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247. “If We Want to Be Christian, We Must Be Marian.” Two Remarks from the 26th International Mariological Marian Congress

It was Pope Paul VI who, in the aftermath of the Second Vatican Council, gave a homily in which he stated, “If we want to be Christian, we must be Marian” (Homily, 24th April 1970). He was not saying that in order to be Christian, one must believe what the Bible says about Mary, i.e. her involvement in the incarnation and earthly ministry of Jesus. His point was much deeper than that. 
 
What did “Marian” mean for him? Well, Vatican II had just ended, and the Council had dedicated the 8th chapter of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church “Lumen Gentium” to the Roman Catholic doctrine of Mary, entitled “The Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God in the Mystery of Christ and the Church.” The theological grand scheme of “Lumen Gentium” wanted to relate Christ to the (Roman) Church organically. According to Rome, the latter is so interconnected with the former that it is one with him. Roman Catholic Mariology stems from the Christ-Church interconnection and is a further inner-connection with it. The “logic” of Vatican II is that if you have Christ, you have the Christ-Church, and if you have the Christ-Church, you must inevitably have Christ-Church-Mary. The three are embedded and implied in one another.  This is why Paul VI could say, “If we want to be Christian, we must be Marian.” 
 
A further remark needs to be made here. For Pope Paul VI, to be a Marian Christian was to embrace the fully orbed Roman Catholic Mariology, including the Marian dogmas (the 1854 dogma of the immaculate conception of Mary and the 1950 dogma of her bodily assumption) and the devotions dedicated to her (rosary, Marian titles, prayers, etc.). Roman Catholic Mariology always involves a thick doctrinal commitment to the full account of how Rome theologizes, celebrates, and venerates Mary. 

The statement by Pope Paul VI resounded clearly and loudly at the 26th International Mariological Marian Congress that took place in Rome (4-6 September) on the topic “Jubilee and Synodality: A Church with a Marian Face and Practice” and organized by the Pontifical International Marian Academy (PAMI). More than 600 Marian scholars from all over the world contributed to the program that included plenary sessions, language groups, and an audience with Pope Leo XIV.

“Mary Belongs to Catholic Dogmatics, not to Catholic devotions only”
The first day of the conference, fr. Stefano Cecchin OFM, PAMI’s chairman, was interviewed on the significance of this scholarly gathering. He voiced a growing concern in the academic Mariological world that Mariology is not given proper attention in the Catholic Church. Cecchin stressed the fundamental importance of Mariology for Catholic doctrine and practice, even in view of the “new evangelization.” For the Catholic scholar, Marianism lies at the core of the (Roman Catholic) Christian message and faith. 
 
In Cecchin’s words, “Mary Belongs to Catholic dogmatics, not to Catholic devotions only; she is the model of the Church,” and again, making implicit reference to the connection Christ-Church-Mary, “The face of Jesus is the face of Mary.” At this point, he recalled Paul VI’s statement: “If we want to be Christian, we must be Marian.” Always echoing the trajectory of Vatican II, Cecchin said that it is “Mary who is the key that opens for us the mystery of Christ and the Church.”
 
In another interview published on the Vatican newspaper Osservatore Romano, Cecchin further argued that “Mary is the woman who has opened the way to God and entered a fundamental relationship with Him.” Here we see an important voice in present-day Roman Catholic Mariology re-affirming its dogmatic centrality in the Roman Catholic account of the Christian faith, i.e. a confirmation that when we deal with Roman Catholic Mariology we are dealing with Roman Catholic doctrines of God (Trinity), Christ (Christology), the Church (ecclesiology), salvation (soteriology), and the Christian life (spirituality). The Roman Mary is not located only in the latter segment, but is pervasively and decisively present on the whole spectrum of the Roman Catholic worldview.

No Less, but More Mariology
The participants at the congress were also honored with an audience with Pope Leo XIV. On this occasion, the Pope gave a speech that condensed some of the Mariological traits of the unfolding teaching of the beginning of his pontificate.
 
In his words, “A Church with a Marian heart always better preserves and understands the hierarchy of truths of faith, integrating mind and heart, body and soul, universal and local, person and community, humanity and cosmos.”

Here, the Pope speaks of the Church having a “Marian heart”: the fundamental organ, the center of life, the vital core of the Church has Mary in it. According to Leo, possessing it fosters theological clarity and integration. Without it, the church disintegrates. This is hardly compatible with the Bible-attested, Trinitarianly framed, and Christ-centered message of the biblical Gospel. If Mary is at the center, as she appears to be in the Pope’s view, she is not the biblical Mary: she is rather someone who has obscured, if not replaced, Christ.
 
Pope Leo again:
 
“As the perfect cooperator with the Holy Spirit, she never ceases to open doors, build bridges, break down walls and help humanity to live in peace and in the harmony of diversity.”
 
In this view, Mary has a providential role in humanity’s history and destiny. Is it really biblically sustainable that Mary is a “perfect cooperator” with the Spirit? It looks like an unduly inflated task for the biblical Mary. The Bible teaches nothing about her role after her presence among the early Christian community in Acts 2. The Father’s providence is in the hands of the Risen Son and applied by the Holy Spirit through living agents and multiple factors. Mary is among the myriad of Christians awaiting the resurrection, but has no providential role whatsoever. The Roman Catholic view is entirely based on non-biblical traditions accrued in time, having become central, and never reformed in the light of the Gospel.
 
Here is the most important thing underlined by Pope Leo:
 
“This is why the Church needs Mariology. It should be considered and promoted in academic centers, shrines and parish communities, associations and movements, institutes of consecrated life, as well as in places where contemporary cultures are forged, valuing the limitless inspiration offered by art, music and literature.”
 
In a word: according to the Augustinian Pope, the Church needs more Mariology, not less. For Rome, Mariology is central, and its supreme leader believes that she needs even more Mariology. This is the outcome of the Mariological congress with the papal stamp of approval, and it is not an evangelically promising prospect for the Roman Church. 

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246. John Henry Newman, “doctor” of the church. The most significant theological act by Leo XIV (so far)

The conferral of the title of “Doctor of the Church” on John Henry Newman (1801-1890) is one of the first theologically significant acts of Leo XIV’s papacy and has a symbolic value of some importance. For this reason, it must be noted. The title is a recognition of authority and an indication that the work of the “doctor” (who, before being declared as such, was recognized as a “saint”) is an important source of inspiration for Roman Catholicism.
 
The Roman Catholic Church recognizes 38 Doctors of the Church (including four women): from ancient and medieval fathers such as Augustine to Thomas Aquinas, from the anti-Protestant apologist Robert Bellarmine to the champion of Baroque Mariology, Alfonsus Liguori. The list of doctors reflects the catholicity of Rome: its desire to embrace the West and the East, theologians and mystics, antiquity and modernity. Roman Catholicism is a formidable religious aggregator, and its “doctors” are all pieces of its theological puzzle. The last doctor to be recognized was John Henry Newman. Why Newman?

Here are two possible reasons.

1. Newman was a “convert” from Anglicanism.
In his youth, he had been an Anglican with some evangelical leanings. Then, studying the development of dogmas in his own way (in his essay The Development of Christian Doctrine [1845]), Newman concluded that Roman Catholicism (including the Council of Trent and Marian dogmas) was apostolic Christianity and that the Church of Rome was the true church. He later became a priest, a revered Catholic theologian, and a cardinal of the Holy Roman Church. His famous phrase has become one of the mantras of converts from Protestantism to Catholicism: “To be deep in history is to cease to be a Protestant.” It has to be said that Newman’s previous religious experience was never shaped around the two gospel pillars of the supreme authority of Scripture and justification by faith alone. Moreover, for all its apparent sophistication and subsequent success, his theory of the development of dogma assumes the infallibility of Rome rather than proving it.
 
Having said that, Newman’s biography embodies that of a convert to Roman Catholicism for whom Protestantism is theologically infantile and devoid of historical memory; Roman Catholicism, on the other hand, encompasses the fullness and richness of the faith. Many stories of conversion to Rome have found a model in Newman.
 
