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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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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.

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235. More than the heart of Jesus, the heart of Roman Catholicism. On the latest encyclical of Pope Francis


Dilexit Nos (DN, “He loved us,” a quotation from Romans 8:37) is the fourth encyclical of Francis’ pontificate signed on 24th October. After 2013’s Lumen Fidei (The Light of Faith, although written by Benedict XVI and thus not his brainchild), 2015’s Laudato si’ (Praise Be to You) on environmental issues, and 2020’s All Brothers on universal fraternity, DN takes its cue from the Roman Catholic devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus to elaborate a more general reflection on the heart, affections, and compassion in a world full of evils.
 
The encyclical consists of 5 chapters, which are made up of 220 paragraphs, and it comes out while the celebration of the 350th anniversary of the first manifestation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque is still underway. Not surprisingly, the text mentions Jesus’ apparitions in Paray-le-Monial (France) between late December 1673 and June 1675. Francis also names some mystics particularly connected to this devotion: Therese of Lisieux (1873-1897) and Faustina Kowalska (1905-1938). The encyclical stitches together biblical reflections, patristic quotations, historical examples, and devotional practices that all converge at times on the human heart, other times on the heart of Christ, and always on the devotion of the “sacred heart.”
 
Devotion to the Sacred Heart is pervasive in Roman Catholic spirituality. Images of the bleeding heart, dedicated processions, mystical writings, collective imagery, and iconography in churches are all spaces imbued with this relatively modern tradition. Even the prestigious Catholic University of Milan is named after the Sacred Heart. This is to say that DN grafts onto very fertile ground for Roman Catholicism, which the pope evidently wants to enhance further.
 
In DN, the whole movement of Roman Catholicism can be seen in the watermark: there is some biblical quotation that is then elaborated in practices that take leave from the Bible as they go to focus on images and devotions that seek to “actualize” the biblical message. Through recourse, further revelations shift attention away from the biblical Christ and onto the Christ imagined by the church and mediated by it.
 
In DN, the biblical starting point flows into popular piety. The message of Scripture is blurred to make room for the world of devotions. Moreover, for the pope, popular piety is the “immune system of the church,” instead of being considered an excrescence to be always kept in check and treated with biblical antidotes.
 
St. Margaret Mary Alacoque herself, who initiated the devotion of the Sacred Heart, tells of revelations that led her to corporal mortifications (self-flagellation, sticking needles, ingesting other people’s vomit, etc.), encouragement to devote herself to the cult of Our Lady, and even to the heart of Mary (No. 176). Well, Pope Francis recalls with approval that Pius XII in 1956 stated that “the worship of the Sacred Heart expresses in an excellent way, as a sublime synthesis, our worship of Jesus Christ” (No. 79) and that it is even “a synthesis of the Gospel” (No. 83). Perhaps it is a synthesis of the Roman Catholic gospel, but certainly not the biblical gospel! Indeed, DN gives voice to the Roman Catholic account of the “Sacred Heart,” not Jesus’ heart as the Bible presents it to us.
 
This brief introduction to DN is worth concluding with a reference to a work almost contemporaneous with the Catholic apparitions of the Sacred Heart and the beginning of its devotion. The work is entitled The Heart of Christ in Heaven toward Sinners on Earth and was first published in 1651. It became the most popular work of the Puritan Thomas Goodwin (1600-1680).
 
Here, we find an excellent example of what it means to meditate on the heart of Christ biblically without giving room for spurious and misguided devotions. In the book, Goodwin sets out to show from the Scriptures that, in all His heavenly majesty, Christ is not now detached from believers and indifferent but has a very strong affection for them. Goodwin begins with the beautiful assurances given by Christ to His disciples, taking as an example of this love the washing of Christ’s feet (John 13). The heart of his argument, however, lies in the exposition of Hebrews 4:15, in which Goodwin shows that, in all His glorious holiness in heaven, Christ is not unkind toward His people; if anything, His heart beats stronger than ever with tender love for them.
 
Instead of the “sacred heart” of Dilexit Nos, so hopelessly steeped in traditions and practices that are contrary to the gospel, we need to know and experience the heart of Jesus as the Bible (sola Scriptura!) presents it.

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233. The Biblical Jubilee and the Roman Catholic Holy Year: Twins or Strangers?

In the religious world and beyond, a mobilization is underway in preparation for the 2025 Jubilee called by Pope Francis with the bull Spes non confundit (Hope does not disappoint). The Roman Catholic Church has already been preparing for some time. Millions of people plan to make some kind of “pilgrimage” to Rome or the designated places, whether secular or religious.
 
One is inundated with news but struggles to understand what is happening. After all, most people know that the word “jubilee” comes from somewhere in the Bible. The book of Leviticus, chapter 25, says that every 50 years a year was established to restore livable conditions for all. The three basic provisions of the jubilee year were: The restitution of sold property, the freeing of slaves, and the resting of the land. Clearly, this was something disruptive. The question is: How is it that the Roman Catholic Church calls what is going to happen in 2025 a “jubilee”? Is there a difference between a jubilee and a holy year? The Roman Catholic Church tends to use the two terms interchangeably, but is it legitimate to confuse them?
 
The tradition of the holy years
First of all, it should be pointed out that jubilees, from the Middle Ages onward, have also been referred to as holy years. In fact, in the medieval Catholic tradition, the idea of a “holy” year was placed side by side with that of jubilee, eventually becoming synonymous or at least an element of specification. The year in question was defined as “holy” insofar as it began, took place, and ended with sacred rites officiated by the pope or ecclesiastical authorities; by extension, the entire period delimited by somewhat sacred ceremonies was called a holy year. Actually, the latter definition better suits the congruous number of such years called by various popes over the centuries. They retain the name of the biblical jubilee, even though the measures taken and the spirituality promoted under these circumstances are more related to medieval Catholicism than the biblical message.
 
