go to the Flounder, for I will be King." "Ah, wife," said the man, "why do you want to be King? I do not like to say that to him." "Why not?" said the woman; "go to him this instant; I must be King!" So the man went, and was quite unhappy because his wife wished to be King. "It is not right; it is not right," thought he. He did not wish to go, but yet he went.

            And when he came to the sea, it was quite dark-grey, and the water heaved up from below, and smelt putrid. Then he went and stood by it, and said,

"Flounder, flounder in the sea,

Come, I pray thee, here to me;

For my wife, good Ilsabil,

Wills not as I'd have her will"

"Well, what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said the man, "she wants to be King." "Go to her; she is King already."

            So the man went, and when he came to the palace, the castle had become much larger, and had a great tower and magnificent ornaments, and the sentinel was standing before the door, and there were numbers of soldiers with kettle-drums and trumpets. And when he went inside the house, everything was of real marble and gold, with velvet covers and great golden tassels. Then the doors of the hall were opened, and there was the court in all its splendour, and his wife was sitting on a high throne of gold and diamonds, with a great crown of gold on her head, and a sceptre of pure gold and jewels in her hand, and on both sides of her stood her maids-in-waiting in a row, each of them always one head shorter than the last.

            Then he went and stood before her, and said, "Ah, wife, and now you are King." "Yes," said the woman, "now I am King." So he stood and looked at her, and when he had looked at her thus for some time, he said, "And now that you are King, let all else be, now we will wish for nothing more." "Nay, husband," said the woman, quite anxiously, "I find time pass very heavily, I can bear it no longer; go to the Flounder -- I am King, but I must be Emperor, too." "Alas, wife, why do you wish to be Emperor?" "Husband," said she, "go to the Flounder. I will be Emperor." "Alas, wife," said the man, "he cannot make you Emperor; I may not say that to the fish. There is only one Emperor in the land. An Emperor the Flounder cannot make you! I assure you he cannot."

            "What!" said the woman, "I am the King, and you are nothing but my husband; will you go this moment? go at once! If he can make a King he can make an emperor. I will be Emperor; go instantly." So he was forced to go. As the man went, however, he was troubled in mind, and thought to himself, "It will not end well; it will not end well! Emperor is too shameless! The Flounder will at last be tired out."

With that he reached the sea, and the sea was quite black and thick, and began to boil up from below, so that it threw up bubbles, and such a sharp wind blew over it that it curdled, and the man was afraid. Then he went and stood by it, and said,

"Flounder, flounder in the sea,

Come, I pray thee, here to me;

For my wife, good Ilsabil,

Wills not as I'd have her will."

"Well, what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas, Flounder," said he, "my wife wants to be Emperor." "Go to her," said the Flounder; "she is Emperor already."

            So the man went, and when he got there the whole palace was made of polished marble with alabaster figures and golden ornaments, and soldiers were marching before the door blowing trumpets, and beating cymbals and drums; and in the house, barons, and counts, and dukes were going about as servants. Then they opened the doors to him, which were of pure gold. And when he entered, there sat his wife on a throne, which was made of one piece of gold, and was quite two miles high; and she wore a great golden crown that was three yards high, and set with diamonds and carbuncles, and in one hand she had the sceptre, and in the other the imperial orb; and on both sides of her stood the yeomen of the guard in two rows, each being smaller than the one before him, from the biggest giant, who was two miles high, to the very smallest dwarf, just as big as my little finger. And before it stood a number of princes and dukes.

            Then the man went and stood among them, and said, "Wife, are you Emperor now?" "Yes," said she, "now I am Emperor." Then he stood and looked at her well, and when he had looked at her thus for some time, he said, "Ah, wife, be content, now that you are Emperor." "Husband," said she, "why are you standing there? Now, I am Emperor, but I will be Pope too; go to the Flounder." "Alas, wife," said the man, "what will you not wish for? You cannot be Pope. There is but one in Christendom. He cannot make you Pope." "Husband," said she, "I will be Pope; go immediately, I must be Pope this very day." "No, wife," said the man, "I do not like to say that to him; that would not do, it is too much; the Flounder can't make you Pope." "Husband," said she, "what nonsense! If he can make an emperor he can make a pope. Go to him directly. I am Emperor, and you are nothing but my husband; will you go at once?"