He is already considered the patron saint of Anglicans who became Roman Catholics. Now that he has been proclaimed a “doctor,” could it be because Leo XIV wants to present him as a model for Protestants of all sorts who are fascinated by the “great tradition” (e.g., the recent embrace of Anglicanism by theologian Matthew Barrett)?
 
Before Newman, Pope Francis had conferred the honorary title of “doctor” on Irenaeus of Lyon (b. 130). In doing so, Roman Catholicism appropriated a great Father of the church, also esteemed by evangelicals for his Trinitarian doctrine of creation. Now, with Newman as a “doctor,” Rome wants to point out the Roman Catholic way of reading the Fathers and delving into Tradition to those who flirt with it.
 
2. Newman is one of the main inspirations for the theology of Vatican II.
Newman laid the foundations for a dynamic understanding of Tradition by promoting the perspective of Roman Catholicism as an organic and living whole. If in the 19th century neo-Thomist Catholicism risked being stuck in a closed and doctrinaire system, focused entirely on the defense of “Roman” institutions and practices, Newman introduced the category of “development” into Roman Catholic theology. This is part of the grammar of “updating” (aggiornamento) adopted by John XXIII in convening the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) and then in the “renewal” that followed.
 
In fact, it is impossible to understand Roman Catholic theology today, pluralistic and changing, without referring (also) to Newman. Today, Roman Catholicism is not fixated on merely repeating the past, but has rediscovered the dynamic of inclusion, even of “reform,” while remaining committed to its unchanging nature. Because of his theology of “development,” Newman is unpopular with traditionalist Catholics (for example, the Society of St. Pius X).
 
However, he is not an exponent of “liberal” or “progressive” theology. It is no coincidence that it was Benedict XVI who beatified him in 2010, appreciating “his zeal for the renewal of ecclesial life in fidelity to the apostolic tradition.” For Newman, Roman Catholicism is the “authentic development” of Christianity, and it is this constant “development” that nourishes its life and activities.
 
By elevating Newman to “doctor” (among other things, it was Leo XIII who made him a cardinal), Leo XIV is fully in line with Vatican II, which updated the catholicity of the Church without losing sight of its Roman character.
 
For (at least) these two reasons, Leo XIV accomplished perhaps the most significant theological act of his early pontificate: in the wake of Vatican II, with an eye toward attracting non-Catholics, primarily restless Protestants, to Rome.

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245. Jubilee of Youth. Evangelical Impressions from Rome

Whether there were 500,000 or more or less, it matters little because during the week of the Jubilee of Youth (July 28-August 3) Rome was filled with groups of young people from all over the world. Waving flags and wearing caps, these young people crossed the Holy Doors of Rome’s basilicas, participated in plenary events (above all, the vigil with Pope Leo XIV at Tor Vergata on August 2), national events (in various parishes), and went to confession at the Circus Maximus, etc. In short, they did what the Roman Catholic jubilee is all about: the pilgrimage to Rome and the devotional activities prescribed to obtain an indulgence. In addition, a memorable experience was organized for them.
 
One thing is certain: there is perhaps no other institution in the world capable of gathering half a million people from all over the world in one place for an entire week. The Roman Catholic Church has demonstrated that it is still capable of bringing together, organizing, and inspiring masses of young people and of “rejuvenating” its language, while always filling it with symbolic and evocative elements that are typical of its religious vision.
 
Beyond the folkloric and youth-oriented aspects, I followed three moments of the Jubilee of Youth in particular: the meetings of Roman Catholic influencers, the Italian and North American groups, and the final vigil with the Pope.
 
1. The first moment provided an insight into the world of Roman Catholic initiatives in the digital world: influencers, digital content creators, bloggers, etc., especially in Latin America (Mexico above all), but not only there. The Catholic Church is taking the digital challenge seriously and is seeing a flourishing of many online initiatives. Institutional initiatives (the official information channels of the Vatican and the dioceses) are only a small part of this: what is really thriving are the YouTube channels of lay people and religious figures who, using various languages and targeting different audiences, entertain, feed the religious imagination, and engage in Roman Catholic apologetics.
 
The speech by Pope Francis’ very influential spin doctor, Jesuit Antonio Spadaro, encapsulates the Catholic vision for the digital age. Using the metaphor of the “fire” that burns within, Spadaro outlined a digital presence of the Roman Catholic Church necessary to  “humanize” the world, create dialogue, and foster unity. The digital presence must be made human: this is the mission indicated by Spadaro. It seems to echo, in different words, what Pope Francis said (even if the expression was Benedict XVI’s), namely that the Church grows by attraction, not by proselytism. The Catholic approach must be soft, focusing on commonalities and non-confrontational. There is a noticeable difference between Spadaro’s humanistic, pan-religious, and “Catholic” approach and that of many North American Catholic apologists, who are instead polemical and controversial, I would say “Roman.” I will return to this difference in posture and language later.

2. As already mentioned, the Jubilee of Youth was attended by hundreds of groups from many countries. The Italian group was the largest. It had a significant meeting during the Mass on July 31, where Cardinal Matteo Zuppi gave the homily. In it, the usual words of Italian Catholicism since the time of Pope Francis resounded: “everyone, everyone, everyone is included,” peace, no to weapons, friendship. Occasionally there was a reference to Christ, but outside the biblical context and the Gospel message. It was yet another humanistic approach in line with Spadaro’s speech to influencers.
 
The tone was different among the group of young North American Catholics. At the meeting held in the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls, the experiential language used was evangelical in tone, and the songs (accompanied by guitar and keyboard) could have been sung at an evangelical gathering. Intertwined with these “personal” traits, to which European Catholics are unaccustomed, were the typical markers of Roman Catholic identity: Marian accents, saints, and the Eucharist. The speech by Bishop Robert Barron was emblematic. Barron is a star in the US Catholic online world, as well as a shrewd theologian. In his speech, Barron spoke of “Christ the Lord” using terms that the best evangelical pastor would have been pleased. But then he spoke with great pride, almost with arrogance, of the Roman Catholic Church as the only human organization to have survived throughout history, and of the pope as the only uninterrupted successor of Peter (and Christ). He then urged the youth to encounter Christ in the Eucharist of the Catholic Church and the figure of the pope. Here, the European humanist Roman Catholicism (with its slogans: “we are all included,” “let us love one another,” “let us bring hope to a world at war”) took a back seat. What prevailed was an evangelical-like, yet deeply Roman, language of North American Catholicism. 
 
This is to say that Roman Catholicism speaks different languages with varying religious tones: depending on the context in which it operates, it is able to adapt its message accordingly. In Europe, it resembles that of pacifists and multicultural humanism. In the US, it resembles that of an evangelical denomination. In both cases, the Roman Catholic soul is the standard matrix that shapes everything. The Jubilee of Youth was a stage on which the Roman Catholic Church was at work, speaking her language with different codes and accents.

3. The highlight of the Jubilee of Youth was the prayer vigil with Pope Leo XIV in Tor Vergata. Some reports claim that a million people were present. In the afternoon, a non-stop concert featuring musicians and bands from the international Catholic scene took place. In the evening, the Pope was asked three questions: about friendship, life choices, and how to meet Christ. Regarding the first question, Leo stated that we already have Christ as our friend, assuming that this is a universal condition acquired through baptism. He did not speak of repentance and faith in Jesus Christ, nor did he emphasize the need to reject idols. Regarding the second question, there was noticeable pressure on young people to consider the priestly and religious vocation, perhaps motivated by the fact that the number of priests, friars, and nuns is declining. On the third point, he insisted that Christ is encountered and worshipped in the Eucharist administered by the (Catholic) Church. In his answers, the pope quoted, among others, Augustine, John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Francis, but there was no intentional invitation to read Scripture.

To summarize, the papal message of the vigil was: “Christ is already in us (through baptism), let us meet him in the Catholic Church where he is truly present (in the Eucharist). For the rest, let us develop our common humanity with all.” While there are some elements taken from the Gospel, their meaning, their combination, the heart of the discourse was Roman Catholic, but not gospel-centered.