From Boniface VIII to the Present Day
Pope Boniface VIII called the first holy year in history with the bull Antiquorum habet fida relatio of February 22, 1300. The immediate occasion for this initiative was the accreditation of the rumor that was circulating more and more insistently that, in the centennial year, those who, repentant and confessed, visited the basilicas of St. Peter and St. Paul would obtain a “most full remission of sins.” The idea of redemption proper to the jubilee had morphed into that of an indulgence for the benefit of pilgrims. The influx to Rome was considerable and the granting of the “remission” was extended until the end of the year to meet everyone’s needs. The jubilee of Boniface VIII responded to popular religiosity’s need to celebrate a great cathartic event of peace and forgiveness after the troubled era of the Crusades. Among the pilgrims of this first holy year is Dante Alighieri, who referred to it in some verses of the Divine Comedy, the XVIII canto of the Inferno, and the XXXI canto of Paradise. Two years after the jubilee, Boniface VIII promulgated the famous Bull Unam sanctam in which he affirmed the supremacy of the theocratic power of the church over any other earthly institution. In this way, the widespread sentiment was satisfied and the authoritarian conception of the church was reaffirmed.
 
During the Avignonese parenthesis of the papacy (1305-1377), the expiration of the holy year was no longer linked to the centenary but was provisionally established in the order of fifty years. Thus, the jubilee of 1350 was celebrated without the presence of the pope (Clement VI) but with a strong involvement of the Roman population. But Pope Urban VI decided to set the deadline every 33 years, taking the years of Jesus’ earthly life as the yardstick; therefore, he called the holy year in 1383. Outside of any precise scanning, Boniface IX celebrated a jubilee of his own in 1390; while the coming of the centenary and the unexpected influx of pilgrims to Rome led him to repeat it in 1400. Subsequent ones were called by Martin V (1425) and Nicholas V (1450). The twenty-five-year practice was made binding by a bull of Paul II (1470). Sixtus IV took advantage of the 1475 jubilee to beautify Rome with major works such as the Sistine Chapel and the Sixtus Bridge over the Tiber River. The greatest artists of the time worked in Rome in preparation for that event. The jubilee became an event to beautify the pope’s city and to provide it with accommodations for pilgrims. In the century of the Protestant Reformation, holy years were celebrated by Alexander VI (1500), Clement VII (1525), Julius III (1550), and Gregory XIII (1575). On the latter occasion, an estimated 300,000 pilgrims from all over Europe arrived in Rome. The tone of the celebrations ranged from the pursuit of a spiritual dimension to the ostentation of ceremonial pomp and ecclesiastical power. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, ordinary holy years were called at regular intervals by Clement VIII (1600), Urban VIII (1625), Innocent X (1650), Clement X (1675), Innocent XII (1700), Benedict XIII (1725), Benedict XIV (1750), and Pius VI (1775). The difficult situation of the Catholic Church in the Napoleonic era prevented Pius VII from holding a jubilee in 1800.
 
However, the tradition resumed in 1825 with Leo XII, only to be interrupted again in 1850 due to the events of the Roman Republic and the temporary absence of Pius IX from the Vatican. The pope himself was able to call the holy year in 1875; however, the occupation of Rome by the Italian army did not allow the celebration of public ceremonies or even the influx of crowds. The first jubilee of the 20th century was organized by Leo XIII (1900). It was followed by that of Pius XI (1925) and, in the aftermath of the end of World War II, by that of Pius XII (1950). During that year, the dogma of Mary’s Assumption into heaven was proclaimed. The last ordinary jubilee was celebrated by John Paul II (2000). The one in 2025 called by Pope Francis is thus in a long Roman Catholic tradition.
 
In addition to these twenty-six jubilees called “ordinary” jubilees, because they are more or less tied to predefined deadlines, the Catholic Church has also promoted “extraordinary” holy years to celebrate certain worthy events deemed to be of a certain importance. The custom of proclaiming holy years of an extraordinary nature dates back to the 16th century, precisely in the wake of the Protestant Reformation, which had strongly denounced the scandal of indulgences. Instead of curbing and deeply revising the doctrine and practice in question, the Catholic Church reacted by increasing initiatives to distribute indulgences. For this reason, the ordinary jubilees were no longer deemed sufficient given the considerable time lag from one to the next, and there was therefore the additional holding of extraordinary years. In the 17th century alone, forty were organized! The last ones celebrated were those of Pius XI (1933) on the occasion of the 19th centenary of the Redemption, that of John Paul II (1983) to commemorate the 1950th anniversary of the same event, and the Jubilee of Mercy called by Pope Francis in 2015-2016. Pope Wojtyla also convened a Marian year (1987), which is further evidence of the departure from the content and spirit of the biblical jubilee by the Catholic tradition of holy years, while Pope Ratzinger convened a “Pauline” one (2008-2009) to commemorate the Apostle Paul and Pope Francis one dedicated to “St. Joseph” (2020). In general, it can be said that holy years are indicators that reflect the Catholic Church’s emphases, practices, and journey over time, but have a nonexistent relationship with the biblical jubilee.
 
The Issue of Indulgences
Beyond the historical sequence of the holy years and the names of the popes to whom they are linked, it is important to point out what were and what are still the qualifying moments planned for the celebration of these anniversaries. In this regard, it can be said that a set of religious practices typical of medieval Catholicism were associated with the jubilee with the result that they ended up taking precedence over the demands posed by the jubilee itself. The holy year is more a product of Roman Catholic spirituality than of biblical jubilee. The hallmark of the holy year is medieval religiosity later elaborated over the following centuries but not faith based on Scripture.
 
