Pope Francis has an extraordinary week ahead of him. This week, a summit opened in the Vatican to debate the future of the family — and it could be tumultuous. On Friday, the pontiff might win the Nobel Peace Prize for his dedication to non-violence and combating poverty. He is a radical figure, obsessed with getting things done, transforming his church and focusing minds on the essence of Christianity.
In two short years, he been transformed into the conscience of his era. The physical challenge is mighty. The Pope is 78 and surgery conducted when he was young left him with one lung. He has spoken honestly about expecting his tenure to be short. “Four or five years,” he told the press, “even two or three.”
Despite the challenges of age, he has thrown himself into international diplomacy, visiting Albania, Bosnia, Ecuador, the Philippines and Bolivia. Next month, he flies to Kenya, Uganda and the Central African Republic. These countries are what he likes to call “the peripheries” — nations that get overlooked by rich foreign leaders.
In September, he spent eight days touring Cuba and the United States. The pairing of these old enemies is significant. As a child of Argentina, birthplace of Che Guevara, he understands the impact on Latin America of US capitalism, Cuban socialism and the violent competition between the two. The recent detente has been credited to Pope Francis — US President Barack Obama thanked him for using his personal influence to bring them together.
When the Pope arrived in Havana, the scenes of joy were astonishing. No one should underestimate the subversive power of popular piety in communist regimes. The cries of “Christ lives!” underscored the sense of change sweeping the island, of the giddy promise of freedom. But it was in the US, dashing between Washington, New York and Philadelphia, that the Pope’s energy really captured the attention of the press.
He spoke at the United Nations and prayed at Ground Zero for the victims of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. He celebrated mass in Madison Square Garden, riding about in a golf cart to the cheers of an 18,000-strong crowd. But even though he was visiting the world’s richest country, the Pope still went to the peripheries. He met homeless people in Washington, schoolchildren in Harlem and prison inmates in Philadelphia. At one point, he stopped his motorcade to kiss and bless a 10-year-old disabled boy.
Then there was his speech to Congress. He spoke about the importance of preserving life, both in the womb and on death row. He also talked about tackling poverty and protecting the environment. Some American conservatives were critical and said the Pope would have done better to stay away from politics. But Christianity has no limits on its remit and the pontiff’s words touched every heart there.
John Boehner, the Republican Speaker of the House, was visibly overcome with emotion. Later Boehner told a journalist the Pope had put an arm around his shoulder and said: “Pray for me”. So profound was the visit that Boehner regarded his life’s work in Congress as complete. He resigned his post the next day.
Francis’ frustration
That story speaks to Francis’s ability to reach beyond political divide and touch on the human nature of any problem. Everyone who meets him is moved by his modesty. He has his critics: political and religious conservatives who regard him as too naive or simply an unreconstructed socialist. In reality, he is 100 per cent theologically orthodox. Ignore reports to the contrary: the Pope is still a Catholic. He is, however, a Catholic who recognises that his Church has many faults that need fixing. Its reputation was tarnished by child molestation scandals. Its internal bureaucracy is creaky and out of touch. There is also a feeling that the public face of the Church spends too much time defending theology — talking about sex and sin — rather than spreading the love of Christ.
One senses in Francis a frustration with a Catholicism that in some quarters is perceived as ossified, no longer speaking to real needs. He desperately wants religion to have practical meaning. This can mean bringing peace between warring nations. It can also mean fighting poverty through material and spiritual charity.
There was a remarkable moment in his visit to the Philippines when he met a 12-year-old homeless girl who broke down in tears, asking him why God allows people to be sold into sexual slavery. Pope Francis hugged her and thanked her for her brutal honesty. That moment goes to the heart of a Catholicism that seeks to break down barriers between people. It is symbolic of the emphasis Francis has placed on mercy. His announcement that during 2016’s Year of Mercy, ordinary priests would be allowed to absolve women of the sin of abortion and lift any case of excommunication — something that hitherto required a bishop — was by no means a display of tolerance for something the Church still considers gravely wrong. Rather, it was about finding a practical way for people to return to the faith. His move was confused by some — and there is no denying that the Pope’s radical approach has unleashed forces that pull the Church in contrary directions.
This month’s synod on the family is billed as a confrontation between traditionalists and liberals, and it will be a serious battle. Francis’s intention in starting this conversation was to find pastoral solutions to new societal problems — of a rising divorce rate or the growing acceptance of gay relationships in the West. Some would use that opportunity to change doctrine, and they will be resisted. The very concept of “change” in Catholicism is nonsense. If the Church ever concedes it is wrong on one aspect of doctrine, everything else has to be called into question, from marriage to the divinity of Jesus. The Pope understands this. But he understands, too, that the modern willingness to belong to the Church is probably contingent on the Church’s ability to convince people it belongs to them. That task is a hard one and the Pope may fear that once he is gone, stasis will return. Hence the rush and the breathless energy. Hence, too, his friendly chats with journalists as he tries to explain the faith in a direct and human way.
On the plane from Cuba to America, he joked about worries he might not be a Catholic at all. He said: “If I have to recite the Creed, I’m ready.” Ultimately, his straightforwardness might be the reason why Francis has captured so many imaginations. He sees himself simply as a servant of God and will do as much as he can in the time he has been given. “Life is in God’s hands,” he told an Argentine paper. “I told the Lord: ‘If your will is that I die, I ask you only one favour — that it doesn’t hurt — because I’m a big coward when it comes to physical pain.”
— The Telegraph Group Limited, London 2015