Young people were told that Christ is already in them, not received by faith but by a sacrament; that Christ is also in everyone, not because of adherence to the Gospel, but because of a shared humanity; that Christ is present, not in the biblical Word, but in the Eucharist; that they are missionaries, not to witness repentance from sins and faith in Jesus Christ, but to meet their neighbors and develop universal fraternity. It is difficult to imagine that this message would challenge anyone. Everyone feels reinforced in their own way in what they already are: believers, non-believers, and those with differing beliefs; if anything, they are attracted to the Roman Catholic Church, which encompasses everyone. This is the Roman Catholic gospel. Is it the biblical gospel?

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244. The Puzzle of Pope Leo XIV. Towards a Geopolitics of the New Papacy

It is still too early to get an idea of ​​what Leo XIV’s papacy will be like. Only now are the first biographies starting to come out (e.g. Matthew Bunsun, Leo XIV. Portrait of the First American Pope, 2025; Christopher White, Pope Leo XIV. Inside the Conclave and the Dawn of a New Papacy, 2025; Antonio Preziosi, Leone XIV. La via disarmata e disarmante, 2025), generally with a hagiographic or journalistic tone. While Pope Prevost takes his first steps, many are starting to ask what his main directions and priorities will be.

For now, it is possible to move by clues and traces that need to be collected and interpreted. On the geopolitical front, the magazine Limes has tried to draw a conceptual map for what lies ahead for Pope Leo. The Roman Catholic Church, with the Vatican at its center, is also a player on the global chessboard; it represents 1.4 billion people (18% of the world’s population), has diplomatic relations with most countries, and has a say in the main documentation of global politics. It is not surprising that a geopolitical magazine dedicated an entire issue to it: The Puzzle of Pope Leo, Limes (5/2025).

The starting point is precisely the choice of the word “puzzle,” i.e. a picture to be guessed from the few available elements. Here are some suggestions from the various articles, many coming from political scientists, journalists, and (a few) theologians of moderate progressive culture, with the exception of R. Reno, editor of the conservative American magazine First Things.

First, the person of the pope is bearer of unusual traits: a “Latin Yankee,” a “Pan-American” man, a Euro-American, a personality with a “hybrid” cultural identity and a calm and determined character. A “lion” among other global lions (e.g. Trump, Putin, Xi Jinping). A son of the Fourth Rome (the USA) on the throne of the First Rome in a world where overall balances are being redefined in the presence of wars and threats of war. The initial impression is that, after the geopolitical shuffling of cards by Francis (who appeared hostile to Ukraine and Israel, subject of China, and emotionally distant from the US and Europe), Leo brings the boat of Peter to sail in the direction of the Atlanticism that was of John Paul II, slender towards the West and skeptical about the still “far” East (e.g. China). It is true that there would have been no Leo XIV without Francis, but the current pope is not a replica of the previous in the geopolitical positioning of the Church of Rome.

The choice of the name Leo is another clue that many observers focus on. Leo XIII, the predecessor in choosing the name, wrote the encyclical “Rerum Novarum” (1891), which opened the Catholic Church to the social question and living conditions of workers. Leo XIII inaugurated the era of the Social Doctrine of the Catholic Church. The analysts of Limes read in Prevost’s choice to call himself Leo the commitment to address the social issue par excellence of this generation: artificial intelligence (AI). There are already signs in this direction, but many expect an encyclical (i.e. the highest authoritative document by a Pope) dedicated to AI, believing that the Roman Catholic Church is the only global moral agency able to subvert the exclusive interests of the war industry and the techno-globalist powers.

Another piece of the Leo puzzle is its relationship with the USA and North American Catholicism. As is well known, Francis was not loved by a consistent part of American Catholics, and financial support for Rome’s budget has decreased significantly over the years, also due to American disaffection with Pope Francis. Now, Leo is asked to sew up the tear and restart the donations that the Catholic Church desperately needs for its bleeding budgets. Then there is the relationship with the US Administration, especially with the “catholic” vice president, J.D. Vance, who interprets a conservative Catholicism but is not exactly deferential towards ecclesiastical authorities. Soon after his election, there has been no lack of opportunities for polemics between Vance and the Vatican on migration policy and also on the interpretation of the ordo amoris, i.e. the differentiated responsibilities of Roman Catholic action. Leo XIV faces the challenge of resetting and re-establishing relationships, keeping together the legacy of Francis and the American Catholic system.

A final consideration needs to address the relationship with Protestantism, although limited to the US context. Many of the geopolitical issues at stake involve “ecumenical” relations with the Orthodox patriarchates of Moscow and Kiev, or inter-religious relations such as those with the Jewish world. But what about Protestantism? Many observers (by the way, all Catholic, some practicing, most nominal) note the state of “crisis” of American Protestantism: polarized, jagged, angry, flattened with or against Trump, under the shadow cone of politics rather than living in its own light. The crisis also has to do with the nationalist culture that, for them, is a child of Protestant individualism. In their view, in the fractured context of North American society, Catholic communitarianism (i.e. the Catholic insistence that human life is life-in-community in the context of the Catholic Church) would be better equipped than Protestant individualism to offer a prospect not only of economic wealth but also of social welfare. In this sense, “Rome alone” would be able to build a third way between the woke culture of the left and the nationalism of individualistic conservatism. There is an expectation that Pope Leo will be able to exert an attraction from Protestantism towards Roman Catholicism in American society. Evangelicals should be aware of these trends and consider Rome as a spiritual competitor rather than an ally, due to her different account of the gospel from the biblical one.

These analyses are not theological and do not grasp central elements of the papacy as an ecclesiastical institution which is based on doctrinal commitments. In this sense, they only grasp the “political” side of Rome but not her theological vision. However, they can help start to put together the pieces of the beginning of this pontificate puzzle.

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243. The Bishop of Rome. What is the Future of the Papacy?

The recent death of Pope Francis and the subsequent election of Leo XIV to the papal throne have reignited media interest in the papacy. Beyond the attention given to the personalities of individual Popes, what is the office of the Pope? What are his prerogatives according to the Roman Catholic Church? How does this institution fit into the global world and in the ecumenical relationships outside of Rome?

These questions are all considered in the newly released study document by the Vatican Dicastery for Promoting Christian Unity: “The Bishop of Rome. Primacy and Sinodality in the Ecumenical Dialogues and in the Responses to the Encyclical Ut Unum Sint” (2024; henceforth BoR). The 170 page text surveys the ongoing ecumenical dialogue concerning the role of the Pope and the exercise of the Petrine Ministry. Its remote context is the invitation made by Pope John Paul II exactly thirty years ago. In fact, in his 1995 encyclical “Ut Unum Sint,” the then Pope asked Church leaders and theologians “to find a way of exercising the primacy which, while in no way renouncing what is essential to its mission, is nonetheless open to a new situation” (n. 95).

On the one hand, in John Paul II’s view, the papacy was to be maintained in its essentials; on the other, it was presented as open and willing to rethink itself in fresh and accepted ways. Almost twenty years later, Francis spoke of his desire to see a “pastoral conversion” of the papacy (The Joy of the Gospel, 2013, n. 32) that would make it at the service of the whole of Christianity, indeed the whole world. Among other things, his insistence on referring to himself as “the Bishop of Rome,” rather than with other titles claiming universal authority, was a way to encourage such a process of acceptance.

The document brings together the fruits of the ecumenical dialogues on the ministry of the Pope in response to the invitation by John Paul II. It is not a synthesis of Roman Catholic teaching on the papacy, but rather a summary of the discussion generated by Ut Unun Sint, as expressed in 30 official responses and 50 documents that reference it. Its goal is to seek a form of the exercise of the papacy that is shared by all churches that participate in the ecumenical movement with the Roman Catholic Church, e.g. Eastern Orthodox, Oriental, Anglican, and historic Protestant.

BoR provides a state-of-the-art document where one can find important indications of the evolution of the papacy, with some insights on possible future outlooks. Here are some interesting findings.[1]

Infallibility?
Since its definition, the 1870 Roman Catholic dogma of papal infallibility has been a stumbling block between Rome and the other churches, on both sides of the East-West divide. As it was formulated then, this prerogative of the Pope simply could not be accepted by non-Catholics. However, BR suggests a way forward.
 