Thus, the Roman Catholic jubilee is characterized primarily by a pilgrimage to Rome with an associated visit to its major basilicas and an offer of “general forgiveness” in relation to the system of ecclesiastical indulgences. At this point in the discussion, it should become clear that both prescriptions are clearly foreign to the biblical jubilee. The latter, in fact, did not involve a pilgrimage to Jerusalem or any other place. In this regard, it should be recalled that the theme of pilgrimage is a rich biblical metaphor for the Christian life, but the practice of pilgrimage to a particular place is not prescribed either for the jubilee or other circumstances. As for forgiveness connected with jubilee, it clashes with the finality of Christ’s work. By His incarnation, death, and resurrection, Jesus accomplished all that was necessary for man to receive true forgiveness. His jubilee consists of the gift of forgiveness to those who believe in Him. Because of the jubilee of the Lord Jesus, offers of forgiveness related to the ecclesiastical apparatus are useless, wrong, and anachronistic.
 
The issue of indulgences is reminiscent of the violent controversy that arose during the Protestant Reformation when not only the excesses but the very institution of indulgences was radically challenged. To the distracted eyes of most, indulgences may appear a somewhat cumbersome legacy of medieval Catholicism but deprived of legitimacy in the practice of the contemporary Roman Catholic Church. Today, one hears that indulgences are no longer offered as they have been more or less tacitly abolished. Yet, the opposite is true. In fact, the institution of indulgences is certainly one of the typical aspects of the jubilee and, as John Paul II notes in the Bull Aperite portas Redemptoris of January 6, 1983, the gift of indulgences is “proper and characteristic of the Holy Year.” It consists of the remission before God of the temporal penalty for sins granted by the church. In the Catholic view, just as Christ’s sacrifice must be “re-presented” at the Mass, so the forgiveness of the sins of the faithful must be administered periodically by the church that participates in that sacrifice. The Catholic Church, far from abolishing this much contested practice, has instead further specified and regulated it without affecting its essential features in the least.
 
To this end, after discussions on the matter by the Second Vatican Council, Paul VI promulgated the constitution Indulgentiarum doctrina (1967) and later published the Enchiridion indulgentiarum (1968) to regulate the whole issue. The latter document was updated again in 1986. In addition, the two greatest doctrinal texts of Catholicism, the 1983 Code of Canon Law (canons 992-997) and the 1992 Catechism of the Catholic Church (§§ 1471-1479), contain doctrinal definitions and pastoral provisions on the subject testifying to the extreme vitality of the doctrine and practice of indulgences even in view of the Holy Year of 2025.
 
Pope Francis’s Holy Year
As already noted, Pope Francis, prior to the one in 2025, had already proclaimed the Holy Year of Mercy in 2015. The bull calling that jubilee is titled Misericordiae Vultus (The Face of Mercy). The pope addresses the topic of indulgences in paragraphs 21-22, where he uses language that is much more personal and relational than juridical and traditional while maintaining the substance of the theology and practice of indulgences.
 
Now, in anticipation of the Jubilee of 2025, the May 9, 2024 Bull of Indiction, Spes non confundit (Hope does not disappoint), recalls the biblical text of Romans 5:5 and the theme of hope found in the New Testament. However, in addition to the formal reference, the pope hooks the Catholic event to the medieval tradition of holy years that drew inspiration from sources other than biblical ones. He speaks of a “grace event,” but this is a conception of grace that is mediated through the ecclesiastical institution that opens its “treasury” and is “merited” by pilgrims in various ancient and updated ways. The “Norms Concerning the Granting of Indulgences” issued on May 13, 2024, specify that the grace of forgiveness can be acquired through a series of devotional practices such as the traditional crossing of “holy doors” and visiting the designated churches, but also by those who “recite in their own home or there where the impediment holds them back (e.g. in the chapel of the monastery, hospital, nursing home, prison) the Lord’s Prayer, the Profession of Faith in any legitimate form and other prayers in conformity with the purposes of the Holy Year, offering up their sufferings or hardships in their own lives.” Given that we are in a digital age, the norms for the granting of indulgences have also been adapted by providing that the latter is obtainable “by abstaining, in a spirit of penance, at least during one day from futile distractions, real but also virtual, induced for example by the media and social networks, and from superfluous consumption.”
 
Now, out of ecumenical modesty, a wise communication strategy, or both, indulgences are mentioned only fleetingly in the official publications of the Catholic Church. Little is said about the exercise of this practice other than a reference to tradition; just as it is not emphasized, so it is not denied. The whole theological framework of indulgences outlined by the recent magisterium remains firmly in place and constitutes what is not said explicitly but reiterated implicitly in the Papal Letter. The Jubilee of 2025 will still be a year in which the opening of the holy door of St. Peter’s will sanction the beginning of the Catholic Church’s bestowal of the remission of sins on the millions of pilgrims who will flock in urbe (in the city) but also extra urbem (outside of the city).
 
Which Connection Then?
By contrast, the Jubilee of Jesus Christ, foreshadowed by the prophets and fulfilled by the Messiah, made ultimate forgiveness possible for believers. The Son of God paid the penalty and guilt of sins, and those who believed in Him were set free. Just as His sacrifice was unique, unique also is His forgiveness. Jesus Himself gives this forgiveness and does not give it to others to manage. The whole message of the Christian jubilee revolves around the person and work of Christ—the executor and guarantor of the jubilee—without providing for ecclesiastical involvements, mediations, and administrations in remitting sins that only God can forgive. Instead, the holy year called by the Vatican has the Roman Catholic Church at its center in the role of dispenser of indulgences. The Bible says that Christ’s sacrifice was unique and final for the salvation of those who believe, and so the practice of indulgences questions, and indeed denies, the perfect efficacy of Jesus’ work. Instead of bringing one closer, indulgences distance one from the jubilee of the Lord Jesus.
 
