448 Letter to the Salesians

Thinking as God thinks (Mt 16:23)

Following Jesus after the example of Don Bosco the mystic

Dear Confreres,

I send you my warmest greetings, hoping that each of you is well. This letter reaches you at the end of my first year as Rector Major, during which we have shared significant moments that touch upon the life of the Congregation, the Church and humanity.

The death of Pope Francis a few days after the end of the 29th General Chapter (GC29) immediately springs to mind. His final months were marked by a total dedication to the Church, which he served generously and loved deeply. As a Congregation, we are particularly grateful to the Lord for the gift of Pope Francis. He showed us a special affection by giving us the invitation and the courage to live our Salesian mission in a contemporary and authentic way.

The election of Pope Leo was a moment when we all felt comforted by Jesus’ promise that he would never leave Peter’s boat abandoned. The Church continues its journey through history, amidst a thousand storms, but always cum Petro et sub Petro. During this year the Lord has generously granted us moments in which, as Rector Major and as the General Council on 19 December 2025, and as the Generalate, we were able to meet the Holy Father, including at our own house here at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart in Rome, on 22 February 2026.

These encounters have strengthened our devotion and love for the Pope. Moments such as these have a powerful charismatic significance, for they bring us into living contact with the legacy that Don Bosco left us and which he so insistently wanted us to learn from him.

This year, we cannot fail to comment on and reflect upon a global scenario that shatters our established patterns and ways of thinking, presenting us with immense challenges that we must understand, experience and manage, for this is our world and the world in which young people live and which shapes their culture. I do not intend here to go into the merits and dynamics of the great geopolitical changes which we are not only witnessing but in which we are experiencing, and of what this global change brings with it and imposes. I do, however, wish to share with you my and our constant concern and closeness, as the General Council and as the entire Congregation, to our Salesian confreres and all those who share our mission in war zones and areas of conflict of various kinds. Let us take care not to let them lack the necessary support: first and foremost our prayers, and then our attention and human closeness, as well as the practical aid needed to meet the needs on the ground, so that we may serve and be close to all those who rely daily on our presence and works.

What strikes us most deeply at this moment is the great gift of witness that these brothers and sisters of ours are offering us: their tenacity in standing by those suffering violence, persecution and bereavement, and those forced to abandon their homes and homelands. We are all filled with admiration and esteem for these witnesses who – despite difficult and precarious, impoverished and even inhumane situations – never consider abandoning the flock entrusted to them.

Dear brothers, I encourage you to pray for these brothers and sisters of ours, to help them in the best way possible. But above all, I invite everyone to allow themselves to be challenged by their witness: so that ours too may be ever more an authentic, sincere and decidedly adult and mature witness.

In light of this situation, in this letter I would like to offer a twofold reflection. First, let me take up the Gospel passage where Jesus begins a conversation with his disciples by asking: ‘Who do people say the Son of Man is?’ (Mt 16:13). At the end of that conversation comes Peter’s confession. Jesus then reveals his mission, announcing his death and his victory over death. Faced with this unexpected scenario, Peter changes his way of thinking and ends up rebuking Jesus himself. Jesus’ response leaves no room for doubt: ‘But Jesus turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling-block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things”’ (Mt 16:23). From here begins Jesus’ discourse on the conditions for following him (Mt 16:24–28).

I shall comment on two verses in this passage. First of all: ‘to have the mind of God’ (thinking as God thinks) (cf. Mt 16:23): this is the clear and direct rebuke that Jesus addresses to Peter, a reminder that clearly sets out the way to belong to Christ: to think as God thinks.

The second verse is the programme that Jesus offers to those who wish to follow him. Having clarified the choice and the underlying attitude, the path follows: ‘If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me’ (Mt 16:24).

This first part is followed by a second reflection inspired by these verses. And in them I ask myself: do we hear, echoing in them, the question of how Don Bosco lived out this call? How can we grasp his asceticism and mysticism which shaped his ‘following’ of Jesus? In what way, then, does his witness remain an indispensable point of reference for us, a living source that continues to show us the way that gives us life?

PART I – FOLLOWING JESUS

As the General Council, we are increasingly realising that GC29 is truly emerging, gradually and clearly, as a compass for the governance and animation of the Congregation and the provinces. The choice of theme and the concrete proceedings of GC29 itself, with its Final Document (FD), are points of reference and constant sources of support for the life of the Congregation.

In this context, the reflection I would like to propose here is intended as a further step towards assimilating and living the spirit of GC29. If we truly wish to grow in being ‘passionate about Jesus’, the only path to take is the one indicated by Christ to Peter.

We are well aware of the danger, even for us, of setting aside or even losing our ‘thinking as God thinks’. How easy it is to adopt other ways of ‘thinking’, which, whilst not necessarily wrong, are not the ones we are called to make our own. Jesus’ call is simple and direct: a ‘thinking’ grounded in the Gospel, rooted in the person of Christ.

Only in this way does our being ‘dedicated to young people’ prove to be a healthy and healing choice for the lives of young people. Only by following Jesus, freely and embracing the cross of mission, can we look upon young people through the eyes of Christ, serve them and love them with his own heart.

In an increasingly confused, fragmented world, wounded by so many struggles and fratricidal wars, conditioned by an aggressive and violent vocabulary and collective imagination, we have no choice but to take seriously the warning Jesus issues to Peter. A warning that urges us to rediscover the courage and determination to let ourselves be guided by his Spirit. The alternative – drawing our own criteria for judgement, allowing ourselves to be guided by other voices, following other paths – would ultimately be a betrayal of the cry of young people, their questions and their expectations.

