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257. “Magnifica Humanitas”. The Chart of Roman Catholic Humanism and Its Theological Problems

It is not a written rule, but a recognizable pattern: the first encyclical of a Pope sets the tone of the whole pontificate and Pope Leo XIV’s “Magnifica Humanitas” (MH) – released after one year since his election – does exactly that. The document will probably shape the future papal teaching as its overarching framework. As the subtitle indicates, the Pope’s concern is “on safeguarding the human person in the time of artificial intelligence.” This is going to be the main concern of his reign as Pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church.
 
The choice of the name Leo had already indicated his desire to develop the legacy of Leo XIII, the Pope who at the end of the 19th century gave rise to the Social Doctrine of the Catholic Church (SDC). With his encyclical “Rerum Novarum” (1891), Leo XIII voiced the growing preoccupations of the Church of Rome for the poor condition of workers and the exploitation of labor, thus expanding the range of her interests from internal ecclesiastical matters to the wider social issues of the day. “Rerum Novarum” was a turning point in the long tradition of the Roman Church, making it more “catholic” (having a universal look at the world), but no less “Roman” (claiming its prerogatives over the world).
 
Since becoming Leo XIV, Pope Prevost hinted at his desire to build on his predecessor’s legacy by updating the Social Doctrine of the Church on the pressing concern of today: how to deal with the challenges and opportunities of AI without succumbing the human person to it. No surprise was the date when MH was signed and launched: May 15, the same date than “Rerum Novarum” in 1891. As the latter signaled Rome’s desire to speak into the social problems then, so MH reflects its vision on how to address the pressing dilemma now. Full circle.
 
MH is a rich and dense 40,000-word document. The concentration of themes and issues is impressive. In this article, I will try to summarize its main diagnosis of what is at stake with AI and the suggested way forward with the values of SDC. Then I will make some remarks on the flawed theological framework it comes from, if seen from an Evangelical viewpoint.

The “Technocratic Paradigm” and the Remedy of the Social Doctrine of the Church
After describing the theological rationale of SDC (ch. 1), MH provides a summary of its principles as they have been developed in the last 145 years, i.e. the dignity of the person, the value of work, the universal destination of goods, solidarity and subsidiarity, care for creation and the centrality of peace and fraternity (ch. 2), then moves on how to deal with the promises and threats of AI to humanity (ch. 3), the necessary safeguards to protect humanity with special reference to truth, work and freedom, to finally conclude with the alternative set before us between the culture of power and the civilization of love (ch. 5). Being Leo XIV an Augustinian Pope, particularly in the last chapter, one can spot the Augustinian theme of the two cities (city of man, city of God) being transmuted in today’s tensed interplay between power and love.[1]
 
MH is not an ecclesiastical document addressed to Roman Catholics only. As is the case with modern magisterial documents, Leo XIV wants to speak to “all the Catholic faithful, to all Christians and to all men and women of goodwill” (16). So, it is meant to be read widely regardless the different religious, ideological, and cultural allegiances.
 
The starting point in the analysis of the contemporary world is not new. MS refers to the “technocratic paradigm” (92) that was already used by Pope Francis in his 2015 encyclical “Laudato si’”. The technocratic paradigm is “the tendency to let the logic of efficiency, control and profit alone shape personal, social and economic decisions” (92). The growing development and use of AI has only further intensified and exacerbated the problem.[2]
 
AI is “valuable tool that requires vigilance” (100-101). As tool, “we must avoid the misconception of equating this type of ‘intelligence’ with that of human beings” (99). While the use of technology is never morally neutral (9), it presents a sever challenge when it fosters an “anti-human vision”, i.e. when “the fullness of life is equated with having more, reducing weakness, eliminating uncertainty and exerting total control” (112).
 
Instead of respecting the humanity in “all its grandeur and woundedness” (126) and help human beings to flourish, the “technocratic paradigm” aims at “dominating humanity” (110) and ultimately paves the way to an “enhanced human being” (trans-humanism) or a “human-machine hybrid” (post-humanism) (115). Both prospects are ultimately anti-human. What is at stake with technological progress is not technology as such, but the “anthropological vision that guides it and the ends it pursues” (94).
 
The Roman Church approaches these challenges with the criteria offered by “the noble principles of Social Doctrine: the inalienable dignity of the human person, the common good, the universal destination of goods, subsidiarity, solidarity and social justice” (96). Building on these principles and elaborating these criteria in more political terms, MH advocates for “robust legal frameworks, independent oversight, informed users and a political system that does not abdicate its responsibility” (106) that will put checks and balances and a set of moral constraints over technological progress. If adequate measures are not implemented at all levels (e.g. individuals, local communities, States, international organizations), the technocratic thinking will impose rules “shaped by those who control data, infrastructure and computing power” (106).
 
More specifically, MH suggests five practical steps toward daily and public responsibility: “the need to disarm words, building peace through justice, adopting the perspective of victims, cultivating a healthy realism and reviving dialogue and multilateralism” (213).
 
The Pope’s Voice in International and Inter-faith Conversations
What to say of these critical remarks about the de-humanizing threats of AI and the possible way forward in order to safeguard the human person? On the one hand, at the level of guidelines and policies, in MH there is nothing radically different than what can be found in parallel documents by secular agencies (e.g. UNESCO, the European Union, OECD, and others) and faith communities, including Evangelical bodies such as the World Evangelical Alliance[3] and the Lausanne Movement.[4] The de-humanizing danger of the technological power is broadly perceived among important sectors of civil society and the ways to handle it is shared across the institutional and religious spectrum. The Papal document is just the last of many voices participating in this global debate with its own nuances and accents. It encourages international action to establish guidelines and to implement them.
 
Biblically speaking, common grace is at work in making different people (be they Christian and non-Christian) sensitive to the need for AI to be developed and used within shared parameters and ethical limits, even adopting measures that Pope Leo echoes and suggests in MH. In this sense, even non-Catholics can appreciate some of the indications coming from his encyclical urging for accountability, transparency, and responsibility in the use of AI.
 
Having said that, in terms of assessing MH, this is only one side of the coin. According to MH, the key threat of AI is not technological per se, but essentially anthropological. This being the issue, MH presents the gist of Roman Catholic humanism as the best suited remedy against the real and potential de-humanizing tendencies of AI. For this reason, it is important to evaluate the theological vision that undergirds MH.
 
The Roman Catholic Humanism, and the Fall?
As one would expect, for all the commonalities that can be found in the use of terms and categories, MH is a distinctly Roman Catholic theological document. It stems from a particular view of humanity and its relationship to God held by a historic institution. It is grounded on an account of reality that Rome has been endorsing and promoting for centuries.
 
Here are samples on how the Roman Catholic theological framework of MH works, followed by brief comments:
 
“Building a city founded on the common good implies, first and foremost, building on a firm relationship with God” (11).
 
Yes, but the implication is that all men and women are already in a viable relationship with God: According to MH, that relationship only needs to be deepened or expanded by doing what is good for humanity. There is no sense of the consequences of the Fall in sin having broken that relationship; no sense of that relationship being in need to be restored by the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ for sin and the need for faith and repentance on our part.
 
“Building for the common good means accepting the limits and weakness of humanity without considering them an error to be corrected” (12).
 
Yes, but more than that, biblically speaking, our humanity is not only limited and weak: it is sinful and rebellious against God and in need of salvation. Limitation and weakness do not describe what is most central in the human condition.
 
“The Church reminds us, with a firm yet humble voice, that true fulfilment is not achieved by eliminating weakness but through harmonious growth” (12).
 
Yes, but again there is no mention of sin and the brokenness it caused. Our fulfilment does not have to deal with weakness only but needs repentance and faith in Jesus to see the beginnings of harmonious growth.
 
“Ours is the pressing duty to remain profoundly human” (15).
 
Yes, but from a Christian perspective an even more pressing duty is to be regenerated by Christ in our humanity. The pressing need is not to remain more fully “in Adam” (our sinful humanity), but to be given new life in Christ, “the last Adam”. In this vein, MH can speak of “the humanizing power of the Gospel” (22) as if the Good News only makes us better human beings rather than new creations in Christ.
 
The Nature-Grace Interdependence
At the core of the theological vision of MH is the Roman Catholic account of the nature-grace motif. Roman Catholicism’s starting point is the relationship between “nature” and “grace” into which is engrafted the idea of the Church as the extension of the Incarnation of the Son of God.[5] This basic orientation explains why MH has little sense of the tragedy of sin, tends to encourage an optimistic view of humanity’s abilities, sees the gospel as a process in which nature is made more perfect and justifies the Church’s role as a mediator between man and God.
 
The spheres of nature and grace are thus in irreversible theological continuity, as “nature” in Roman Catholicism incorporates both creation and sin, in contrast to the Evangelical distinction between creation, sin, and redemption. Although nature has been touched by sin, it is still programmatically open to be infused, elevated, and supplemented by grace.
 
