Pope Francis appointed Father Roberto Pasolini as the new Preacher of the Papal Household on November 9, 2024, succeeding the 90-year-old Cardinal Raniero Cantalamessa, who is finally retiring after having served in the role for 44 years. Like his predecessor (and all his predecessors in the role since 1743), Fr. Pasolini belongs to the Order of Capuchin Friars Minor (OFMCap), a branch of the Franciscan Order known for their simplicity, austerity, preaching, and service to the poor — not to mention their distinctive brown habits and beards.

In his new position, he will deliver Advent and Lenten sermons to the Pope and the Roman Curia every year.

The Vatican News report discusses his vocation, his academic background and biblical scholarship, and his ministry work, saying he is “heavily involved in working with the poor, people living on the streets, people with disabilities, and ministry in prisons.” It also mentions that he was a computer programmer before entering seminary, and how he “embraces new technology to spread the Gospel, including podcasts and artificial intelligence.”

Of course — as we’ve come to expect with every new Vatican appointment — the pope’s critics immediately sought to undercut Fr. Pasolini’s reputation and cast doubt on his doctrinal orthodoxy, with various outlets describing him as “pro-LGBT,” and one European website featuring a headline screaming “Pasolini Teaches Rainbow Bible.”

All of this is based on one presentation he gave earlier this year, in which he stated at the beginning of the talk, “In fact, this is also the first time I am addressing the topic of homosexuality, so this feels like a new beginning. It’s an opportunity to articulate a discourse on a very delicate and important subject. I had to prepare myself because this is not a topic I was immediately ready to address. I must make a disclaimer: I am not an expert.”

The entire controversy stems from his extremely nuanced response to a question on whether certain figures in the Bible may have been homosexual. He said that the question was legitimate and gave several examples of biblical friendships that are often discussed in that context, but he made it clear that the Bible is largely silent on homosexual orientation.

Of course none of this is to say that the Church shouldn’t be more welcoming and accepting of members of the LGBT community, and I certainly hope Fr. Pasolini has a pastoral heart and ability to effectively minister to everyone who crosses his path and hears his words. I did a little digging to see if examples of his preaching were available on the internet in English — unfortunately I couldn’t find any. He does, however, have a YouTube Channel with many homilies in Italian. Scanning the video thumbnails, two jumped out at me due to their traditionalist-friendly titles: “Pentirsi” (“Repent”) and “Il potere di satana” (“The Power of Satan”).

In the spirit of the way Fr. Pasolini “embraces new technology to spread the Gospel, including podcasts and artificial intelligence,” I have produced (unofficial, for informational purposes only) English versions of these two homilies. I found them sound, thought-provoking, spiritually edifying, and a bit whimsical. I love Cardinal Cantalamessa, but (based on these two homilies, anyway) I think Fr. Pasolini is a worthy replacement.

The first of these is his homily from Sunday, October 1, 2023. (Link for the Readings for October 1, 2023). I will publish the second one later.

Repent!

by Fr. Roberto Pasolini — homily for October 1, 2023, the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

If we were hoping for a Gospel reading that was a bit more agreeable or merciful than last Sunday’s, we were immediately disappointed. Because if last Sunday’s irritation stemmed from the fact that the last are treated like the first in this reversal of fortunes that God is capable of enacting, this Sunday we are told something even more aggravating: if we consider ourselves decent people—not saints, but good people—then tax collectors and prostitutes will have a much larger room in the Kingdom of God than we will.

This is the equally provocative message through which Jesus tries to deepen a logic that clearly struggles to take root in us. We are still very attached to preferring the first, to seeking the best seats, and poisoned by certain ways of thinking that might take a lifetime to cleanse.

In reality, if we listen carefully, this Gospel is not a completely new parable but rather a continuation of the previous one. It still speaks about how the last become first. Did you notice the parallels? There’s still a landowner, a vineyard, and someone who seems to be the last—someone who initially says, “No, I won’t go,” but later goes and becomes first. Then there’s someone who seems to be the first, saying, “Yes, sir,” but doesn’t actually go.

What we realize is that Jesus is trying to help us grasp the essence of life, not its appearances. He isn’t interested in how things look. What matters to Him is that our lives genuinely move in the right direction—not just seem to.

Let’s look at how this parable is constructed, drawing us into yet another challenge that ultimately helps us grow. This parable is, in fact, a celebration of repentance. In life, we have the opportunity to repent—not to be crushed under guilt or to hang our heads and lament, “We’ve been such failures.” No, repentance is our greatest strength. To repent means to have the freedom and the courage to say, “There’s something better. Let me try to live it.”

Repentance is the ability to start over, to desire something greater, and not to settle for mediocrity. It is the opposite of mediocrity. Now let’s see how the parable unfolds. It’s simple but also sophisticated and complex.

Here’s how it goes: A man has two sons. He approaches the first and says, “Come work in my vineyard.” The son says, “I don’t feel like it,” but later changes his mind and goes. Then the man approaches the second son, who says, “Yes, sir,” but doesn’t actually go.