Asceticism, in short, is this inner freedom that opens the door to him, which frees the heart from every useless and toxic dependence. A freedom that makes us happy servants and credible heralds for and with young people. Mysticism is the courage to graft our liberated freedom onto the roots of the tree of the cross. Only a life drawn to and nourished by the fruit of that tree generates life. And only from this choice – a fundamental choice – do good and lasting fruits arise. And the awareness that only this path is right; because it leads to Calvary, that is, to total self-giving, but then continues further on… towards the Resurrection, towards true life.

1. Thinking as God thinks

The passage we have placed at the centre of our reflection begins with a question that calls into question what we might today call public opinion: ‘Who do people say the Son of Man is?’ (Mt 16:13). Here the discussion is very general; it gathers together what others say and think. It is the first stage of a process, one that is not yet particularly engaging or empowering on a personal level, even though the Apostles were, of course, part of the ‘people’.

It is not a pointless stage; on the contrary. It is a starting point that sets the tone, establishing broad and wide-ranging parameters, which gradually help to focus the discussion on what, ultimately, Jesus himself wants to be decisive for his followers. Jesus’s initial question is highly pedagogical because – precisely – it sets a process in motion. So the second question follows almost naturally: (And he said to them:) ‘But who do you say that I am?’ (Mt 16:14). Here the disciples are called to ‘step outside’ the ‘some say’ of the people, to take a personal stand.

Peter grasps the specific meaning of Jesus’ question and feels personally addressed. Here is his answer: ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God’ (Mt 16:16). The answer is beautiful, and Jesus himself comments on it as that of a ‘blessed’ person, one who has been touched by the Spirit of the Father. But the answer is not merely ‘theologically’ correct; rather, it opens up an inner willingness to be guided and enlightened. Pope Benedict XVI comments:

Here, Peter begins with his words the confession of the Church's Christological faith and becomes spokesman also for the other Apostles, and of we believers of all times. This does not mean that he had already understood the mystery of Christ in all its depth; his faith was still at the beginning of a journey of faith. It would reach its true fullness only through the experience of the Paschal events. Nonetheless, it was already faith, open to the greatest reality; open especially because it was not faith in something, it was faith in Someone:  in him, Christ.¹

Peter’s faith is, from the very beginning, a confession in ‘Someone’, a faith open to a reality greater than itself which does not guarantee a definitive victory: Peter will face his trials, his falls, which will help him to purify himself, to grow stronger, to mature.

The first trial comes immediately.

I interrupt the exegesis with a comment that calls into question our own mission in its day-to-day reality. First of all, Jesus fosters a space, an atmosphere where profound and vital questions can emerge. He creates an environment of friendship and sharing of a family nature, encouraging questions to be asked and listened to, especially those that challenge established and habitual convictions. It is in this environment that the Spirit of God works, and where we are encouraged to let him surface and to open the doors of our hearts to him. But it is also here that our hidden resistances emerge, ways of thinking and interpreting that may be questionable. What follows confirms this clearly.

Peter’s reaction to the announcement of Jesus’ passion shows us how easily we can veer from a ‘Gospel-spiritual’ reading of reality towards an ‘egocentric’ one. Peter’s first response was not ‘his own’: it was the fruit of the Spirit’s power within him, which led him to proclaim Christ, the Son of the living God (Mt 16:16). In his first response, Peter allowed himself to be guided. In the second, however, everything changes radically, in a diametrically opposite way! Keeping ourselves alive and attentive to the logic of the kingdom is a journey that has its ups and downs. Woe betide us if we think we have arrived, for the moment we believe that, we are already out of tune with Christ!

Jesus’ response to Peter’s ‘rebuke’ leaves no room for doubt or ambiguity. There is only one way to follow Jesus: to have the mind of God, that is, to setting our mind on divine things (not) on human things (Mt 16:23). The stark contrast between the two positions could not be more explicit.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s reflection on the call to ‘think as God thinks’ is illuminating. It is a very concrete commentary, not least because it is a testimony to his own lived experience.

Jesus summons men to follow him not as a teacher or a pattern of the good life, but as the Christ, the Son of God. And what does the text inform us about the content of discipleship?  Follow me, run along behind me!  That is all.  To follow in his steps is something which is void of all content.  It gives us no intelligible program for a way of life, no goal or ideal to strive after.  It is not a cause which human calculation might deem worthy of our devotion, even the devotion of ourselves. What happens?  At the call, Levi leaves all that he has – but not because he thinks that he might be doing something worthwhile, but simply for the sake of the call.  Otherwise he cannot follow in the steps of Jesus.²

Thinking as God thinks is a call which, when it is true and authentic, has the power to define our identity. GC29 captures this challenge very well when it says that “We therefore recognise that at the basis of inner dispersion and fragmentation there is not only the much work we have, but also – and perhaps above all – the tendency to live it in a disorderly way, relying more on ourselves than on the Lord” (GC29 no. 17).

When we delude ourselves into thinking that we are now so capable and skilled that we can go it alone, that daily encounter with the Word of God is optional, that the celebration of the Holy Eucharist can even become occasional… well, it is precisely at this moment that Jesus’ warning to Peter resounds loudly: ‘you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’ (Mt 16:23). Having the courage to listen to this warning and take it seriously is the first gift we offer to young people.

2. Denying oneself – asceticism

Urging Peter to realise that the decision to follow the Master and Lord is not based on personal preference, on a response to a psychological intuition, or on politically conditioned religious frameworks, Jesus shows ‘his own’ the steps to follow: Then Jesus said to his disciples: ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me’ (Mt 16:24).

The first step, the condition that Jesus sets, is to deny oneself: ‘losing oneself’ is necessary and indispensable. Pope Benedict writes: ‘without this losing of oneself, it is not possible for man to find himself.’³ This first demanding step is like a door to be passed through in order to ‘enter’ a new space where our priorities and convictions are put in order, the categories through which we interpret the reality around us. It is a first step that helps us to humbly acknowledge a self-centred worldview, where the ‘ego’ seeks to emerge as the measure of everything and everyone… and to overcome it.

