poverty – eyebeleave

Francis in Korea: Come to my house, enter my heart

Three weeks ago Pope Francis made a five-day visit to South Korea where he again spoke with great clarity about a number of topics and where he gave witness to the Good News of the Gospel by actions at least as much as by words. Instead of providing a comprehensive account of the trip, which can be found in many other places, I would just like to bring together my favorite passages from the around 15 talks he gave there.

Upon his arrival, Francis presented his approach to diplomacy:

“The quest for peace also represents a challenge for each of us, and in a particular way for those of you dedicated to the pursuit of the common good of the human family through the patient work of diplomacy. It is the perennial challenge of breaking down the walls of distrust and hatred by promoting a culture of reconciliation and solidarity. For diplomacy, as the art of the possible, is based on the firm and persevering conviction that peace can be won through quiet listening and dialogue, rather than by mutual recriminations, fruitless criticisms and displays of force.”

Followed by a reflection on how peace, justice and development are interrelated:

“Peace is not simply the absence of war, but “the work of justice” (cf. Is 32:17). And justice, as a virtue, calls for the discipline of forbearance; it demands that we not forget past injustices but overcome them through forgiveness, tolerance and cooperation. It demands the willingness to discern and attain mutually beneficial goals, building foundations of mutual respect, understanding and reconciliation. May all of us dedicate these days to peace, to praying for it and deepening our resolve to achieve it.”

And finally, he underlined the universal need of being heard:

“How important it is that the voice of every member of society be heard, and that a spirit of open communication, dialogue and cooperation be fostered. It is likewise important that special concern be shown for the poor, the vulnerable and those who have no voice, not only by meeting their immediate needs but also by assisting them in their human and cultural advancement.”

Later that same day, when addressing the Korean bishops, Francis warned them against becoming an affluent, middle class Church where the poor do not feel at home and that becomes mediocre:

“There is a danger, a temptation which arises in times of prosperity: it is the danger that the Christian community becomes just another “part of society”, losing its mystical dimension, losing its ability to celebrate the Mystery and instead becoming a spiritual organization, Christian and with Christian values, but lacking the leaven of prophecy. When this happens, the poor no longer have their proper role in the Church. This is a temptation from which particular Churches, Christian communities, have suffered greatly over the centuries; in some cases they become so middle class that the poor even feel ashamed to be a part of them. It is the temptation of spiritual “prosperity”, pastoral prosperity. No longer is it a poor Church for the poor but rather a rich Church for the rich, or a middle class Church for the well-to-do. Nor is this anything new: the temptation was there from the beginning. Paul had to rebuke the Corinthians in his First Letter (11:17), while the Apostle James was even more severe and explicit (2:1-7): he had to rebuke these affluent communities, affluent Churches for affluent people. They were not excluding the poor, but the way they were living made the poor reluctant to enter, they did not feel at home. This is the temptation of prosperity. I am not admonishing you because I know that you are doing good work. As a brother, however, who has the duty to confirm his brethren in the faith, I am telling you: be careful, because yours is a Church which is prospering, a great missionary Church, a great Church. The devil must not be allowed to sow these weeds, this temptation to remove the poor from very prophetic structure of the Church and to make you become an affluent Church for the affluent, a Church of the well-to do – perhaps not to the point of developing a “theology of prosperity” – but a Church of mediocrity.”

The next day, on 15th August, Francis had his first meeting with youth gathered from all over Asia, where he first recalled the need for the Church to “be a seed of unity for the whole human family,” and then proceeded to reflect on an experience shared before his address that was about the challenges of discerning one’s vocation:

“What Marina said really struck me: about the conflict she felt in her life. What to do in this situation? Take up the path of consecrated life, religious life, or study to be better able to help others.

This is only an apparent conflict, because when the Lord calls, he always does so for the good of others, whether it is through the religious life, the consecrated life, or as a lay person, as the father or mother of a family. The goal is the same: to worship God and to do good to others. What should Marina do, and the many others of you who are asking the same question? I once asked it myself: What path should I choose? But you do not have to choose any path! The Lord must choose it! Jesus has chosen it! You have to listen to him and ask: Lord, what should I do?

