Question 10.154

10.154 In the midst of so many responsibilities, requests, and worries in the papal administration, how does Africa continue to be for you a spiritual rock?

ROBERT CARDINAL SARAH

I must admit that when I was called to the Roman Curia by John Paul II, in October 2001, I was not very enthusiastic. I had to leave a little country where there were only three of us bishops, and our Church remained very poor. I kept thinking about that difficult saying in the Gospel: “To everyone who has will more be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who has not, even what he has will be taken away” (Mt 25:29).

Worse yet, several weeks later, my first Christmas far from my country and from the Christians of Guinea was horrible. I was nostalgic, sad to be far away from my cathedral, from joyous songs and the warmth of African Christmases. At the Pontifical Urban University, on the Janiculum Hill where I was living then, I celebrated Midnight Mass for a handful of seminarians. Then, on December 25, all the young men left for their parishes or to stay with the families of friends. I was overwhelmed by the solitude. I could no longer find the salt of African fervor.

During those first months in Rome, I felt rather like an uprooted tree. Then, with time, I appreciated God’s call for me to carry out a new mission in the service of the pope. Even though I still felt homesick, the face of Bernardin Cardinal Gantin, that great servant of Africa, was constantly before my eyes. In the depths of my heart, I heard the sonorous echo of his very moving words: “All my Christian love is summed up in these simple words: God, Jesus Christ, the pope, the Blessed Virgin: supreme realities that Rome caused me to discover, love, and serve. For this too, how can I ever thank the Lord enough?” I did not forget Africa, but I was happy with the scope of my task. I know that I benefited from many graces because of the very special mission of the Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples. Every day, I could meet with the bishops of dioceses from all over the world who came to Rome to speak to us about their missionary achievements and progress. God snatched me away from my beloved country, but I had the honor of working in the service of his entire flock.

When the health of my former prefect, Cardinal Dias, declined, I went alone to the various discussions with Benedict XVI so as to submit to him the possible episcopal appointments he had to make according to the studies and the proposals of the congregation, which were examined meticulously by the Assembly of the Ordinaria. How can I forget the richness, the simplicity, and the depth of my conversations with this great pope? It is quite clear to me that I never would have experienced such moments if I had stayed in Conakry.

From then on my attachment to my native land was doubled by an obligation to defend it against the threats looming over it because of globalization and the new global ethic promoted by the secularized West. As part of its identity, Africa is open to transcendence, to adoration, and to the glory of God. The African peoples respect human life, but they look beyond it by seeking eternity. The soul of Africa always opens toward God. Unlike a large part of the West, this continent has a fundamentally theocentric vision. Material concerns are always secondary. In this life, the African knows that he is only a sojourner.

Despite the more or less underground programs that seek to destroy its spiritual resources, the springtime of God remains for a good part of Africa. I know that Benedict XVI understood the features of the African soul profoundly when he wrote: “Africa is the depository of an immense treasure. . . [it] constitutes an immense spiritual ‘lung’ for a humanity that appears to be in a crisis of faith and hope.”¹ If my land continues to suffer, it is because its springtime is continuing according to the divine plan.

Before leaving Rome to return to his native country, Benin, Cardinal Gantin said that he was like a banana tree. When this tree has yielded its fruits, people cut it down. But there is always a shoot that sprouts up; indeed, he thought that I was that new shoot. . . The cardinal was a marvelous example. He conveyed to me the greatness and nobility of his sentiments toward our continent, and I cannot forget how well he understood the depth of African sincerity with respect to the invisible. Bernard Gantin used to say: “God does not ask me for success, but for love. Now true love does not come primarily through words but through the heart. Everything else is secondary and perishable. God alone is essential and eternal. And love allows us to resemble him a little.”

And so the men and women of Africa try to resemble God a little. They see in this quest the most wonderful adventure that man can experience here below. Their eyes are not fixed on earthly realities, and I know that this spiritual search is fruitful. Because despite the wars, the poverty, the harshness of nature, God gives much to his children who seek him, and even more than what they dare to ask from him. Africa loves to lift up its eyes toward heaven, and God often sends beautiful messages to those who truly love him.