In this sense, GC29 reminds us that ‘In a cultural context in which God is perceived by many as the great Absent One and in which disorientation prevails, our testimony often appears to have faded and be lacking in impact’ (GC29 no. 14). If Jesus, Master and Lord, is not at the centre of my life as a Salesian, as the source of my being, my thinking and my actions, the alternative message I convey would consist of my own poor self-promotion, lacking in credibility and devoid of prophetic power: precisely a ‘faded’, superficial witness, in a sea of so much superficiality.

This is what the ‘asceticism’ to which our life is called consists of: it is the concrete step that helps me to say ‘no’ to what distracts me, in order to say a more authentic ‘yes’ to Christ. This is not a ‘fruitless’ renunciation, but that first gesture of freedom with which the Salesian trains his heart to listen to and love the Lord. Nor is it a matter of mere willpower, but a decision to let oneself be guided by Christ, who precedes, inspires and directs our will.

Far from being an ‘heroic’ undertaking, ‘denying oneself’ is the confirmation of a willingness to convert one’s heart, to open one’s eyes to the truth of God that bursts forth in Jesus, and thus to enter a school of love – that of Christ – which helps us to walk the path of discipleship: only with a free and docile heart are we able to welcome the Lord as the way to the truth: indeed, the way, the truth and the life.

It is a step that invites us to broaden the horizons of our lives, breaking free from the existential cages we have built for ourselves. In this way, we learn to overcome the subtle danger of creating paths and experiences in which Christ becomes the object of our plans, packaged like a product to be sold. Asceticism – the renunciation of self – allows us to remain ever pilgrims in search of the meaning that we do not already possess for all time. And in this dynamic, we are able to connect with so many young people and adults who are also searching for what is authentic, for the One who offers himself as the abundant answer to their search, to their need.

In his closing address at the 16th Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops on 26 October 2024, Pope Francis quoted some verses by Madeleine Delbrêl that resonate deeply with the urgency of allowing Jesus to take possession of our hearts:

For I think that you may have had enough
of people who, always, speak of serving you with the look of a leader,
of encountering you with the air of a professor,
of approaching you with sporting regulations,
of loving you as one loves in an aged marriage.
...
Let us live our life,
not as a game of chess where everything is calculated,
not as a game where everything is difficult,
not as a theorem that breaks our minds,
but like an endless party where your meeting is renewed,
like a ball,
like a dance,
in the arms of your grace,
in the universal music of love.⁴

‘Self-denial’ is the first step towards that freedom which allows us to take on the mission as a gift entrusted to us, to be shared, and to live it with joy as a participation in the saving cross of Christ. Without this inner freedom, the experience of the cross would never lead us to the authentic mysticism of apostolic action, for we would not see its meaning and the light beyond. For the true foundations of mission, the fruit of Easter, are built upon a solid spirituality that flows from true asceticism, which is the gift of self to Christ.

3. Taking up the Cross – mysticism

Peter understood the lesson very well, and it was he himself who, in his letters, handed down to us the interpretation of what Christ had asked of him. Taking up the cross, living the mission in the footsteps of Christ, became a constant invitation for the early Christian community. As an elder, Peter is ‘a witness of the sufferings of Christ, as well as one who shares in the glory to be revealed’ (1 Pet 5:1).

The experience of Ananias, called by God to accompany Saul after his conversion, helps us to grasp the connection between mission and the cross. God’s plan for Saul is revealed to Ananias. This plan encapsulates the essence of the mission to which Saul is called: But the Lord said to him, ‘Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name’ (Acts 9:15–16).

What is prepared for Saul is also our lot. The mission entrusted to us makes us an instrument chosen by God. A mission that has a clear objective: to bring the name of Jesus to the nations. And this mission calls for sacrifice, for suffering.

There is no mission without suffering, without the cross. To be instruments chosen by God, obeying his plan for us, is to share in the very life of Christ, to ‘take up the cross’. Herein lies the hallmark of the true disciple.

If this is the path, we recognise that it entails a considerable commitment. We cannot take this second step without first freeing our hearts from those temptations and burdens that make it impossible for us to dwell in the space of mystery. Entering this sacred space to be shaped and enlightened by the Spirit of God means leaving behind all that baggage which prevents us from moving forward, deeper into the mystery of God’s love for us.

The seed of God’s love cannot grow on hard ground, on ground full of thorns, on scorched ground. God’s love cannot take root in my heart, and thus give me true life if the inner sanctuary of my heart is occupied by disordered choices. The Lord’s invitation to follow him necessarily entails the experience of the cross, like a fire that purifies us of impurities and the poisons of existence. Only in this way can I be nourished by that which gives me life.

We might say that the cross is the place where love becomes obedience. A mystical experience in which one perceives that being united with Christ is a journey that conforms us ever more closely to him. Only in this way do we become credible witnesses to his love in the world. In this sense, it is true mysticism that gives rise to mission, and in turn, true mission identifies us ever more closely with the experience of Christ’s cross.

Cardinal Walter Kasper, in a lecture on ‘The Crisis and Future of the Church’,⁵ clearly identifies where the problem of faith lies today: ‘the true and deepest challenge, in our secularised and pluralistic situation, is the question of God.’ Not so much ‘the new aggressive atheism, which does indeed exist’, but ‘indifference towards God, the dimming of awareness of God and the apparent absence of God.’

It is the question that winds its way subtly and widely through the hearts of so many who ‘live as if God did not exist, and think that they can live perfectly well this way’, as well as many others who ‘call themselves agnostics, but are, so to speak, devout agnostics who are searching within.’ They experience this apparent absence of God as ‘pilgrims, and find themselves, so to speak, in the court of the Gentiles.’ Faced with this challenge, Kasper says:

I am convinced that the future of the Church in our societies depends (…) on whether or not we are capable of answering this question, and whether we do not merely speak with our lips, but can also bear credible witness in our lives.