This is the prayer that a young person should make: “Lord what do you want from me?” With prayer and the advice of some good friends – laity, priests, religious sisters, bishops, popes (even the Pope can offer some good advice!) – you can find the path that the Lord wants for you.”

He then went on to underline the fundamental simplicity of love:

“The path of love is simple: love God and love your neighbor, your brother or sister, the one at your side, who needs love and so many other things. “But Father, how do I know that I love God?” Only if you love your neighbor, if you do not hate your neighbor and do not harbor hatred in your heart, do you love God. This is the sure proof.”

Later that day Francis paid a surprise visit to the Jesuit HQ in Korea, where he said the following to his brothers:

“There are no wounds that can’t be consoled by the love of God. This is how we must live: seeking Jesus Christ so that we may carry this love to consoling wounds, healing wounds. […] God always consoles, always waits, always forgets, always forgives. There are many wounds in the Church. Wounds that are often provoked by ourselves, practicing Catholics and ministers of the Church.

Don’t tell off the people of God anymore! Console the people of God! Often our clerical attitudes lead to clericalism that harms the Church so much. Being a priest does not result in the status of public officials, but of shepherd. Please, be shepherds and not public officials. And when you are in the confessional, remember that God never tires of forgiving. Be merciful!”

Two days later, Francis met bishops from all over Asia to whom he spoke about the simultaneous need for a clear sense of one’s own identity and of openness and receptivity to others, as the basis for dialogue:

“But in undertaking the path of dialogue with individuals and cultures, what should be our point of departure and our fundamental point of reference, which guides us to our destination? Surely it is our own identity, our identity as Christians. We cannot engage in real dialogue unless we are conscious of our own identity. We can’t dialogue, we can’t start dialoguing from nothing, from zero, from a foggy sense of who we are. Nor can there be authentic dialogue unless we are capable of opening our minds and hearts, in empathy and sincere receptivity, to those with whom we speak. In other words, an attentiveness in which the Holy Spirit is our guide. […] And if our communication is not to be a monologue, there has to be openness of heart and mind to accepting individuals and cultures. Fearlessly, for fear is the enemy of this kind of openness.”

And he proceeded to warn against becoming bogged down in formalism, superficiality and easy answers:

“Without a grounding in Christ, the truths by which we live our lives can gradually recede, the practice of the virtues can become formalistic, and dialogue can be reduced to a form of negotiation or an agreement to disagree. An agreement to disagree… so as not to make waves… This sort of superficiality does us great harm. […] Then […] there is [… another] temptation: that of the apparent security to be found in hiding behind easy answers, ready formulas, rules and regulations. Jesus clashed with people who would hide behind laws, regulations and easy answers… He called them hypocrites. Faith by nature is not self-absorbed; it “goes out”. It seeks understanding; it gives rise to testimony; it generates mission. In this sense, faith enables us to be both fearless and unassuming in our witness of hope and love. Saint Peter tells us that we should be ever ready to respond to all who ask the reason for the hope within us (cf. 1 Pet 3:15). Our identity as Christians is ultimately seen in our quiet efforts to worship God alone, to love one another, to serve one another, and to show by our example not only what we believe, but also what we hope for, and the One in whom we put our trust (cf. 2 Tim 1:12).”

Next, Francis insisted on the need for acceptance of others (“Come to my house, enter my heart.”) which has a profound basis in Jesus’ incarnation and in us all being children of the one Father. Empathy and a welcoming of others are core to Christianity and fear for one’s own identity is wholly unwarranted:

“[T]ogether with a clear sense of our own Christian identity, authentic dialogue also demands a capacity for empathy. For dialogue to take place, there has to be this empathy. We are challenged to listen not only to the words which others speak, but to the unspoken communication of their experiences, their hopes and aspirations, their struggles and their deepest concerns. Such empathy must be the fruit of our spiritual insight and personal experience, which lead us to see others as brothers and sisters, and to “hear”, in and beyond their words and actions, what their hearts wish to communicate. In this sense, dialogue demands of us a truly contemplative spirit of openness and receptivity to the other. I cannot engage in dialogue if I am closed to others. Openness? Even more: acceptance! Come to my house, enter my heart. My heart welcomes you. It wants to hear you. This capacity for empathy enables a true human dialogue in which words, ideas and questions arise from an experience of fraternity and shared humanity. If we want to get to the theological basis of this, we have to go to the Father: he created us all; all of us are children of one Father. This capacity for empathy leads to a genuine encounter – we have to progress toward this culture of encounter – in which heart speaks to heart. We are enriched by the wisdom of the other and become open to travelling together the path to greater understanding, friendship and solidarity. “But, brother Pope, this is what we are doing, but perhaps we are converting no one or very few people…” But you are doing it anyway: with your identity, you are hearing the other. What was the first commandment of God our Father to our father Abraham? “Walk in my presence and be blameless”. And so, with my identity and my empathy, my openness, I walk with the other. I don’t try to make him come over to me, I don’t proselytize. Pope Benedict told us clearly: “The Church does not grow by proselytizing, but by attracting”. In the meantime, let us walk in the Father’s presence, let us be blameless; let us practice this first commandment. That is where encounter, dialogue, will take place. With identity, with openness. It is a path to greater knowledge, friendship and solidarity. As Saint John Paul II rightly recognized, our commitment to dialogue is grounded in the very logic of the incarnation: in Jesus, God himself became one of us, shared in our life and spoke to us in our own language (cf. Ecclesia in Asia, 29).”

And finally, Francis places the importance of a shared journey above the others’ conversion and distances the Church from ideas of conquest:

“I am not referring to political dialogue alone, but to fraternal dialogue… “But these Christians don’t come as conquerors, they don’t come to take away our identity: they bring us their own, but they want to walk with us”. And the Lord will grant his grace: sometimes he will move hearts and someone will ask for baptism, sometimes not. But always let us walk together. This is the heart of dialogue.

The next day, during a meeting with religious leaders, Francis returns to the importance of shared journeying:

“Life is a journey, a long journey, but a journey which we cannot make by ourselves. We need to walk together with our brothers and sisters in the presence of God. So I thank you for this gesture of walking together in the presence of God: that is what God asked of Abraham. We are brothers and sisters. Let us acknowledge one another as brothers and sisters, and walk together.”

And finally, during the flight back to Rome, Francis again answers questions put to him there and then by the journalists on board, where three stood out for me in particular. First, in response to being asked about whether he isn’t concerned that his gesture of wearing a yellow ribbon (a sign of solidarity with the victims of the Sewol ferry disaster) might be misunderstood politically, Francis answers:

“Whenever you find yourself facing human suffering, you have to do what your heart tells you to. Then people will say: “He did it for this or that political reason”; let them say what they want. But when you think of these men and woman, these fathers and mothers who have lost their children, their brothers and sisters, of the immense pain of such a disaster, I don’t know, my heart.. I am a priest and I feel the need to draw near! That’s how I feel; that is the first thing. I know that the comfort that any word of mine might give is no cure, it doesn’t bring the dead back to life, but human closeness at these times gives us strength, there is solidarity… […] I would like to add something. I took this (holding up a ribbon). After I carried it for half a day – I took it for solidarity with them – somebody came up to me and said: It’s better to take that off… You should be neutral …” “But listen, where human suffering is involved, you can’t be neutral”. That was my answer; that’s how I feel.”

Second, in response to a question about military intervention in Iraq and also addressing the topic of torture, Francis says:

“Thank you for your very clear question. In these cases, where there is an unjust aggression, I can only say that it is licit to stop the unjust aggressor. I emphasize the word: “stop”. I’m not saying drop bombs, make war, but stop the aggressor. The means used to stop him would have to be evaluated. Stopping an unjust aggressor is licit. But we also need to remember! How many times, with this excuse of stopping an unjust aggressor, the powers have taken over peoples and carried on an actual war of conquest! One nation alone cannot determine how to stop an unjust aggressor. After the Second World War, there was the idea of the United Nations: that is where discussion was to take place, to say: Is this an unjust aggressor? It would seem so. How do we stop him?” This alone, nothing else. Second, minorities. Thanks for using that word. Because people say to me: “the Christians, the poor Christians…” And it is true, they are suffering, and martyrs, yes, there are many martyrs. But there are also men and women, religious minorities, not all Christians, and all are equal before God. To stop an unjust aggressor is a right of humanity, but it is also a right of the aggressor to be stopped in order not to do evil. […]