The Roman Catholic “mild” view of the Fall and of sin makes it possible for MH to hold a view of human nature and society at large that is tainted by sin but not depraved, obscured but not blinded, wounded but not alienated, morally disordered but not spiritually dead, inclined to evil but still holding on to what is true, good and beautiful.[6] After Vatican II, more recent interpretations of the nature-grace interdependence go as far as arguing that nature is always graced from within.[7] If traditional Roman Catholicism maintained that grace was added to nature, present-day Rome, as it is reflected in MH, prefers to talk about grace as being an infrastructure of nature. In spite of the differences between the two versions, the interdependence is nonetheless underlined.
 
Hope From Within Through Elevation?
The nature-grace interdependence, in all its various forms and degrees, is the reason why MH nurtures an optimism in humanity’s ability to know and to follow God’s will and to co-operate with his grace. Humanity has “wounds” (21), experience limits such as “vulnerability, suffering and failure” (122), but has resources to be healed from within through the grace that is already in it. In fact, “The Church stands alongside the world without overpowering it, so that the promise of justice and peace that the Holy Spirit continues to sustain in the heart of humanity may come to fruition in every human endeavor (20).
 
For the Pope, the heart of humanity is the place where the Holy Spirit (grace) brings about justice and peace. Again, the underestimation of the impact of sin has wide-ranging consequences on the theological vision of MH, whereby grace is already at work and only needs to be further unleashed. In Leo XIV’s words: “Even these painful expressions of our limitations leave openings for the good. Even when persons dehumanize themselves and bring about tragedy, a small light continues to shine within humanity, one that can be rekindled, with God’s grace, along paths of conversion and reconciliation” (121). In other words, hope is to be found in the “small light” that continues to shine and that sin has only obfuscated but not obliterated: “it remains possible to enter into the heart of that inexhaustible life, even as we journey through the limitations of this world” (127). Conversion and reconciliation are possible as grace elevates nature, rather than regenerating it as the Gospel indicates: for MH, the hope for humanity is to be “elevated by the inexhaustible grace of God” (128).
 
The biblical words of conversion and reconciliation are used but understood within the framework of the nature-grace interdependence whereby sin only limits humanity’s capacity. If the Christian hope comes from within through elevation, is this gospel hope or is it a humanistic and religious wishful thinking?
 
Christ the One Who Frees, but What about the Atonement?
After envisaging the hope for our wounded humanity in divine grace that can elevate it, MH also highlights the way in which Jesus Christ offers it. The incarnation of the Son of God is seen as the act of God’s condescension. In Christ “the living God descends into our history in order to free us from all forms of slavery. He takes upon himself our weakness and transforms it into a setting for salvation” (232). Jesus is told to have taken our weakness. But what about His death on the cross? In MH the cross is only mentioned once (232) in a quotation from a 19th century French theologian Pierre de Bérulle who wrote: “According to the teaching of our faith, we have and adore, in our mysteries, a God who is born in a manger, a God who lives and travels in Judea, a God who dies on the cross, a dead God who lies in the tomb”. The cross is generically referred to as part of the mysteries of faith, but no indication is given as to its atoning significance.
 
Given the example of Christ in his incarnation, MH moves on to say: “The future of humanity, therefore, finds its standard in the ability to welcome this divine way of drawing near, of sharing the burden of the world, of transforming relationships from within” (232). What is clear here is that Christ drew near and shared the burden: yes, but without the atoning work of the cross whereby He paid the price of sin, the biblical gospel is not told, and the message that is given is no Good News at all.
 
The conclusion suggested by Pope Leo is the following: “What saves humanity is the divine love that descends into the most fragile point of our history and renews it from within” (232). All the threads that have already been detected are here interwoven: the incarnation as Jesus’s descent into our fragility (no sin is indicated; no atonement is referred to) and salvation as a renewal movement from within (grace is always at work in us). The language is certainly borrowed from the Christian vocabulary, but is it the biblical message?
 
Babel and Nehemiah: A Viable Use of the Bible?
The narrative infrastructure of MH makes extensive use of two evocative Bible images, i.e. the tower of Babel and Nehemiah’s rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem (e.g. 90, 129, 130, 184, 241). They are the two biblical icons that guide the Pope’s reflection on the opposition between the culture of power and the civilization of love. In setting the tone of the document, he writes: “the primary choice is not between a “yes” or “no” to technology, but rather between constructing Babel or rebuilding Jerusalem” (9).
 
On the one hand, “Babel reveals the limits of any effort that, however grandiose, arises from self-affirmation, sacrifices human dignity for efficiency and aspires to reach heaven without God’s blessing” (7). Therefore, following Babel means being infected by the “Babel syndrome,” namely “the idolatry of profit that sacrifices the weak, a uniformity that neutralizes differences, and the pretense that a single language — even a digital one — can translate everything, including the mystery of the person, into data and performance” (10). In order to safeguard the human person in the time of AI, Babel is the bad image to be warned against and the evil pattern to avoid.
 
On the other hand, the first chapters of Nehemiah talk about “the possibility of building together, of transforming diversity into a resource and of making listening and dialogue the common ground upon which to cultivate justice and fraternity” (10). MH takes them as the alternative biblical image to draw inspiration from. In an emphatic and exhortatory tone, Pope Leo urges: “let us choose the ‘way of Nehemiah,’ which highlights the importance of working together to make the City of God a safe place for returning exiles” (10).
 
While the reference to biblical images and stories is commendable, there are two problems with their use in the argument of the encyclical.
 
Babel’s sin was first and foremost the rejection of God and an attempt to become one’s own god(s). The negative consequences that stemmed out of this sin were the confusion of languages and the dispersion of the people. In order to overcome the sin of Babel, a conversion must take place whereby our lives are re-oriented toward Him. No reverse of the evil consequences of sin is to be expected if God is not recognized and obeyed to as God.

In the Pope’s use of the image of Babel, however, while spiritual conversion is evoked, there is no expectation that all readers of MH would turn to Christ in repentance and faith as the condition to undo the effects of Babel. What lies at the heart of his message is that humanity as a whole should work together to cultivate justice and fraternity. He wants more of the fruit than the re-planting of the root.
 
Here is how he puts it: “the task of building in our time must place our relationship with God at its center. Our rule must be the acceptance of human limitations as a natural and positive reality, and should be characterized by shared responsibility and a language characterized by the Gospel” (236).
 
Again, no reference to sin is mentioned here, but another question arises: who is he talking to? Is the Pope talking to Catholics? No, the encyclical is addressed to all men and women of goodwill. Now, if all need to place our relationship with God at the center, there should be a call extended to all to come to faith in Jesus Christ. Otherwise, biblically speaking, that relationship is still characterized by Babel’s sinful anti-God ideology. That call is missing in MH.
 
At the very end, there is another appeal by the Pope, i.e. “a call to overcome our divisions and to work together — for this is the way of Jesus Christ, yesterday, today and forever” (242). Is he writing this to Christians? No. In the spirit of MH, he calls humanity to overcome divisions and to work together, not having urged all man and women to profess faith in Christ first.
 
He uses the language of “God at the center” and “the way of Jesus Christ” to motivate shared responsibility and work together among men and women of all religions or of no religion, without inviting them to believe the biblical Gospel. How is this ambiguity possible?
 
The other biblical image, i.e. Nehemiah’s rebuilding of Jerusalem’s wall, sheds other light on the question. In the Bible, Nehemiah calls the covenant people of God to work together to re-build the walls. Clearly, the book speaks of the responsibility of the people of God, not humanity in general. And yet, in its application to our time, MH uses Nehemiah’s story to encourage co-operation among men and women of good will, missing the point that it addresses the church.
 
The ambiguity can be explained in the Roman Catholic view of the church that is endorsed in MH. Using the words of Vatican II, the church is considered as “a sacrament… of communion with God and of the unity of the entire human race” (2, quoting Lumen Gentium 1). MH explains this doctrinal point in the following way: “she (the church) embraces the entire human family yet is also immersed in the concrete situations of peoples and cultures” (26). The Roman Church is both the community of the Catholic faithful and a sign and instrument of the entire human race. She is both the Roman Catholic Church canonically defined whose members are the baptized and the communicant people and – sacramentally – the expansive representative of the whole of humanity. This explains why in MH the Pope can use Christian language and applies it to all. The boundaries between the Roman (the believing and practicing Catholics) and the Catholic Church (the entire human race) are fluid and mysterious.
 
Ultimately, the reference to the two Biblical images of Babel and Nehemiah, as brilliant as it appears to be, is an instance of a misapplication of Scripture. They are referred to by MH to reinforce the claims of Rome’s catholicity whereby Christian language is used without it being governed by biblical principles and applied consistently.
 