Today more than ever, the true and authentic answer is the one that finds its roots in that mystical space which defines our witness and lends credibility to our mission. For it is this sacred space that confers the seal of authenticity.

4. Follow me – life

With a free heart and a life rooted in Christ, we take up the call to be educators and evangelisers. GC29 strongly urges us to maintain this balance that our mission demands of us.

As Salesians we recognise that our mission requires a constant balance between commitment to education and a passion for evangelisation. The threefold formula “reason, religion and loving-kindness” is not just a slogan but a constant source of inspiration that helps us keep in mind the lofty goal of youthful holiness and the gradual nature of the journey, the powerful educational resources of the Sacraments and the Word of God, and the pedagogy of the playground and the street that leads us to encounter young people “at their present stage of freedom” (C. 38). (GC29, no. 54)

For following Jesus risks becoming a superficial journey without the grace of unity which helps us to live our missionary commitment with a heart nourished by faith in Christ. A risk that GC29 itself clearly points out: ‘This vital synthesis is not always present in the hearts of all our confreres and the members of our educative and pastoral communities.’ (GC29, n.54)

Not a judgement, but a painful observation. Often it is the young people themselves and our collaborators in the mission who ask us to be bolder witnesses to the Gospel message. It does us no harm to acknowledge sincerely that in some of our presences ‘Those who observe us point out – not without reason – that we risk reducing our mission to the management of educational or social welfare activities.’ (GC29, n.54)

‘Follow me’, then, is not a one-off action. It is a choice born of an inner freedom nourished and guided by the power of the Word and the Eucharist. ‘Follow me’ is the response to Jesus’ invitation, which is alive in the heart of every pastor.

Hans Urs von Balthasar, in his book *Who is the Christian?* (⁶ ) offers a highly pertinent and ever-relevant reflection:

Christ not only speaks and acts before men, but he actually goes with them and invites them to go with him. This is manifested in highly visible form in the choosing of the Apostles: “He called to him those whom he wished, and they went with him. And he appointed twelve to be with him” (Mk 3:13–14). In other scenes of vocation the phrase: sequere me appears which can be fairly rendered as ‘follow after me’, provided one understands the ‘after’ not in the sense of limping along after him, but as a master-disciple relationship in which the disciple, in following him, is admitted into the master’s inner world and spiritually inducted into it. (pp. 58–59)

The truth of our response, as we agree to follow him, lies in being admitted into the master’s inner world. By remaining outside, alone, we end up building a false life, a superficial witness. It is true that we speak of Christ, but we are far from dwelling in his inner world, from contemplating his love for us, from recognising the Father’s love in his love. The call to contemplate and to dwell in this love is not a luxury for the few. It is the path towards true Christian maturity. Because:

there is no external action without inner contemplation (which is the existential dimension of faith itself)… For the contemplative act is the act that lies continuously at the root of all external action; it is active and effective, fruitful and missionary beyond all the exterior undertakings of the Church. (p. 82)

I conclude this first part with a warning, again from Balthasar, which sums up very well what has been proposed. First of all, we must not forget that “the more obedient we are to the free Spirit of Christ, the freer or more mature we can consider ourselves to be. All the rest is disingenuous self-deception.’ Secondly, we know that Jesus has already shown us the path to follow: ‘It is a matter, in all seriousness, of appropriating Christ’s death on the Cross as the basic form of our earthly existence’ (p. 95). Outside this logic and far from this dynamic, we are travelling down the wrong path and leading the young people entrusted to us astray.

PART II – DON BOSCO THE MYSTIC

The Salesian charism is a form of thinking as God thinks, heroically realised in Don Bosco’s spiritual experience which the Church has recognised as authentically evangelical. We must return to Don Bosco so that the truth, the demands and the possibilities of our thinking as God thinks may be nourished by the richness of the Salesian charism.

Hence the ever-renewed urgency to go to the roots of our history, to draw near to and penetrate the inner life of Don Bosco, in that mystical vigour which is both the fruit and the source of his thinking as God thinks. And we do so enlightened by the word of Jesus, who taught his followers to embrace the beauty and the toil of following him. Let us truly pray that he may teach us too today in the same school, for the same mission.

1. Don Bosco the mystic: a relevance to be rediscovered

Don Bosco’s mystical authority lies entirely in his faithful and original way of living a life inspired by a heart rich in the theological virtues of faith, hope and charity: ‘Christ in you, the hope of glory’ (Col 1:27), “mystery that has been hidden throughout the ages... but has now been revealed to his saints” (Col 1:26).

The mystical heart of the Christian life lies here, in its essence and its exceptional nature: an authentically evangelical existence, a high standard set with authoritative command, given without parsimony or regret, with generosity and freedom: ‘A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap’ (Lk 6:38).

Don Bosco’s mysticism, in the unassuming greatness of an ordinary, everyday tenacity, is a clear testimony to what a heart truly given is in the lived experience of every Christian life: ‘It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me’ (Gal 2:20).

Don Bosco’s self-giving conveys a heroic measure in its simplicity, and this is why we find it exceptional: not in the sense of a distant aloofness that repels, but rather as a way that draws us in. His heart is open to the mystery of God, and this is for us like a powerful call, a true ‘pro-vocation’. When we take Don Bosco’s spiritual life seriously, we accept an invitation to go beyond a superficial knowledge of his life – that which remains on the surface without grasping the dynamism of the Spirit. Faced with this real (and I would say present) danger, I call upon every Salesian to deepen their understanding of how Don Bosco lived out his personal consent to Grace, to discover the source of the courage and joy of his generosity.

