year of faith – Page 2

Pope Francis: "the" interview

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I believe it will take many weeks and months to digest all Pope Francis has said in the interview granted to Fr. Antonio Spadaro, editor in chief of the Italian Jesuit journal La Civiltà Cattolica, and published simultaneously in multiple Jesuit publications worldwide. As a taster, let me just pick out my favorite parts, from the English version in America magazine:

“I am a sinner whom the Lord has looked upon. I am one who is looked upon by the Lord. I always felt my motto, Miserando atque Eligendo [By Having Mercy and by Choosing Him], was very true for me.”

“According to St. Ignatius, great principles must be embodied in the circumstances of place, time and people. In his own way, John XXIII adopted this attitude with regard to the government of the church, when he repeated the motto, ‘See everything; turn a blind eye to much; correct a little.’”

“[N]ow I hear some people tell me: ‘Do not consult too much, and decide by yourself.’ Instead, I believe that consultation is very important.”

“I see the holiness in the patience of the people of God: a woman who is raising children, a man who works to bring home the bread, the sick, the elderly priests who have so many wounds but have a smile on their faces because they served the Lord, the sisters who work hard and live a hidden sanctity. […] This was the sanctity of my parents: my dad, my mom, my grandmother Rosa who loved me so much. In my breviary I have the last will of my grandmother Rosa, and I read it often. For me it is like a prayer. She is a saint who has suffered so much, also spiritually, and yet always went forward with courage.”

“This church with which we should be thinking is the home of all, not a small chapel that can hold only a small group of selected people. We must not reduce the bosom of the universal church to a nest protecting our mediocrity. And the church is Mother; the church is fruitful. It must be. You see, when I perceive negative behavior in ministers of the church or in consecrated men or women, the first thing that comes to mind is: ‘Here’s an unfruitful bachelor’ or ‘Here’s a spinster.’ They are neither fathers nor mothers, in the sense that they have not been able to give spiritual life. Instead, for example, when I read the life of the Salesian missionaries who went to Patagonia, I read a story of the fullness of life, of fruitfulness.”

“I see clearly that the thing the church needs most today is the ability to heal wounds and to warm the hearts of the faithful; it needs nearness, proximity. I see the church as a field hospital after battle. It is useless to ask a seriously injured person if he has high cholesterol and about the level of his blood sugars! You have to heal his wounds. Then we can talk about everything else. Heal the wounds, heal the wounds…. And you have to start from the ground up.”

“The church sometimes has locked itself up in small things, in small-minded rules. The most important thing is the first proclamation: Jesus Christ has saved you. And the ministers of the church must be ministers of mercy above all. The confessor, for example, is always in danger of being either too much of a rigorist or too lax. Neither is merciful, because neither of them really takes responsibility for the person. The rigorist washes his hands so that he leaves it to the commandment. The loose minister washes his hands by simply saying, ‘This is not a sin’ or something like that. In pastoral ministry we must accompany people, and we must heal their wounds.”

“Instead of being just a church that welcomes and receives by keeping the doors open, let us try also to be a church that finds new roads, that is able to step outside itself and go to those who do not attend Mass, to those who have quit or are indifferent. The ones who quit sometimes do it for reasons that, if properly understood and assessed, can lead to a return. But that takes audacity and courage.”

“A person once asked me, in a provocative manner, if I approved of homosexuality. I replied with another question: ‘Tell me: when God looks at a gay person, does he endorse the existence of this person with love, or reject and condemn this person?’ We must always consider the person. Here we enter into the mystery of the human being. In life, God accompanies persons, and we must accompany them, starting from their situation. It is necessary to accompany them with mercy. When that happens, the Holy Spirit inspires the priest to say the right thing.”

“The dogmatic and moral teachings of the church are not all equivalent. The church’s pastoral ministry cannot be obsessed with the transmission of a disjointed multitude of doctrines to be imposed insistently. Proclamation in a missionary style focuses on the essentials, on the necessary things: this is also what fascinates and attracts more, what makes the heart burn, as it did for the disciples at Emmaus. We have to find a new balance; otherwise even the moral edifice of the church is likely to fall like a house of cards, losing the freshness and fragrance of the Gospel. The proposal of the Gospel must be more simple, profound, radiant. It is from this proposition that the moral consequences then flow.”

“We must walk united with our differences: there is no other way to become one. This is the way of Jesus.”

“Women are asking deep questions that must be addressed. The church cannot be herself without the woman and her role. The woman is essential for the church. Mary, a woman, is more important than the bishops. I say this because we must not confuse the function with the dignity. We must therefore investigate further the role of women in the church. We have to work harder to develop a profound theology of the woman. Only by making this step will it be possible to better reflect on their function within the church. The feminine genius is needed wherever we make important decisions. The challenge today is this: to think about the specific place of women also in those places where the authority of the church is exercised for various areas of the church.”

“[T]here is a temptation to seek God in the past or in a possible future. God is certainly in the past because we can see the footprints. And God is also in the future as a promise. But the ‘concrete’ God, so to speak, is today. For this reason, complaining never helps us find God. The complaints of today about how ‘barbaric’ the world is—these complaints sometimes end up giving birth within the church to desires to establish order in the sense of pure conservation, as a defense. No: God is to be encountered in the world of today.”

“In this quest to seek and find God in all things there is still an area of uncertainty. There must be. If a person says that he met God with total certainty and is not touched by a margin of uncertainty, then this is not good. For me, this is an important key. If one has the answers to all the questions—that is the proof that God is not with him. It means that he is a false prophet using religion for himself. The great leaders of the people of God, like Moses, have always left room for doubt. You must leave room for the Lord, not for our certainties; we must be humble.”

“If the Christian is a restorationist, a legalist, if he wants everything clear and safe, then he will find nothing. Tradition and memory of the past must help us to have the courage to open up new areas to God. Those who today always look for disciplinarian solutions, those who long for an exaggerated doctrinal ‘security,’ those who stubbornly try to recover a past that no longer exists—they have a static and inward-directed view of things. In this way, faith becomes an ideology among other ideologies. I have a dogmatic certainty: God is in every person’s life. God is in everyone’s life. Even if the life of a person has been a disaster, even if it is destroyed by vices, drugs or anything else—God is in this person’s life. You can, you must try to seek God in every human life. Although the life of a person is a land full of thorns and weeds, there is always a space in which the good seed can grow. You have to trust God.”

“[H]uman self-understanding changes with time and so also human consciousness deepens. Let us think of when slavery was accepted or the death penalty was allowed without any problem. So we grow in the understanding of the truth. Exegetes and theologians help the church to mature in her own judgment. Even the other sciences and their development help the church in its growth in understanding. There are ecclesiastical rules and precepts that were once effective, but now they have lost value or meaning. The view of the church’s teaching as a monolith to defend without nuance or different understandings is wrong.”

Wow! I am deeply grateful for having such a loving and holy pope and one whose teaching will, I believe, bear abundant fruit not only for Christians but for all.

