Simeon, writes St Luke, "was waiting for the consolation of Israel" (Lk 2:25). Going up to the temple, while Mary and Joseph carry Jesus, he welcomes the Messiah in his arms. Recognising in the Child the light that has come to enlighten the nations is a man now old, who has waited patiently for the fulfilment of the Lord's promises. He has waited patiently.

The patience of Simeon. Let us take a closer look at the patience of this old man. All his life he waited and exercised patience of heart. In prayer, he learnt that God does not come in extraordinary events, but does his work in the apparent monotony of our days, in the sometimes tiring rhythm of activities, in the small things that we carry out with tenacity and humility trying to do his will. Walking patiently, Simeon has not let the passage of time wear him down. He is a man now laden with years, yet the flame of his heart is still burning; in his long life he will have been wounded at times, disappointed, yet he has not lost hope; with patience, he guards the promise - guarding the promise -, without allowing himself to be consumed by bitterness for the time that has passed or by that resigned melancholy that emerges when one reaches the twilight of life. The hope of expectation in him was translated into the daily patience of one who, in spite of everything, remained vigilant, until, finally, "his eyes saw salvation" (cf. Lk 2:30).

And I ask myself: from where did Simeon learn this patience? He received it from the prayer and from the life of his people, who in the Lord always recognised the "merciful and gracious God, slow to anger and rich in grace and faithfulness" (Ex 34:6); he recognised the Father who even in the face of rejection and unfaithfulness does not grow weary, indeed "is patient for many years" (cf. Nehemiah 9:30), as Nehemiah says, in order to grant each time the possibility of conversion.

Simeon's patience, therefore, mirrors God's patience. From prayer and the history of his people, Simeon learnt that God is patient. By his patience,' says St Paul, he 'urges us to conversion' (Rom 2:4). I like to recall Romano Guardini, who said: patience is a way in which God responds to our weakness, to give us time to change (cf. Glaubenserkenntnis, Würzburg 1949, 28). And above all, the Messiah, Jesus, whom Simeon holds in his arms, reveals to us the patience of God, the Father who shows us mercy and calls us to the last hour, who does not demand perfection but the impulse of the heart, who opens up new possibilities where all seems lost, who seeks to make a breach within us even when our hearts are closed, who lets the good wheat grow without tearing up the weeds. This is the reason for our hope: God waits for us without ever growing weary. God waits for us without ever growing weary. And this is the reason for our hope. When we turn away He comes looking for us, when we fall to the ground He lifts us up, when we return to Him after being lost He waits for us with open arms. His love is not measured in the scales of our human calculations, but always instils in us the courage to begin again. He teaches us resilience, the courage to begin again. Always, every day. After the falls, always, begin again. He is patient.

And we look at our patience. We look at God's patience and Simeon's patience for our consecrated life. And we ask ourselves: what is patience? Certainly, it is not mere tolerance of difficulties or fatalistic endurance of adversity. Patience is not a sign of weakness: it is fortitude of spirit that makes us capable of "bearing the burden", of enduring: bearing the weight of personal and community problems, it makes us welcome the diversity of others, it makes us persevere in the good even when all seems futile, it makes us stay the course even when tedium and sloth assail us.

I would like to indicate three 'places' where patience is realised.

The first is our personal life. One day we answered the Lord's call and, with enthusiasm and generosity, we offered ourselves to Him. Along the way, along with consolations, we have also received disappointments and frustrations. Sometimes, the enthusiasm of our work is not matched by the hoped-for results, our sowing does not seem to bear the appropriate fruit, the fervour of prayer weakens and we are not always immunised against spiritual dryness. It can happen, in our lives as consecrated persons, that hope is worn out by disappointed expectations. We must be patient with ourselves and confidently await God's times and ways: He is faithful to His promises. This is the foundation stone: He is faithful to His promises. Remembering this allows us to rethink our paths, to reinvigorate our dreams, without giving in to inner sadness and mistrust. Brothers and sisters, inner sadness in us consecrated is a worm, a worm that eats us from within. Flee from inner sadness!

Second place where patience is realised: community life. Human relationships, especially when it comes to sharing a life project and apostolic activity, are not always peaceful, we all know that. Sometimes conflicts arise and one cannot demand an immediate solution, nor should one hastily judge the person or the situation: one must know how to distance oneself, try not to lose peace, wait for the best time to clarify in charity and truth. Do not let yourself be confused by storms. In the breviary reading there is a beautiful passage - for tomorrow - a beautiful passage from Diadochus of Photix on spiritual discernment, and it says this: "When the sea is rough you cannot see the fish, but when the sea is calm you can see them". Never will we be able to do good discernment, to see the truth, if our hearts are agitated and impatient. Never. In our communities we need this mutual patience: to bear, that is, to carry on one's shoulders the life of one's brother or sister, even his or her weaknesses and faults. All. Let us remember this: the Lord does not call us to be soloists - there are many, in the Church, we know that - no, he does not call us to be soloists, but to be part of a choir, which sometimes goes out of tune, but always has to try to sing together.

Finally, the third 'place', patience with the world. Simeon and Anna cultivate in their hearts the hope announced by the prophets, even if it is slow to be realised and slowly grows within the infidelities and ruins of the world. They do not lament the things that go wrong, but patiently wait for the light in the darkness of history. Waiting for the light in the darkness of history. Waiting for the light in the darkness of one's own community. We need this patience, so that we do not remain prisoners of complaint. Some are masters of complaining, they are doctors in complaining, they are great at complaining! No, complaining imprisons: 'the world no longer listens to us' - so often we hear this -, 'we no longer have vocations, we must close up shop', 'we are living in difficult times' - 'ah, tell me about it! So begins the duet of complaints. Sometimes it happens that to the patience with which God works the soil of history, and also works the soil of our hearts, we oppose the impatience of those who judge everything immediately: now or never, now, now. And so we lose that virtue, the 'small' but most beautiful one: hope. So many consecrated men and women I have seen lose hope. Simply out of impatience.

Patience helps us to look at ourselves, our communities and the world with mercy. We can ask ourselves: do we welcome the patience of the Spirit into our lives? In our communities, do we carry each other on our shoulders and show the joy of fraternal life? And towards the world, do we carry out our service with patience or do we judge harshly? These are challenges for our consecrated life: we cannot remain stuck in nostalgia for the past or merely repeat the same old things, nor in daily complaints. We need the courageous patience to walk, to explore new paths, to seek out what the Holy Spirit suggests.  And this is done with humility, with simplicity, without great propaganda, without great publicity.

Let us contemplate God's patience and implore the trusting patience of Simeon and also of Anna, so that our eyes too may see the light of salvation and bring it to the whole world, as these two old men brought it in praise.

[Pope Francis, homily 2 February 2020]