If Don Bosco’s mystical heart bears witness to a path of fidelity that is for all of us the exceptional nature (the consistent and faithful strength) of his ‘yes’ to God, this encourages our conversion, our passion for Jesus. It is in this dynamic movement that we find the charismatic nourishment that the Spirit of God freely offers to our vocational journey.

Don Bosco’s mysticism thus presents itself to us as a contagious, easy and joyful holiness, as attested by the fervour it kindles in Dominic Savio, leading him to declare: ‘I did not think I could become a saint so easily; but now that I have realised this can be achieved even whilst being cheerful, I absolutely want to, and I absolutely need to become a saint.’⁷ (Life of the young Dominic Savio, pupil of the Oratory of St Francis de Sales, Salesian Sources 1, no. 306).

Contagious, easy and joyful – ‘likeable’, as Fr Viganò describes it⁸ – Don Bosco’s holiness offers a quality that is crucial for today’s times and young people: being truly ‘within reach’, not the preserve of a select few, but without compromise or betrayal. And this overcomes every excuse that ultimately leads only to spiritual superficiality. Here we stand before the mystery of grace, which demands reflection and contemplation, freedom and an open heart.

Don Bosco is a masterpiece of this demanding and beautiful mysticism: it takes the form of a transparent and joyful intimacy with God in him, which pours forth in good, simple words and gestures, with an immediacy that has become spontaneous and natural, yet which is a discreet veil over a mysterious depth of the Spirit. Beyond that veil, Don Bosco reveals to us the reasons for the credibility of a familiar mysticism, but also its roots, which can make one’s head spin, so deeply are they rooted in the mystery of the Lord.

Fr Ceria illustrates the evangelical fire that burns in Don Bosco’s soul, without which – amidst trials and tribulations of every kind – his face could not be joyful:

Now, with all this succession of misfortunes, never a complaint, never the slightest hint of impatience; on the contrary, working at his desk, hearing confessions at length, preaching, travelling, as one who enjoys perfect health; moreover, always in good spirits, always cheerful in appearance and encouraging in speech. When asked to pray to the Lord to free him from a discomfort, he replied: – If I knew that a single ejaculatory prayer would be enough to heal me, I would not say it. – Don Bosco, looking upon his sufferings in the One who sent them, found them all the more lovable the greater their number and the greater the distress. This fact alone reveals to us such an abyss of interiority that one would scarcely believe it, were it not for the knowledge of how admirable God is in his saints (Don Bosco with God, Chapter VIII).

What do we see if we peer into this abyss of interiority that the ever-present joy on Don Bosco’s face both reveals and conceals? We find the very heart of Christian mysticism: the renunciation of self, taking up the cross and following Jesus! (Mt 16:24). In the words of Paul: ‘For me […] living is Christ’ (Phil 1:21).

Don Bosco’s inner life was permeated by an intimate identification with this movement of the theological life, an experience that gradually shaped his entire life. We can say that for Don Bosco, Jesus’ words: ‘My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work’ (Jn 4:34), were not mere rhetoric. By virtue of his love for God, Don Bosco sought to discover and embrace the Father’s will for him, a fully unifying assimilation, by virtue of love.

It is by this path, and this path alone, that Don Bosco is a saint. A path founded on the footsteps of Jesus. His life was a daily offering of his will to the mystery of God. From this source flowed and spread his love for young people, for their salvation. It is from here, from this immersion in the love of the Triune God, of a God who is Father, who becomes flesh for us, who is the power of Love, that Don Bosco drew his strength. Strength nourished by the sacramental fullness of the celebrated Eucharist, guided by the luminous truth of meditated Scripture, sustained by the mystical intimacy of unceasing prayer: these are the sources of Don Bosco, of Don Bosco’s holiness, of his ‘union with God’ (Ceria).

I believe that Don Bosco must be encountered anew in this light; the only one in which a contagious, easy and joyful holiness allows itself to be grasped at its demanding root. If we stray from this Don Bosco, we will find ourselves surrounded by the superficial allure of taken-for-granted virtue, by the illusions that the radical choice of a mystical path is useless or outdated.

2. The mystical pedagogy of God and the story of John Bosco

If we recognise, as the Gospel teaches us, that ‘mysticism’ is the very root of Christian existence – as the life of God in faith, hope and charity, which radiates through the believer’s days – and if it is equally true that its maturation can vary from fruitful eminence to betrayal in sin against the Holy Spirit, we must ask ourselves about the causes of the mystical stagnation in our spiritual experience.

Salesian history and teaching offer many lessons here. Our charism arises by virtue of a specific mystical pedagogy that God brings to bear to make Don Bosco the Lord’s disciple and the apostle of young people. And this is confirmed in the life of our Founder who, whilst forming his sons in the Spirit, warns them against the dangers of superficiality and vocational betrayal: dangers which, sadly, can still consume us today.

Let us first retrace this pedagogy of God who, through meaningful interventions, instilled in Don Bosco’s soul the wisdom necessary to understand the life of Grace as divine action within human freedom – a prerequisite for interpreting its unfolding and fulfilment as a Historia salutis guided by redeeming Love.⁹ Certain episodes in the life of John Bosco are, in fact, particularly illuminating for the extraordinary way in which God reaches into the ordinary life of a boy, foreshadowing the uniqueness of the mission that will be entrusted to him as father, teacher and friend to young people.

a. In the dream he had at the age of nine, the mystical fabric of Don Bosco’s soul reveals its fundamental weave, in a splendid dialogue between God and his creature: a boy just nine years old, living on the margins of society, is graced with a calling that resembles that of the biblical prophets.

God’s pedagogy does not force situations; communication takes place in a dream; the images are vivid and unmistakable for a rural setting; the reactions of the young man called are inspired by emotions consistent with his age, yet the underlying message is profoundly mystical: a tenacious human will must be strengthened, through God’s humble wisdom, to allow itself to be inhabited – purified and transfigured – by a mystery that comes from on high.