Today, torture is an almost, I would say, ordinary means used in intelligence work, in trials… And torture is a sin against humanity, it is a crime against humanity. And to Catholics, I say: to torture a person is a mortal sin; it is a grave sin, but even more, it is a sin against humanity.”

And third, in a question about his upcoming encyclical on ecology, Francis spoke again about the relationship between science and faith, being more specific about how he sees the value of science in the context of this document of Catholic teaching:

“[T]here are also scientific hypotheses [to be taken into account], some of them quite solid, others not. In this kind of encyclical, which has to be magisterial, one can only build on solid data, on things that are reliable. If the Pope says that the earth is the centre of the universe, and not the sun, he errs, since he is affirming something that ought to be supported by science, and this will not do. That’s where we are at now. We have to study the document, number by number, and I believe it will become smaller. But to get to the heart of the matter and to what can be safely stated. You can say in a footnote: “On this or that question, there are the following hypotheses…”, as a way of offering information, but you cannot do that in the body of encyclical, which is doctrinal and has to be sound.”

This is what the Gospel looks like

Pope Francis has given another interview – this time to Andrea Tornielli (a contributor to the always up-to-date Vatican Insider blog) at the Italian La Stampa newspaper – and the following are some of my favorite passages:¹

“[Christmas] speaks to us of tenderness and hope. When God meets us, he tells us two things. The first one is: have hope. God always opens doors, he never closes them. He is the dad who opens doors for us. Second: don’t be afraid of tenderness. When Christians forget about hope and tenderness, they become a cold Church that doesn’t know where to go and that entangles itself into ideologies, into worldly attachments. Instead, God’s simplicity tells you: go forward, I am a Father who caresses you. I am scared when Christians lose hope and the capacity to embrace and caress.”

Christmas is about hope and warmth, fueled by and in imitation of God and directed towards others.

“What we read in the Gospels is an announcement of joy. The evangelists have described a joy. No consideration is given to the unjust world, to how God could be born into such a world. All this is the fruit of our own contemplations: the poor, the child that has to be born in uncertainty. is born into a precarious situation. Christmas was not a condemnation of social injustice, of poverty; instead, it was an announcement of joy. Everything else are conclusions that we draw. Some are correct, others are less so, and others still are ideologized. Christmas is joy, religious joy, God’s joy, interior, luminous, of peace.”

Christmas is, first and foremost, joy. Let’s not rush to its implications at the expense of overlooking that deep joy that it heralds.

“A teacher of life for me has been Dostoevskij, and a question of his, both explicit and implicit, has always gone around in my heart: “Why do children suffer?” There is no explanation. […] In front of a suffering child, the only prayer that comes to me is the prayer why. Why, Lord? He doesn’t explain anything to me. But I feel that he is looking at me. So I can say: You know the why, I don’t it and You don’t tell me, but You are looking at me and I trust You, Lord, I trust your gaze.”

Suffering can’t – and mustn’t! – be explained away, but it can be lived while trusting in God’s loving gaze.

“The other day at the Wednesday General Audience, there was a young mother with her baby that was only a few months old, behind one of the barriers. As I passed by, the baby cried a lot. The mother was caressing it. I said to her: madam, I think the little one is hungry. She replied: Yes, it’s probably time … I responded: But, give it something to eat, please! She was shy and didn’t want to breastfeed in public, while the Pope was passing. So, I wish to say the same to humanity: give something to eat! That woman had milk to give to her child, in the world we have enough food to feed everyone.”

There is food for everyone – let’s not make our shyness an obstacle for it to get to its rightful recipient.

“Marxist ideology is wrong. But in my life I have met many Marxists who are good people, so I don’t feel offended.”