As far as the hermeneutics of Vatican I is concerned, it has become an accepted ecumenical principle to interpret it in the light of Vatican II (nn. 61 and 66) and therefore placing infallibility in the wider context of Vatican II ecclesiology. The latter stressed the collegiality of bishops (the Pope being one of them and never to be considered in isolation from them) and recognized a more active role for the laity in the life of the church. Vatican II’s ecclesiology underlines “communion” and considers the Pope as part of it. The infallibility promulgated at Vatican I should be “re-received” (n. 145), i.e. re-interpreted, against the background of Vatican II.
 
Then, BoR distinguishes between the text of the dogma of infallibility and its intention. The former may seem overly juridical and authoritarian, but the intention was to protect and serve the indefectibility of the whole Church (n. 70). This is a concern that can be shared by all ecumenical Christians. If Vatican I can be interpreted in this way, even non-Catholics may be prepared “to acknowledge papacy as a legitimate expression of the Petrine ministry of unity” (n. 73).
 
A Ministry of Unity in A Reunited Church
“Is a primacy for the whole Church necessary?” is the question that opens paragraph 75. Many ecumenical dialogues have recognized the need for it for three reasons.
 
First, the apostolic tradition. From the 4th century and definitely so from the 7th century, the See of Rome was considered “the first in the hierarchy” (n. 76), although, as already noted in an earlier section, this primacy is due to political reasons and not biblical ones. Rome was the capital of the empire, and the bishop of Rome began to be seen as presiding over the others because of the importance of the city of Rome in the Roman Empire (n. 78).
 
Second, the ecclesiological argument. For those churches that have an episcopalian form of government (i.e. led by a bishop), it is obvious that what happens at the local level should happen at the universal level. In other words, if a bishop is given authority over a local diocese, it is appropriate that the world as a whole has a bishop ruling over it.
 
Third, a pragmatic argument. Many churches readily admit “the need for global instruments of communion” (n. 84) that are capable of resolving conflicts between local churches and representing them before the global world. Some dialogues have also argued that the ministry of unity granted by the papal office would also serve a reinvigorated, common mission (n. 86).
 
Looking back at the history of the development of the papacy, BoR recalls what Joseph Ratzinger wrote in 1982, i.e. “Rome must not require more of the East than was formulated and lived during the first millennium” (n. 91). This is in line with John Paul II’s openness to change without altering the essentials of the papacy. Moreover, in the first millennium, “communion” was lived out in primarily informal ways, rather than being carried out within “clear structures” (n. 93). The authority of the Roman Pope was mainly characterized by a “primacy of honour” (n. 94).
 
How to overcome the gap between the primacy of honour (ecumenically acceptable by the East) and the primacy of jurisdiction (as it was developed in the second millennium by the Roman Catholic Church) remains an open question (n. 98). The way forward is to see how the “communal” (all,i.e. Christians), collegial (some, i.e. the bishops) and personal (one, i.e. the Pope) dimensions of church life interplay (n. 116) and find ways that are compatible with the different traditions. What BoR bears witness to is the reality that all ecumenical partners are willing to engage the issue constructively.

Three Key Steps for the Ecumenical Future of the Papacy
After surveying the main contents of BoR, it is time to look at the document within the broader context of the present-day ecumenical setting and to try to become acquainted with its theological narrative. According to the fruits of the ecumenical dialogue gathered in the document, the Papacy will have a future as a world-wide, religious institution at the service of the reunited Church. None of the ecumenical partners questions this prospect. It is a matter of how and when, not if and why. Gone are the times when, from both East and West, the Roman Catholic Papacy was seen as a non-biblical, insurmountable stumbling block that needed to be removed. It seems that if one wants to be “ecumenical” today, she needs to come to terms with a slightly modified Papacy in terms of its attitudes and titles, but with no change as far as the theological substance is concerned.
 
In order to appraise what is at stake, one needs to appreciate the trajectory that the Roman Catholic Church has been able to influence over the last 60 years since the Second Ecumenical Council (1962-1965). Here are three important steps that have given shape to the ecumenical framework behind BoR:

1. “Complementary,” no longer “conflicting”
It was the 1964 Vatican II document on ecumenism that said: “these various theological expressions (e.g. those of the Eastern churches) are to be considered often as mutually complementary rather than conflicting” (Vatican II, Unitatis Redintegratio, 1964, n. 17). The principle of complementarity and compatibility was extended to all doctrinal matters. Ecumenical theology sees all differences as belonging to the same reality that is accessible from various angles and interpreted as mutually enriching rather than mutually exclusive. This has become the premise of present-day ecumenism.

Among other things, this means that the evangelical recovery of the gospel captured in the “Christ alone,” “Scripture alone,” and “Faith alone” of the Protestant Reformation is now seen as an “emphasis” to be integrated in the Roman Catholic whole, rather expressing the Christian faith in opposition to the Roman Catholic flawed account of the gospel. The papacy is no longer seen as an institution at the center of a theological conflict, but as an essential part of the Church, in which complementary views are possible and accepted.

2. From “differentiated consensus” to “differentiated exercise”
In 1999, the Roman Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Federation signed the “Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification” (JDDJ), one of the dividing doctrines in the 16th century. JDDJ claims that the document “encompasses a consensus in the basic truths; the differing explications in particular statements are compatible with it” (JDDJ, n. 14). This approach was later defined as “differentiated consensus”: Catholics and Lutherans can agree on the basics of justification and maintain their respective emphases as compatibile. The “differentiated consensus” was later used to foster ecumenical dialogue that would consider doctrines as made of modular units (some of which people can agree upon while disagreeing on others), instead of treating them as aspects of an integrated whole.

Now, BoR shows that the same approach is extended to the Papacy. It involves a “differentiated exercise of the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Rome” (n. 150), spanning from full jurisdiction (the Roman Catholic Church), to “primacy of honour” (Anglican, Oriental and Orthodox churches), to a global leadership role (historic Protestant churches). Ecumenical partners will have the possibility of accessing a “differentiated exercise” of it, picking the aspects they like and leaving aside those they are less happy with. The Papacy will remain for all, although it may look somewhat different from its Roman-second millennium outlook and perhaps closer to its first millennium shape.

3. Open to change, not renouncing the Roman Catholic “essentials”
Now we can see that the invitation given by John Paul II in 1995 was not out of context; on the contrary, it was a reflection of the ecumenical mindset already affirmed at Vatican II and a further development of it. The rules of the game suggested by John Paul II (i.e. open to minor changes, carrying on the essentials) were accepted and are now considered as the shared consensus of the ecumenical movement.
 
BoR stands on the shoulders of the post-Vatican II attempts made by Rome to call all Christians to be united, overcoming past divisions, seeing all traditions as complementary, and building this unity on differentiated consensus. The other side of the coin is that Rome will at the same time stick to the “essentials” as they are embedded in its doctrinal system – the Papacy being one of them.
 
The ecumenical unity envisaged by BoR will have the Roman Pope at the center: in a sense, the Roman Catholic business as usual, now updated and conformed to the ecumenical age. BoR is the latest example of the Catholic absorption of different ideas and former opponents, provided they accept that Rome will not change its foundational theological committments that are outside or against biblical teaching, and will instead further expand its synthesis that goes beyond gospel boundaries. Biblical Christianity is not an appeased sub-section of Roman Catholicism but a gospel alternative to a system that is not grounded on Scripture Alone as its ultimate authority and on Faith Alone as to how salvation is to be received. 

[1] Reference to sections of the document will appear in parentheses.