Concluding Remarks
“Magnifica Humanitas” is a programmatic document by Pope Leo XIV that will set the tone of his future magisterium on the challenges brought about by AI. It will certainly become a landmark of SDC. In it, the humanistic wisdom of the Roman Catholic Church is in full display. Many of the insights and proposals on how to preserve and promote human dignity in times when the technocratic paradigm seems prevailing are already shared across cultural, institutional and religious lines, thanks to common grace. The voice of the Pope adds new strength to the choir of those who don’t want to succumb to the technocracy of AI and should be heard by all those who share this concern.
 
Having said that, the theological vision of MH is embedded in the Roman Catholic account of the nature-grace interdependence. The nature-grace motif is not the biblical message whereby all was created by God, sin disrupted all, and in Christ (incarnation and atonement) there is the only hope of redemption. On the contrary, although acknowledged by MH, sin has only weakened humanity’s capacity to co-operate with grace to be elevated by it. Human goodness, as wounded as it is, is still what marks all men and women and forms the background of the encyclical’s appeal to work together toward justice and peace.
 
The language used is Christian as far as the use of words is concerned, but the meaning is Roman Catholic rather than biblical. This results in doctrinal ambiguity at best, in not theological wrong-headedness. If one is looking for biblical wisdom to navigate the challenges posed by AI, she needs to look elsewhere.[8]

[1] Although MH is signed by an Augustinian Pope, the Augustinian “just war” theory is considered outdated and in need to be overcome (192). An Augustinian against Augustine!

[2] Similar analyses were already outlined in the Note by the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith – Dicastery for Culture and Education, Antiqua et Nova (2025).

[3] Quinting McGrath, Gretchen Huizinga, John Dyer, Mark Graves, “AI, Ethics, and Trust: A Biblically Grounded Christian Position” (2025). This paper was given at the WEA General Assembly in 2025.

[4] “AI Ethics and the Great Commission”, Lausanne Global Analysis (2025).

[5] Gregg Allison has helpfully named them, the “nature-grace interdependence” and the “Christ-Church interconnection”: Roman Catholic Theology and Practice. An Evangelical Assessment (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2014) pp. 42-67.

[6] The Roman Catholic teaching on sin can be found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (1992), nn. 1849-1875. In terms of the indication of the human problem, MH talks about the evil brought about by “structures of sin” (36, 79), i.e. “mechanisms and economic and cultural systems that produce inequality almost automatically”, but makes no reference to personal sin.

[7] Stephen J. Duffy, The Grace Horizon. Nature and Grace in Modern Catholic Thought (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1992). Roman Catholic theology does not distinguish between “common grace” and “special grace”.

[8] See notes 2 and 3 for suggested evangelical resources.

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256. “Letter to Catholic Theologians.” I Am Not One of Them, But I Read it

I am not a Roman Catholic theologian, and so this letter is not addressed to me. As an Evangelical theologian, however, I am seriously engaged in trying to understand Roman Catholic theology, and so this letter interests me. I am referring to the Letter to Catholic Theologians (2026) by Monsignor Antonio Staglianò.
 
Bishop Staglianò is no ordinary voice in the landscape of contemporary Roman Catholic theology. He is, in fact, the president of the Pontifical Academy of Theology (PATH), whose mission is to promote dialogue between faith and reason and to deepen Christian doctrine following the indications of the Pope. 
 
Staglianò is also the author of books with titles as explosive as Pop-Christology or as evocative as Theology on One’s Knees (all titles are in Italian). He is a masterful orator who likes to quote Kant, Heidegger, and Hölderlin, and makes constant references to quantum physics and the ever-expanding frontiers of AI. During his years as bishop of Noto (Sicily), he attracted some attention for the pop culture references (songs, movies, etc.) that found their way into his homilies, shaped around what he called “pop theology.” In short, despite holding an institutional papal position, Staglianò is anything but a conventional thinker.

In this Letter, Staglianò summarizes what he has written extensively about in recent books and condenses it here into a few pages. It concerns his proposal to embrace what he calls “Christic Enlightenment” to overcome the dictatorship of the “Enlightenment Metaverse” and give theology a place in public debate and in people’s lives. His language may seem esoteric, but it is explained.
 
Staglianò begins with his interpretation of the current reality: Our age is no longer merely a time of secularization (positive, because it acknowledges pluralism), nor is it a time of secularism (negative, because it is ideological and antithetical to religions). We are in an era of de-Christianization, of de-culturalization, in which the symbols, beliefs, practices, and lived experiences of faith are being displaced and replaced by the blind algorithms of technology.
 
At the heart of the present-day crisis lies the loss of credibility of Christian Revelation, which is not considered worthy of being taken seriously; indeed, it is perceived as backward in thought and antagonistic to individual freedom. At best, it is relegated to the private sphere of belief but not to that of knowledge, which is the field of scientific reason only. The weight of the Christian narrative has evaporated.

For Staglianò, this cluster of oppositions to Christianity is called the “Enlightenment Metaverse”: a closed system of thought that denies Revelation and defies the knowledge of the faith it appeals to. According to Enlightenment dogma, “faith believes and does not know; reason knows and does not believe” (27).
 
In this context, there is no place for theology in public discourse; at best, it can aspire to cultivate a niche, secondary historical interest, without any epistemological claims beyond its own parched little garden. Indeed, for Martin Heidegger, the believer is incapable of thinking and must therefore step outside the modus credendi (i.e., the believing mood) if he is to be considered a voice worthy of being heard.
 
After his assessment of today’s challenge, here begins Staglianò’s pars construens. The “Enlightenment Metaverse” should not be countered by an impossible return to pre-modernity or a nostalgic recovery of Tradition (as Roman Catholic traditionalists would have it). The proposal is to usher in the era of “Christic Enlightenment.” Instead of playing defense, theology must move forward to overcome the Enlightenment challenge, i.e., by proposing an even greater and more demanding Enlightenment. “Christic” does not mean Christ-centered or Bible-focused. In Staglianò’s language, the allusion to Christ in “Christic” means greater, deeper, and wider than the Enlightenment project.

How? By practicing transdisciplinarity (thus becoming literate in the various languages and codes of knowledge), engaging in dialogue with everyone on the basis that everything is theion (divine), and developing the capacity for analogical imagination that can fertilize different categories (for example: the dual nature of Christ and the wave-particle complementarity of quantum mechanics). In doing so, an “unlimited space” (33) opens up in which theology rediscovers its public vocation and its epistemic power.
 
Staglianò claims to find inspiration from the intellectual lineage that stretches from Augustine, through Thomas Aquinas, and culminates in the 19th-century Roman Catholic theologian and philosopher Antonio Rosmini (38).
 
There are at least a couple of points that, upon reading the “Letter,” an Evangelical reader might suggest by way of commentary.
 
The first is that Staglianò’s reading of the “Enlightenment Metaverse” appears to be heavily influenced by the militant atheism of Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens in Great Britain of the 1990s, which is now outdated. Not that the mainstream scientific community today is favorable toward theology or religions in general, but it no longer seems as oppositional and confrontational as Staglianò portrays it. Dawkins himself is favorable to “cultural Christianity,” which is considered a bulwark against hyper-technological nihilism and totalitarian Islam.

This is to say that the cultural dominance of the “Enlightenment Metaverse” is less evident, and its relationship with theology is more nuanced than the way Staglianò describes it.
 
The second point is that, however much it is expressed in lively, pop-culture language, Staglianò’s theological framework is the old Thomism rejuvenated by John Paul II in the encyclical Fides et Ratio (1998). According to this, faith takes on reason and science and elevates them by expanding their scope. It is the old Thomist project of integrating Aristotelianism and Christianity that Staglianò would now like to apply to scientism. As Thomas synthesized Aristotle and Christ, so Staglianò wants to befriend the Enlightenment and Christ.

This Thomist approach assumes the neutrality of reason and science and the possibility for them to be elevated to a superior level.
 
Staglianò rightly acknowledges that men and women are “religious beings”: The relationship with God, however much it may be denied or opposed, cannot be suppressed. This said, after the Fall, all of humanity is “broken” and corrupt, with no possibility of self-redemption. For this reason, reason must not simply be elevated or refined (i.e., the Thomist project), but radically redeemed by Christ (i.e., the Gospel mandate). Thus, the overall framework is not “nature-grace,” as Thomas and Staglianò would say, but “creation/Fall/redemption,” as the Bible teaches.
 
It seems, then, that Staglianò’s “Christic Enlightenment” is the latest version of the Thomist attempt to absorb reason and science into the Roman Catholic synthesis, without actually reforming much. A more promising path is to recognize Christ’s lordship over all reality (reason and science included), to take every thought captive to Christ according to Scripture (2 Corinthians 10:5), and to commit ourselves to the renewal of the mind (Romans 12:1-2).