            Then he was afraid and went; but he was quite faint, and shivered and shook, and his knees and legs trembled. And a high wind blew over the land, and the clouds flew, and towards evening all grew dark, and the leaves fell from the trees, and the water rose and roared as if it were boiling, and splashed upon the shore. And in the distance he saw ships which were firing guns in their sore need, pitching and tossing on the waves. And yet in the midst of the sky there was still a small bit of blue, though on every side it was as red as in a heavy storm. So, full of despair, he went and stood in much fear and said,

"Flounder, flounder in the sea,

Come, I pray thee, here to me;"

For my wife, good Ilsabil,

Wills not as I'd have her will.

"Well, what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said the man, "she wants to be Pope." "Go to her then," said the Flounder; "she is Pope already."

            So he went, and when he got there, he saw what seemed to be a large church surrounded by palaces. He pushed his way through the crowd. Inside, however, everything was lighted up with thousands and thousands of candles, and his wife was clad in gold, and she was sitting on a much higher throne, and had three great golden crowns on, and round about her there was much ecclesiastical splendour; and on both sides of her was a row of candles the largest of which was as tall as the very tallest tower, down to the very smallest kitchen candle, and all the emperors and kings were on their knees before her, kissing her shoe. "Wife," said the man, and looked attentively at her, "are you now Pope?" "Yes," said she, "I am Pope." So he stood and looked at her, and it was just as if he was looking at the bright sun. When he had stood looking at her thus for a short time, he said, "Ah, wife, if you are Pope, do let well alone!" But she looked as stiff as a post, and did not move or show any signs of life. Then said he, "Wife, now that you are Pope, be satisfied, you cannot become anything greater now." "I will consider about that," said the woman. Thereupon they both went to bed, but she was not satisfied, and greediness let her have no sleep, for she was continually thinking what there was left for her to be.

            The man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a great deal during the day; but the woman could not fall asleep at all, and flung herself from one side to the other the whole night through, thinking always what more was left for her to be, but unable to call to mind anything else. At length the sun began to rise, and when the woman saw the red of dawn, she sat up in bed and looked at it. And when, through the window, she saw the sun thus rising, she said, "Cannot I, too, order the sun and moon to rise?" "Husband," she said, poking him in the ribs with her elbows, "wake up! go to the Flounder, for I wish to be even as God is." The man was still half asleep, but he was so horrified that he fell out of bed. He thought he must have heard amiss, and rubbed his eyes, and said, "Alas, wife, what are you saying?" "Husband," said she, "if I can't order the sun and moon to rise, and have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can't bear it. I shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, unless I can make them rise myself." Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder ran over him, and said, "Go at once; I wish to be like unto God." "Alas, wife," said the man, falling on his knees before her, "the Flounder cannot do that; he can make an emperor and a pope; I beseech you, go on as you are, and be Pope." Then she fell into a rage, and her hair flew wildly about her head, and she cried, "I will not endure this, I'll not bear it any longer; wilt thou go?" Then he put on his trousers and ran away like a madman. But outside a great storm was raging, and blowing so hard that he could scarcely keep his feet; houses and trees toppled over, the mountains trembled, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch black, and it thundered and lightened, and the sea came in with black waves as high as church-towers and mountains, and all with crests of white foam at the top. Then he cried, but could not hear his own words,

"Flounder, flounder in the sea,

Come, I pray thee, here to me;

For my wife, good Ilsabil,

Wills not as I'd have her will."

"Well, what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said he, "she wants to be like unto God." "Go to her, and you will find her back again in the dirty hovel." And there they are living still at this very time.