Don’t conflate ideology with its adherents. Even wrong ideologies have good people following then.

“During these first nine months, I have received visits from many Orthodox brothers, Bartholomew, Hilarion, the theologian Zizioulas, the Copt Tawadros: this last one is a mystic, he’d enter the chapel, remove his shoes and go to pray. I felt like their brother. They have apostolic succession, I received them as brother bishops. It is painful that we are not yet able to celebrate the Eucharist together, but there is friendship. I believe that the way forward is this: friendship, common work, and prayer for unity. We blessed each other, one brother blesses the other, one brother is called Peter and the other Andrew, Mark, Thomas …”

I have no comment to add – only to say how it warms my heart to hear Francis refer to the Orthodox patriarchs as his brothers and liken their relationship to those among the apostles. This is very much in continuation of the tremendous advances made by John Paul II and Benedict XVI, but I am moved by the beauty of the simplicity with which Francis puts the situation.

“I knew a parish priest in Hamburg who was dealing with the beatification cause of a Catholic priest guillotined by the Nazis for teaching children the catechism. After him, in the line of condemned individuals, was a Lutheran pastor who was killed for the same reason. Their blood became mixed. That parish priest told me he had gone to the bishop and said to him: “I will continue to deal with the cause, but for both of them, not just the Catholic priest’s.” This is the ecumenism of blood.”

That we are followers of Jesus, regardless of what Church we belong to is a matter that goes to the bone, into our blood. There we are already one.

“We must try to facilitate people’s faith, rather than control it. Last year in Argentina, I condemned the attitude of some priests who would not baptize the children of unmarried mothers. This is a sick mentality.”

We are not gate-keepers, but each other’s brothers and sisters instead.

“A few months ago, an elderly cardinal said to me: “You have already started the reform of the Curia with your daily masses at St. Martha’s.” This made me think: reform always begins with spiritual and pastoral initiatives rather than with structural changes.”

Structures must be a consequence of life and the best leadership is by example. This point of Pope Francis’ is also in sync with my previous criticisms of his actions being explained away as only “pastoral” and with comments made by Fr. Antonio Spadaro in the New Yorker interview, where he says, when asked about the style-versus-substance debate concerning Pope Francis: “Style is not just the cover of the book. It’s the book itself! Style is the message. The substance is the Gospel. This is what the Gospel looks like.”

¹ Please, note that the following quotes are close to the official English translation, but that I have modified them here and there based on the Italian original – not necessarily in the belief of making them “better” – only with the aim of preserving some of the nuances of how Pope Francis expresses himself.

The riches of poverty

The other day I came across a very interesting article shared by one of my besties – MS – on Facebook. It reproduced the text of a pact signed by 40 bishops in the catacombs of St. Domitilla (the oldest and most extensive of the Roman catacombs) shortly before the Second Vatican Council’s conclusion – “The Pact of the Servant and Poor Church,” also known as “The Pact of the Catacombs.” The core of this group was made up of Brazilian bishops, but it also included several from Europe, Africa, Asia and both North and South America.¹ At its heart, this pact was a commitment made by each signatory to live the evangelical counsel of poverty in their position as bishop of their local church and it echoed a point also emphasized in Vatican II’s Lumen Gentium, which says:²

“Jesus, “though He was by nature God … emptied Himself, taking the nature of a slave”, and “being rich, became poor” for our sakes. Thus, the Church, although it needs human resources to carry out its mission, is not set up to seek earthly glory, but to proclaim, even by its own example, humility and self-sacrifice.”

The following then is my abbreviated version of the pact’s preamble and 13 points:

“We, Bishops meeting at Vatican Council II, being aware of the deficiencies of our life of poverty according to the Gospel, encouraged by one another in this initiative in which each one wants to avoid singularity and presumption, in union with all our brothers in the Episcopate; counting, especially, on the grace and strength of our Lord Jesus Christ, on the prayer of the faithful and priests of our respective diocese; putting ourselves in thought and prayer before the Trinity, commit ourselves to the following:

We will seek to live in accordance with the ordinary manner of our people, regarding housing, food, means of transportation, etc.