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255. A Year with Pope Leo. Evangelical Impressions

A gentle yet tough pope? A pope all about peace and dialogue? It is still too early to settle on a definitive assessment of Pope Leo XIV’s papacy. One year after his election (8th May 2025), however, it is possible to discern some key themes that confirm what was already evident at the start of his pontificate.

The global geopolitical landscape
Over the past year, the American pope has assumed a prominent “political” role on the global stage. It was predictable that the clash with Trump would erupt sooner or later, given the president’s combative temperament. And so it did. Preceded by Leo’s criticism of the handling of the deportation of undocumented migrants, the conflict with the U.S. administration erupted over the war in Iran. Trump has repeatedly criticized the pope, and the pope has responded in kind.

From someone like Trump, this was to be expected; less predictable was Leo’s decision not to rely on the soft-spoken ways of Vatican diplomacy, but to use direct communication to respond blow for blow. A talkative and casual pope like Francis used to make “free-wheeling” and sometimes unrestrained comments on current events; the surprise was that Pope Leo, too—despite his reserved and controlled nature—chose the unfiltered, “open-mic” approach to speak his mind.

In fact, for months now, the Trump vs Leo dynamic has dominated the global political narrative, casting the pope as Trump’s ultimate opponent in the name of “peace.” The gain in popularity, even among secular audiences, has been evident: in a world at war, who is against peace?

Meanwhile, with his trips to Turkey, Lebanon, and Africa, Pope Leo has confirmed contemporary Catholicism’s focus on the Global South, where the Roman Catholic Church is grappling with Islam and with growing evangelical churches. Following in Francis’s footsteps, he confirmed the offer of “dialogue” to the former and highlighted the bizzarre nature of the latter, while simultaneously emphasizing “Catholic” superiority.

The internal peacemaking line
Even within the Roman Catholic Church, Leo has acted in line with the reasons that led the conclave to elect him pope. Francis had left behind a church rife with internal conflicts and with the issue of “synodality” left confusingly unresolved. In this first year of his pontificate, Leo has not fanned the flames of division, but has sought to tone down the rhetoric, calm tempers, and maneuver in search of compromises.

With Catholic Germany calling for changes regarding the recognition of same-sex unions, he has maintained a firm stance without breaking with the more progressive factions. On the subject of synodality, he has tempered the zeal of the most ardent supporters, but has not dampened their enthusiasm. Regarding appointments to top positions in the Church, he has not yet made any radical or groundbreaking decisions, preferring to let the situation settle.

In short, on the domestic front, Leo has proven himself to be a seasoned and experienced political figure; a bridge-builder seeking to preserve the “integrity” of Roman Catholicism in the face of tensions, rather than a “prophet” heralding change or a “defender” of the status quo.

The ecumenical approach and relations with Evangelicals
In his first year of pontificate, Leo placed great importance on the ecumenical significance of the celebrations of the Council of Nicaea. He paid particular attention to the world of Eastern Orthodoxy and the Oriental Churches, with which the Pope’s Catholicism feels a growing affinity. Beyond institutional courtesy, he has been more reserved toward the liberal and ecumenical Protestant world. Proof of this is the bureaucratic reception he gave the Archbishop of Canterbury during her visit to Rome. The impression is that Leo’s ecumenical agenda looks more to the East (Orthodoxy) and to the South (Islam) than to the West (the traditional ecumenical world).

And what about the Evangelicals? They do not seem to be on Pope Leo’s radar, aside from a few indirect critical remarks between the lines of his speeches in Cameroon and Angola. Even during his previous tenure as bishop in Peru, he showed no particular interest in the Evangelicals. On the other hand, evangelicals around the world do not yet seem to have taken the measure of him. Unlike Francis, who boasted many evangelical friends in Argentina and beyond, Leo has not cultivated such relationships, with the result that the evangelical world remains distant and remote to him.

Meanwhile, his thinking, as expressed in his daily addresses, weaves together Augustinian themes (peace, grace, the Catholic experience), profound Mariology, and traditional Catholic teachings. His theological framework appears to be a Catholic Augustinianism reimagined from a post-Vatican II perspective.

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254. Cradle of Tradition, Advocate for Multilateral Politics. The Roman Catholic Appeal To North America and Europe

The Roman Catholic Church attracts different people for different reasons. This simple fact has always been true. However, recent trends in global religious and political affairs are unfolding a new chapter of this old narrative. To put it in broad-brushed terms:
 
Rome attracts North Americans for the traditional outlook of its religious message and Europeans for its political stance in current world events.
 
In a nutshell, the former looks at the Catechism of the Catholic Church, i.e., the doctrinal and devotional teaching of Rome; the latter looks at the Social Doctrine of the Church (of Rome), i.e., the body of teaching especially about peace, dialogue, and international relationships, embodied by the Pope. Of course, this observation is over-simplified, but perhaps it contains an element of truth that is worth pondering on.
 
The Roman Catholic Appeal To North Americans
Over the last decade, there has been an increasing interest in Roman Catholicism in the USA. The phenomenon of conversions to Rome has triggered some attention. Numbers are not massive, but their social media impact is noticeable.
 
To some extent, Roman Catholicism has become a “cool” option in the public’s opinion, especially to those seeking to ground their religious experience in a historical, traditional, liturgical, and (perceived as) authoritative religion.
 
The impressive work of Roman Catholic apologists targeting Evangelicals has played a role in presenting Rome as the cradle of classical Christianity over against the alleged bizarre novelties and shallow performances of Evangelicalism. My conviction is that the credit that Roman Catholicism has in some circles reflects a selective view or a romanticized perception of Rome itself; ultimately, it lacks biblical warrant.

In a recent Master Class on “Why Some Evangelicals Are Tempted by Roman Catholicism and How to Respond,” I suggested five steps to come to terms with these facts:

  1. “Why Do They Cross the Tiber?”: Setting the Stage
  2. “To Be Deep in History Is to Cease to Be Protestant”: The Allure of Tradition 
  3. “Too Smart to Be a Protestant”: The Intellectual Attraction
  4. “Shallow and Consumerist Worship”: The Liturgical Challenge
  5. “Recovering Biblical Christianity”: The Antidote to Rome

I am not going to summarize all the talks here. The point to be underlined is that Rome’s appeal to North Americans is largely defined by an attraction to the intellectual tradition, liturgical sophistication, and institutional unity of Roman Catholicism that can be found in the teachings of the Catechism of the Catholic Church. It is the doctrinal and devotional outlook of Rome that people look for and conform their lives to.
 
In turn, this means that the challenge that Evangelicals perceive is primarily apologetic in the classical sense, e.g., facing Roman Catholic arguments on the biblical canon, the authority of Scripture, the papacy, Mariology, the sacraments, and salvation. Most North American Evangelical responses to the Roman Catholic appeal have tried to be apologetic in this sense. They do so by covering these traditional topics of the debate between Roman Catholicism and the Evangelical faith. While they address single issues with various degrees of competency, what is still lacking is an appreciation of Roman Catholicism as a system in which doctrines, practices, institutions, etc., are all integrated into a whole that is not committed to Scripture alone and to faith alone.

The Roman Catholic Appeal to Europeans
If we cross the Atlantic, we see a significantly different picture. Here, Roman Catholicism has a long tradition and, in some parts (e.g., Southern and Central Europe), is still the majority religion and a pervasive presence in society. However, the powerful blows of secularization have hit hard over the last fifty years. Roman Catholic buildings are everywhere, but they tend to be empty. Roman Catholic practice is low, and traditional identity-markers (e.g., processions, festivals) are blurred. Most people still consider themselves attached to a cultural form of Roman Catholicism, but their lifestyle is disconnected from the moral teachings of the Church.

While pockets exist here and there (e.g., in France and Great Britain) where adult baptisms have recently risen, the overall picture is bleak. Generally speaking, in Europe, there are few or no Roman Catholic apologists (as they can be found in the US) because there is little interest in what the Roman Church believes, and there is no wide-spread desire to embrace a fully orbed form of Roman Catholic doctrine and practice. The online presence is marked by the willingness to present Roman Catholicism as a religion of dialogue with all and inter-faith reconciliation. The main message of the still impactful educational institutions focuses on freedom, justice, beauty, solidarity, etc., with little direct connection to Roman Catholic dogmas and commitments. Belonging seems detached from believing, let alone behaving.

There is another side of the coin, however. In recent weeks and months, the centrality of the public voice of the Roman Catholic Church has regained some traction against the background of the rapid decline of the mood in the US-Europe relationships that used to be friendly but are now marked by tensions. The second Trump administration has exacerbated negative impressions by Europeans on the unpredictability of US foreign policy, e.g., tariffs, Greenland, and Canada. The US support for Israeli military operations in Gaza and Lebanon has fueled anti-American sentiments in significant portions of the European youth. Lastly, the US military intervention against Iran has been seen negatively by the European public opinion.