Priests as welcomers and accompaniers

This morning Pope Francis met with Rome’s priests at the basilica of St. John Lateran and, following some brief, opening remarks, spent two hours in a Q&A with them. The meeting was private and away from the lenses and microphones of journalist, but details of Pope Francis’ words have been emerging during the course of the day.

To begin with, the priests invited to the meeting were sent a letter that Francis wrote in 2008, while still a cardinal and archbishop of Buenos Aires, in which he reflects on the implications of the Aparecida document on the priesthood. There, Francis starts out by defining the “identity of the priest in relation to a community, with two characteristics. First, as “gift,” as opposed to “delegate” or “representative.” Second, in terms of faithfulness to the call of the Master, instead of “management.”” Francis then emphasizes that identity means belonging: “The priest belongs to the People of God, from which he has been drawn, to which he has been sent, and a part of which he is.” This communitarian aspect is further emphasized in the Aparecida document, which in its §156 affirms that “a constitutive dimension of the Christian event is belonging to a concrete communion in which we can be part of an ongoing experience of discipleship and communion with the successors of the apostles and with the successor of Peter.”

Further along in this preparatory document for today’s meeting, Francis emphasizes the joint importance of truth and mercy, which in the Aparecida document (§199) is presented thus: “to care for the flock entrusted to them and to seek out who have strayed furthest [… that they may be] servant-of-life-priests: who are alert to the needs of the poorest, committed to the defense of the rights of the weakest, and promoters of the culture of solidarity. The need is also for priests full of mercy.” Finally, Francis proposes to priests to be “enamored disciples,” since, “logically the missionary dimension is born from the interior experience of a love of Jesus Christ.” His letter to the Argentinian priests is a beautiful document in its entirety, and the above is meant to serve only as context for the very telegraphic details that have emerged so far from today’s private meeting with the priests of Rome.

The most extensive source of information so far has been an article in today’s Roma Sette, a website of the Diocese of Rome, where the following snippets are shared:

Francis kicked off the Q&A by stating that “he considered himself above all to be a priest, and now as Pope he was afraid of feeling otherwise. “I would be afraid of feeling a bit more important; I am afraid of that, because the devil is cunning … and makes you think you have power, that you can do this and that … But thanks to God, I haven’t yet lost that fear, and if once you see that I have lost it, please, tell me, and if you can’t tell me privately, say it publicly, but say it: ‘Look, convert!’ It’s clear, isn’t it?”.” Wow! This is pretty strong stuff and it paints such a vivid picture – one that reminds me of St. Peter in the Early Church, as its head, but one that listens (cf. Galatians 2:11-14 where Paul says: “And when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face because he clearly was wrong.” – i.e., the “Incident at Antioch”).

A focus again on the “existential peripheries” that Francis has spoken about before. Here, he adds that such peripheries also refer to “weak and poor thought.” Francis also added that “reality is better understood from the periphery and not from the centre, which, instead, runs the risk of degenerating.”

Francis acknowledges the “serious problems of the Church,” but without being pessimistic. “The Church does not crumble. The Church has never been as well as today, it is a beautiful moment for the Church, it is enough to read its history. There are saints recognized even by non-Catholics – let’s think of Blessed Teresa – but there is also the everyday holiness of ordinary mothers and women, of men who work every day for their families, and this brings us hope. Holiness is greater than scandals.” As an example of everyday holiness, he gives the example of a woman he spoke to over the phone the previous day (!), who is a “cleaner at Buenos Aires airport and who supports her drug-addicted, unemployed son: “This is holiness.””

He also speaks about the fatigue that priests feel, remembering the expression John Paul II used in his “Redemptoris Mater,” where he speaks about Mary’s “particular heaviness of heart” (§17). Francis says that “when a priest is in touch with his people, he gets tired. Faced with this tiredness, there is only Jesus’ answer: be with the poor, announce the Gospel and go ahead.” Here Francis also differentiates between different kinds of tiredness: “When a priest is in contact with his people, he works, but he sleeps well. When a priest is not in contact with his people, he works, but he works badly and sleeps badly. … When a priest is in contact with his people, who have many real needs, need for God, then this requires serious effort – but they are the needs of God, no?, that seriously make you tired, and there is no need for sleeping pills.”

Beyond fatigue, priests can also experience what St. John of the Cross called the “Dark Night of the Soul”: “there is a final effort, which is necessary at the moment that there should be triumph. … This happens when a priest questions himself about his existence, he looks within himself at the path he has followed, at the sacrifices he has made, the children he has not had and asks if perhaps he made a mistake, if his life was a failure [… John the Baptist,] in the darkness of his confinement experienced the darkness of his soul, and sent his disciples to ask Jesus if it was He Who awaited him.”

Francis then proposes the following solution both to fatigue and existential darkness: “So, what can a priest do when he lives the experience of John the Baptist? Pray, to the point of falling asleep before the Tabernacle, but stay there.” Also important are “closeness with other priests and closeness of the bishop.” Francis then goes on to underline this last point: “Us bishops have to be close to priests, we have to love our neighbors, and our closest neighbors are the priests. The closest neighbors of the bishop are the priests. [applause] The opposite is true too, eh? [laughter, applause]: the closest neighbor of the priests must be the bishop: the closest neighbor. The bishop says: my closest neighbors are my priests. This exchange is beautiful, no? I believe this to be the most important moment of closeness, between bishop and priests: this moment without words, because there are no words for this fatigue.” Another great piece of advice by Pope Francis, which very much reminds me of the key moment in Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha, where the eponymous protagonist communicates wordlessly with the ferryman Vasudeva in a moment of profound union.

Another remedy against fatigue and darkness is the memory “of one’s vocation, entering seminary, one’s priestly ordination: memory is the life-blood of the Church.” Francis invites all priests to remember their initial falling in love with Jesus, the moment when they first felt Jesus’ gaze on them. “For me this is the key point: that a priest has the capacity to return in memory to his first love. … A Church that loses her memory is an electronic Church, without life.”

Francis also insisted that priest extend a “heartfelt welcome” so that “the faithful feel at home.” Referring in particular to couples who live together outside marriage, Francis emphasized the need for welcome – a welcome in truth. “Always speak the truth, knowing that the truth is not exhausted by a dogmatic definition, but that it inserts itself in the love and the fullness of God.” The priest therefore has to “accompany.” We just have to think of the disciples of Emmaus and how “the Lord has accompanied them and warmed their hearts.”

Here Francis emphasizes the importance of creativity instead of novelty: “[do not] confuse creativity with making something new. Creativity is finding the path to proclaim the Gospel and … this is not easy. It is not simply a question of changing things. It is something different, it comes from the spirit and passes through prayer and dialogue with people, with the faithful. […] The Code of Canon Law give us many, many possibilities, so much freedom to look for these things. … We must find those moments to welcome and receive the faithful, when they enter the parish church for one reason or another.”

