Charming Brie Stoner (colleague of Fr. Richard Rohr, my "new best friend" LOL!) offers this: "...negative emotions are to be gently welcomed, questioned, listened to..." Good advice this: not to surrender to them; not to deny, condemn or flee them; but to welcome them softly like a dear friend. So, here I welcome and question my hatred of Pope Francis.
To be clear, it is a love/hate thing: deep ambivalence, swings of emotion. (By "hate" I intend here the emotion of disgust, not the spiritual/moral vice of willing evil for another.) Today I love him, tomorrow I hate him. For weeks, after his sound response to the wacky Amazon Synod, I liked him; but I simply loved him during his iconic "Ex Orbi et Urbi" blessing. He walked through desolate St. Peter's square in the rain, without an umbrella, alone, slow, aged and tired; he seemed burdened, sad, and expressive in his precious, fragile person of the very suffering of a world in pandemic. Finally, (I exulted!) I again love my pontiff! But then...not one but two friends sent me his interview in Commonweal with hagiographer Austin Ivereigh. Instinctively I cast both aside; but then questioned myself "Perhaps I should open my mind and heart." Bad move! The interview was Francis at his worst! Back to hating him again. And feeling bad about it. He is, after all, a compassionate, bold, interesting, liberated spirit; he is our Catholic Father and center of our unity; he has drawn many of the disillusioned back to an interest in the Church. So why this deep, passionate, ever-recurring aversion?
I have identified three key roots: his advocacy for the poor, his "emotivist-irrationalist" theology, and his posture on sexuality and the Culture War. Here I want to consider primarily his advocacy for the poor.
That this bothers me is puzzling because I have always shared this solicitude for the poor, the suffering and those on the margins. What bothers me in Pope Francis is: his blaming, scolding tone; and the politicization of his concern.
Very often he is scolding the wealthy, the powerful, those who build walls and weapons but care little for the poor. This tone is not one I find in the great Catholic figures (most recently Mother Theresa and Pope John Paul) and is repulsive to me personally.
In regard to my work providing a home for low-income women, I often receive "blaming" comments like: "Why don't the families of the women care for them?" "You mean the Archdiocese is not helping you financially?" "I can't believe you receive no governmental assistance!" Now it happens that: the families do what they can; the Archdiocese has been supportive (Cardinal Tobin sent two generous checks unsolicited); and I appreciate that most of our residents benefit from social security disability and a generous medicaid/medicare network. But that is not the point: the thing is that were I to indulge in this "blame game" I would rob myself of the inexpressible Joy of my work. I appreciate the support that comes from many sources and I find immense delight in my work. I consider it a special gift, a charism from heaven to be involved with these women who are so interesting, and precious, and tender. Not everyone is blessed with this delectable call; it is very special. Were I to criticize others I would fall into arrogance and ingratitude. It is like the vow of celibacy; or "praying in tongues'; or the monastic life...these are special gifts. Some receive a special portion. Surely all are called to chastity, prayer, communal worship, and care for the poor in some way; but some are specially blessed.
Just a few days after the installation of Pope Francis I noticed a problem: on the street he greeted a Cardinal who was waiting for his chauffeur. He asked him: "Why don't you just take a bus?" Now the fact that Cardinal Bergoglio took buses is charming and endearing. He is, clearly, a special man. But the suggestion that aging Cardinals, weighted down with responsibility, should be waiting on street corners for the next bus is one of the most ridiculous ideas I have ever entertained. The Cardinal in question was providing a job for a worker; he may have shared a mutual, intimate, holy friendship with the driver; and most of all, he received some rest and peace so badly needed by our Princes.
My second problem is that he too often politicizes his love for the poor. Almost 20 years ago, my nephew graduated college and went to Haiti for a year of service. I wrote him a heartfelt letter cautioning him that exposure to poverty and suffering can be traumatizing and scandalizing and lead to bitterness, indignation, anger, and judgmental moralism against the rich, the powerful and the "System." Leftist ideology! Or, it can wed itself to love for Christ and the Church and the blessedness of the poor. Happily, he spent time with the poor and time before the Eucharist and returned greatly deepened in wisdom, inner peace and love (in my humble opinion!)
Pope Francis sees himself as a sociopolitical leader, leading the world to enlightened positions on global warming, borders, death penalty, weapons, and so forth. This represents a "clericalism" as these issues are outside of his competence; they need to be addressed by political bodies, processes and leaders. His is a voice of confusion and polarization when he presents his personal opinions under the mantle of papal authority. It is odious. My father liked to say: "We don't have to like anyone; we have to love everyone." I love Pope Francis; (a lot of the time) I don't like him.
The other two issues (theology, sexuality) are best left to another blog essay. For now, I feel better getting that out of my system and will reinvigorate my loyalty to and prayer for this fascinating, admirable, eccentric and o-so-annoying Vicar of Christ.
Friday, April 17, 2020
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