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242. Why Not Be a Roman Catholic? Ask Jerry Walls

A prominent Roman Catholic theologian, Matthew Levering, recently wrote a book entitled Why I Am Roman Catholic (2024). As a result, it was to be expected that a Protestant author would write a mirror book on why not. It is the case with Jerry L. Walls, Why I Am Not a Roman Catholic. A Friendly, Ecumenical Exploration (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2025), professor of philosophy at Houston Christian University. Actually, Walls did not read Levering’s book beforehand and perhaps wasn’t even aware of it, but it doesn’t really matter. Books and digital resources in the intersection between the Roman Catholic-Protestant divide are mushrooming, and defending why and why not one is Roman Catholic or Protestant is becoming a literary genre in itself.
 
Each book has a story behind it. Walls recalls his. He tells how he participated in different informal dialogues with influential Roman Catholic scholars and theologians, only later realizing that these initiatives were aimed at encouraging conversions to Rome. Reflecting on these experiences and others led him to further clarify why he was not a Roman Catholic, also thinking of the growing number of former evangelicals who have converted to Rome in recent years under the influence of aggressive RC apologists who oftentimes use “dubious reasons, spurious arguments, and misinformation” (xvi). Walls’s book, therefore, has an apologetic thrust, even though he readily qualifies it in terms of the subtitle: while critical of Roman Catholicism, he wants to write in a friendly and ecumenical way.
 
Walls is not new in this field. Together with Kenneth Collins, a few years ago, he penned the more substantial tome Roman but Not Catholic: What Remains at Stake 500 Years after the Reformation (2017; my review of the book is here). There, he critiqued Rome for having lost its catholicity (i.e. biblical universality) at the expense and on the altar of its Roman-centered claims. This new book reiterates the same basic critique but adds a new flavor to it.
 
So, why is Walls not a Roman Catholic? Briefly stated: because he rejects both papal infallibility and the Marian doctrines, two doctrinal tenets of the Roman Catholic Church to which Rome has given dogmatic status, something “analogous to the role of the resurrection of Jesus in classic creedal orthodoxy” (8). The book is a sustained critique of the Roman claims regarding the papacy and Mariology.

As far as the papacy is concerned, Walls takes issue with the dogma of papal infallibility. This papal doctrine is a distillation of Catholic doctrine, yet it is based on faulty history and has generated excessive claims. In sum, Peter was not the first pope, and there was no monarchical bishop in Rome up to the end of the second century. Moreover, as far as the political role associated with Rome is concerned, “Roman authority rested in no small part on the fact that it had been the capital city, not on an irrevocable conferral of authority by Christ” (25). Walls’s argument moves on by highlighting the terrible record of the lives of many popes across history, many of whom were corrupted and “very bad men” (31). To prove the point, he provides a gallery of impious popes who were involved in perverse politics and immoral affairs, thus showing how the historical records are another factor that undermines the dogma. There is no biblical support for the claim that Peter is the first Pope (Walls discusses some exegetical points in Matthew 16 in the Appendix, pp. 181-185), no historical witness up to the end of the second century to back up the role of the bishop of Rome, no spiritual motivations behind his authority other than the political significance of Rome as the capital of the empire. After quoting and discussing a plethora of Roman Catholic scholars providing contrary evidence to the Catholic claims, Walls argues that papal infallibility lies on too poor foundations to be a binding belief for Christians.
 
Moving to the Marian claims, Walls exposes the “Marian maximalism” that led Rome to dogmatize Mary, e.g. the 1854 dogma of the immaculate conception and the 1950 dogma of the bodily assumption, and is still brewing in the prospect of proclaiming her “co-redeemer” (87). His conclusions are trenchant: “Popular Marian piety in Roman Catholicism has morphed into infallible dogmas that make Mary far more central to the faith than scripture warrants” (100).
 
After presenting his two main objections to the Roman Catholic Church, Walls deals with apologetic arguments often put forward by popular defenders of the Roman Catholic faith over against Protestants. Oftentimes, we hear the rehearsed saying that if one refuses the authority of the Church of Rome, she becomes her own pope following an individualistic religious path. Although this is a possibility and a danger, the “You are your own pope” type of argument is a caricature of Protestantism. The evangelical faith has historically affirmed the apostolic authority of Scripture, at the same time recognizing degrees of authority in councils and creeds and leaving room for disagreement on secondary issues.
 
Approaching dialogue in fairness and charity is a constant point made by Walls. In an interesting chapter, he observes that some North American popular Roman Catholic apologists depict Protestantism in straw-man terms, often “comparing the best of Rome with the worst of Protestantism” (148) and presenting Rome as “the panacea for all ills” (150). To disillusioned evangelicals who are enticed and enchanted by these poor apologetic and golden portraits of Rome, Walls urges them “to resist the Roman fever and to think twice before taking the Tiber plunge” (152).

The reality is that Rome is not the solid, stable, and unified bullwark that some of its defenders paint it to be. If one only scratches the surface, he can find all types of Catholics (e.g. traditional, cultural, liberal) and all kinds of beliefs and practices in Rome. Indeed, because of their lax views on morality and doctrine, “most Roman Catholics are functional liberal Protestants” (157) because they do not endorse, let alone practice, what their Church teaches them. Walls goes as far as to say that Rome is “a church that is functionally a radically pluralist Protestant denomination” (171) with factions that stand on very different sides, even fighting one another. Compared to it, Evangelical Protestantism in all its denominational diversity is “a far more impressive model of true unity” (171).
 
The final chapter sums up Walls’s main argument, which is also found in the more extensive 2017 book written with Kenneth Collins. Here it is: Roman Catholicism is not the best form of Catholic Christianity. Actually, it is a “constricted view of catholicity” (179) because it is founded on a “rickety biblical and historical foundation” and is also “rotten in many places because of its recurrent corruption” (179). With Walls being one of the promoters of the 2017 “A Reforming Catholic Confession”, “Reformed catholicity” or “mere Protestant orthodoxy,” or whatever you want to call it, is for him a far better version of the Christian faith (xvii).
 
Walls’s book is full of fine and well presented apologetic points. Especially his critical remarks on the papacy and the lack of biblical and historical foundations as far as the first two centuries of the church are well argued for. The book also signals a growing awareness in North American evangelical circles that Roman Catholicism is a “competitor” that is gaining strength and making some inroads among disillusioned evangelicals. After years of evangelicals trying to show how much we have “in common” with Catholics (e.g. the “Evangelicals and Catholics Together” initiative) and, more recently, how the “Great Tradition” is our shared platform, it is refreshing to see evangelical scholars engaging Roman Catholicism apologetically, kindly and firmly refuting some of its foundational claims and hinting at far better biblical alternatives.
 
The book is a helpful resource for evangelicals tempted to convert to Rome and to Roman Catholics attracted to the evangelical faith. More work has to be done to present Roman Catholicism as a fully orbed doctrinal/institutional/sacramental/hierarchical “system” that is not committed to the supreme authority of Scripture (Scripture Alone) and to salvation as a gift of God grounded in the finished work of Christ (Faith Alone). While using similar languages and categories, the pillars of the Roman Catholic Church are different from the biblical account of the gospel that the evangelical faith seeks to bear witness to.
 
The Roman Catholic version of the gospel, based on the self-referential authority of the Roman Church and the blurred and distorted message it gives voice to, is a sufficient reason not to embrace the Roman Catholic faith but to stick to the once and for all given “evangel” (good news) of Jesus Christ.

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240. “The Diversity of Religions is the Will of God”. A Window into Pope Francis’s Theology of Religions

Many Roman Catholics raised their eyebrows when they read: “The pluralism and the diversity of religions, colour, sex, race and language are willed by God in His wisdom, through which He created human beings.” The one who was saying this was Pope Francis in the 2019 Abu Dhabi Statement on “Human Fraternity for World Peace and Living Together”, co-signed with Ahmad Al-Tayyeb, the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar.
 
That God willed (and therefore created) the diversity of colour, sex, and race is unquestionable: these are all good traits of God’s creation. One could argue that as far as language is concerned, the account of the tower of Babel (Genesis 9) should be taken into account to realize that the multiplicity of languages is also the result of sin. But what about the diversity of religions? Is it really the will of God that men and women should worship gods and goddesses other than the One and True God, i.e. the Triune God of the Bible? The straightforward biblical answer is No. Period. However, Pope Francis said Yes.
 
