The Hill of the Cross stands as a silent witness of the unshakeable faith of the Lithuanian people. On the occasion of the centenary of the Stigmata, I lived together with Br. Jimmy Zammit two intense days before Christmas in this sacred place, defying the icy Baltic wind. We celebrated the Eucharist with several brothers and a large participating assembly.
After the celebration, outside the convent, I blessed a handmade wooden sculpture which represents St. Francis with the Stigmata and the creatures, symbolically uniting the two centenarians: that of the Stigmata and the Canticle.
We then walked to the hill where we together planted a wooden cross, next to the one that Br. Giacomo Bini, then Minister General, blessed, and I visited the crosses planted by the other Ministers General.
Each cross tells a story of resistance and hope: some small, others majestic, all symbols of a people that did not bow to Soviet oppression.
Planting a new cross was a gesture of profound continuity with this testimony of faith and freedom, a renewed commitment to peace and reconciliation.
The Hill of the Cross manifests this truth: every cross represents a costly “yes”, an act of peaceful but determined resistance, in a place that is a living paradox: a symbol of suffering and, at the same time, of hope.
I have called for “allowing our flesh to be touched, wounded and bleeding from the pain of so many” and that “our wounds, transformed and blessed, may become sources of light”. The Hill of the Cross is a place where pain has turned into light, where silent resistance has become a luminous testimony, where every cross planted has become a seed of hope and freedom. And it reminds us of the real passion of so many other peoples, and, for this reason, we prayed for peace in Ukraine, in the Middle East, and wherever there is conflict.
On January 11, in Assisi, we inaugurated the Centenary of the Canticle of the Creatures as a Franciscan Family: it was a moment most beautiful and intense.
I saw a link between the Centenary of the Stigmata, which I personally closed ideally at the Hill of the Cross, and that of the Canticle, which ends with the stanzas of forgiveness and of “Sister Death”. The invitation that Francis addresses to all creatures to praise the Most High is found in the praise for “those who pardon for love of you” and its climax, for Sister Death: a praise which unites creation and the human being. The Canticle does not honor an abstract cosmic harmony, but rather that will of peace and reconciliation that God wishes for the world that God loves and that unites all creatures.
With the Canticle let us sing the beauty of creatures, let us nourish the groan and hope of creation, let us sow and build peace without getting tired!