While it is true that jubilee was brought about by the Lord Jesus (e.g. Isaiah 61:1-3 and Luke 4:16-21), the church can only proclaim and practice it but not administer it, let alone make money from it. 2025 will certainly be a holy year of religious tradition, but it cannot be called a jubilee in the biblical sense.
 
This is an excerpt from my booklet Il Giubileo. Molto più e molto meglio di un anno santo (Rome: ADI-Media, 2024).

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226. If the Pope thinks that Rome is a “mission field.”

Evangelicals have known for centuries that Rome is a “mission field.” It is no coincidence that as soon as the breach of Porta Pia opened in 1870 (when Rome was liberated from papal power and the Pontifical State ended), Bibles and Christian tracts were immediately smuggled in to further the evangelization of the city. Despite being considered the cradle of Christianity, Rome had experienced a somewhat tyrannical religious monopoly by Roman Catholicism over the centuries. Still, it could not be said to be an evangelized city. Very religious, yes, but Christian, no. Rome was a mission field because it prevented the free circulation of God’s Word in the vernacular language and suppressed any attempts to bring about a biblical reformation.
 
For this reason, after 1870, evangelism and church planting activities were initiated by evangelicals surrounded by suspicion and, at times, opposition. This continues to this day. By evangelical standards, Rome was and is still a mission field. With around 100 evangelical churches and a population of 4 million, it is indeed a mission field.
 
Since 1870, much water has passed under the bridges of the river Tiber. Today, even the Roman Catholic pope says Rome is “a mission field.” Meeting with the Roman Catholic clergy on 13th January, Francis said just that: the heart of Roman Catholicism, the seat of the papacy, the center of Roman Catholicism, the city that Popes have claimed their own is a “mission field.”
 
What does that mean? The challenges of secularization, disengagement, and abandonment of religious practice are putting increasing pressure on the Roman Catholic Church right here in the eternal city. Accustomed to imposing its primacy on consciences for centuries, now that its authority structure and the social imposition of customs no longer work automatically, even Roman Catholicism in Rome is in a crisis of numbers and participation. Masses (with exceptions) are semi-deserted, and parishes (with exceptions) are perhaps attended for the services they offer to the young or the poor, but certainly are no longer known to be places of spirituality (e.g. prayer, catechesis). Much of the Roman population is not “active” in Catholic practices.
 
Rome is still religious in its “hardware” but less and less so in its “software.” Everything in Rome speaks of the established and pervasive presence of the Roman Catholic Church (palaces, institutions, churches, the Vatican). Still, it is beginning to perceive itself as a presence needing self-defense and promotion. So, the pope, who is the Roman Catholic bishop of Rome, says that the city must be considered as a mission field to be reached with the “new evangelization” by an “outgoing” church, the two passwords that he has been using since the 2013 programmatic document “The Joy of the Gospel.”
 
Although it may appear so, what Pope Francis said is not a new thing. Back in 1974 (exactly 50 years ago), Cardinal Poletti, then the pope’s vicar for the city of Rome, said that Rome was a “mission field.” It caused a stir then. Ten years after celebrating the splendors of the Second Vatican Council, the church began to see Rome not so much as “our” city but as a place to be reached.
 
When Francis says Rome is a “mission field,” one must also see the other side of the coin. On 4th January, he met with the Mayor of Rome, Roberto Gualtieri, and the President of the Lazio Region, Francesco Rocca—something that does not happen for any other faith community. The city’s two highest political and administrative authorities are not generally received “in audience” by religious leaders in their offices. However, the pope does it frequently, and they go to him with deferential attitudes. He is a top political figure.
 
Four days later on 8th January, the president of the Italian Catholic Bishops Conference, Cardinal Matteo Zuppi, signed the hiring of 6,500 new religion teachers (chosen by Roman Catholic bishops and paid for by Italian taxpayers) with the Italian government. This, too, is not a practice of a “mission field” but of a country enslaved to a religious denomination. A mirror of an unjust privilege is the fact that in public, state-funded schools, Roman Catholic teaching is the only option available for students and is paid for by the state.
 
And then, on Sunday evening, 14th January, Pope Francis was interviewed live on prime-time: an hour-long, almost kneeling interview by anchorman Fabio Fazio on “Che tempo che fa” show. It was on this program that, after defending the blessing of same-sex and irregular couples, when asked about the reality of hell, the pope said: “I like to think hell is empty; I hope it is.” Again, this is not an opportunity that other religious leaders are given, but it does not signal the fact that Italy is a “mission field” in the sense that evangelicals would give to the expression. Rome is rather an “occupied” field by a religion only.
 
The Roman Catholic hierarchy may consider Rome to be a “mission field,” but the pope and the Roman Catholic Church are not letting go of their grip on the city. Evidently, the pope feels the ground shaking under his feet and clings to the political-economic-institutional-media privileges of the past. He says he wants to do “mission,” but what he does is manage power.
 
For evangelicals, Rome was and is a mission field in need of evangelization by people and churches who witness the biblical gospel. “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” (Acts 3:6). Neither the promise of political favour nor the prospect of social status, the gospel is the message of salvation in Jesus Christ alone by faith alone according to the Bible alone. This is the evangelical mission to the city of Rome. The pope’s is something else.

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224. Why Zygmunt Bauman saw “the light at the end of the tunnel” in Pope Francis

“You are the light at the end of the tunnel.” This is how Polish sociologist Zygmunt Bauman (1925-2017) addressed Pope Francis during their meeting in Assisi in 2016 on the sidelines of a Sant’Egidio (i.e. a Roman Catholic charity) peace initiative. In his conversation with Francis, Bauman said, “I have worked all my life to make humanity a more hospitable place. I arrived at the age of 91 and I have seen many false starts, until I became a pessimist. Thank you, because you are for me the light at the end of the tunnel.”
 