God whispers to John what is perhaps the most neglected truth of Christian life today, a life increasingly tempted by a worldly self-referentiality: only the life of God leads human life to rediscover itself, and only God’s plan revealed in the days of man gives those days meaning and identity, vigour and resilience.

b. The encounter with Father Calosso represents a further privileged moment for reflecting on John’s obedience to the mystery of God and a new stage in the mystical maturation that touches his life. John is thirteen years old, and he confides to this priest – who is the first to show him affectionate concern – his vocational dream, inspired by generous apostolic intentions: ‘to become a priest […] to attract my companions, talk to them and teach them our religion. They are not bad but they become bad because there is no one to guide them’ (Memoirs of the Oratory, First Decade, 2).

John benefited from the care of the man he would always gratefully acknowledge as his first ‘soul friend’, and placed his hope of fulfilling his vocation in the priest’s support. Those promising hopes were shattered, however, within a few months by Fr Calosso’s sudden death, which plunged John into such deep sadness that it worried his mother Margaret.

It was his mother’s maternal wisdom, fearing for the health and stability of that son who ‘wept inconsolably for his deceased benefactor’ (Memoirs of the Oratory, First Decade, 4), that led her to send John away from the Becchi family for a time, sending him to his grandparents in Capriglio.

Here, however, the mystery of God once again shook a fifteen-year-old already tried by suffering, and did so with a severity that was humanly incomprehensible. John recounts a dream in which “I was sorely reproached for having put my hope in men and not in our good heavenly Fathe” (Memoirs of the Oratory, First decade, 4).

The trial of his affections, shaken by Fr Calosso’s death, is transfigured by Grace into a demanding test of faith, through the wisdom of God who treats John as a son; ‘for what child is there whom a parent does not discipline?’ (Heb 12:7).

The mystical journey is demanding; it leaves no room for poetry and distances itself from sentimentality, for ‘love is as strong as death’ (Song of Songs 8:6). God’s will is love, a love that burns away the fear entrenched in the human will to make way only for trust; it is thus that the disciple’s generous desire is directed towards becoming the good passion of an apostle.

c. A third instance in which God’s mystical pedagogy perhaps surprises the limited frameworks of our spiritual wisdom is described by Don Bosco, once again with unique touches, in the Memoirs of the Oratory.

Don Bosco recalls the invitation he received, shortly after his ordination, to go to Lauriano (At) to preach, and the accident that befell him on the way due to a dangerous fall from his horse.

Recalling the event, Don Bosco first draws from that adventure a lesson on the expansiveness of goodness which, if generously offered to one’s neighbour, is not long in returning in even greater measure to the benefactor himself; yet, in a matter-of-fact manner, he offers a genuinely and boldly mystical interpretation of the episode: ‘After this warning, I firmly resolved that in the future I would prepare my sermons for the greater glory of God, and not to appear learned and erudite’ (Memoirs of the Oratory, Second Decade, 10).

These are three key moments in the life of John Bosco, through which God brings to fulfilment his desire to conform the life of a generous son to his own heart, purifying it to establish it on the foundation of trusting abandonment to Providence, in humble self-forgetfulness and in the freedom of love.

An authentic vocation, in its personal and original forms, can only be nurtured and sustained by a mystical pedagogy, as a contemporary and urgent necessity, lest the gift of self become meaningless and the Gospel irrelevant.

3. In the footsteps of Don Bosco, an apostolic mysticism

The realism of mystical pedagogy, brought to life by God in Don Bosco’s life, whilst not concealing the strict demands of a purification of the intellect and the will, nevertheless subordinates everything to the love of the Father who wishes to pour himself into the heart of each of his children.

There is no Christian mysticism outside the centrality of the love that Jesus revealed to us as the truth of a God who is passionate about the salvation and fullness of human life.

If in Jesus’ actions we contemplate the Father’s will, in his suffering the heart of God is revealed to us: pierced on the cross, it bestows the benefits of the Paschal mysteries of our salvation.

In the Paschal Mystery we contemplate, in all its grandeur, that fire of Love which pierces through death. The embrace of the Crucified One unites earth with heaven, God’s passion for humanity and humanity’s passion for God. Here, taking up the cross finds its deepest and highest point. The heart of God is the heart of the new law, but also the new law of the heart that judges the world (Mt 25) and makes existence blessed (Mt 5).

The Christian mystic has the heart of God; he has received it as a gift in a communion of love and passion: this is the secret of Don Bosco’s heart. Fr Rinaldi writes:

Da mihi animas coetera tolle […], the strength and fervour of his charity: love for souls, a true love because it was a reflection of his love for our Lord Jesus Christ and because it was the souls themselves that he saw in the thought, heart and precious blood of our Lord; and so there was no sacrifice or enterprise that he would not undertake to win over those souls so intensely loved.¹⁰

Don Bosco feels about souls as God feels about them, because the life of God in him is a fusion of loves and passions, effectively produced by a mystical love, kindled and nourished by communion with the Eucharist, by meditation on the Word, by the intimacy of prayer.

This is the mystical path that Don Bosco points out to each of us: the way of love, promising not only because it is more attuned to the sensibilities of our time – wary of paths that seek God through the choice of suffering, or through mere moralistic and voluntaristic effort – but because it is authentic on an anthropological, evangelical and charismatic level.

Living beyond oneself is not, first and foremost, a moral or religious imperative, nor an invitation to the mysticism of sacrifice, but a fact of reality: it is whom we love, how much we love, and how we love that leads us beyond ourselves, so that we may find ourselves anew in a passion for meaning – a meaning that always takes the form of a gift: the gift of ourselves to others.