Francis also addressed the topic of remarried divorcees: “The problem cannot be reduced merely to a matter of who can receive communion or not, because to pose the question in these terms does not enable an understanding of the real problem. … It is a serious problem regarding the Church’s reponsibility towards families living in this situation. … The Church must now do something to solve the problem of marriage annulment.”

He also warned against economic interests by saying: “There must be a cordial welcome so that those who go to Church feel at home. They feel comfortable and do not feel as if they are being exploited. … When people feel there are economic interests at work, they stay away”.

Finally, Francis advised the priests of his diocese to beware of both severe and lax priests. “Instead, the merciful priest proclaims that ‘God’s truth is this, so to speak, dogmatic or moral truth’, but always accompanied by God’s love and patience. Do not panic – the good God awaits us. … We must always keep in mind the word ‘accompany’ – let us be travelling companions. Conversion always takes place on the street, not in the laboratory”. This, to my mind is a fundamental point – the distinction among lax, strict and merciful – a point I didn’t get before. It made me realize that mercy involves adherence to the truth (which laxity lacks) while loving (which strictness misses).

As a married person, I am grateful to Pope Francis for these profound directions, addressed to the priests of Rome, and I feel that a lot of what he says applies equally to me and is a challenge that I too want to accept and respond to.

UPDATE (18 September 2013): Yesterday several Vatican sources (e.g., VIS, L’Osservatore Romano and Radio Vaticana) have published further details of Pope Francis’ words from the meeting with Roman clergy, which have now been added to the above post.

Pope Francis’ letter to non-believers

That Pope Francis cares deeply for non-believers¹ is nothing new, with his previous declaration that Jesus has redeemed atheists too having lead both to very positive responses and to a great media muddle. In today’s issue of the Italian newspaper La Repubblica, Francis continues in this dialogue with non-believers by responding to questions sent to him by the atheist journalist Eugenio Scalfari regarding Francis’ encyclical Lumen Fidei, and I would like to share my favorite parts of his letter with you here.²

Francis starts out by arguing that dialogue between the followers of Jesus and non-believers is “necessary and valuable” today for two reasons: First, the paradox that “Christian faith, whose novelty and impact on human life have since the beginning been expressed through the symbol of light, has become branded as the darkness of superstition that is opposed to the light of reason,” resulting in an absence of communication between Christian and Enlightenment-based contemporary culture. Second, for those who seek “to follow Jesus in the light of faith, […] this dialogue is not a secondary accessory[, but …] an intimate and indispensable expression of faith instead.” This, Francis argues, is expressed by §34 of Lumen Fidei, from which he proceeds to quote:

“Clearly, then, faith is not intransigent, but grows in respectful coexistence with others. One who believes may not be presumptuous; on the contrary, truth leads to humility, since believers know that, rather than ourselves possessing truth, it is truth which embraces and possesses us. Far from making us inflexible, the security of faith sets us on a journey; it enables witness and dialogue with all.”

After a beautiful exposition of how Francis himself came to believe in God and how the Christian faith has Jesus’ incarnation and resurrection at its heart, through which all of humanity is shown God’s love and connectedness to each other – to every single human being,³ he proceeds to answering the three questions Scalfari put to him.

The first of Scalfari’s questions regards whether “the God of Christians forgives those who don’t believe and don’t seek faith.” Here Francis’s response, which I particularly like, is the following:

“Given that – and this is the fundamental point – the mercy of God has no limits if one turns to Him with a sincere and contrite heart, the question for those who don’t believe in God is about obeying one’s own conscience. Sin, also for those who don’t have faith, occurs when one goes against conscience. Listening and obeying to it means, in fact, taking decisions in the face of what becomes understood as good or as bad. And it is on the basis of this decision that the goodness or evil of our actions plays out.”

Wow! While this is in some sense nothing more than what the Catechism has been saying explicitly since Vatican II, having it presented in the above universal way is great. I have often argued in exactly these terms and have faced quizzical looks from other Catholics, who wouldn’t quite believe it. It also confirms me in the answer I have given to several of my best, atheist or agnostic friends when they have asked me whether they should want to believe in God, which was “no,” with the caveat of seeking to be honest in front of their consciences.

Scalfari’s second question asks whether “thinking that there is no absolute and therefore no absolute truth either, but only a series of relative and subjective truths, is a mistake or a sin.” Great question! 🙂 To this Francis responds by saying:

“To begin with, I wouldn’t talk, not even to those who believe, about “absolute” truth, in the sense that the absolute is that which is disconnected, which is devoid of any relation. Now, the truth, according to Christian faith, is the love of God for us in Jesus Christ. Therefore, the truth is a relationship! It is also true that each one of us takes it, the truth, and expresses it by departing from oneself: from one’s history and culture, the circumstances in which one lives, etc. This does not mean though that the truth is variable and subjective. Instead, it means that it gives itself to us always and only as a journey and a life. Didn’t maybe Jesus say the same: “I am the way and the truth and the life.”?⁴ In other words, truth, being ultimately all one with love, requires humility and openness when sought, accepted and expressed. Therefore, it is necessary to understand each other’s terminology better, and, maybe, to avoid the constraints of an opposition that is … absolute, deepen the framing of the question. I believe that this is absolutely necessary today, so that a serene and constructive dialogue can take place.”

Another fantastic answer! Anyone who has tried to pigeonhole Francis as a populist, as opposed to the thinker that Benedict XVI undoubtedly is, can proceed to eat their own words …

The third, and final of Scalfari’s questions asks whether “the disappearance of humans from Earth would also mean a disappearance of thought that is capable of thinking God.” Here, Francis’ answer, which I won’t translate in full, revolves around arguing that, in his experience and those of many others, God is not an idea, but a “reality with a capital ‘R’.” Instead of going into more detail here, I’d instead like to translate Francis’ closing thoughts, before which he expresses his hope that his reflections would be “received as a tentative and provisional response, but one that is sincere and faithful to the invitation of walking along a stretch of road together.”:

“The Church, believe me, in spite of all the slowness, the unfaithfulness, the mistakes and sins that it may have committed and may yet commit in those who compose it, has no other meaning and end than that of living and giving testimony to Jesus: Him who has been sent by the Father “to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord” (Luke 4:18-19).”

I have to say I am delighted by these words of Pope Francis – both the emphasis on conscience that I have held dear for a long time and the insights about truth as relationship and love – and I would be keen to hear from my atheist, agnostic, humanist (and even Christian 🙂 friends what they made of them.