How did the sociologist most known for his books on the “liquid society” happen to see the “light” in the Pope? The book by Zeger Polhuijs, Zygmunt Bauman and Pope Francis in Dialogue: the Labyrinth of Liquid Modernity (Lanham, MD: Fortress Academic, 2022) examines the long-distance intellectual relationship between the two. Polhuijs is a Roman Catholic priest of the Community of Sant’Egidio and currently studies fundamental theology at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome. The book was presented at the Roman campus of the Australian Catholic University on 28th November 2023 and allows more digging into the matter.
 
Bauman’s attraction to Pope Francis is an episode that shows an interesting and widespread tendency in contemporary culture: how post-Marxist intellectuals, disillusioned by the failures of ideologies and preoccupied with the explosions of world fragmentation, find in Pope Francis a figure who, with his message of mercy, inclusion, and fraternity, instills hope in the general dullness.
 
Returning to Polhuijs’ book, it highlights how, in his examination of the ills of the contemporary world, Francis uses Bauman’s language and, conversely, the sociologist’s analyses overlap with the pope’s. There is a certain parallelism between them. Bauman, an agnostic, Jewish, post-Marxist, was attracted to Francis’ open and concrete thinking and the “transcendence” of the human fraternity he presents. In it, Bauman sees the awareness of the danger of the globalization of indifference, which is an effect of the liquid society, disengaged from traditional values and which has lost all sense of proximity. The antidote to liquidity is not a nostalgic and definitively lost solidity (Francis would call it “backwardism,” “clericalism,” “proselytism”), but solidarity among all: believers and non-believers. To contrast the adverse effects of liquid society, one does not need a common reference to God, but the appreciation of human fraternity.
 
For Bauman, Francis embodies this: not a reactionary religious voice saying to go back to traditional society or the Catholic church as the only agency that grants happiness for the afterlife, but an encouragement to connect with everyone by discovering the closeness of solidarity, regardless of one’s beliefs, religious commitments, or life practices. “The light at the end of the tunnel” is a new form of humanism that Francis seems to champion.
 
The proximity between Bauman and Pope Francis was indirectly observed by the conservative American intellectual George Weigel when he coined the term “liquid Roman Catholicism” as a description of the kind of Roman Catholicism that is emerging under Francis. Liquid Catholicism is marked by the uncertain teaching on doctrinal and moral subjects of primary importance; a kind of intolerance towards the pre-conciliar liturgy; the constant pickaxing of the Roman Catholic institution with repeated criticism of clericalism; the ways the Pope acts outside the box that destabilize customs; the welcoming and merciful message at the expense of the doctrinal and moral requirements of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, etc. All of this makes Francis a pope who is liquifying an institution that in the past has made its rocky and immutable structure a distinctive trait of its identity.
 
Liquid Catholicism embraces believers, non-believers, Christians, non-Christians, practicing and non-practicing religious people. The important thing is that all are included. Everyone, in his or her own way, will decide the ways and times of their participation, but the assumption is that everyone is already a participant. Not surprisingly, Roman Catholics accustomed to thinking of their Church in terms of doctrinal clarity, unambiguousness of interpretations, and predictability of practices are puzzled by Pope Francis.
 
The point I want to make is this. In Bauman’s attraction to Francis, he was not interested in God, the Bible, sin, Jesus Christ, and salvation; the sociologist remained agnostic and did not convert to Roman Catholicism or the Christian faith. He was interested in society’s degradation, for which the recipes of ideology advocated in his youth had proved unsuccessful. On the other hand, Francis did not challenge him to believe in God, just as he does not confront his interlocutors with the need for biblical conversion. The Pope encourages them and all to feel that they are “all brothers,” to welcome each other, to consider fraternity the source of transcendence, leaving each to regulate his relationship with God in his own way, should he be interested.
 
This kind of “catholicity”, i.e. liquid Catholicism, pleases the post-Marxist culture, which, from being anti-religious and atheistic, has now become agnostic, perhaps indifferent to the discourse about God, but still characterized by its humanitarian concerns. This is the common ground with Francis’ catholicity. It makes the pope a “popular” figure in the eyes of progressive culture because it grounds transcendence on horizontal relationships (God is not needed), exalts fraternity among fellow human beings (reconciliation with God is not sought), and encourages proximity with one another (without fellowship with God). It bypasses Jesus Christ who said: “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12). Biblically speaking, then, is what Bauman found in Pope Francis the true light at the end of the tunnel, or is it instead not another shade of darkness?

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223. The Icing on the Cake of Pope Francis: the Blessing of Same-Sex Unions

The Roman Catholic Church officially opens for the blessing of same-sex unions. After much winking and hinting that this would be the outcome of the current pontificate, the official statement came out, putting pen to paper. “One should neither provide for nor promote a ritual for the blessings of couples in an irregular situation. At the same time, one should not prevent or prohibit the Church’s closeness to people in every situation in which they might seek God’s help through a simple blessing” (n. 38). So says the declaration Fiducia supplicans (18/12/2023) by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, with explicit approval from Pope Francis.
 
The die is cast. What had been a decade-long debate between those who hoped for this opening, considering it an advancement of Catholic morality toward greater inclusiveness, and those who saw it as a sign of Roman Catholicism’s irreversible ruin is now resolved. With a “declaration” of high hierarchical value in the authority of Vatican pronouncements (observers note that the Congregation’s last statement was Joseph Ratzinger’s Dominus Iesus dating back to 2000), Roman Catholicism is now officially in favor of blessing gay unions, as are many liberal Protestant churches around the world.
 