How is it possible? Does the Roman Catholic Church now accept that all religions lead to God? Where does this new view of religions come from? These are all legitimate questions. According to Alberto Caccaro, L’uomo fa la differenza in Dio. La questione cristologica in Jacques Dupuis (Brescia: Queriniana, 2024), in order to to grasp the present-day theological debate on religions within Roman Catholicism, one needs to be aware of the work of the Jesuit theologian Jacques Dupuis (1923-2004). This Belgian theologian, who spent part of his life as a missionary in India, is an important voice that forms the Pope’s theological framework. Pope Francis, himself a Jesuit, does not quote him either in the Abu Dhabi Statement or in the encyclical “All Brothers” on fraternity among all peoples, but Dupuis’s thoughts are part of the backbone of his positive and “fraternal” approach to religions.

Questioning the existing models for thinking about the role of religions (i.e. exclusivism = Christ excludes other religions; inclusivism = Christ includes all religions; pluralism = Christ is one among many religions), Dupuis explored new “frontiers” in light of what he believed to be the “surplus” of the mystery of Christ over the linguistic and institutional forms of Christianity. His theology of religious pluralism was a response to what he considered an oversimplification of traditional accounts and an invitation to rework Christology by recognising the “space” of religions as a constitutive part of Christ and the gospel. In Dupuis’ view, religions are convergent and complementary mediations of salvation, and therefore the task of theology is to elaborate a Christology of religions that corresponds to their role.
 
This study by Caccaro, a Roman Catholic theologian and missionary working in Cambodia, takes up the themes of Dupuis’s reflection precisely from the Christological question and considers Dupuis’s three books on the subject: Jesus Christ at the Encounter of World Religions (English edition: 1991), Towards a Christian Theology of Religious Pluralism (English Edition: 2002) and Christianity and the Religions. From Confrontation to Dialogue (English Edition: 2002).
 
These works caused debate not only in the theological academies but also in the Vatican Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith (at the time presided over by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger), so much so that the Congregation sent him a “Notification”, a yellow card for having entered minefield territory, for “serious doctrinal errors” and “ambiguities” in his thinking. Although it generated some heat, this “Notification” had no disciplinary outcome. After Dupuis’s death, the trial was dropped.
 
In Dupuis’s thought, the distinction between Logos énsarkos (incarnate Word) and Logos ásarkos (non-incarnate Word) is central. While the former coincides with the person of Jesus Christ and the biblical account of him and his work, the latter is by its very nature open, spacious and irreducible to any closed codification. On the side of the Holy Spirit, while the Spirit of Christ is associated with the historical person of the God-man Jesus (i.e. the hypostatic union), the Spirit of God “blows where He wills,” and possibly in all religions.

As a Roman Catholic theologian, Dupuis glimpses the problems raised by these insights, and in his theology, one can see the struggle to keep Christology anchored to the incarnate Person of Jesus Christ while opening the non-incarnate Logos to accomodating and welcoming the different religions. The underlying question is: can one find salvation beyond the historical and embodied revelation of Jesus Christ? If yes, as argued by Dupuis, there is room for “differentiated and complementary revelation” and salvation offered by other religions. Since Dupuis wants to affirm both that Jesus Christ is the final revelation in his embodied Person and the possibility for other religions to be revelatory and salvific in his non-incarnate reality. Roman Catholic theology, a master in holding tensions together (et-et), must open its synthesis to the maximum exercise of its catholicity, i.e. its ability to embrace two opposites at the same time.
 
Dupuis speaks of “polarities at play.” In the unresolved polarity between the incarnate Word (biblically attested) and the non-incarnate Word (spacious enough as to include other religions), there would be room for the salvific role of religions. Compared to traditional models (i.e. exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism), Caccaro claims that Dupuis’s thought can be understood as “inclusive pluralism” or “pluralistic inclusivism” (91).
 
Even on a first reading, the problems with this position are evident. If the non-incarnate Word is pitted against the incarnate revelation of God in Jesus Christ, doesn’t one devalue the necessary scandal of the incarnation and the cross? If the Spirit and the Father operate outside of and without Jesus Christ, isn’t the unity and harmony of the Trinity endangered? If salvation can be found outside of the incarnate Word, doesn’t conversion to Christ become redundant?
 
Caccamo is helpful at exploring the “acrobatics” of Dupuis’s theology of religions especially as far as his concepts of “surplus” and “superabundance” of the mystery of the Word which cannot be contained in closed and pre-defined schemes of thought.
 
What is perhaps most interesting is to see how his work influenced Pope Francis’s claim that the diversity of religions is the will of God. Dupuis is only the latest development of a long-term process within Roman Catholicism that the Pope echoed. In fact, the theology of religions was given a shock at Vatican II (1962-1965) when it was argued that the plan of salvation includes people who don’t profess faith in Jesus Christ and that those who don’t know the gospel can attain salvation (Lumen Gentium, n. 16). Then, Redemptoris Missio, the 1990 encyclical by John Paul II, stated that “participated forms of mediation of different kinds and degrees are not excluded” (n. 5).
 
A lot of water has passed under the bridges of Roman Catholic theology: from the “anonymous Christianity” of Karl Rahner to the “All brothers” of Pope Francis. Of course, there have been pushbacks here and there (e.g. the 2000 critical declaration Dominus Iesus signed by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger), but the direction seems to be clear. The theology of religions is fertile ground in post-Vatican II Roman Catholicism. It is therefore not by chance that Pope Francis could write that “the pluralism and the diversity of religions, colour, sex, race and language are willed by God in His wisdom, through which He created human beings.” In this sense, the spirit if not the letter of Dupuis’s work was at play in the Pope’s mind.
 
One glimpses a pattern: Dupuis broke new ground in his work, the immediate Vatican reaction was fairly negative, then his main concerns were accepted and integrated, and now they are part of the mainstream teaching of the Roman Church, at least implicitly. Here is how the Roman catholicity works: on the one hand, the traditional exclusivist and inclusivist positions are formally maintained, but on the other hand, they have developed in the “inclusive pluralism” or “pluralistic inclusivism” that Dupuis gave theological weight to in his work. There is no commitment to the ultimate authority of the Bible, and therefore the Roman Catholic system can flex one way or the other away from gospel boundaries.

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239. Fifteen Years (2010-2025) of Vatican Files at the Service of Evangelical Discernment

It is a modest anniversary, both for its relatively short time (only 15 years) and for the relatively small achievements to remember. Yet, it is worth mentioning for a few reasons. It was 2010 when the website www.vaticanfiles.org (VF) was opened and articles began to be posted on a regular basis, eventually becoming a monthly column. Now the VF have almost 250 free articles offering “evangelical perspectives on Roman Catholicism” translated in multiple languages and reposted by other outlets like Evangelical Focus, Evangelicals Now and Protestante Digital, as well as appearing in the monthly newsletter of the European Leadership Forum. The VF have 650 subscribers, but through the above-mentioned channels, the readership is far wider and global.

The VF are a small but not insignificant pool of resources to help evangelicals approach, understand and assess the vast and complex reality of Roman Catholicism with gospel clarity and theological breadth. It is a free resource at the service of evangelical discernment.

How the Vatican Files Began
The origins of the VF date back to the time when I arrived in Rome in 2009. Having a published PhD on evangelical interpretations of Vatican II, having taught courses on Roman Catholicism at Istituto di Formazione Evangelica e Documentazione (Padova, Italy), and having read papers on Roman Catholicism at international conferences such as the Fellowship of European Evangelical Theologians, the World Reformed Fellowship, and in various places in Italy, the UK, Germany and France, I thought of ways to make my expertise available to the wider evangelical public, taking advantage also of me now living and ministering in Rome.

At that time, I was also vice-chairman of the Italian Evangelical Alliance, and I offered to the World Evangelical Alliance to write regular updates for its leadership on Vatican documents and events and more generally on Roman Catholicism-related topics. It was through the WEA that I was admitted to the Vatican Press Office as correspondent. In this way, I gained direct access to official press conferences and had opportunities to interact with Vatican experts from all over the world.