UPDATE (12 Sept. 2013): This morning Vatican Radio broadcast a short interview with Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi on the topic of Pope Francis’ letter discussed above (which is now available in an official English translation here). Ravasi, who leads the Pontifical Council for Culture and in its context the “Courtyard of the Gentiles” initiative, whose aim is dialogue with non-believers, naturally welcomed Francis’ letter with great positivity, including it among the initiatives foundational documents. He then also proceeds to elaborate on the, to my mind key, point Francis made about the truth being a relationship:

“Already Plato affirmed [that the truth is a relationship] when he said that the chariot of the soul runs along the plane of truth, which means that the truth is not a cold reality like a precious stone that you can put in your pocket. Instead, it is an immense plane, a horizon – or, to use another image by a writer from the last century⁵ – we can say that the truth is a sea that one enters and navigates. So, in this light, I believe that the concept of truth not as absolute, but personal, interpersonal, will be very fruitful for dialogue, without losing the dimension of objectivity, of identity in itself, typical of the truth.”

¹ Picking what term to use to refer to those who do not believe in God is tricky and I am going with the term Francis is using himself, not necessarily because I believe it is the most appropriate one, but because my aim here is to share his message with you today. I am mindful though of Prof. Cox’s point about the undesirability of negative labels, but since the positive alternatives (e.g., humanist) may not be self-applied by all whom the Pope intends to address here, I am sticking with his terminology. If you belong to his target audience (and to some extent everyone does – including me, a Catholic) and have a suggestion for what term to use, please, let me know.
² Since I haven’t found an English translation of this article yet, the following quotes are my own crude translations, for which I apologize in advance.
³ I’d like to return to this great synthesis of Christianity in a future post and, if you understand Italian, I’d wholeheartedly recommend reading the full letter to you straight-away.
⁴ John 14:6.
⁵ Ravasi refers to this quote in an earlier talk, where he attributes it to Musil’s The Man Without Qualities, although I couldn’t find it there.

The sickness of the Pharisees

Pope Francis’ homilies yesterday and today are a pair of true gems and since they have filled me with joy, I’d like to share their highlights here with you.

This morning Francis starts out by warning against various flavors of Christianity that don’t have the person of Jesus at their center – in other words, that are not honest! – and that get bogged down in paraphernalia. Their first type is what I’d call headless Christians:

“The Pharisees of today’s Gospel (Luke 6:1-5) make so many commandments the centre of their religiosity. [… T]hose who have the sickness of the Pharisees and are Christians that put their faith, their religiosity in so many commandments, so many. ‘Ah, I have to do this, I have to do this, I have to do this. Christians of this attitude … ‘But why do you do this?’ – ‘No, it must be done!’ – ‘But why?’ – ‘Ah, I don’t know, but it must be done.’ And Jesus – where is He? A commandment is valid if it comes from Jesus: I do this because the Lord wants me to do this. But if I am a Christian without Christ, I do this and I don’t know why I have to do it.”

Then Francis warns against what I’d say are procedural Christians:

“There are other Christians without Christ: those who only seek devotions … But Jesus is not there. If your devotions bring you to Christ, that works. But if you remain there [in those devotions], something’s wrong.”

Finally, there are the Christians 2.0 who seek novelty for its own sake:

“[Then there are t]hose who seek things that are a little uncommon, a little special, that go back to private revelations, while Revelation concluded with the New Testament. Such a spectacle of revelation, to hear new things [is misguided. Instead,] take the Gospel!”

With the wrong approaches ridiculed, Francis turns to how to tell whether one is on the right track:

“‘But Father, what is the rule for being a Christian with Christ, and not becoming a Christian without Christ. What is the sign of a person that is a Christian with Christ?’ The rule is simple: only that which brings you to Jesus is valid, and only that is valid that comes from Jesus. Jesus is the centre.”

A consequence then of such a centeredness on Jesus is joy:

“The Christian is fundamentally joyful. [… To be sure], there are truly moments of crucifixion, moments of pain – but there is ever that profound peace of joy, because Christian life is lived as a celebration, like the nuptial union of Christ with the Church.”

Getting rid of the clutter that has accumulated around following Jesus and seeking to imitate Him honestly and consciously will not annihilate difficulties, but will lead to profound peace and joy. I wish this for myself as much as I wish its consequences for everyone – especially those who endure the most difficult circumstances in war-torn parts of the world.

The Trinity – the mystery of love

Chagall abraham angels

Imagine coming across a popular science article containing the following:

“Science says light is “strange.” According to Albert Einstein, light is somehow also a stream of particles but not a stream of particles.”

You’d hardly think that you were reading the work of an award-winning journalist and would instead be checking whether the piece was a satire on the lack of science literacy.

Sadly, the same doesn’t seem to apply when it comes to the coverage of religion, since the above is a transposition of the following excerpt from an article published on the CNN Belief Blog yesterday:

“Christianity says the Trinity is a “mystery” of faith. According to Christian tradition, God begets a son who is somehow also Him but not Him.”

Not only is the source an established news broadcaster, but the author himself – Jeffrey Weiss – is described as “an award-winning religion reporter,” and – ironically – there is no suggestion of parody in the piece.

Instead of having a go at the article piece by piece, let me try to say what I understand by saying that God is both three and one. It is always easier just to mock than to put one’s neck on the line by being constructive, so I’ll take a risk and open myself to criticism next.

First, let me say that the Trinity is a mystery. What I don’t mean by that though is that it cannot be thought or spoken about, that it is irrational or that stating that it is a mystery is a conversation stopper. The universe too is full of mystery and while science is making tremendous progress in understanding it better and better, there are still many phenomena that we cannot fully explain (e.g., how does anesthesia work, what happened during the Planck epoch, what causes a reversal in the Earth’s magnetic field’s polarity, etc.). You could say that these phenomena are mysteries. What would be understood by that is that something about them eludes our explanatory capacity and, most likely, that we are trying to get a better understanding of them.

It is in this sense that the Trinity is a mystery, and the fact that our imperfect grasp of it fuels the desire of Christians to deepen their understanding, rather than being an obstacle to it, can be seen easily if one samples not only the output of theological work but also the insights of mystics and saints.

Before proceeding to share examples of Christian thought about the Trinity, let me put my own cards on the table (which, naturally, have their source in the experiences and thoughts of others :). I believe that the Christian teaching about God being both three and one is all about expressing core aspects of what love is, since God is Love. Love necessarily requires more than one party and is a dynamic relationship. Furthermore, it is a relationship in which change is fueled by loss and gain, by nothingness and being. When I take my son to the playground, instead of reading that next book or sleeping, I am losing my selfish plans (and in some sense annihilating that part of my self that was invested in them) and instead giving part of my self (that part which instead of pursuing my own plans will now chase him around a playground) to him. In some sense, as a result of my love for my son, part of me becomes part of him. However, when love is reciprocated, the element of loss, which is real, becomes compensated for, and – in this example – the laughter of my son, his joy, his wellbeing return to me as gifts from him and close the cycle started by my giving up on reading at the beginning of this story. Finally, the exchange of self that – motivated by love – took place here, is real in the sense that what was lost by one and gained by another are real and substantially change them. In some sense the exchange itself – the relationship – is as real as the persons between which it took place.