With the US losing its moral high ground gained during the Second World War, with the United Nations having practically disappeared from the scene, and with the European Union being disunited and disoriented, the only voice addressing global issues with a comprehensive perspective is that of the Roman Catholic Pope. Europeans resonate with Pope Leo XIV when he speaks about peace, reconciliation, immigration, multilateral dialogue, diplomatic efforts, solidarity among nations, respect for international law, and against war and exploitation. These are some of the themes of the Social Doctrine of the Church (SDC) that Vatican diplomacy strongly advocates for.
 
Now, European support and identification with the Pope stops when the Roman Pontiff speaks on other topics of the SDC, e.g., abortion, marriage, and euthanasia. Their secular mindset is far away, if not contrary to, the traditional moral teaching of the Roman Catholic Church. Not so with its social teaching applied to international politics and global issues.

In times of media polarization, the one who is resisting Trump and pushing back against the US international politics is the highest voice of the Roman Catholic Church. The Pope is seen as the global moral authority who speaks on behalf of peace, the migrants, and unity and against violence, war, and division. Europeans are attracted by this political and social face of Roman Catholicism, certainly not by its doctrinal and devotional message. 

The reality is that Rome is trying to fill the moral/social gap that secularization has left behind. The Roman Catholic Church has both the Catechism and the Social Doctrine. It has the doctrinal card and the social card to play. With the former, it attracts North Americans questioning Evangelicalism; with the latter, it appeals to secularized Europeans navigating a moral void. The two cards are played by the same Church that can handle different games at the same time.
 
In the European context, the Evangelical response to Roman Catholicism cannot simply rehearse the traditional apologetic points, e.g., justification by faith alone and the authority of Scripture, which are based on the doctrinal discourse. Of course, they are essential because they are the grounds of the theological commitments of the Christian faith. Yet in Europe, on the basis of these biblical pillars, Evangelicals need to develop a robust public theology that addresses issues of how the biblical worldview speaks into the social and political issues of our world. They also need to articulate them in a persuasive way by credible voices.  
 
This is to say that while the Evangelical interpretation of Roman Catholicism should remain anchored in Scripture and always aim to see Catholicism as a system, the strategies for addressing it may change according to context. In the present-day US context, the focus seems more doctrinal and devotional, whereas in the European context, attention should be given more to issues of public theology. 

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253. Vatican II, 60 Years After and Two Lessons for Evangelicals

Why on earth is a religious event that took place 60 years ago still passionately debated? Most Evangelicals are puzzled when observing the theological and emotional involvement many Roman Catholics show when thinking about the Second Vatican Council (or Vatican II). Evangelicals may hold the 1974 Lausanne Congress on World Evangelization in high regard,[1] but their investment in discussing the texts and the spirit of the Lausanne Movement is only remotely comparable to the heat generated by the legacy of Vatican II in Roman Catholic circles.
 
Vatican II: Great Grace or Cause of all Problems?
On the one hand, it was no less than Pope John Paul II who bluntly stated that Vatican II is “the great grace bestowed on the Church in the twentieth century: there we find a sure compass by which to take our bearings in the century now beginning.” (Apostolic Letter Novo Millennio Ineunte, 2001, n. 57). On the other, there are sectors of the Roman Church that are cold toward the Council, if not critical of its outcomes. The issue of what Vatican II means for Roman Catholicism is still at stake.
 
Since the beginning of January, Pope Leo XIV has been focusing on the main texts produced at the Council in his Wednesday morning General Audiences given in St. Peter’s Square. In so doing, he is signaling the permanent relevance of the Council for the Roman Catholic Church and providing his own interpretation of it.

Meanwhile, the theological discussion on Vatican II goes on relentlessly. One of the recent contributions from a group of Italian Roman Catholic theologians is the collection of essays edited by Marco Vergottini, Al cuore del Vaticano II. Una rilettura teologico-fondamentale (Brescia: Queriniana, 2026; English translation: At the heart of Vatican II. A theological-fundamental re-reading).
 
In its four chapters, the book opens some windows on the most important documents, i.e., the four constitutions on divine revelation (Dei Verbum), on liturgy (Sacrosanctum Concilium), on the church (Lumen Gentium), and on the church in the modern world (Gaudium et Spes).
 
More than touching on the details of each chapter, what is interesting is to appreciate how the whole reception of Vatican II is framed, especially as far as the “heart” of the Council and its significance for the present-day Roman Catholic Church is concerned.
 
Beyond the Conflict of Interpretations
Here is the gist of the reflection echoed in the book. The aftermath of Vatican II has been characterized by an ongoing conflict of interpretations. After the first phase, when the texts of the Council were commented on in the context of a very positive attitude towards them and in view of the application of its deliberations, later decades have seen the emergence of a critical reading of the Council, sometimes presented as a “rupture” from the established tradition. Examples of this tendency can be found in the five-volume History of Vatican II edited by G. Alberigo, 1995-2001, and the five-volume Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil edited by P. Hünermann and B.J. Hilberath, 2004-2006.

This reading, which stressed the discontinuity between Vatican II and the pre-Vatican II Church, was opposed by an anti-conciliar sentiment that spread in traditionalist circles. In their eyes, Vatican II was seen in negative terms and as the cause of all problems. Other interpretations wanted to read Vatican II in merely pastoral terms, as if the Council wanted to update the language of the Roman Church and build bridges with the modern world, but not change its doctrinal posture and traditional practices.
 
The tension (at times, the chaos) generated by these discussions led Benedict XVI, in his 2005 Address to the Roman Curia, to move beyond polarization by suggesting a mediation in the “hermeneutics of reform” formula. In pure Roman Catholic style, the two extremes (i.e., discontinuity and continuity) were questioned and replaced with a dynamic category of renewal within the tradition that would account for the developments of the Council while remaining committed to the dogmatic outlook and the self-understanding of the Roman Church inherited from the past.
  
Vatican II as an “Open” Structure
The book wants to highlight the strategic importance of this dynamic principle both in the drafting of the documents and in their subsequent reception, whereby updating and fidelity are not to be pitted one against the other, but combined in a Roman Catholic, organic way.
 
Looking at Dei Verbum in particular, here is how it works: Vatican II absorbed some fundamental principles of the two previous Councils (i.e., Trent and Vatican II), yet wanted to overcome their controversial and apologetic thrust (p.60). In the words of Vatican II itself, “sound tradition” must be retained, and yet “the way remain open to legitimate progress” (Sacrosanctum Concilium, n. 23). 

As far as the Church is concerned, the inherited rigid vision of the Church as the hierarchical perfect society is reiterated, yet expanded to include the importance of the laity in the logic of an ecclesiology of communion rather than mere obedience. In this sense, Vatican II adopted an “open structure,” no longer driven by the desire to separate and divide that was prevalent in past Councils, nor by the impulse to compromise between traditional and progressive positions. Rather, it was guided by the power of navigating “between” polarities.  
 
The Roman Catholic move is not an attempt to choose between positions, but to connect them according to the principle of “hospitality” (p. 164) guaranteed by the Roman Catholic conciliar dynamic system.
 
Two Lessons
What can Evangelicals learn from these Roman Catholic debates? At least a couple of points should be mentioned.
 
First, Evangelicals need a better grasp of what happened at Vatican II, what was produced then, and how it has been received in the Roman Catholic Church. In the past, much attention has been given to Trent (and rightly so), but less attention has been paid to Vatican II. Today, many Evangelicals can be confused about what is going on in Roman Catholicism because of a lack of awareness over the last 60 years. Developing an Evangelical analysis of Vatican II is still a work-in-progress, and homework needs to be done. The danger is to have either outdated, static views of Rome or unwarranted, evangelically hopeful perceptions of it. As the book indicates, Rome evolves in history while remaining committed to itself. Becoming acquainted with the different Roman Catholic voices discussing the legacy of Vatican II is a step forward toward a more theologically mature Evangelical interpretation of it.

 
Second, as intuitive as it may sound, the “Traditional vs. Progressive” grid does not fully fit the reality of Roman Catholicism. It probably fitted the “Conservative-Liberal” divide within 20th-century Protestantism, but it does not neatly apply to Rome. Roman Catholicism has its own way of handling its movements through history. Yes, there are traditional voices, yes, there are progressive tendencies, but the overall direction is not driven by the polarization between the two. One needs to come to terms with the dynamics of the Roman Catholic system that is Roman (i.e., faithful to its centered structure) and Catholic (i.e., open to ongoing absorptions) at the same time.
 
