«I came without a speech…». With these words, spoken by Leo XIV in Borgo Laudato Si', in the papal gardens of Castel Gandolfo, on July 11th, before two hundred vulnerable people, the Pope said much more than seemed apparent. His statement possesses a spiritual density that transcends the spontaneity of the moment: it is not a simple improvised comment nor merely the acknowledgment of the absence of a prepared text, but a key to understanding how God acts in the history of salvation. In the Kingdom of God, truly fruitful word does not arise from human self-sufficiency, but from docility to the Holy Spirit.
Scripture reveals a constant: God distrusts man’s sufficiency so that man may learn to trust in God’s sufficiency. When Moses tries to excuse himself by saying: «I have never been an eloquent person… I am slow of speech and awkward in expressing myself» (Ex 4,10), the Lord replies: «Who gave man his mouth?… Now go; I will be with you wherever you speak and I will guide your words» (Ex 4,11-12). The effectiveness of the messenger never depends first on his rhetorical ability, but on the presence of God who speaks through him.
The same happens with the prophet Jeremiah. His resistance stems from the awareness of his smallness: «Alas, Lord! See, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth» (Jer 1,6). But God does not accept that objection. «Do not say: "I am only a youth"… I will put my words in your mouth» (Jer 1,7.9). The mission begins when exclusive trust in oneself ends.
This logic reaches its fullness in Jesus Christ. The eternal Word does not burst into history through a demonstration of intellectual power, but through the humility of the Incarnation. St Paul describes this mystery by affirming that Christ «emptied himself, taking the condition of a servant» (Flp 2,7). All authority in the Church arises from this kenosis: the more man empties himself, the more space God finds to manifest Himself.
That is why St Paul can write to the Christians of Corinth words that seem to illuminate the deep meaning of «I came without a speech»:
«When I visited you to announce the mystery of God, I did not come with the prestige of eloquence or wisdom. .. My word and my preaching were not based on persuasive discourses of human wisdom, but on the demonstration of the power of the Spirit, so that your faith might not be founded on human wisdom, but on the power of God» (1 Co 2,1.4-5).
It does not condemn intelligence. Paul possessed extraordinary training. Rather, he proposes a purification of ministry. The Gospel can never depend on the brilliance of the preacher, because then faith would end up resting on human admiration and not on grace.
Here St Augustine’s voice acquires surprising relevance. In his Confessions, after having traveled the path of rhetoric, intellectual prestige, and the incessant search for recognition, he discovers that true word is born from encounter with God. He then writes the famous confession:
«You have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you» (Confessions, I,1,1).
Every word spoken from a self-centered heart seeks applause; every word born from a heart that rests in God seeks only the truth. In another place, the Hipponensis confesses:
«Where I found the truth, there I found my God, the Truth itself» (Confessions, X,24,35).
The Bishop of Hippo even warns that the beauty of language can never replace the truth of the heart. The people of God need more a holy witness than a brilliant orator. Eloquence can move for a few minutes; holiness transforms entire generations.
This conviction has its roots in the Gospel itself. Jesus never promised prepared speeches to his disciples when persecution would come. On the contrary:
«Do not worry about how or what you are to say, because at that time I will give you what to say; for it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you» (Mt 10,19-20).
The Church lives precisely from this promise. It is not an institution sustained by human strategies, but a people guided by the Holy Spirit.
From this perspective, «I came without a speech…» ceases to be a mere circumstantial observation to become a confession of faith.It means recognizing that the priestly ministry does not rest on human self-sufficiency, but on the faithfulness of Him who said to Peter: «Feed my sheep» (Jn 21,17). The true Shepherd does not speak in his own name; he lends his voice to the only Good Shepherd.
In an age fascinated by image, perfect planning, and flawless communication, this simplicity possesses a profoundly evangelical strength. The world expects leaders capable of impressing; Christ continues to seek disciples capable of making Him transparent. Because, in the end, the Church convinces not when it displays the brilliance of its discourses, but when it lets glimpse the beauty of Him who is “the Way, the Truth and the Life” (Jn 14,6).
Perhaps that is the deepest teaching of this expression. The best discourse of a successor of Peter—like that of every Christian—is not the one born from a carefully prepared script, but the one God patiently writes in their heart. The true authority of the Church is founded not on the perfection of its words, but on the transparency of a life configured with Christ. When the heart has learned to dwell in God, even silence acquires an eloquence that no rhetorical artifice can match.
That is why Saint Augustine could affirm that “he who speaks wisely, although he does not speak eloquently, is more useful to his listeners than he who speaks eloquently but without wisdom” (De doctrina christiana, IV, 28,61). In the logic of the Gospel, holiness always precedes eloquence; truth has more power than brilliance, and testimony weighs more than any argument.
In reality, “I came without a discourse…” can be read as the synthesis of an entire spirituality. Paradoxically, those three words initiated the true discourse of Leo XIV: one that is not born from a carefully prepared text, but from a heart that has learned to let God speak. Because in the Kingdom, the most decisive words are not the most elaborate, but those that spring from a life inhabited by the Spirit.
This has always been the case in the history of salvation. The Church does not transform the world when it speaks much about Christ, but when it allows Christ to speak through it. Then the word ceases to be a mere sound to become testimony; and the voice—the only truly unforgettable one—no longer resonates first on the lips, but in an existence configured with Him, capable of making transparent, amidst history, the living face of Christ.
Rafael Lazcano
Religión Digital