With an exposition of love in the above terms, the Trinity can be seen as its reductio ad absurdum, where the Father gives all of himself to the Son (thereby losing himself completely) and the Son reciprocates the gift by giving himself fully to the Father in return. The Holy Spirit then is the relationship of the Father and the Son personified, and by simultaneously not being and being, the three persons of the Trinity are the one God who is.

Such a conception of the Trinity makes all relationships of love be modeled on the innermost life of God, and while it is complex and abstract, it is no more so than theories of contemporary physics.¹ St. Gregory of Nazianzus (in the 4th century AD!) refers to the Trinity as “the infinite co-naturality of three infinites” (a phrase any thinker could be proud of) and Blessed Pope John Paul II explains the motive for such trinity: “God is one, but not alone.” That relationships are the key to the Trinity is also apparent already in St. Augustine, who equates love with the Trinity by saying: “If you see love, you see the Trinity. Since you see someone who loves, someone who is loved, and the love uniting them.” Augustine then proceeds to underline how completely the persons of the Trinity are “co-natural,” by saying that the Father “is not called Father with reference to himself but only in relation to the Son; seen by himself he is simply God.” (De Trinitate VII, 1, 2), which the then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger explains as:

“‘Father’ is purely a concept of relationship. Only in being-for the other is he Father; in his own being-in-himself he is simply God. Person is the pure relation of being related, nothing else. Relationship is not something extra added to the person, as it is with us; it only exists at all as relatedness.” (Introduction to Christianity)

In summary, and in Chiara Lubich’s words, the Trinity is revealed to us “as unconditional, reciprocal self-giving, as mutual loving, self-emptying out of love, as total and eternal communion.” It is a mystery, but one that speaks volumes about what Christianity means both by love and by God and what relationships it strives towards already in the here and now.

¹ And I am not saying that theology is physics, but merely drawing a comparison between the level of intuitiveness and simplicity of their concepts.

Kandinsky: innermost necessity of the soul

[Warning: long read :)] Wassily Kandinsky, the father of abstract painting, is among those artists whom I have greatest affinity to, not for some specific reason, but simply because of the persistent bond that I feel between his work and myself. Looking at a piece like “Composition VIII” or at “St George I,” a reproduction of which we have in our living room, is always an experience that is hard to describe and that I prefer to leave unverbalized.

A couple of days ago I then came across a video from 1926 of him painting, which was a completely unexpected treat (thanks, @openculture!) and which lead me to his book “Point and line to plane,” where he gives the following, stunning definition of the point:

“The geometric point is an invisible thing. Therefore, it must be defined as an incorporeal thing. Considered in terms of substance, it equals zero. Hidden in this zero, however, are various attributes which are “human” in nature. We think of this zero — the geometric point — in relation to the greatest possible brevity, i.e., to the highest degree of restraint which, nevertheless, speaks. Thus we look upon the geometric point as the ultimate and most singular union of silence and speech. […] In the flow of speech, the point symbolizes interruption, non-existence The (negative element), and at the same time it forms a bridge from one existence to another (positive element). In writing, this constitutes its inner significance.”

This is clearly neither a mathematical definition, nor a scientific one (invisible=incorporeal?), but a phenomenological, even spiritual one. It is more like what a close friend would say in a eulogy, and that is how I felt when reading this book: to Kandinsky the point, line and plane were not some hypothetical concepts, but intimate friends and collaborators. His writing about them at times sounds like a person’s memoirs, rather than detached rationalizations of a theorist. Needless to say, I was hooked, and then delighted when I came to reading the foreword to the book (which I don’t tend to do as a rule) and discovering that “Point and line to plane” was the sequel to “On the spiritual in art.” This fact alone pointed me to another interpretative key for the above passage about the point, and its parallels with the person of Jesus and indeed with the Trinity jumped out at me. The process of non-existence, while simultaneously bridging between existences is precisely the dynamic between the persons of the Trinity (each emptying themselves – becoming nothing¹ – out of love for the other).

If you have any interest in art, I can’t recommend “On the spiritual in art” too highly – not only is it an insight into one of the greatest painters of all time, but, to my mind, it is of the order of Plato’s Republic in terms of foundation myths.

Kandinsky starts out by emphasizing the necessity to act in the present moment (much like Le Corbusier insisted too), instead of attempting to imitate the past, which he depicts in harsh terms:

“[E]very cultural period creates art of its own, which can never be repeated again. An effort to revive art-principles of the past, at best, can only result in works of art resembling a still-born child. […] The sculptor’s attempts to employ Greek principles can only achieve a similarity in form, while the work itself remains for all time without a soul.”

Within the space of a couple of pages from the beginning, Kandinsky then proceeds to present his view of the hierarchy of spiritual life, which he equates with that of artistic life, since “[the] grammar of painting [… are] the rules of the inner necessity […] of the soul.”:

“A large acute triangle divided into unequal segments, the narrowest one pointing upwards, is a schematically correct representation of spiritual life. The lower the segment the larger, wider, higher, and more embracing will be the other parts of the triangle. The entire triangle moves slowly, almost invisible, forward and upward and where the apex was “today,” the second segment is going to be “tomorrow,” that is to say, that which today can be understood only by the apex, and which to the rest of the triangle seems an incomprehensible gibberish, tomorrow forms the true and sensitive life of the second segment.

At the apex of the top segment, sometimes one man stands entirely alone. His joyous vision corresponds to a vast inner sorrow, and even those, who are closest to him, do not comprehend him. […] Artists are to be found in every segment of this imaginary triangle. Each one of these artists, who can see beyond the limits of his present stage, in this segment of spiritual evolution is a prophet to those surrounding him and helps to move forward the ever obstinate carload of humanity. However, one of those not possessed by such vision, or misusing it for base purposes and reasons, when he closes the triangle may be easily understood by his fellow men and even acclaimed. The larger the segment (that is, the lower it lies in the triangle), the greater is the number of people to comprehend the words of the artist. In spite of it and correspondingly every group consciously or unconsciously hungers for spiritual food.”

While the above is unquestionably elitist, there are several details to note, which, I believe, hint at a dichotomy with the universally-accessible. First, the interconnectedness of the entire universe of spiritual ascent and the impact of its protagonists on all (“where the apex was “today,” the second segment is going to be “tomorrow.””). Second, the positive view of everyone’s potential to comprehend advances in art, albeit with a delay (“[T]hat which today […] to the rest of the triangle seems an incomprehensible gibberish, tomorrow forms the true and sensitive life of the second segment.”). Third, the desire of all for genuine spiritual food, in spite of some contenting themselves with fakes. Added to the above pull towards democratization of the elite striving for spiritual/artistic progress is also his declaration that “[a]nyone, who absorbs the innermost hidden treasures of art, is an enviable partner in building the spiritual pyramid, which is meant to reach into heaven.”