Since the biblical Gospel is not the ultimate criterion, the Roman Catholic system is governed by its self-defined Tradition (which swallows the Gospel and does not submit to it) and can oscillate between the Roman and the Catholic poles. Instead of applying the “Traditional vs. Progressive” opposition in a simplistic way, Evangelicals should study the inner dynamics of Rome that allows it to change but not reform itself according to Scripture.

[1] E.g., The Lausanne Movement: A Range of Perspectives, edited by Lars Dahle, Margunn Serigstad Dahle and Knud Jørgensen (Oxford: Regnum Books International, 2014).

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252. Sacred Bones? Why Roman Catholicism Needs Relics

The blood of Saint Januarius in Naples. The tongue of Saint Anthony in Padua. The head of John the Baptist in Rome. The tail of the donkey ridden by Jesus in Genoa… Welcome to the imaginative world of Roman Catholic relics. Many Catholic churches hold relics of various kinds and origins that have been venerated for fifteen centuries.

As material objects, relics are fragments of bones, limbs (arms, legs, fingers), organic tissues and textile fabrics, and various objects that belonged to figures from the Gospel or church history to whom the Roman Catholic Church attributes a role in pointing people to God. Since these objects come from or have been in contact with “saints,” they are considered capable of transmitting a sense of divinity or holiness to those who venerate them (by going on pilgrimage, touching them, or praying in front of them).

This is how Rome explains the reason for relics: “Relics in the Church have always received particular veneration and attention because the body of the Blesseds and of the Saints, destined for the resurrection, has been on earth the living temple of the Holy Spirit and the instrument of their holiness, recognized by the Apostolic See through beatification and canonization.” [1]

A new and fascinating book by historian Federico Canaccini, Sacred Bones: Stories of Relics, Saints and Pilgrims (Italian edition: Sacre ossa. Storie di reliquie, santi e pellegrini, 2025), tells the history of how objects and bones became religious relics.

The question that prompts the book is the following: If the Christian faith starts from the empty tomb of the risen Lord Jesus, why has Roman Catholicism filled its churches with objects to be venerated?
 
If the Christian faith relied on the eyewitness testimony of those who saw the risen Jesus and then wrote the books of the New Testament as “proof,” why did the Christian masses go in search of artifacts to help them believe?
 
If apostolic teaching says that “we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7), why has Roman Catholic imagery filled itself with things to see, touch, and kneel before?
 
The book shows how the “Constantinian shift” of the fourth century changed the face of Christianity by adding the collection and veneration of relics to Christian spiritual practices. After Constantine became emperor, his mother, Helena, organized an expedition to Jerusalem to search for objects and artifacts related to the history of Jesus with which to fill the temples that were being built throughout the empire.

From that expedition, Helena brought back the wood of the cross, the nails of the crucifixion, hairs from the Lord’s beard, etc., effectively “creating” the phenomenon of Christian relics and introducing into Christian life the idea that they were “charged” with holiness that could be transferred to the faithful.

The phenomenon of relics thus arose during that complex and sadly decisive transformation of Christianity from its post-apostolic phase (still largely anchored in biblical teaching) to its “Roman” phase. It was a transition in which Greco-Roman religious beliefs were covered with a Christian veneer, rather than being challenged by the Gospel and reformed accordingly.
 
Instead of following the words of the Lord that “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29), the Christianity of relics changed the rules of engagement of faith: From listening to the Word to viewing objects, from the mediation of the risen Lord Jesus to that of saints and other mediators, from the presence of the Holy Spirit to the touch of artifacts.
 
Canaccini’s book is a fascinating journey through the history of relics and documents how, from Helena onwards, Roman Catholicism was swept up in a frantic search for relics, to the point of becoming a factory for them. The author also appropriately reports the devastating criticism of the Protestant Reformation (above all, John Calvin, who wrote a “Treatise on Relics” in 1543), which contested not only the abuses associated with relics but also their biblical legitimacy.
 
Canaccini seems to understand Protestant criticism but remains within the narrative of relics as fulfilling a deep anthropological need—that of contact with the sacred through an object considered close.

Here, there is a fundamental choice. Roman Catholicism chooses to accommodate its religious offer to the quest for tangible objects mediating the sacred. In theological terms, Rome integrates grace into nature, elevating it to a supernatural level. From this perspective, relics are felt as a necessity of nature, and grace responds to the need for contact with the divine through the relics of saints. This happens in analogy to the way Roman Catholicism believes that the Eucharist is the “real” presence of Christ, whereby the bread and the wine are transubstantiated (i.e., the nature is changed into the body and blood of Christ).
 
Roman Catholicism understands grace as being transmitted by means of objects (wine, bread, oil, water, sanctified altars, relics, etc.) that are “sacraments” or “sacramentals”. Relics are among those graced “objects” that can administer grace as part of the sacramental system.  
 
The Evangelical faith is different; based on Scripture, it knows that “faith comes from hearing the Word of God” (Romans 10:17) and that faith is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). It also believes that “by grace we are saved through faith” (Ephesians 2:8). Jesus Christ is truly present through the Holy Spirit in the signs He left behind (baptism and the Lord’s Supper), but not in objects imbued with the divine.
 
Ultimately, the choice is between religious anthropology filtered through Greek thought and cloaked in Christianity, i.e., the Roman Catholic option, or the biblical Gospel that renews one’s entire life, i.e., the Evangelical option. Relics are the symbol of the former, not the latter.

[1] Instruction “Relics in the Church: Authenticity and Preservation” (2017) issued by the Congregation for the Causes of Saints.

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251. Watch out 2033, the “Omega Point” of the Ecumenical Movement

February 1st, 2026

As expected, the highlight of the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea was the ecumenical prayer on November 28 presided over by Pope Leo XIV at the ruins of the church of St. Neophytus in Nicaea (today the name of the town is Isnik), where the Council meetings were held in 325 AD.

The ceremony was sober, but the language used was solemn. Above all, the symbolic meaning of the event was charged with “historical” significance, not only because of the reference to the important anniversary, but above all in view of further steps in the ecumenical journey.

The point reached in that celebration had been long in preparation: it was a question of using the centenary of Nicaea to enhance the “common faith” expressed in the Nicene Creed and to consolidate the idea that all Christians are united because they recite the words of that ancient text together. From an ecumenical perspective, differences are seen, if anything, as subsequent interpretations of secondary aspects that do not undermine the common basis. The risk is clearly to exploit Nicaea and use it as a pretext for purposes other than a deeper understanding of its contents.

The question that was not asked (but its positive answer only assumed) is: In what sense the Nicene creed is the basis for ecumenism? The reality is that while different poeple can affirm – and even recite – the words of the Nicene Creed together (e.g. remission of sin, Mary, church), they mean different things according to their different theological frameworks and church’s allegiances.[1] Evangelicals want their faith to be not only loosley attached to Scripture, but under God’s Word and always open to be corrected by it.

Of course, on November 28 the Roman pope was symbolically at the center of the scene, the point of connection between everyone, flanked by the Patriarch of Constantinople Bartholomew and other ecclesiastical dignitaries seated behind him in lesser roles. The only notable absentee was the Orthodox Patriarch of Moscow, Kirill, at odds with the “good” ecumenical world for his support of the Russian war against Ukraine.

In any case, it was a theatrical representation of contemporary ecumenism: all united around the successor of Peter, the Roman Pope, the only dressed in white.

That said, what happened in Nicaea is, on the one hand, a point of arrival, but on the other, it is only one step in the ecumenical trajectory. The direction was indicated by Pope Leo himself during the flight to Lebanon, the second stop on his first international trip.
 
Speaking to journalists, Pope Prevost said of the meeting in Nicaea with ecumenical leaders:
 
“Yesterday morning we spoke about possible meetings in the future. One would be in the year 2033, two thousand years after Redemption, the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, which is obviously an event that all Christians would like to celebrate. The idea was well received. We have not yet made the invitation but there is a possibility of celebrating this great event of the Resurrection, for example in Jerusalem in 2033. We still have a few years to prepare for it.”
 
2033, precisely. This is the next strategic step in the journey imagined and planned by the ecumenical movement at large. Nicaea 2025 was only the rehearsal in preparation for Jerusalem 2033. The great evocative power of the celebration of the 2000th anniversary of Christ’s Resurrection and Pentecost will be put at the service of what could be the ecumenical movement’s final coup: having representatives of all Christian bodies gathered by and around the Roman Pontiff all celebrating their “unity” and having spiritually and theologically “reconciled” relationships.
 
The kind of unity that will be promoted in 2033 will also involve some kind of recognition of the global and transversal (albeit differentiated) role of the Roman Pope for all denominations and boides on the basis of a theology that considers the “solas” of the Protestant Reformation to be definitively overcome.
 