The first VF were sent to a list of WEA leaders and interested people. It was only a few months later that the number of people who wanted to receive them grew considerably and the website was opened so that the articles could be posted there and become freely accessible.

Blind Spot
Since 2010, the VF have assessed documents and initiatives of the late Benedict XVI up to his abrupt resignation, the election of Pope Francis and the unfolding of his pontificate, the various theological, ecumenical, missionary, cultural, institutional trends that can be observed in Roman Catholicism through the analysis of books, events, journals and other resources.

As a theologian and not a journalist, in the VF I have tended to offer a theological interpretation of the Roman Catholic world from an evangelical viewpoint. When I researched what the evangelical world was producing in terms of its own assessment of Roman Catholicism, I came to the sober conclusion that very little was available and even less in progress. On the one hand, Roman Catholicism had become a regular dialogue partner in many evangelical constituencies and circles world-wide; on the other hand, very little effort was put toward understanding the dynamics of what had come out of Vatican II and the present-day reality of Rome.

Evangelicals were opening to the ecumenical embracement of Rome or entering joint activities with Roman Catholic agencies and movements, not having done the proper and necessary homework of trying to come to terms with the Roman Catholic system. The latter is capable of being traditional and progressive, Marian and seemingly “evangelical”, sacramentalist and “charismatic”, papal and “missionary”, always keeping its institutional outlook and spiritual agenda. The root problem was the lack of evangelical engagement with what had happened at the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) coupled with a process that was leading to the weakening of evangelical distinctives with regards to the multiple and changing faces of Roman Catholicism. This was the blind spot that the VF tried to overcome.

From the VF to the Reformanda Initiative and Beyond
The VF began small and unassuming, and they remain such. However, they cover ground that is hard to find in the evangelical world. As their circulation increased, so opportunities to write, speak, give papers and talks grew correspondently.

A major step forward was the launching of the Reformanda Initiative (RI) in 2016 as a more comprehensive project, brewed out of the inspiration received at the European Leadership Forum. As an independent entity, RI’s aim was and is to “Identify, unite, equip, and resource evangelical leaders to understand Roman Catholic theology and practice, to educate the evangelical church and to communicate the gospel.”

Since 2016, the Rome Scholars and Leaders Network has been gathering each year 30-40 global theologians and leaders from around the world to participate in a weeklong seminar. The RI podcast was launched soon after. Opportunities to write books and invitations to speak at conferences multiplied (e.g. Australia, Brazil, USA, Canada, various European countries), involving also my dear friends and colleagues Reid Karr and Clay Kannard.

The work of the RI is expanding fast, although it is still organic and with potential to grow. It will be for another occasion to evaluate the impact of the RI. Suffice it now to say that it was birthed also out of the preceding experience of the VF.

As already indicated, fifteen years is a modest anniversary that should not fuel human pride but praise to God. The evangelical world needs faithful, updated and comprehensive perspectives on Roman Catholicism. It is neither a luxury nor a speculative endeavor: it is a must that is required by the evangelical commitment to the biblical gospel. To that end, the VF have given a small but incremental contribution.

In closing, I wish to say thank you to David Valente, Gordon Showell-Rogers, Reid Karr, Clay Kannard, Greg Pritchard, Tom Wilson, Becca Paternoster, Abby Dill, Rob Clarke, David Barker, Joel Forster, Rosa Gubianas and many others whose names I may have forgotten, who in various ways (e.g. encouragement, web design, graphics, editing, translating) have helped the VF to be known over the years. Soli Deo gloria.

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238. No Longer Accretions. The Problem of Roman Catholicism in Dialogue with Gavin Ortlund

In the beginning was the church, then something went wrong, and Roman Catholicism emerged. What did go wrong? The answer is: accretions. Accretions were innovations added to the faith and life of the early church mainly in the realm of Mariology, sacraments, and devotions. Roman Catholicism is the cumulative result of such accretions, having become a religion where these additions have found citizenship and have become identity markers of the Roman Catholic account of Christianity.

This is one of the points made by Gavin Ortlund in his recent book What It Means to Be Protestant (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2024). The volume is a superb commendation of the Protestant faith against the background of recent attraction to Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy experienced by younger evangelicals. The advice given by Ortlund to people who are searching is to think twice (and pray even more) before dismissing Protestantism as a “new” and “sectarian” departure from ancient and traditional Christianity, as some Roman Catholic apologists depict it. As a matter of fact, the Protestant faith is the best pathway to catholicity and historical rootedness. In essence, Protestantism is “a movement of renewal and reform within the church” (xix). Its Sola Fide (faith alone) and Sola Scriptura (Scripture alone) principles, properly understood and applied, represent biblical teaching at its best and make Protestantism the best-suited movement for “an always-reforming Church”, as the subtitle of Ortlund’s book suggests.

This is not going to be a review of this insightful book but only a reflection on one of the arguments that Ortlund puts forward in addressing the problem of accretions in Roman Catholicism and how Protestantism deals with it in its renewing and reforming drive.

Accretions Explained
As already indicated, central to his analysis is the idea of “accretion”. Here is what happened. In post-apostolic times, the “gospel has been both obscured and added on to” (xxiii) and Roman Catholicism is the institutionalized result of such an accretion process. Again, “Many of the essential, necessary features of Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox theology and worship represent historical innovation and error” (149). Both traditions “have inadvertently added requirements on the gospel that Christ himself would not require” (221).

Ortlund’s book explores in detail two examples of accretions and presents them as case studies: Mary’s bodily assumption, a belief sneaked in during the 5th century that was dogmatized by Rome in 1950, and icon veneration as was affirmed by Nicaea II, the seventh ecumenical council, in 787. In both cases, we are confronted with two add-ons that are not part of the biblical core of the gospel.

Protestantism and Accretions
What’s the calling of Protestantism then? In the 16th century, Protestantism called for “the removal of various innovations or accretions” (xx). To put it differently, “The point of Protestantism was to remove the errors. Their goal was to return to ancient Christianity, to a version prior to the intrusion of various accretions” (138). This is not confined only to the Reformation age. The very mission of Protestantism is to be “a historical retrieval and a removal of accretions” (147, 149, and 220), even its own internal ones.

This is to say that Protestantism has accretions too and is not immune from deviations. According to Ortlund, “Accretions are inevitable. In an imperfect world, the intrusion of errors will be a constant possibility and frequent occurrence. The difference is that Protestant accretions are not enshrined within allegedly infallible teaching” (149). Unlike Rome, which has locked accretions in a system that is allegedly infallible, the Protestant faith through the Sola Scriptura principle has a mechanism that is at the service of “an always-reforming church”, at least in principle. Through retrieval of biblical teaching and removal of deviations that are incompatible with it, Protestantism submits to the infallibility of Scripture rather than to a pretentiously infallible church and its magisterium that is already infected by accretions.   

No Longer Accretions
The theory of accretions is certainly plausible from a historical point of view, and Ortlund does a great job in raising the issue and sampling it. The point is that Roman Catholicism is no longer Christianity in its biblical outlook but an accrued version of it.

Whereas the historical awareness is present, what is perhaps lacking in Ortlund’s book is the theological appreciation of the impact of accretions on Roman Catholicism as a whole. As already noted, an accretion is a belief and/or practice discordant if not contrary to the Bible that is added. When the accretion is made by Rome and it has received the official approval by the magisterium, it is no longer an add-on but has become part of the whole doctrinal and devotional system. Accretions are integrated in such a way as to infiltrate the religious core at the deepest level. They start as additions but result in becoming part of the theological DNA.  

Ortlund hints at this when discussing Mary’s assumption. He writes, “The bodily assumption of Mary is held to be an infallible dogma, and thus an irreformable and obligatory part of Christian revelation” (161). True, this “historical innovation” (185) was introduced as an accretion but now according to Rome is to be considered as inherently belonging to divine revelation. After it became dogma in 1950, it is “irreformable” and “obligatory”. It is no longer an add-on: it is a defining mark of Roman Catholicism.