This tension is further carried forward, when Kandinsky argues that there is only a single criterion for what makes eternal art – its “inner necessity” from the perspective of its author:

“The artist should be blind to the importance of “recognition” or “non-recognition” and deaf to the teachings and demands of the time. His eye should be directed to his inner life and his ear should harken to the words of the inner necessity. Then, he will resort with equal ease to every means and achieve his end. […] All means are sacred when called upon by innermost necessity.”

““[O]uter necessity” […] can never lead beyond the limits of the conventional, that is, traditional “beauty” only. The “inner necessity” does not know such limits and, for this reason, often creates results which are conventionally termed “ugly.” “Ugly” is, therefore, only a conventional term which continues to lead a sham life long after the inner necessity […] has been superseded. At that time, everything was considered ugly if it was not connected with the inner necessity of the time, and anything so connected was termed beautiful. Everything, which appeals to the inner necessity is already beautiful by its virtue, and will be recognized sooner or later.”

“As no “dissonant notes” exist in music, nor in painting “inharmony,” in these two art expressions every sound, whether harmony or discord, is beautiful (appropriate), if it results from inner need. The inner value of each and every movement will soon be felt, as the inner beauty replaces the sensuous aspect. Thus, “ugly” movements suddenly appear beautiful, from which an undreamed power and vital force will burst forth instantly.”

Rooting perfection in “inner necessity” also changes the criteria by which art is judged and the means that are justified for its pursuit:

“A “perfect drawing” is the one where nothing can be changed without destroying the essential inner life, quite irrespective of whether this drawing contradicts our conception of anatomy, botany, or other sciences.”

“Likewise, colours should be used not because they are true to nature but only because the colour harmony is required by the paintings individually. The artist is not only justified in using any form necessary for his purposes, but it is his very duty to do so. Neither anatomical correctness nor any basic overthrow of scientific statements are necessary, only the artist’s unlimited freedom in the selection of his means.”

“This unlimited freedom must be based on inner necessity (which is called honesty). This is not only the principle of art but of life. This principle is the great sword of the superman with which he fights the Philistines.”

More than anything, the above reminds me of St. Augustine’s most famous dictum: “Love and then what you will, do,” which we could put into Kandinsky’s mouth as “Be honest and then what you will, paint,” without incurring any contradiction with his own words.

I have to say that reading “On the spiritual in art” has made me feel even closer to Kandinsky and has armed me with new means, with which I can revisit his paintings (and those of others!) in an attempt to connect with the innermost necessity that lead to their creation.

¹ This self-emptying – kenosis – is explicitly indicated in St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians (2:5-9) and beautifully explained also by Hans Urs von Balthasar: “The Father, in uttering and surrendering himself without reserve, does not lose himself. He does not extinguish himself by self-giving, just as he does not keep back anything of himself either. For in this self surrender he is the whole divine essence. Here we see both God’s infinite power and his powerlessness; he cannot be God in any other way but in this “kenosis” within the Godhead itself.” (Theo-Drama: Theological Dramatic Theory: The Action Vol 4).

Against against understanding

You know the caricatures of religious people that Richard Dawkins battles like windmills? Well, I have just read a blog post by one of them. He even self-applied the label “Catholic” and had his missive published in the “National Catholic Register” … Richard, all is forgiven! I’m with you to un-delude this guy – you can even have him as an atheist at the end!

“The world burns because nobody is willing to burn for it.”

“[We are not] to dialogue with over a billion people whose lives are dictated by a false religion and a false ideology, an ideology that threatens to burn the world. [We are not asked] to understand them better.”

“God commissioned [us] to convert the world, not to dialogue with it.”

“There is no antidote to error but truth.”

“We should raise money to send missionaries and pray for their souls when they perish for the effort, and then send more missionaries.”

No, these aren’t the words of Abu Qatada, but those of a “Catholic” blogger.

Let me just be clear about one thing – the above are not the words of a Catholic. Being a Catholic is “not to have a ‘label’ but to live and testify to faith in prayer, in works of charity, in the promotion of justice, in doing good,” as Pope Francis is quoted in another article, ironically on the same website. Calling for “conversion, not dialogue,” a refraining from understanding and raising money to send missionaries to their death are not “works of charity, the promotion of justice, [or] doing good.”

And if that weren’t enough, the author of the above expletives disqualifies himself from the Catholic life by distancing himself from the Church’s teaching: “Well, if we listen to many Church leaders, we hear that we should seek to understand them better. […] And of course, we should seek to dialogue with them. Dialogue, dialogue solves everything. Baloney.” Well, not just any old church leader, but Pope Francis himself, who has been explicit about the Church’s desire to understand and dialogue not only with Muslims, but also with members of other religions, Christian denominations, agnostics and atheists. Everyone!

Does that mean that the Catholic Church and its leaders are not interested in spreading the Good News and in bringing Jesus to all, or as the blog’s author puts it in his closing paragraph:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. Do we love the world enough to even tell them about Him?”

Now that’s baloney (in the parlance of our times). Pope Francis is monomaniacally focused on Jesus and on pointing to him at every opportunity. Just look at his daily homilies, where the word Jesus is by far the most frequently used. And you don’t need to look any further back than his last Angelus message, delivered only two days ago to see what he is all about:

“Jesus tells us that there is a door to enter into the family of God. This door is Jesus. Everyone is invited to enter this door, to go through the door of faith, to enter into his life and to allow Jesus into their lives, so that he may transform them, renew them and give them full and lasting joy.”

But it is an invitation, not a conquest, a desire for friendship, not a call to use force. The basis is understanding, compassion, friendship. To look at Jesus and infer from His words that He wants us to make others believe in Him is not having listened to Him at all. Just like Jesus didn’t set out to kidnap the apostles with a cohort of hired muscle, so we too need to invite instead of “burn and perish.”

LCWR "systems thinking" – the good, the bad and the ugly

The Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) is an umbrella organization founded in 1956 by the Vatican and counting the leaders of 1500 congregations of women religious in the US as its members (spanning over 80% of all nuns and sisters in the country). Between April 2008 and July 2011 it has been under investigation by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), which has found “serious doctrinal problems” and “a diminution of the fundamental Christological center and focus of religious consecration which leads, in turn, to a loss of a “constant and lively sense of the Church” among some Religious.” In other words, the CDF are saying that the LCWR are taking Christ out of Christianity …

Among the multiple changes mandated by the CDF, the withdrawal of the LCWR’s “Systems Thinking Handbook” was one that particularly caught my eye, also because there are multiple references to it in the CDF’s doctrinal assessment and because its title alone makes me nervous. And as soon as I started reading it, my expectations were not only met but, sadly, exceeded and I very soon came to reading the text not with a question about whether the CDF were hounding the poor LCWR, but about why they haven’t enforced changes already. Roundabout the same point on my way through the “handbook,” I remembered my Aristotle professor and his admonition to apply the principle of charity when faced with another’s thoughts and it is that alone, which resulted in my take including a “the good” section.¹

So, let me start with the slimmest slice from the pie that is this Handbook – the good. Here what I am taking away from having read the 26-page publication is that its motives are good and that the intention behind the methods and attitudes presented in it is to bring about change that goes to the root causes of suffering and injustice:

“This is why it is necessary not only to feed the hungry or house the homeless but also to address the systemic relationships that result in social ills like poverty, homelessness, and hunger.”