The true Christian is one who devotes himself to the loves of God, which, having merited his Passion, are not merely significant but are the sole Source of meaning in life and history, for ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water’ (Jn 7:38).

In Don Bosco’s heart we find God’s loves, and it is there alone that our hearts can be formed. We do not walk this path in the harshness of a solitary struggle, but in the grace of an attraction that radiates from his life spent, with fidelity and evangelical originality.

It is important, then, to meditate on the great loves that burn in Don Bosco’s heart and sustain the generosity of his self-giving: the life of Grace, the good of young people, the holiness of the Church.

a. Don Bosco’s life, both in his most mundane and practical commitments and in the zeal of his priestly ministry, is entirely at the service of the inestimable good of the soul’s friendship with God, which demands a strenuous struggle against sin: ‘Don Bosco, we know, was an implacable enemy of sin; he knew that it cuts us off from God and his friendship, and in consequence it disfigures both man and society.’¹¹

The boldness of Don Bosco’s struggle against evil cannot be attributed to cultural influences or Jansenist or moralistic suggestions; rather, it is the fruit of his habitual intimacy with the heart of God, contemplated through “the passion and death of Christ”, from which we learn:

the enormous abyss created by the sins of mankind, our own sins and the sins of our charges. Christ the Just One suffered and died for us sinners and left to his Church throughout the centuries the mysterious and salvific mission of taking up the cross daily and following in his footsteps. […] In order to destroy sin the Father's own Son had to suffer and die.¹²

b. Don Bosco’s heart is also filled with love for young people. Loving kindness, before being the cornerstone of the Salesian educational system, is the defining feature of the life of the Saint of Youth. A trait that makes the charm of his person irresistible, so spontaneous and free from artifice as to appear natural, in full harmony with his whole being.

It is a kindness free from sentimentality, which goes straight to the authentic, unique and priceless value that every young person possesses. His gaze, affection and noble demeanour are the space that Don Bosco offers to young people so that they – often for the first time – may discover their own worth. Don Bosco’s fatherly care sees the wonder in every child of God, without allowing himself to be misled by their poverty or their mistakes. Young people thus learn of their own greatness through the good that Don Bosco wishes for them, far greater than what they themselves feel they deserve, and this disposes them to a courageous and faithful generosity:

All the depositions that were made in the two Processes at Turin concerning the heroicity of his virtues were warm and unanimous in asserting that “fatherliness” was his most eminent and distinctive attitude, and the deponents spoke as though they felt themselves still enveloped by the kindness of his loving gaze. Each one remembered a smile, an encouraging word, an affectionate welcome, an understanding encounter of forgiveness and generosity, a gesture of fatherly authority, equal care for all, an enlightening piece of advice, his inexhaustible patience, a chat that removed anxiety. the ability to meet every event with gospel simplicity. His fatherliness too was marked by an affable approach and manner which removed any feeling of distance and went straight to the heart, bringing tranquillity and joy wherever he went.¹³

c. Don Bosco’s heart, however, could not be fully understood in all its depth without grasping his love for the Church. His total identification with the priestly vocation – ‘Your Excellency, I want you to know that Don Bosco is a priest at the altar, a priest in the confessional, a priest among his boys, a priest in Turin, and a priest in Florence. He is a priest in the house of the poor and a priest in the palace of the king!’¹⁴ – reveals the full integration of his entire life into the mission of the Church.

Fr Pascual Chávez quotes a letter from Fr Michael Rua which sheds further light on the subject:

In everything he wanted to follow the guidance of the Church which is the column and foundation of truth. If we examine his interior life, we shall find a Don Bosco determined in the first place to be a most obedient son of Holy Church, and ready for any sacrifice to spread her doctrines and uphold her rights. Not only did he observe her laws, he even anticipated her desires.¹⁵

He then goes on to present, in a very effective way, this ecclesial essence at the heart of Don Bosco:

(Don Bosco) showed his love for the Church in a deep but simple threefold way: love for Jesus Christ, mainly as present in the Eucharist, the central action of the Church; devotion to Mary, Mother and Model of the Church; and fidelity to the Pope, Peter’s successor and the Church’s centre of unity. […] Don Bosco’s Church is Eucharistic in form, with a Marian figure and a Petrine foundation.¹⁶

Don Bosco is not simply a man of the Church because he is tireless, obedient and bold in the service he renders to her. Don Bosco serves the holiness of the Church, which radiates from the Mystery of which she is the custodian and which establishes her. It is within this holiness that his heart as Father of Youth takes shape, wholly devoted to winning souls to friendship with God and freeing them from the bonds of evil.

4. With the heart of Don Bosco: the mystical soul of our charism

The appeal of Don Bosco’s mystical experience, however, also draws its attractive power from a straightforward realism. Love wins us over through its beauty and, at the same time, imparts the vigour needed to welcome and follow it: it is not a matter of sheer willpower, nor is it a path that can do without good will.

From his very first steps, our Father aroused in numerous disciples – among whom we too are included – the desire to follow him; yet the love that burns in his heart does not fuel illusions nor justify recklessness.

The dream of the rose arbour is a highly topical warning about the demanding realism of Don Bosco’s love, beyond all romantic naivety.

Fr Lemoyne’s account of the dream – drawn from Fr Bonetti’s sparse notes – is illuminating, especially when he attributes to the Blessed Virgin the words explaining the images of the roses and thorns upon which Don Bosco and his followers must walk:

She replied: ‘The path strewn with roses and thorns is an image of your mission among boys. You must wear shoes, a symbol of mortification. The thorns on the ground stand for sensible affections, human likes and dislikes which distract the educator from his true goal, weaken and halt him in his mission, and hinder his progress and heavenly harvest. The roses symbolize the burning charity which must be your distinguishing trait and that of your fellow workers. The other thorns stand for the obstacles, sufferings and disappointments you will experience. But you must not lose heart. Charity and mortification will enable you to overcome all difficulties and lead you to roses without thorns.’ (BM 3, 27).