Immediately, a question arises: Which of the two wanted to work in the vineyard? The answer: neither of them. Clearly, the first didn’t want to—he said so outright. But the second didn’t want to either—he said “yes” but didn’t follow through. This reflects the realism of God toward us. God knows very well that none of us, from the Pope down, are naturally inclined to do His will.

God is fully aware that something in our hearts is broken. We feed on things that do us no good; we are filled with shallow, trivial desires. If it were up to us, we wouldn’t want to love more or strive for holiness. A small, enclosed life—a little fenced-in existence where we can simply survive—is enough for us.

God knows this and isn’t naive enough to categorize people as inherently good or inherently bad. We are all the same. And this is a crucial test for us. How do we view others? Do we still believe there are “good” people and “bad” people? Do we still make distinctions among human beings? How much energy do we waste trying to place ourselves in the “club of the righteous” and disparaging those in the “club of the unrighteous”?

The entire history of humanity is marked by factions—groups that attack each other politically, economically, and socially—where one side believes it’s the “good” one, and the other is branded as the “bad.” But the Christian perspective on reality is that we are all desperately incapable of doing God’s will.

We might even go so far as to call ourselves “bad” if it helps us see things more clearly. There are no inherently “good” people—there’s just us, who often have no desire to pursue what God wants for us, even though it’s what’s best for us. Life is beautiful, and we live in a beautiful world, but we must also face suffering and death. Life isn’t just about experiencing beauty and goodness; it also reveals the brokenness, the damage, the wounds within reality. And we need to acknowledge this. If we do, we can repent. Repentance allows us to start doing something different—it helps us transcend death, overcome our resistance, and live better.

This is precisely what the first son in the parable does: “But later, he repented and went.” He changed his mind and went to work. The word literally means “to distance oneself from one’s way of thinking and feeling.” We all have this ability to step back from what we think and feel, to reflect, and to evaluate whether those thoughts and feelings are absolute truths.

How many times have we felt intense anger toward someone, only to calm down by simply counting to ten? That restraint keeps us from doing something we’d regret. Why? Because we are not only anger; we also have compassion, forgiveness, and patience within us. We’ve all experienced moments where we’ve chosen a better path, even when our first instinct was otherwise.

This is the message of the second reading, where St. Paul exhorts us: “Brothers, have the same attitude as Christ Jesus.” Let’s believe, at least for a moment, that within us, beyond the foolish, trivial, and shallow thoughts and feelings we wrestle with daily, there are noble thoughts, loving emotions, and desires for greatness and beauty. And where do these come from? From Christ, who has given us His Spirit.

These thoughts and desires enable us to do beautiful things—to love, forgive, take steps toward others, and make others feel comfortable and valued. The life of Christ is already at work in us, and through us, it is being manifested in the world. This world isn’t all darkness and evil; it contains goodness. And that goodness stems from God, who became human 2,000 years ago, breathed His Spirit into us, and continues to do so. Even on the cross, He poured out His life and sentiments into humanity, even if we don’t always recognize it.

When something beautiful emerges in our lives, it’s Christ taking flesh within us. This isn’t about extraordinary feats but simple actions. As St. Paul says: “Do nothing out of rivalry or vainglory; instead, consider others as more important than yourselves.” These are the sentiments of Christ: seeing others without judgment or disdain, even valuing them above ourselves. This doesn’t mean lowering ourselves or feeling small but stepping beyond self-interest to also consider the good of others.

Imagine tomorrow, when we face decisions in life (or even elections, as the friar mentions). Instead of focusing solely on our own interests, what if we ask: How can I make life better for myself and the people around me? This is the attitude of Christ, the mindset that drove Him to the cross—not for His own benefit but for ours.

To live like Christ means no longer seeing the world around us as full of enemies, complications, or infernal situations. Instead, it’s seeing people and circumstances as opportunities to draw out the beauty within our hearts.

There’s a price to pay for this transformation, but it’s not about becoming “good.” God knows we’re not naturally good; He asks for repentance—a willingness to search our hearts, find the flower amid the weeds, and choose a better path. The price? Letting go of the image we want to project, the desire to appear like the “yes-man,” the obedient second son who says, “Yes, sir,” but does nothing.

God isn’t interested in appearances. He values sincerity and those who might say, “I don’t feel like it,” but deep down begin to hear a voice saying: “That’s not true. You do want to love. You can forgive. You can take that step.” That voice is Christ within us, protesting against the smallness in which we sometimes live our lives.

The first reading puts it beautifully: “If the wicked person turns from their wickedness and does what is right, they will save their life.” This isn’t about being “good” but about truly living—allowing the part of us that reflects God’s image to come alive.

Every time we cling to appearances, seeking to impress others, we rob ourselves of life’s deeper joys. But when we repent, we begin to uncover the beauty and goodness that Christ has placed within us.

This Sunday, let’s commit to at least one thing: stop saying words that only aim to please others. Let’s free ourselves from the cage of trying to impress. God doesn’t care if we say “yes” or “no.” What matters is that, in the end, we do what’s good and beautiful. Let’s be spontaneous, less formal, less obsessed with others’ reactions. After all, even when the worst in us comes out, it’s followed by the best. And that best—Christ within us—longs to live with us and through us.