Next, let’s move on to the bad (yes, that was it as far as the good is concerned), where the text unfortunately offers far richer pickings.

First, there is a ideologization already of the basic concept of “system” that is at the heart of this Handbook (an odd fact by itself, given the prominence of this text in an organization with canonical status):

“A ‘system’ is an entity that maintains its existence and functions as a whole through the interaction of its parts. The behavior of a system depends on the total structure. The interrelationship among the parts of a system, therefore, must be continually sustained for the system to exist. Systems are purposeful, open, counterintuitive, multidimensional, and have emergent properties not found in any of the parts by themselves. … systems thinking will prevent us from unconsciously employing the same mental models that are causing the problems we want to solve.”

While the first three sentences are pretty vanilla, and essentially paraphrase the opening paragraph of the Wikipedia definition, there is an immediate investment of the term with adjectives like “open” (what about closed systems) and “counterintuitive” (what about a simple system, like that of tea brewing: tea leaves + boiling water –> tea). The paragraph then concludes with an oxymoronic flourish: “systems thinking will prevent us from unconsciously employing the same mental models that are causing the problems we want to solve,” which Freud would have had a lot of fun with.²

Second, there are frequent counterpositions of “Western thought” on the one hand and “Organic thought” on the other, where the former is introduced thus:

“The limits of a short article do not allow for an adequate overview of the development of Western thought. We can safely say, however, that for almost a thousand years, Western thought has interpreted reality from the perspective of a worldview characterized by dualism and hierarchy. […] The ultimate result was a learned inability to think in any other than linear, dualistic, and hierarchical ways when dealing with problems, organizing ideas or work, and in structuring society, church, or our religious congregations. […] This way of seeing reality thus became an unconscious filter for the Western mind, a filter that made it easy to judge immediately what fit or did not fit a particular situation […] The world was stable and sure, a machine-like structure of predetermined and fixed relationships. The human mind could comprehend the universe in its entirety.”

The fault for the above blinkered and recalcitrant nature of “Western thought” is laid at the feet of Plato and Aristotle and all who followed them until the 1960s. The solution put forward by the LCWR is “Organic thought”:

“Th[e] “Organic” mental model prefers to look at wholes instead of parts, at processes instead of substances. [… T]he “Organic” mental model values chaos, connectedness, process, inclusivity, relationship, and a non-linear expression of authority.”

Commenting on the above is quite a stress test for my desire to apply the principle of charity, as a result of which I’d like to suggest that it is dramatically ill-informed and epically naïve. To suggest that Plato (i.e., mostly Plato’s Socrates; not to mention over two millennia of thinkers following him) had a sense of certainty, of the universe being “machine-like” and of “comprehend[ing] the universe in its entirety” is a claim that can only be made in the absence of any direct experience of his and his successors’ thought. In his Apology, Plato’s Socrates famously says “I do not believe that I know anything,” and even the concept of “system,” so central to the LCWR handbook, is extensively dealt with already by Aristotle.³ This is not to mention the importance attributed to the whole and its interrelationships in Christian sources, starting from St. Paul (cf. 1 Corinthians 12:12-26), via St. Hildegard (“God has arranged all things in the world in consideration of everything else.”) and St. Francis (who sings of fraternal relationships with creation) to Teilhard de Chardin’s noosphere. To argue that pre-late-20th-century thought was linear, deterministic and endowed with a sense of its own omniscience is simply false and divorced from facts.

Third, there is an attempt to anchor the Hadbook’s approach to Vatican II and specifically to it’s Lumen Gentium, which – it is claimed – “consciously grounded ecclesiology in the holistic image of the “People of God,” rather than in the “top down” definitions of the past […] defined by dualism and hierarchy.” With the principle of charity at breaking point, I can at best see this statement as being an ultra-selective reading of Lumen Gentium that essentially omits its extensive third chapter (“On Hierarchical Structure”) and all of its numerous references to the role of the Church’s hierarchy not only in Lumen Gentium but also in all of the other Vatican II documents. No matter how hard I try, I cannot even chalk this up to the authors of the Handbook having missed some subtle in-between-the-lines content, as Lumen Gentium states quite directly that: “Bishops […] presid[e] in place of God over the flock, whose shepherds they are, as teachers for doctrine, priests for sacred worship, and ministers for governing. […] In the bishops, therefore [… Jesus], is present in the midst of those who believe.” Pretty hard to read this as a “holistic,” a-hierarchical twist versus the preceding 2000 years of the Church’s nature.

Finally, let’s turn to the “ugly,” where, I’m afraid, my threadbare principle–of–charity gloves may not be too effective anymore. While the above is confused and both theologically and philosophically lacking both in breadth and comprehension, the most serious issue with the Handbook is the following passage:

“[Sisters g]rounded in [“Western mind”] theology […] believe that the celebration of Eucharist is the summit of worship and at the core of what holds us together as a group. [… Sisters] situated within [an “Organic” mental model] believe that the celebration of Eucharist is so bound up with a church structure caught in negative aspects of the Western mind they can no longer participate with a sense of integrity [… and] believe that as long as men control women’s lives, there will be no justice. […]

Since so much of our identity is bound up with shared theological assumptions manifested in group behaviors and practices, who we are as a group can be called into question if we do not believe the same things. The function of ritual is to bring to visibility our deepest beliefs through symbolic word and action. Tension over which symbolic acts and words to use reveals differences at the level of belief. Such differences call into question our identity at the core of who we are. They push us to ask, “Is there something at the heart of who we are which is beyond a common Eucharistic theology and which holds us together?””

Err … No! For a Catholic to suggest that there may be something beyond the Eucharist as a means of bringing about unity is simply nonsensical. The Church is (as in identity) the Mystical Body of Christ and “[r]eally partaking of the body of the Lord in the breaking of the Eucharistic bread, we are taken up into communion with Him and with one another. “Because the bread is one, we though many, are one body, all of us who partake of the one bread”. In this way all of us are made members of His Body, “but severally members one of another”.” At least that is how Lumen Gentium (the only magisterial document referred to by the LCWR) puts it. And, no, it doesn’t then go on to say “or whatever else you might like to do instead” …

The above passage does another, worrying thing – i.e., it suggests that a problem with the Eucharist is that it is an instance of “men control[ling] women’s lives.” Would the authors of the Handbook have objected to receiving the Eucharist out of Jesus’ hands at the Last Supper? Would they have turned to him and said: “Sorry, mate, we won’t let you control us and deprive us of justice!” Maybe …

The ugly thing here, to my mind, is not so much that the LCWR leadership publishes a text like this Handbook, but that it considers their views to be consistent with “the Gospel of Jesus,” justified by Vatican II teaching and acceptable in the context of a Vatican-incorporated body. While their intentions are good, their reasoning is deeply flawed and their beliefs about the Eucharist are categorically not Catholic. This is unquestionably not a case of the CDF oppressing nuns, but instead a crystal clear case of an institution with canonical status having gone off the rails and placed their beliefs outside the Church (and done so with some margin). I sincerely hope that the women religious they claim to represent either leave the LCWR (if they don’t share its beliefs) or openly declare their loss of Catholic orthodoxy.