The same is true for icon veneration. As historical accretion, the practice was given doctrinal status only in the 8th century. Since then, though, in the Eastern Orthodox tradition, “The icon is placed on a level with the Holy Scripture and with the Cross” (190). This means that icon veneration infringes on the authority of Scripture and the significance of the cross, i.e., two tenets of the Christian faith. Also in Roman Catholicism, icon veneration is grounded in the incarnation of Christ, thus touching on a basic Christological point. It is no longer a historical addition that can be detached and disposed of. It has become embedded in the core account of the Roman and Eastern gospels at the highest theological level, i.e., the doctrines of revelation (Scripture), salvation (cross), and Christ (incarnation).

While not investigating the issue with the same historical depth as the previous two, Ortlund makes reference to the doctrine of the papal office as another example of accretion. The papacy is evidently not part of the New Testament message. It is a child of imperial culture and politics, the result of “Slow historical accretions – a gradual accumulation and centralization of power within the Western church” (109-110). Yet Roman Catholicism has elevated the papacy to the highest theological status, i.e., the dogma of papal infallibility promulgated in 1870. The papacy is now another defining mark of Roman Catholicism, and this means that the Roman Catholic account of the gospel considers the papacy as central in the deposit of faith. Introduced as accretion, it is now organically part of the whole.

A Perplexing Conclusion
With all these accretions added to a system that deems itself to be infallible when elevated to dogmas, we are confronted with an integrated theological whole. Accretions were added in history but are now part of theology and practice. Borrowing an expression used by the Church Father Cyprian, Ortlund refers to “muddy water” (151) to indicate the mixed nature resulting from the accretions: it used to be water, but after the dirt is added, the water is no longer separable from the dirt.

This is the problem of Roman Catholicism from a Protestant viewpoint: it is muddy water in all areas. The muddiness is not equally dirty but is everywhere: the accretions have percolated in such a way as to modify all doctrines and practices.

Considering this, Ortlund’s final comment is perplexing. When he sums up his argument, he writes, “While we (Protestants) can share the core gospel message with many of the traditions outside of Protestantism, certain of their practices and beliefs have the unfortunate effect of both blurring it and adding on to it” (221-222). An inconsistency is evident here. On the one hand, the devasting reality of irreformable accretions is reckoned with; on the other, he still thinks that “we can share the core gospel message” as if the accretions have not altered it.

The case studies presented in the book show something different, i.e., accretions have infiltrated the core gospel message. Mary’s assumption is dogma although it has no biblical support. Icon veneration is thought of in terms of the incarnation of Christ. The papal office is dogma although it is a child of imperial ideology. We could add other examples of accretions:

In other words, the Roman Catholic “core gospel message” is Roman, papal, Marian, and sacramentalist. After the Council of Trent (1545-1563) that anathemized “faith alone”, the First Vatican Council (1870) that promulgated papal infallibility, the two modern Marian dogmas of the immaculate conception (1854) and bodily assumption (1950), the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) that made steps towards universalism, Rome’s “core gospel message” is imprisoned in irreformable and unchangeable dogmatic commitments that are beyond the Bible if not against the Bible. After the Counter-Reformation there is no core gospel message that is left untouched by accretions.

There is a vast difference between what Paul writes in Galatians and what he writes to the Philippians. In Philippians 1, Paul is able to rejoice because, despite leaders’ wrong motives, the true gospel is preached. But in Galatians, the gospel is being distorted although some gospel words are still used, and Paul confronts this. Post-accretions Roman Catholicism is more of a Galatians 1 than a Philippians 1 issue.

Accretions are not Lego bricks that once added can be taken away. They are additions that impact the whole system and transform it into something different. Roman Catholicism is no longer biblical Christianity; it is “muddy water”. It is not half gospel and half accretions. It is an integrated whole where non-biblical accretions define its foundational outlook and not only its secondary-tertiary aspects. As “a historical retrieval and a removal of accretions”, Protestantism serves the cause of an always-reforming Church and calls Roman Catholicism to a biblically radical reformation of its core commitments: back to Faith Alone and Scripture Alone.

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237. Conclave: The Movie that Takes Francis’s Papacy to Excruciating Consequences

It is no secret that the conclave (i.e. the assembly of cardinals for the election of a pope) always arouses voyeuristic interest. What happens inside the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican among the cardinal electors once the “extra omnes” (everyone out) is decreed is a source of almost morbid curiosity. In recent years, movie director Nanni Moretti chronicled his conclave in the film Habemus Papam (2011). Now, Swiss director Edward Berger is trying again with his own Conclave (2024), based on the novel of the same title by Robert Harris.
 
The film’s plot and setting are typical of the genre: the pope dies, and the “sede vacante” (vacant seat) is declared. The operations of the election of a successor then begin, culminating in voting in the Sistine Chapel. After an open-minded pope on doctrine and morals, different fronts clash: there is the progressive candidate who wants to continue the policies of the previous one, there is the conservative candidate who wants to bring the Catholic Church back into the groove of tradition, there is the “center” candidate who aims to administer the system by freezing the ongoing diatribes, and there is the African candidate who embodies the openness of Roman Catholicism to the global south.
 
In his homily at the beginning of the conclave, the Dean of the College of Cardinals says that it is no longer the time for “certainties” but for doubt and that the church must be the home of diversity that must be welcomed. It is a clue to the narrative so close to that of Pope Francis that it forms the spiritual framework of the film. Indeed, a Jesuit mark of Francis’ papacy is the exaltation of confusion and ambiguity, generating new solutions and stigmatizing traditionalism as a backward flight.

https://www.amazon.com/Tell-Catholic-Friend-Leonardo-Chirico/dp/B0DGBTY2PQ

The film chronicles how tight negotiations are constructed and unraveled over one candidate or the other. In short, all the strong candidates, one by one, fall under the weight of skeletons kept in the closet and which emerge during the conclave. The careerist and clericalist candidates involved are routed one by one. This, too, is a feature of the film that reflects a tendency dear to Pope Francis. Several times, Pope Francis has said that the Catholic Church is full of officials who are not shepherds who “smell of their flock” and who instead aspire to power. In the film, these corrupt candidates are exposed and pushed aside.
 
Eventually, in a conclave riven by scandal and conflict, the latest and unknown cardinal becomes pope. He comes from Baghdad, the “end of the earth,” as Jorge Bergoglio said of himself. He is outside the Roman system. He has been a priest in cities and countries at war: rather than the halls of power, he has been close to those who suffer. He is not doctrinaire, and in his brief address to the cardinals, he talks about inclusion, mercy, and universal fraternity. These are clearly themes that Francis always stressed. The new pope, both geographically and spiritually, resembles a candidate who mirrors Pope Francis’ portrait of the ideal priest. He seems to have no certainties except that of a church that embraces everything and everyone.
 
But there is more. While the new pope is in the “room of tears” (a small antechamber within the Sistine Chapel where a newly elected pope changes into his papal cassock for the first time), it turns out that he is also intersex. The pope who selected him as a cardinal had encouraged him to undergo uterine removal surgery, but he eventually refused, and the pope appointed him anyway.
 
The election took place, so there is not much room for maneuver. Moreover, the conclave had opened with a call to abandon certainty and open up to doubt. Now, the new pope precisely embodies that uncertainty and fluidity and invites acceptance of what is different and outside the traditional patterns.
 
Is this not the message of Pope Francis over the years of his papacy? Who does not remember the “who am I to judge” with which he introduced himself to the world? Who has not noticed the “todos, todos, todos” (all, all, all) that has been the refrain of his speeches? Who does not have in mind the blessing of people involved in homosexual relationships? Who has not heard the pope say that we are “all children of God”?
 
Here is the point: the film Conclave takes the seeds planted by Pope Francis during his pontificate to their extreme consequences. It seems that the novel on which it is based, although written by Robert Harris, was inspired by an idea of Pope Francis. The movie only anticipates some outcomes that are perhaps unsettling and excruciating, but congruent and consonant with respect to the “catholic” (inclusive, all-embracing) direction that Jorge Bergoglio imprinted on the Roman Catholic Church.