‘Sensible affections’: this is the challenge that a mystic of the heart must take up.

Don Bosco – and this is perhaps where the fascinating relevance of his mysticism, his charism, and his educational wisdom lies – does not set affection against the will and reason: God wins us over through affection, through his affections – his loves – which, if we open ourselves to their influence, spread through our hearts and make them one with his.

But affections can be corrupted; the ‘sensible’ ones, in Don Bosco’s language, are those which, perverted by selfishness, by their very nature divide the heart and separate it both from the merciful Father and from the brothers in service or to be served.

The selfishness of the sensible affections is divisive and illusory; and this is one of the central messages of the Letter from Rome, an indispensable document of authentic Salesian mystical pedagogy addressed to his heart as an educator and pastor.

Sensible affections – the thorns that force one to strengthen one’s sandals in the rose-covered arbour – in the Letter from Rome become misleading apostolic motivations:

...you will no longer see anyone working for his own glory; you will no longer see anyone punishing out of wounded self-love; you will not see anyone neglecting the work of supervision through jealousy of another’s popularity; you won’t hear people running others down so as to be looked up to by the boys: those who exclude all other superiors and earn for themselves nothing but contempt and hypocritical flattery; people who let their hearts be stolen by one individual and neglect all the other boys to cultivate that particular one. No one will neglect his strict duty of supervision for the sake of his own ease and comfort; no one will fail through human respect to reprimand those who need reprimanding..¹⁷

It is a most precise and refined educational interpretation of the Gospel ‘Woes’, which, turned on their head, restore to us the freshest pastoral beatitudes.

Sensible affections – today we might say, using a paradoxical yet effective phrase, ‘emotional selfishness’ – find healing only in the love of the calibre of Jesus who pours into the heart an abundance of goodness and meaning capable of extinguishing the idolatrous allure of every selfish substitute.

And when love, true goodness, is sought mystically, through a life of Grace and intimacy with the Father, then it manifests itself – as ‘Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift’ (Jas 1:17) – as salvation, received, embraced and given together, an authentic charismatic principle: ‘”to let oneself be loved!”: that is, to know how to translate love into attitudes of kindness, into a way of fostering friendship, into the familiarity of dialogue and the joy of living together.’¹⁸

A ‘letting oneself be loved’ that has its source in God and leads back to God, capable of reaching even those who are far away: those who perhaps have not yet heard, nor can understand, the name of Jesus.

The ways in which this love may blossom and flow in the heart of the Salesian, to become an authentic and evangelical ‘letting oneself be loved’, have been indicated in the vision of the ten diamonds, especially when – in the fundamental interpretation offered by Fr Rinaldi – one understands the structural unity, together with the truly non-random positioning, of the virtues that the diamonds represent. Fr Egidio Viganò comments on this unity in a truly clear manner:

Again it goes without saying that the five dia­monds are not just a list of virtues but rather the principal paths of an ascetical sequela Christi. Following Don Rinaldi's line of thought, it is important to indicate that these principal ways are positioned on the back of the mantle and characterize the Salesian's interior life. They are not directly obvious in the basic exterior image of the Salesian, but rather they are a hidden and absolutely necessary supporting structure.¹⁹

The dream of the ten diamonds speaks of a mystical life that did not remain buried in Don Bosco’s heart, but radiated from his face and reverberated in his actions, imprinting them with faith, hope and charity, and kindling them with the life of God.

This mystical life was visibly transformed into good, fragrant bread for the table of his boys and his sons, or for the often troubled lives of people received during endless hours of audiences.

But this public display of faith, hope and charity, sustained by tireless work and gruelling self-discipline, was not the whole story.

Silent and hidden were the inner paths that Don Bosco faithfully traversed, to find his strength in God. Paths illuminated by the ‘five diamonds’ that the figure in the dream wears sewn onto the back of his cloak. We still remember these ‘five diamonds’ today: Obedience, the Vow of Poverty, the Reward, the Vow of Chastity and Fasting. For Don Bosco, as for every Salesian today, they constitute the ‘strong and hidden spiritual framework. Here lies fulfilment of the second part of the Salesian motto, Caetera tolle; here lies too our special style of consecrated life.’²⁰

These diamonds are also the seal of five ‘yeses’ to love: in the obedient surrender of oneself, in the possession of God as our sole treasure, in the purity of the gift of self, and in the joy of simplicity that keeps the spirit watchful as we await the Bridegroom who is to come.

5. Conclusion

General Chapter 27 invited us to be ‘Mystics, prophets and servants’, so that we might be rooted in the Spirit. The order of the invitation is no accident.

We must understand our religious vocation as a mystical vocation, without reducing the term to a generic synonym for the word ‘spiritual’, a term often overused to the point of exhaustion and worryingly distant from the reference to the Spirit who proceeds from the Father and the Son.

Rahner’s well-known motto on the Christianity of the future – that it will be mystical or it will not exist – can only be understood from a non-temporal but essential perspective: Christianity, of yesterday, today and tomorrow, is either mystical or it is not Christian. It is either contact with God or a human and vain search for oneself.

And if the Christian life is essentially mystical because it is life in God, developed by the power of the Spirit from the Word and the Flesh of the Son, then the Salesian religious life is mystical and apostolic, ecclesial and charismatic for the same reasons and on the same foundations.

To meditate on the story of Don Bosco is to return to his heart, set ablaze by the love of God, embraced in a fascinating and constant purification of self for the sake of his brothers, young people, children and the poor.

It is there that our eyes must be fixed, our lives rooted, our hearts set ablaze, so that even in the simplicity of our service the world may encounter the prophecy of the Gospel.