We renounce wealth and the appearance thereof, especially in clothing (expensive fabrics and garish colors), and insignia of precious metals.

We will possess neither liquid nor fixed assets in our names; and if it is necessary to possess anything, we will place it under the name of our diocese or other social or charitable works.

We will entrust the financial and material administration of our diocese to a commission of competent lay people conscious of their apostolic role, since we should be pastors and apostles rather than administrators.

We refuse to be called by names or titles that signify grandeur and power. We prefer to be called by the Gospel name “Father”.

We will avoid everything that could appear to confer privilege, priority, or even preference to the rich and powerful.

We will also avoid fostering or flattering the vanity of anyone, whoever they might be, when rewarding or requesting donations, or for any other reason. We will invite our faithful to consider their gifts as normal participation in worship, ministry and social action.

We will give our time, thought, heart, means, etc. to the service of working individuals and groups who are economically weak and underdeveloped, without this being at the expense of other people and groups in the diocese.

We will seek to transform the works of charity into social works based on charity and justice that take everyone into account.

We will endeavor to ensure that government and public services decide on and implement laws, structures and social institutions that are necessary for justice, equality and the full and harmonious development of the whole person and all people.

We commit ourselves to share, according to our ability, in the urgent projects of the dioceses in poor nations; together to always give witness to the Gospel at the international level, by asking for the adoption of economic and cultural structures that do not create poor nations in an ever richer world, but that allow the poor majority to emerge from their poverty.

We pledge to share our life with our brothers and sisters in Christ (priests, religious and laity), so that our ministry constitutes a real service. We will seek out partners so that we can be promoters according to the spirit rather than rulers according to the world. We will try to be present, to be welcoming. We will be open to everyone, whatever their religion.

When we return to our diocese we will present these resolutions to our diocesan priests, asking them to help us with their understanding, collaboration and prayers.

God help us to be faithful.”

When I first read this pact, my immediate reaction was of great admiration for its signatories, who resolve in it to start afresh in their role as bishops, returning to what is fundamental in imitating Jesus and applying the resolutions of Vatican II to themselves with great specificity and individuality. I also appreciated their making this choice together and following the model of the Early Church. In essence, I saw – and see – here that going of an extra mile and that self-noughting that is also set out as an example in Lumen Gentium, where the whole Church is warned not to “[l]et [either] the use of the things of this world [or] attachment to riches, which is against the spirit of evangelical poverty, hinder them in their quest for perfect love.”

In the process of looking up some background on this pact, it has become clear to me that the vast majority of texts that refer to it are ones dissenting from the Catholic Church’s teaching and are critical of its conduct. On the one hand this is not difficult to understand – there are numerous bishops who behave in ways incompatible with this pact’s letter and spirit (or who at least seem to do so) and it can be used as a handy ruler by which to find them wanting. I find such a reading incongruous on two counts: First, this pact is one freely entered into by specific bishops who, probably as a result of participating in the Council, received the grace to impose on themselves specific measures that they felt called to follow. Second, it smacks of a basic disregard to the very spirit in which the pact’s signatories acted, whose desire was to “avoid presumption” and be “aware of the deficiencies of [their] life of poverty.” Furthermore, it flies in the face of Jesus’ own reprimand: “You hypocrite, remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter from your brother’s eye.” (Matthew 7:5). This is in no way to deny or attempt to excuse the unchristian conduct of some bishops, but simply to recognize this document for what it is – the sincere resolution of a group of bishops to renew their commitment to Jesus, instead of waving it around like a weapon.

¹ For scans of a reproduction of the original Portuguese text – Bonaventure Kloppenburg’s 1974 The ecclesiology of Vatican II – see here. While the above is based on the source from the first paragraph, I chose to translate some words differently, taking advantage of the original version’s scans (e.g., I translate “berrante” in point 2 as “garish” instead of “brilliant” and – in point 9 – “beneficência” as “charity”).
² For a very interesting analysis that situates this pact in the context of Benedict XVI’s thought as well as of that of other post-conciliar theologians, see this article.