For those who participate in the initiatives planned for 2033, it will no longer be “Scripture Alone,” but Scripture elastically understood as to include tradition, even those traditions which run contrary to the biblical message (e.g. the Marian dogmas, the “imperial” papacy). No longer “Faith Alone,” but faith that is not sufficient to receive the gift of salvation and needs to be supplemented by human works and the sacraments administered by the church. No longer “Christ Alone,” but a Christ who is inclusive of the mediations of Mary and the saints and perhaps of other religious figures. All of this will be included in this version of ecumenically pacified but biblically deviant Christianity.

All these departures from the biblical “solas” of the Protestant Reformation mean that the unity that is going to be promoted in the ecumenical initiatives in 2033, as humanly attractive as they are, will be turns to “a different gospel” (Galatians 1:6-9) that was given “once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3).

For sure, for Evangelical Christians the year 2033 will be an opportunity to celebrate the gospel truths of Christ’s passion, death, resurrection and ascension, plus the pouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Amen.
 
However, ecumenical celebrations of the same events will not be neutral and at no cost for evangelical fidelity. More than how 2025 has been, 2033 will be the “Omega Point”, i.e the goal of the Ecumenical Movement: all Christians (Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Liberal Protestants, Evangelicals, …) will be finally united and seen by the world as “One”. Will it be the unity the Lord Jesus prayed for in John 17? Hardly so. Rather, it will be a decisive point scored for the absorption project that Roman Catholicism has been pursuing for centuries, i.e. integrating different bodies, leaders and beliefs under its umbrella.
 
2033 will be a test for Evangelicals, and the fundamental question will be: can the Evangelical faith be rethought and assimilated within the ecumenical embrace intentionally and primarily prepared by Roman Catholicism?

[1] As it is argued in Mark Gilbert – Leonardo De Chirico (edd.), The Nicene Creed. The Nature of Christian Unity and the Meaning of Gospel Words (Sydney: Matthias Press, 2025).

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250. The Blurred View of “Grace” of Cardinal Fernández

When the Cardinal Prefect of the Vatican Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (Victor Manuel Fernández, number 3 in the Vatican) writes a book, it is worth paying attention. Cardinal Fernández is also the one who signed “Fiducia supplicans,” allowing the blessing of same-sex unions, and “Mater populi fidelis,” on the use of the Marian title of “co-redemptrix.” In reality, although the book Grazia. Concetti fondamentali per pensare la vita nuova (Grace. Basic Concepts to Think About the New Life) has only just been published in Italian, it dates back to 2003 and was updated in 2010. It was therefore written before he took up his current position as the “guardian” of Roman Catholic doctrine. The theme of grace makes it appealing to the evangelical reader, given the doctrine’s central position in Roman Catholic and Protestant theology.
 
The author’s intention is not to cover the entire doctrine on grace, but to touch on some fundamental concepts, as the subtitle indicates. The three main interlocutors considered in the discussion are Scripture, the medieval pair of Thomas Aquinas and Bonaventure, and the German Jesuit theologian Karl Rahner.
 
Grace as Interpersonal Relationship
The author begins by arguing that grace, biblically speaking, can manifest itself “only in an interpersonal relationship” (14). In the encounter between people, it is the triune God himself who communicates with our lives (uncreated grace) and brings about effects and consequences (created grace: regeneration, liberation, transformation).
 
To this understanding of grace, the Roman Church has preferred other contents, making it more of a “thing” to be dispensed, deserved, and administered. Within the relational conception of grace, the author emphasizes grace as friendship with God, rather than sonship (33). Here, the sacramental categories typical of Roman Catholicism immediately come into play: at baptism, grace is received in order to be “children of God,” but friendship with God depends on sanctifying grace, which is incremental (38-39).
 
Within the realm of relationships, even a “non-Christian” can live in a state of grace (44): when one lives in friendship with others, one experiences grace. It is immediately clear that this relational-sacramental understanding of grace lacks the covenantal and juridical categories proper to Scripture. On the one hand, the sacramental framework of Tridentine Catholicism is reiterated, while on the other hand, the relational emphasis of the contemporary Catholic embracement is affirmed. This Roman Catholic expansion lacks the covenantal criteria of grace, i.e., we receive grace by the imputation of Christ’s righteousness.
 
In other words, for the author, God grants us grace by wanting us to be his “friends,” but he fails to say that he does so by not imputing our sins to us, since our Substitute, Jesus, has taken them upon himself. God is a covenant God, and this covenant is broken because of sin and can only be reconciled through the vicarious work of Christ. Biblically speaking, adoption, sonship, and fellowship with God are grounded in justification.

Reinterpreting Augustine
In his discussion, the author oscillates between harsh judgments against Protestantism and ecumenical attitudes. Among the former are the accusations of having conceived grace in such a “particularistic” way as to give rise to a “rotten subjectivism” (quoting J.I. Gonzales Faus, 89) and capitalism. Among the latter is the recognition of God’s gratuitous initiative that precedes any moral action on our part (119).
 
The author’s treatment of Augustine is interesting. The thinking of the “Father of grace” requires “revision” because it has reached “unacceptable extremes” and “exaggerations” that have been harmful (131, 137). The author seems to understand the reasons of the “semi-Pelagians” who proposed a “middle way” between Augustine and Pelagius (134ff). In fact, even if the Cardinal does not say so explicitly, Roman Catholic theology is closer to semi-Pelagianism than to Augustine. In line with the Council of Orange, the Council of Trent moves with “caution” and teaches that God inspires us first, but human cooperation is necessary (139). In explaining how, the author reverses the terms and shows how Roman Catholicism, in calling itself moderately Augustinian, is actually closer to semi-Pelagianism: in fact, God always acts with respect for our fragility (144), in a “resistible” way (151), and starting from human freedom (146, 150), with the exception of Mary, who had “impeccable freedom” (144)!
 
It is then understandable how convoluted the Roman Catholic doctrine of grace is: in words, it is Augustinian. In fact, it is far from Augustine, with an addition of Mariological exceptionalism. Within this complex and convoluted vision, baptism is seen as a sacrament that frees us from original sin and disposes us to justification (163). Yet the sacraments are not the only way to grace (162). Traditional sacramentalism is reaffirmed, but open to the universalist demands of contemporary Roman Catholicism.
 
Clumsy Justification
When it comes to justification, the conceptual difficulty that pervades the book emerges even more clearly. Without any biblical support, justification is understood as “the very fact of being a friend of God” (178). Instead of accepting the legal categories of Scripture, friendly categories are preferred, which are not proper to justification. In addition, two modes of God’s action (transforming and impelling) are associated with justification. First, it is said that grace precedes works, but then it is also argued, with Thomas, that one can dispose oneself to justification by giving consent (197). This cooperation is of “variable intensity” (198) or “different intensity” (200). In short, without the forensic framework of Scripture, justification is sometimes thought of as friendship, sometimes as a gift, and sometimes as something to be prepared for through one’s own cooperation.
 
The final theses proposed by the author are a theological potpourri (243-245). In a nutshell, Roman Catholic justification brings together all the complexity of the layered tradition of Catholicism: a little of Augustine but without the gravity of sin, a little of semi-Pelagianism that emphasizes our ability to collaborate, the subtle distinctions of Thomas Aquinas, the sacramentalism of Trent, the catholicity of Vatican II whereby even non-Christians can be justified (223).
 
One of the last chapters deals with the Roman Catholic-Lutheran dialogue on justification. The interpretation offered by the author is in line with the mainstream ecumenical view: the two views (Catholic and Lutheran) are “two aspects of the same truth” (208) that use “different expressions” (209) to refer to the same reality interpreted in the light of different concerns. In light of the 1999 Joint Declaration, anathemas have become “salutary warnings” that no longer apply (211). As for other religions, given the absence of forensic categories, justification can be accessible in various degrees of fullness (224-225): only the Roman Catholic sacraments guarantee the greatest fullness.
 
In the end, the author’s thinking on the subject is summarized as follows: “God is present in every human being from the moment of conception, not only as Creator, but also as Savior” (235). This is the catholicity of grace in contemporary Roman Catholicism. Without the legal/covenantal understanding, one slips into the universalism of salvation.
 
The book introduces us to the universe of contemporary Roman Catholic theology of grace, in which everything can be found except a firm commitment to respect the biblical teaching that “by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8).

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249. Mary as “Co-redemptrix”: fresh clarity or further confusion?

Roma locuta, causa finita est (Rome has spoken, the issue is over). This phrase taken from Augustine (Sermo 131.10) has often been used to highlight the solidity of the Roman Catholic authority structure and the finality of its decision-making process. Well, forget it. After the Note of the Vatican Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith “Mater Populis Fidelis” (4 Nov), Rome has spoken (yes), but contradicting what was authoritativelty said earlier and making the issue an open-ended one.
 