It all began with “Who am I to judge?” (2013) to “All, all, all” at the Lisbon Youth Day (2023). The trajectory was clear from the start: Pope Francis’ inclusive, embracing, “Catholic” afflatus and his distance from positions that he calls “clerical” and “backwardism” but that are also part of the doctrinal baggage of Roman Catholicism. In between are many steps, not the least of which is the appointment of trusted Argentine theologian Víctor Manuel Fernández as Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, who signed the Declaration. Now Francis has his back covered even within the Vatican’s “official” theology. Indeed, Fiducia supplicans openly contradicts another 2021 document of the same Congregation, when Cardinal Ladaria was Prefect. Then, responding to “doubts” precisely about the possibility of blessing same-sex unions, the Vatican had still responded with a (somewhat) clear “no.” Two years later, however, the answer is “yes.” Evidently, the evolution toward Roman Catholic inclusion has accelerated further.
 
Of course: the Vatican says that there is no question of recognizing gay unions as marriage, that Catholic doctrine does not change, that the blessing is not a sacrament but a sacramental, … all secondary doctrinal clarifications that do not modify the main point. The Roman Catholic Church today officially offers blessing to same-sex couples: something, moreover, already in place (and for years) in Roman Catholic churches in many European (e.g. Germany and Belgium) and Latin American (e.g. Argentina) countries.
 
Roman Catholics must ask themselves whether Fiducia supplicans is consistent with the previous magisterium or is in open conflict with it. By its nature, Roman Catholicism is constantly on the move to possibly encompass the whole world within the institutional-sacramental structures of its Roman system. Not being hinged on and guided by the biblical gospel, Roman Catholicism fluctuates between asserting its Roman power and accentuating its Catholic embrace. In Dominus Iesus (2000) the Vatican restated its Roman understanding of the Catholic Church being the only and true church. With Fiducia supplicans (2023), the Vatican opens its Catholic embrace to same-sex couples.
 
Fiducia supplicans is the icing on the cake of his pontificate. The main ingredients of Francis’ Jesuit recipe have been two: we are “all brothers” (Christians, non-Christians, atheists and agnostics: everyone) and the Catholic Church is the “field hospital” for all. Now, there is also the icing on the cake.
 
Fiducia supplicans is in open contrast to biblical teaching. Pope Francis is a shrewd Roman Catholic Jesuit who leads his church toward the most “catholic” form it has ever had, but not toward the gospel of Jesus Christ.

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222. From “Metaphysical” to “Popular”: A Window on the Roman Catholic Theology of the Future?

In the beginning was Roman Catholic metaphysics: Aristotelian in outline, revisited and improved by Thomas Aquinas, capable of integrating some biblical and Augustinian insights, elastic to the point of metabolizing mystical and rationalistic streams, open to updating with respect to modernity, while maintaining its solid structures. Metaphysics was taught in Roman Catholic seminaries (two years of metaphysics preceded the study of theology in the training of priests). It was at the heart of catechesis, the watermark of the church’s documents, and the imprint of its public morality and theology. In short, it was the recognizable mark of the Roman Catholic church. Metaphysics started from “first principles” and, in the light of reason as helped by revelation (coming from Tradition and the Bible), by deductive means and procedures, arrived at every nook and detail of human life. With this metaphysics, Rome fought against the Protestant Reformation, the Enlightenment, and modernism.
 
Then came Vatican II (1962-1965), and that solid framework was stress-tested. It went through a season of development and updating, introducing a new set of emphases. The “pastoral” tone was preferred to the “doctrinal” one.  The top-down structure made room for more bottom-up processes. The season of “genitive” theologies (of demythologization, enculturation, hope, liberation, post-colonialism, ecumenism, inter-religious dialogue, etc.) battered classical metaphysics. In the name of “renewal,” there was a certain theological restlessness and an eagerness to change the paradigm.
 
Then there was Pope Francis (2013- ). Of eclectic and unfinished theological training, Argentine and non-academic, the pope immediately showed his frustration with the schematism of metaphysics, denouncing its abstract and “clerical” character, in his view far away from people’s problems and offering answers to questions of the past that nobody is asking. In their own way, the “outgoing” trajectory of which he became an interpreter and the “synodality” he championed are formulas that apply to theology as well. In concrete terms, in 2018, with the Constitution Veritatis Gaudium, the pope sent signals to the ecclesiastical universities, preparing them for a new season. After the death of Benedict XVI, Francis changed the leadership of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, giving it to a “non-metaphysical” theologian like Víctor Manuel Fernández. Now, with the document Ad theologiam promuovendam (“Promoting Theology”, 1st November 2023; Italian text; English unofficial translation), he changed the statute of the Pontifical Academy of Theology, which is a Vatican institution at the service of the pope’s theological ministry. In this text, Pope Francis envisages his way of doing theology.
 
In imagining the Academy of the future, Francis hopes that theology will experience an “epistemological and methodological rethinking,” a “turning point,” a “paradigm shift,” a “courageous cultural revolution.” In the background is dissatisfaction with traditional metaphysics and its theological methods. According to Francis, theology must be “fundamentally contextual” and no longer start from “first principles.” It must translate into a “culture of dialogue” with all and no longer think of itself as only lecturing to the world, religions, and others. It must be “transdisciplinary” and no longer prioritize philosophy over the other disciplines. It must be “spiritual” and not abstract and ideological; “popular” and not detached from people’s common sense; “inductive” and not deductive.
 
In so doing, the pope distances himself from the legacy of metaphysical theology that has been the paradigm of Roman Catholicism throughout the ages. Is his way of looking at theology something that Thomas Aquinas, Robert Bellarmine, Leo XIII, John Paul II, Joseph Ratzinger-Benedict XVI, etc., would recognize as being in line with the tradition of Rome? Not really. Perhaps Karl Rahner, some Liberation theologians, and their disciples would.
 
