Cardinal Fernández Misleads...

Joseph Ratzinger, better known as Pope Benedict XVI, stepped down from the papal ministry in 2013. But before he did, he began drafting an encyclical on the nature of Christian faith. His goal was to finish his ongoing thoughts on the three theological virtues—faith, hope, and charity—and their implications for true human development. For Benedict, faith was the foundation and informing energy of the other two virtues. And to his great credit, a newly elected Pope Francis adopted Benedict’s draft upon his accession. Francis added “a few contributions of [his] own.” Then he issued the resulting text as Lumen Fidei (“The Light of Faith”), his first encyclical and the inaugural document of his pontificate.

Given later events, it’s telling that some of the new pope’s strongest supporters were less than enthused with the style and content of Lumen Fidei. Understandably so. The text is a classically Ratzingerian work. In his previous roles as a peritus (expert) at Vatican II and as prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Joseph Ratzinger was one of the greatest Christian minds of the past century. Lumen Fidei is a tour-de-force reflection on the nature of faith, its role in reason’s search for truth, and its guidance for the Christian life.

That’s the good news. The other news is this: The rich quality of Lumen Fidei stands in unhappy contrast to every other document of the Francis tenure. It’s a painful judgment, but true. And on that point, justice requires some context.

Very few Americans live in the poverty that is common in other parts of the world. Thus, it’s difficult for us to grasp the suffering involved in lives of constant uncertainty. It’s easy—too easy—to dismiss Pope Francis’s hostility to modern capitalism, and the materialist indulgence it breeds, as a form of soft-Marxist ignorance. But his compassion for the poor, his focus on the forgotten people of the world’s peripheries, and his stress on the priority of mercy are not just thoroughly Catholic. They’re also a needed admonition and catechesis for those of us in the self-satisfied “developed” nations. The pope’s obvious distaste for U.S. Church leadership and American Catholic life may be rooted in a lack of knowledge, and it’s deeply frustrating. But his critical attitude toward wealthy nations of the Global North, and especially the United States, is not unwarranted.

In Francis’s defense, we also need to remember that over a lifetime of ministry, a priest will hear thousands of confessions. Many will involve sincere persons struggling with impossibly complex circumstances. Francis is keenly attuned to their burdens. Merely quoting the catechism in such cases offers little solace. It also lacks humanity. The temptation to confirm, or at least to soothe, otherwise well-meaning people in their sinful behaviors and relationships can be intense.

This helps to explain the pope’s frequent complaints about backwardism, rigidity, and “fixism” in Catholic thought. It explains his many criticisms of a purportedly unforgiving clergy. It explains his dislike for “doctors of the law” and his loose approach to canonical issues. It explains his irritation with the intellectual gravitas and precision of his immediate predecessors. It explains his studied ambiguity on certain matters of doctrine and ecclesial discipline. It explains his refusal to live in the Vatican’s Apostolic Palace, his disdain for some of the normal formalities of his office, and his habit of feeding confusion with imprudent, and even provocative, public comments. It also explains his peculiar hostility for the old Latin Mass and the alleged reactionaries who “cling” to it—some of them, yes, bitter backsliders and nostalgia addicts, but others who are merely young persons and families seeking beauty, stability, and some connection with the faith’s past in their worship.

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