We are talking about Mary being ascribed the title of “Co-redemptrix”, recognizing  the contribution of Mary to the redemption of the world accomplished by the Son. Over the centuries, the acceptance of this title has been brewing in popular piety, in the writings of some mystics, and more recently in official documents by Popes Pius X and Pius XI. Pope John Paul II was also fond of talking about Mary participating in redemption, thus being worthy of being called “Co-redemptrix”. After the 19th century Marian dogma of her Immaculate Conception (1854), and the 20th century dogma of her Bodily Assumption (1950), there has been some expectation in some Catholic circles that Rome would promulgate the fifth Marian dogma, i.e. Mary as “Co-redemptrix”, in the 21st century.
 
While these developments in Marian devotions were at work and growing, there were also pushbacks coming from high ecclesiastical quarters. For example, Cardinal Ratzinger (before becoming Pope Benedict XVI) argued that the title was subject to misunderstandings and not yet sufficiently clarified theologically; Pope Francis expressed similar reservations fearing ambiguities and confusions over the exact nature of Mary “co-redemption”.
 
This sofly critical trend was echoed in the Note of the Vatican Dicastery. The document basically repeats the Ratzinger-Francis cautious comments: Mary as “Co-redemptrix” has not yet been clarified theologically and the title is open to abuses if it is thought as paralleling Chirst’s redemption. The new element is that the reigning Pope, Leo XIV, shares these concerns and has approved the Note. For these reasons, for the time being, the Vatican is not to put in motion the promulgation of the fifth dogma, but will stick to a wait-and-see policy. It is more of a temporary stop of the process, than a definitive halt.

A few observations need to be made. First, Roman Catholic Mariology has always had maximalist and minimalist parties. The pendulum has been swinging in one direction or the other. The Note signals the fact that the latter is now prevalent over the other in the Vatican headquarters. The movement could change in the future, given the fact that Mariology, not being governed by Scripture Alone, is conceptually and practically open-ended.
 
Second, while the Note is cautious about new developments towards Mary’s title as “Co-redemptrix”, it unwaveringly reaffirms the traditional Roman Catholic Mariology made of unbiblical dogmas, practices and devotions. The document reiterates the view of Christ’s mediation as being “inclusive” and participatory, thus making room for Mary’s and the saints’ intercession and mediation of graces. There is no “Christ alone” theology in the Note!
 
Third, the main driver of Mariological development has always been the lex orandi (i.e. liturgy and spirituality) rather than the lex credendi (i.e. doctrine). The Vatican Note underlines a potential problem in the latter but warmly encourages the full expression of the former. In other words, the door for Mary’s co-redemption is not definitively closed, but only left ajar. Inspite of idealized views of Roman Catholicism, Rome is not the stable and coherent entity that pretends to be.
 
There is far truer and better way to honor Mary than that of the Vatican Note: imitate her faith and cherish her legacy according to Scripture while trusting in Jesus Christ alone for our salvation.  
 
 
(A version of this article was posted on Evangelicals Now, 6 November 2025)

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248. “The Church is Jesus himself.” The heart (and the heresy) of Roman Catholicism?

Most recently, evangelical theologian Henri Blocher argued that at the heart of Roman Catholicism lies the concept of the Church as the continuing incarnation of Jesus Christ. The idea is that, in a strong and “real” sense, the Roman Catholic Church is the sacramental and mystical body of Jesus, as if His incarnation were prolonged in it. Obviously, Blocher was not inventing anything. The theological point is affirmed in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (no. 521), evoked by the Second Vatican Council (Lumen Gentium nn. 8, 48, and 52), and argued with different nuances and emphases by leading modern Roman Catholic theologians such as Johann Adam Möhler, John Henry Newman, Mathias-Joseph Scheeben, and Yves Congar.[1]

Another testimony confirming this view is added to these authoritative voices. It is that of Robert Hugh Benson (1871-1914) in the book Christ in the Church. A Volume of Religious Essays (London: Longman, Green and Co., 1911). Until recently, I was unaware of the works of Benson, who may not be central to contemporary Roman Catholic theology, but neither is he negligible.

Converted from Anglicanism (after John Henry Newman) to Roman Catholicism under the pontificate of Leo XIII, Benson became a Catholic priest while continuing to write novels, short stories, and various essays. A brilliant and eclectic personality, as a convert, Benson looked for and explored the “heart” of Roman Catholicism. Thus, in the pamphlet Christ in the Church, he tackles head-on the self-understanding of the Church of Rome and dissects its meaning.

Benson begins with Jesus’ words, “This is my body, which is given for you” (Luke 22:19): “that act was but a continuation (though in another sense) of that first act known as the Incarnation” (8). Roman Catholics believe that “the Church is in a real sense the body of Christ… in the Church He lives, speaks, and acts as He lived, spoke, and acted in Galilee and Jerusalem” (9). The analogy is thus established: just as Jesus Christ lived two thousand years ago, so “He lives His mystical life today in a body drawn from the human race in general – called the Catholic Church” (10). It follows that the actions of the Church are His, “her words are His, her life is His” (id.). Here is the Roman Catholic thesis briefly put: “in a real sense, she is Himself” (id.).
 
On the basis of the extension between Christ and the Church to the point that the Church is Christ, Benson continues: “The written Gospel is the record of a past life; the Church is the living Gospel and record of a present life” (11). The Vine and the branches “are in the most direct sense identical” (12). For the Catholic, “Jesus Christ still lives upon earth as surely, though in another and what must be called a ‘mystical’ sense, as He lived two thousand years ago” (18). Moreover, “we have present upon earth in the Catholic Church that same personality and energy as lived upon the earth two thousand years ago in the Figure of Jesus Christ” (25). Therefore, “the same authority must be predicated of the voice of the Church as of the Voice of Christ” (21). No religion, “except one, and that the Catholic Church, claims to be actually Divine and to utter the Voice of God” (32). If the Church is the continuation of the Incarnation, “she is indeed what she claims to be — the one and unique organ of Divine Revelation” (40).
 
In this sense, the infallibility of the Church and its Roman Pontiff is simply inevitable and obviously true because “If infallibility be predicated of Jesus Christ, it must be predicated of Him in His Mystical as well as in His Natural Body” (22). In the Roman Catholic view, there is therefore a transitive property between Christ and the Catholic Church to the point that what can be predicated of the one passes to the other. It is the theological logic that is in the DNA of Roman Catholicism and makes it what it is.
 
The identification is so complete that “we, living members of the Church on earth, have the same personality and energy that existed in the figure of Jesus Christ two thousand years ago” (20). This means that Christ still suffers in the Church (10) and “Jesus Christ is still resurrected, not once or twice, but repeatedly in the Catholic Church” (22). The Church is so identified with Christ that she continues to “redeem humanity” (33).

Now, despite being a Catholic priest and a voice of early 20th-century Anglo-Saxon culture, Benson is not one of the leading voices in Roman Catholic theology. Yet, in his sparkling and drumming style, he gives voice to what Catholic teaching and official theology have developed over the centuries: the church is the extension of the incarnation of Jesus Christ.
 
Evangelical theologian Gregg Allison speaks of the “Christ–church interconnection.”[2] The church is considered a prolongation of the incarnation, mirroring Christ as a divine–human reality, acting as an altera persona Christi, a second “Christ.” The threefold ministry of Christ as King, Priest, and Prophet is thus transposed to the Roman Church–in its hierarchical rule, its magisterial interpretation of the Word, and its administration of the sacraments. There is never solus Christus (Christ alone), only Christus in ecclesia (Christ in the church) and ecclesia in Christo (the church in Christ).
 
The emphasis on the Christ–church interconnection seems to forget that the church is still a divine creature, belonging to the reality created by God and marked by sin, while Christ is the divine Creator, the One from whom all things are and who is perfect now and always. When we talk about Christology, we are talking about the unique relationship between human nature and divine nature in the person of Jesus Christ on the side of the Creator. When we talk about ecclesiology, we are talking about the unity of divine and human elements from the side of creation. The distinction between Creator and creature is crucial to avoid the trap of elevating the church into a quasi-divine body.

There are enormous problems with this thesis: it goes beyond the biblical image of the body of Christ (Christ is the head, we are members!), it deifies a human community, it idolizes an institution, and it usurps what should be recognized only to Jesus Christ according to Scripture alone (sola Scriptura, Scripture alone!). It goes beyond and against what is written in the Bible. Yet it gives access to the deep bowels of Roman Catholicism of all times. Ultimately, Roman Catholicism is a heresy that took Christology and transplanted it into its ecclesiology. And in doing so, Rome distorted it.

[1] See Roberto Baglioni, La chiesa “continua incarnazione” del Verbo: da J.A. Möhler al Concilio Vaticano II (Napoli: Editrice Domenicana Italiana, 2013).

[2] Gregg R. Allison, Roman Catholic Theology and Practice. An Evangelical Assessment (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2014) pp. 56-66.