"I rejoice in the Lord, I will exult in the God of my salvation". With the Lord beside us, we fear no obstacles, but we go forward with a light step and joy on the ever harsh path of life

At the General Audience on Wednesday, 15 May, the Holy Father commented on the Canticle from the Book of Habakkuk, chapter three (Hb 3,2-4,13a, 15-19), God comes to judge. It vividly describes God's coming in judgement to save his people. The glorious light heralding the Lord's approach symbolizes both his transcendence and his saving presence in the world and in history. The Canticle portrays God in his holiness and majesty, but also reveals his care for his faithful ones and his judgement upon the injustice, sin and evil which disfigure his creation. Majestic in his glory and justice, the Lord appears in order to bring freedom, joy and peace to those whom he guides along the paths of life. Here is a translation of the Pope's 40th Italian-language catechesis.

1. By way of support to the fundamental prayer of the Psalms, the Liturgy of Lauds offers us a series of biblical canticles of great spiritual intensity. Today we heard an example from the third and last chapter of the Book of Habakkuk. This prophet lived at the end of the 7th century BC when the kingdom of Judah felt squeezed between two expanding superpowers, Egypt on the one hand, and, Babylon, on the other.

Many scholars hold that this final hymn is a quotation. An authentic liturgical song was added as an appendix to Habakkuk's brief work, to be set "to the tune of a lamentation" and accompanied "by stringed instruments", as two notes at the beginning and the end of the Canticle say (cf. Hb 3,1.19b). The Liturgy of Lauds, by taking up the thread of the ancient prayer of Israel, invites us to transform this composition into a Christian hymn, choosing some powerful verses (cf. vv. 2-4,13a, 15-19a).

God comes to judge wrapped in a light that blinds and yet enlightens and warms

2. The hymn, that also shows considerable poetic skill, presents a magnificent image of the Lord (cf. v. 3-4). His figure dominates solemnly the world scene and the universe trembles in the face of his majestic advance. He is coming from the south, from Teman and from Mount Paran (cf. v. 3), from the area of Sinai, the site of the great revelatory epiphany for Israel. In Psalm 67[68] "the Lord came from Sinai into the holy place" of Jerusalem (cf. v. 18). His appearance, in keeping with a constant biblical tradition, is surrounded by brilliant light (cf. Hb 3,4).

It is the radiance of his transcendent mystery that is communicated to humanity. In fact, the light is outside us, we can neither grasp it nor hold on to it; yet it envelops, enlightens and warms us. God is like this, both distant and yet close, someone beyond us yet beside us, in fact willing to be with us and in us. The earth responds with a chorus of praise to the revelation of his majesty: it is a cosmic response, a prayer to which man gives voice.

Christian tradition has lived this interior experience not only in personal spirituality but also in daring artistic creations. Beyond the majestic cathedrals of the Middle Ages, let us mention above all the art of the Christian East, with its wonderful icons and the brilliant architecture of its churches and monasteries.

Of these, the Church of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople remains a kind of archetype as regards the creation of the space for Christian prayer, in which the presence and ethereality of the light enable one to perceive both the closeness and the transcendence of the divine reality. It penetrates the whole praying community to the very marrow of their bones and invites them to go beyond themselves and become entirely immersed in the ineffability mystery of God. Just as important are the artistic and spiritual representations that are the hallmark of the monasteries of that Christian tradition. In those truly sacred spaces — and one immediately thinks of Mount Athos — time contains in itself a sign of eternity. The mystery of God is expressed and hidden in those spaces through the continuous prayer of the monks and hermits who have always been compared to the angels.

The Lord undermines the enemies of his people

3. But let us return to the Prophet Habakkuk's canticle. For the sacred author, the Lord's entry into the world has a precise meaning. He wills to enter into human history "in the course of the years" as repeated twice in verse 2, to judge and make its affairs better which we conduct in such a confused and at times perverse way.

Then God shows his indignation (cf. v.2c) against evil. And the hymn mentions a series of inexorable divine interventions, but without specifying if these are direct or indirect actions. The Exodus of Israel is evoked, when Pharoah's cavalry were drowned in the sea (cf. v. 15). However, in a flash there comes before us a view of what the Lord is about to accomplish in the confrontations with the new oppressors of his people. God's intervention is described in an almost "visible" way through a series of agricultural images: "Though the fig tree do not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock will be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls" (v. 17). All signs of peace and fruitfulness are eliminated, and the world looks like a desert. This is a symbol that other prophets like to use (cf. Jer 4,19-26; 12,7-13; 14,1-10) to illustrate the judgement of the Lord who is not indifferent to evil, oppression and injustice.

In his coming the Lord frees the oppressed, makes hope blossom in the heart of the victims

4. In the face of the divine intervention, the person praying remains terrified (cf. Hb 3,16), he trembles, he feels spiritually empty, he is struck with a tremor because the God of justice is in-fallible, very different from earthly judges.

But the Lord's entry has yet another purpose, which our hymn joyfully praises. In his indignation he does not forget his compassionate mercy (cf. v. 2). He goes forth from the scene of his glory not only to destroy the arrogance of the wicked, but also to save his people and his anointed (cf. v. 13), namely, Israel and its king. He also wants to set free the oppressed, make hope blossom in the victims' hearts, and open a new era of justice.

The Lord gives agility, freshness, serenity in danger

5. This is why, though our hymn is marked by "a tone of lamentation", it becomes a hymn of joy. The anticipated disasters look forward to the liberation from oppressors (cf. v. 15). So they elicit the joy of the righteous one who exclaims: "yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will exult in the God of my salvation" (v. 18). The same attitude is suggested by Jesus to his disciples at the time of the apocalyptic cataclysms: "When these things begin to take place, look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is at hand" (Lk 21,28).

In Habakkuk's canticle the final verse that expresses regained serenity is very beautiful. The Lord is defined — as David did in Psalm 17[18] — not only as "the strength" of his faithful, but also as the one who gives them agility, freshness and serenity in dangers. David sang: "I love you, O Lord, my strength ... he made my feet like the feet of hinds, and set me secure on the heights" (Ps 17[18], 2.34). Now our singer exclaims "God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet swift as those of hinds, and enables me to go upon the heights" (Hb 3,19). When we have the Lord beside us, we no longer fear nightmares and obstacles, but we go forward with a light step and joy on
the ever harsh path of life.