“Promoting theology” seems to be a manifesto of an account of Roman Catholic theology that, without naming traditional metaphysics, distances itself from it in significant ways. It does not appear to abolish metaphysics by decree but subjects it to accelerated “updating” and “development” such that its connotations are changed. In a nutshell, the Roman Catholic theology of the future will be done differently.
 
As noted at the outset, traditional metaphysics has absorbed all the orientations that have emerged, even those that initially seemed contrary to its arrangement. It has demonstrated great adaptability at the service of Roman catholicity, i.e. the ability to integrate new ideas and methods without changing the fundamental commitments of the Roman Catholic church. The question is: is the direction Francis wants theology to take compatible with its well-established patterns? Is it a radical change with unpredictable consequences? For sure, in the wake of Vatican II as interpreted by Francis, Roman Catholic theology will be increasingly different not only in emphasis but also in language, style, themes, and content. Those who think of Rome as the home of stability have yet another indication that Rome does develop and change. Tradition is an evolving process.
 
It is feasible to say that the Roman Catholic theology of the future will be et-et, both-and: both the one established over the centuries and the one Pope Francis desires. Both approaches to theology are not committed to Scripture as the supreme authority. The former reflects a philosophical system rather than the Bible; the latter mirrors the context more than the Word of God. In both cases, theology is hardly evangelical but rather two ways of voicing Roman Catholic theology: one more “Roman” (metaphysical), the other more “catholic” (contextual).

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220. “The next Pope will be John XXIV.” Will he?

“On the Vietnam journey, if I don’t go, John XXIV certainly will.” In the traditional inflight press conference on the papal plane returning to Rome from Mongolia (September 4), Pope Francis hinted at his possible successor. Being asked what his plans are for future international journeys, Francis showed awareness of his frailty, due to age and poor health conditions. This is why he cannot plan long-term. He also indicated the name of a possible successor who could replace him after he is gone. Of course, he did not refer to a specific individual, but to the papal name he wished the next Pope could take.
 
The indication of the name “John XXIV” sheds light on the preferred portrait of the pope of the future. It is worth noticing the possible names he did not refer to and the one he used during the interview.
 
“Francis II” was not mentioned for understandable reasons. A reigning Pope wishing his successor to follow his steps is legitimate, but indicating that he should choose his name would have been an abnormal form of egocentrism. In his 10-year tenure, Francis has shaped the next conclave (i.e. the assembly of cardinals who will elect the next Pope) by nominating 70% of it. Most of the new cardinals are Francis’s friends and like-minded people. Obviously, he wants the successor to follow in his footsteps, but wishing him to take the name “Francis II” would have been a faux pas.
 
“Benedict XVII” wasn’t mentioned either. Despite formally polite co-existence, Francis has always thought of himself as breaking off the ecclesiastical trajectory of Pope Ratzinger. There has been a cleavage between the two on all grounds: doctrine, practice, style, language, strategy. After the death of Benedict XVI, Francis tried to limit his influence and close his era. Certainly, Francis does not want Pope Ratzinger’s staunchly “Roman” and traditional line to be revived after the end of his reign. He believes there is no place whatsoever for a “Benedict XVII” in the future of the Roman Catholic Church.
 
Furthermore, a “John Paul III” was not indicated as a desirable follow-up. John Paul II’s legacy is surely tied to the re-launching of Rome’s catholicity (i.e. the embracement of the world into Rome’s sacramental and institutional structures) – something that Pope Francis is also pursuing in his own way. However, John Paul II (now a “saint”) was also the Pope who engaged in “culture wars” with the secularizing West, upholding traditional Roman Catholic moral identity-markers (e.g. opposition to abortion, euthanasia, and homosexuality). He created an “us” versus “them” mentality in the relationship with the world, especially the secular West. This oppositional posture is very far from Pope Francis’s more “catholic” and inclusivist strategy. He wants to underline that we are “all brothers” and continue to be so despite professing different religions and having opposite ethical convictions. Francis does not want the Roman Church to be a polarizing agency but a place where differences exist in harmony.
 
“Paul VII” did not appear to Francis as a desirable successor either. While Francis often positively quotes Paul VI as the one who wrote the encyclical Evangelii Nuntiandi (1975) calling the Roman Church to engage in “evangelization” (to be understood in the Roman Catholic sense of expanding the borders of the Roman Church), he apparently dislikes the black and white picture that Paul VI painted in dealing with moral issues such as the regulation of birth in his encyclical Humanae Vitae (1968). Paul VI created a chasm between the world and the Church. On the contrary, Francis wants to eliminate all separation and treats differences, even the sharpest ones, as instances of human richness to be harmonized.
 
Neither “Francis II,” “Benedict XVII,” “John Paul III,” nor “Paul VII.” Why “John XXIV” then? Here are some possible explanations for why Pope Francis would like his successor to imitate or look like John XXIII. John XXIII is known as the “good pope” who was approachable, kind, warm, and humble. Giuseppe Roncalli (1881-1963), John XXIII, was the Pope who convened the Second Vatican Council in 1959. The Council only began in 1962, and John XXIII died during it. Vatican II is the watershed event in the present-day Roman Catholic Church whereby Rome began to downplay its centuries-long insistence on the “Roman” sides of its identity (e.g., hierarchy, full adherence to the catechism, submission to the ecclesiastical authority) and to stress its “catholic” aspirations (e.g., inclusion, embracement, absorption). Francis thinks of himself as enacting and implementing this aspect of Vatican II.
 
