Il cardinale Battaglia: Papa debole, niente di scandaloso.

From that room at the Gemelli Polyclinic, the Gospel is not proclaimed, but rather witnessed with the breath of fragility. Cardinal Domenico Battaglia is the most recent cardinal appointed by Pope Francis. He entered unexpectedly, as the press reported, among the cardinals created by the Pontiff in the Consistory of December 7th.

From Naples, where he has been the archbishop since December 2020 by decision of Francis, he looks up at the tenth floor of the Gemelli in Rome where the Pope has been hospitalized for almost a month. His faint voice echoed in St. Peter’s Square and touched hearts around the world. Yet, once again, it became a pretext for fueling media speculation about the Pontiff and the future of the Church. “To all this, we respond with active silence. With fidelity to the Gospel. With life,” Battaglia affirms. “Words pass, but the truth remains. Fake news make noise, but the light of love shines brighter than any lie. Francis does not need to defend himself. His response is in his actions, choices, his fidelity to Christ and the poor. The future of the Church is not in gossip, but in the hands of God. And while the world is in turmoil, we continue to walk with a firm heart and our gaze fixed on the only thing that matters: love.”

There is a special harmony between Pope Francis and Battaglia. A closeness that Francis has demonstrated not only with the cardinal’s hat but also with public gestures: in 2021, the Pope handed out a card with the eight “beatitudes of the bishop” proposed by Battaglia to the Italian bishops during the General Assembly of the CEI; and in March 2022, three weeks after the start of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, Francis read the prayer for peace by the future cardinal titled “Forgive us for war, Lord” during a general audience.

Your Eminence, how are you experiencing the Pope’s hospitalization? And how is Naples experiencing it?

“I live it with a heart in prayer and eyes filled with hope. Francis has taught us that the cross is not defeat, but another form of love. And so I imagine him there, in that hospital room, with the same gaze as always: that of a father who continues to give himself, even in pain. And Naples is grateful for this. The embrace of his prayer reaches all the way to Rome. Naples loves Francis because Francis speaks the language of the least, because in his eyes there is the same light of one who has known the hardships of life but has never stopped believing in the beauty of tomorrow.”

The Gemelli is now the new pulpit of the Pope.

“Francis teaches us that we do not love only with words, but also with the silence of waiting, with the patience of healing, with the courage of trust.”

In illness, there is the personal prayer of the sick and the community’s prayer for the sick, as evidenced by the “prayer chain” for the Pope.

“Prayer is the thread that connects earth to heaven, it is the hand that holds another hand, it is the voice that whispers hope even in the darkness of the night. When we pray, we are not alone: we are a people, we are a family, we are part of a love that knows no distances. In these days, the prayer for Francis has become a wave that crosses the world, a breath that becomes a choir, a fire that warms the heart of the Church.”

In your message sent during the hospitalization, you recall the Gospel of peace and fraternity that the Pope proclaims. How can fraternity be expressed in today’s Italy, which appears divided within itself?

“Fraternity is not just a word to preach, but a path to walk, day after day. It is choosing to listen before judging, to reach out a hand instead of pointing a finger. It is learning to say ‘we’ in a world that wants us increasingly alone, increasingly enemies, increasingly distant. Italy needs bridges, not walls. It needs open hearts, concrete gestures, honest dialogues. Fraternity is not a theory, it is lived life. It starts with small things: a smile, forgiveness, an extra seat at the table.”

In your message, you mention the poor, the last, the suffering, who are particularly dear to Pope Francis. Then there are the children who leave drawings and prayers outside the hospital.

“Children are the Gospel drawn in colors. In their prayers, there is the truest faith, in those sheets left outside the hospital, there is a world that still knows how to dream. Francis knows this, which is why he loves them so much. Because they are the ones who remind us of what we often forget: that life is a gift, that tenderness is a strength, that fragility is an invitation to love more. If we listened to children, if we learned from them, the world would be a better place.”

You were appointed a member of the Dicastery for Evangelization in January. Can one also be a proclaimer of the Gospel with their “weak” life?

“Not only can one, but one must. The Gospel is not proclaimed from the top of a pedestal, but from the depths of a wounded and loving heart. Power, perfection, or grand speeches are not needed. Life is enough, real life. The one that falls and gets up, that makes mistakes and tries again, that suffers but never stops loving. Even weakness is a word of God, if we let it speak. Even scars can be light, if we have the courage to show them.”

In a society of efficiency, illness is often hidden. The Pope has asked for transparency. Another lesson?

“Yes, and it is a lesson of truth. We live in a world that celebrates strength and hides fragility, that exalts success and is ashamed of weakness. But life is made up of both. Francis is telling us: ‘Look at me, I too am fragile. I too need care, waiting, hope.’ There is nothing scandalous about being weak. The scandal is pretending not to be.”