¹ In what follows, I will only reflect on the content of this publication and I have no intention to make inferences about the work of women religious in the US, about the doctrinal positions of the congregations whose leaders are members of the LCWR or about how the CDF have managed their investigation.
² The rest of the Handbook is peppered with plentiful displays of naïveté, such as a section entitled “The Need to See Things as They Really Are” or the list of the “Laws of Systems Thinking” of which I’d just pick out these three: “6. Faster is slower,” “9. Dividing an elephant in half does not produce two small elephants,” and “10. There is no blame” :|.
³ E.g., see the following quote from his Politics: “the whole is of necessity prior to the part; for example, if the whole body be destroyed, there will be no foot or hand, except in an equivocal sense, as we might speak of a stone hand; for when destroyed the hand will be no better than that.”

Let’s be friends (even if we disagree)

Francis japanese

I know I keep talking about Pope Francis, but I can’t help telling you about his meeting with a group of Japanese school kids yesterday, since his words there were an even further crystalized and simplified exposition of the ideas he shared in the message to Muslims last month.

First, it’s worth noting a bit of the back story though. The 200 pupils – both Buddhist and Christian – of the Seibu Gakuen Bunri Junior High School from Tokyo had planned a trip to Rome long before the Vatican announced that Pope Francis wouldn’t be holding general audiences during the month of August. Not wanting to disappoint them, Francis instead met just with their small group yesterday in the courtyard of the Vatican’s Apostolic Palace.

To begin with, Francis praised them for their visiting a foreign country, since:

“to meet other people, other cultures is always good for us, it helps us grow. And, why? Because if we are isolated in ourselves we only have what we have, we cannot grow culturally; instead, if we go in search of other people, other cultures, other ways of thinking, other religious, we come out of ourselves and begin that beautiful adventure that is called “dialogue”.”

Then, he moved on to the core of his short talk, where he proposes meekness as the method of dialogue – a subject he has spoken of at least a dozen timed during his morning homilies:

“And what is the most profound attitude that we should have in order to dialogue and not fight? Meekness, the ability to find people, to find culture, with peace; the ability to make intelligent questions: “Why do you think this way?” “Why does this culture does that?” To listen to others and then talk. First listen, then talk. All of this is meekness.”

His next words though are what really caught my attention since they embody the essence of how dialogue must be an activity among friends and how its purpose is mutual understanding rather than conquest or proselytizing:

“And if you do not think like me – well, you know … I think in a different way, you do not convince me – but we are still friends, I have listened to how you think and you have listened to how I think.”

Having the head of the Catholic Church lay out his view of and expectations from dialogue in this simple way is a big deal. While these ideas are not new by any means, their plain exposition here leaves little room for misinterpretation and is a great contribution to the development of closer relationships not only between believers of different faiths but also none.

Finally, Francis wraps up his address by pointing to the ultimate end of dialogue, which is peace: “This dialogue is what makes peace. You cannot have peace without dialogue. All wars, all struggles, all problems that are not resolved, with which we face, are due to a lack of dialogue. When there is a problem, dialogue: this makes peace.”

It’s only pastoral …

Pope Francis has unquestionably introduced a dramatic change in what the pope does or does not do. He travelled back from the conclave on the bus with the cardinals who elected him, he asked the crowd in St. Peter’s square to bless him during his first moments as pope, the next day he went to pay his bill in the hotel where he stayed before the conclave, he phoned his newsagent back in Buenos Aires to cancel his newspaper subscription, he skipped a concert organized in his honor, he has been inviting vatican staff to join him for daily morning mass, he has had summaries and excerpts from his impromptu homilies published shortly after he delivers them and he even gave an almost hour and a half long interview in which he answered unscripted questions. None of this is news and one could begin to take it for granted, since Francis has been behaving in this immediate, open way from the get go and with complete consistency. Nonetheless, I would like to dwell on his behavior for a moment to talk about a particularly persistent throw-away label that keeps being applied to Francis’ words, in an attempt to contain, limit and at least implicitly make light of them and suggest that they ought to be taken with a pinch of salt.

That label is “pastoral.”

You’ll come across statements like: “up until now he has only shown the pastoral and – some would concede – populist aspects of his personality” (Andrea Gagliarducci), “The homilies are pastoral in nature, often using homespun language to make his points.” (John L. Allen Jr.), “[Pope Francis’ first,] pastoral-sounding message was another indication of how different a style [he] is approaching his papacy” (Natalie Baker) or “Pope Francis seems to be taking a more pastoral and conversational tone” (Bob Shine).

And the implication is invariably that Francis’ words are a bit of hand-waving, populist simplification for the great unwashed and that what he really means cannot be inferred from them and has to wait for a proper, systematically-theological, logically-rigorous¹ and magisterially-triplicated exposition, delivered under precisely prescribed conditions. His “pastoral” words are just a bit of fun for the punters, but nothing that serious minds need concern themselves about. Their “meat” will appear in encyclical form in due course.

To be honest, I find this tremendously misguided and divorced from the Christian faith, which is nothing other than an attempt to imitate, relate to and share with others the person of Jesus. The above attitudes are akin to their owners turning up at the Sermon on the Mount and knowingly whispering (whilst winking and nudging [they do deserve credit for multitasking]) to one of its listeners (let’s say a cheese-maker, to pick a random occupation): “Don’t worry about all that meekness or righteousness jazz … What the fella really means is more like Heidegger’s “in-der-Welt-sein” and it only applies to you in substance and not form anyway.” I can also see them tutting at Jesus’ simile about the eye of the needle (“Since several angels can be in the same place, this hardly represents any constraint at all.”), or his speaking about virgins running out of oil (“He doesn’t mean oil per se, but any of a plurality of incendiary fuels, including, but not limited to, oil.”)

All of Jesus’ teaching was pastoral, a lot of it was private and none of it was peer-reviewed, double-checked or nihil-obstat-ed. If anything, the pope’s pastoral teaching is of the highest importance, with later systematized, structured and cross-referenced expositions being of subordinate nature. Just like no theologian would dream of pooh-poohing the Gospel and preferring even the most sublime systematic theology to it, so the spontaneous, impromptu ad-libbing of Pope Francis too should receive preferential status over other forms of expressing the faith.

¹ Please, don’t get me wrong: I have nothing whatsoever against the systematically-theological and logically-rigorous. On the contrary, you could say that I consider it the worst form of thought, except for all others.