Moreover, in the opening address to Vatican II, John XXIII remarked that the Council had no doctrinal agenda but wanted to develop “a magisterium which is predominantly pastoral in character.” Neither condemnations of the world nor theological definitions were to be expected. What ensued was a wholehearted affirmation of the goodness of the modern world. Francis likes to underline the pastoral nature of everything the Church says and does. The pastoral dimension (warm, welcoming, accepting of all) is often referred to as if it were in opposition to the doctrinal one. Francis thinks of his pontificate as a “pastoral” attempt at building bridges instead of creating walls with the whole world, leaving doctrinal issues aside. He wants this “pastoral” emphasis to be kept and even increased by his successor. A John XXIII-like pope is expected to promote universal fraternity in ecumenical, inter-faith, and social relationships.
 
A final comment is in place. Unlike John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Francis, John XXIII was an Italian pope. Among the candidates to succeed Francis, Cardinal Matteo Zuppi, the Italian archbishop of Bologna and president of the Italian Bishops Conference, is at the top of the list. In recent months, Francis sent Zuppi to visit Ukraine, Russia, the US, and now China as his ambassador for peace in the Ukraine war. In so doing, he wanted to raise Zuppi’s international profile. In many ways, Cardinal Zuppi resembles the portrait of “John XXIV”: not known for his strong doctrinal views, but recognized as a cardinal dedicated to dialogue, peace, and fraternity. Did Pope Francis intend to indirectly campaign for him?

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218. In a double move, Francis closes the Ratzinger era. For now.

Pope Ratzinger (1927-2022) died only seven months ago, but it is safe to say that on July 1st his era definitely ended, at least in the intentions of the reigning pope. In a double move that would make a skilled checkers player envious, Pope Francis put an end to an unwieldy presence in his pontificate. As a “pope emeritus” living in the Vatican (a situation that had never happened before in the millennial history of the Catholic Church), Ratzinger constituted a thorn in Francis’ side, albeit a silent one at least on the outside. Light years removed in terms of theological training and ideas about the church, Francis had assigned him the “wise grandfather” role—a vexatious way of saying that he was an old man rich in memory but lacking in future prospects.
 
Benedict XVI died at the end of 2022, but on July 1st, his shadow receded further from the Vatican. Francis’ first move was to dispatch Ratzinger’s secretary, Msgr. George Gänswein, to Freiburg, Germany, without assignments: away from Rome, deprived of ecclesiastical responsibilities. The last rift between him and Francis had been the day after Ratzinger’s funeral with the publication of his book Nothing but the Truth. My Life at the Side of Benedict XVI (Italian edition: Nient’altro che la Verità. La mia vita al fianco di Benedetto XVI, Milano: Piemme, 2023), in which Gänswein had clearly spoken of the disagreements between the two popes. Francis had not liked either the timing or the content. Now Gänswein, who is only 66 years old (a “young” age for the church in Rome), has received the reciprocation that tastes like revenge served cold: a one-way ticket and a future without appointments. The message is clear: cohabitation with Ratzinger and his “inner circle” is over.
 
But there was another move in contrast to the Ratzingerian age. Before becoming pope, Ratzinger had been the powerful prefect of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (formerly the Holy Office). Upon becoming pope, in defense of Catholic doctrine, Cardinals Müller (German) and Ladaria (Spanish) had been appointed in his place. They are different in temperaments, but both “conservative” or “moderate” like Ratzinger. The former had been his student, the latter had been secretary of the Dicastery in Ratzinger’s time. Two “loyalists.” There was no shortage of friction; Müller had said that Pope Francis needed “theological framing” and, in the face of this “offense,” was promptly and abruptly dismissed by the pope. Ladaria, a Jesuit like Bergoglio, has held a more defiladed and guarded position, but certainly not in line with the evolution of Francis’ papacy.
 
Now, coincidentally, on the very same day of Ratzinger’s former secretary’s departure, Ladaria, Ratzinger’s appointee to the Dicastery, was also dismissed on grounds of seniority. In his place, Francis appointed Argentine Víctor Manuel Fernández. Not well known in international theological circles, Fernández is, however, a loyal follower of Pope Francis. He is said to have been the ghostwriter of Evangelii Gaudium, the pontificate’s programmatic manifesto calling for a “missionary conversion” of his church;[1] Amoris Laetitia, the exhortation that contains openings toward the Eucharistic inclusion of people in “irregular” states of life; and Laudato Sì’, the encyclical on environmental issues that is so popular in progressive circles. Virtually all the cornerstones of Francis’ magisterium were written in consultation with Fernández. In the aftermath of Evangelii Gaudium, he had written a book presenting the new papal course to the world: The Project of Francis. Where he wants to take the Church (Italian edition: Il progetto di Francesco. Dove vuole portare la Chiesa, Bologna: EMI, 2014). Now, this interpreter of Francis’ thinking, far removed from Ratzinger’s, became prefect of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, the highest body for the promotion of Catholic doctrine. Francis has a very faithful and “young” theologian (62 years old) in a position that can carry on his “project” even when he is gone. In Francis’ view, this really is a big deal. The next two years will see two Synods of Bishops (gathering all Roman Catholic bishops from around the world) on the controversial topic of “synodality”, i.e., a new way of proceeding in the church, with Rome becoming more inclusive and absorbing (catholic) and less marked by its traditional identity (Roman). Francis has now a trusted supporter and enthusiastic promoter of his view of “synodality.”
 
In two moves, Francis has shrewdly weakened the “Roman-ness” of the church as interpreted by Pope Benedict XVI and scored a point in favor of the “catholicity” of the current fluid church, the one where we are “all brothers.” While physically frail, Francis has never been stronger than he is now.

[1] Here is a recent summary of Evangelii Gaudium from the Pope himself: “Here we find the ‘heart’ of the evangelical mission of the Church: to reach all through the gift of God’s infinite love, to seek all, to welcome all, excluding no one, to offer our lives for all. All! That is the key word.” Audience to the General Assembly of the Pontifical Mission Societies (June 3rd, 2023).