EDITORIAL/1
A year with Pope Francis. Wonder is rekindled every day with new and ancient words
An organic review on Jorge Mario Bergoglio, a year since his election at the pontifical see, would take up the space of a whole book, which some are in the process of writing and others have already written. But that book would be always unfinished, after its publication it would have to be updated with Pope Francis’ new words or actions. Pope Francis’ newness and his unexpected words and gestures are perhaps a trait of his personality, typical of creative personalities or prompted by the creativity of the Spirit that serenely cohabits within him and makes him grasp every breath of the Holy Spirit. Bergoglio is not a mere executor of his mission nor do his actions follow a prearranged plan. He reacts to the appeals and the impulses of the heart. What is prearranged compared to his action is his being, human and Christian, his intelligence, his faith, his humanity, his background as a son of immigrants, his experience matured in the Argentina of the desaparecidos, amidst the confused and conflicting complexity of the Latin-American world, without forgetting the strength and the inner order shaped by St. Ignatius spiritual exercises. He brought all of this together under the name-symbol of Francis, and during his visit to Assisi (October 4 2013) he added further significance to that original intuition. Thus is the case for his language, the language of the heart, as he recently said speaking to representatives of a protestant Pentecostal community. It is a language, he said, made of nostalgia and joy: nostalgia for separation and joy for recovered fraternity. “We’re brothers”, he said with a meek, mellow, tone of voice, and we can express it in tears of joy, like Joseph in Egypt, upon the encounter with his brothers who had sold him and who recognized him. This is the style of the Pontificate of Francis, a universal brother, bent over the plagues of Christ impressed in the flesh of all those who suffer, who washes and kisses the feet of a Muslim girl, embraces the poor and the sick, takes children in his arms. To be a credible brother he deemed it necessary to rid himself of his titles and habits that risked distancing him from humble and simple people, people in the streets and those living in the modest home of Santa Marta, a home that he shares with occasional and permanent guests. Francis is a universal name: for the Saint of Assisi brother and sister were also the sun and the moon, the fire and the water, and every human being loved by God including lepers, rejected and excluded from civil society. The Pope said – with a reprimanding tone – “who cried” for the Lampedusa victims? He also asked, “who am I to judge a brother with a homosexual inclination? He asked himself and the whole Church, in a questionnaire, “How can we draw close to and consider as our siblings” all those with a failed marriage and a divided family with serious consequences for spouses and children? He is the Pope of mercy and of tenderness, who asked the Church to break away from her certainties defended with “inquisitional thrashing”, from excessive inward-looking approaches, erecting moralistic or disciplinary barriers that overshadow the shining light of the Gospel. His is a special way of being in the midst of a crowd, even when it’s large and it could be dangerous: “we must have faith in people”. A crowd is not a generic mishmash of individuals, it is formed by people who are loved by God, by people who cherish the motivation and the purpose of the existence of the shepherd. That’s why Francis reaffirmed his sacramental identity as a bishop and his ecclesial membership to the Church of Rome, president in the charity of the Churches worldwide. To the people gathered for his election he asked for God’s blessing since the first encounter. The image of Francis bent over the silent and orating crowd of St. Peter’s square upon the opening of his pontificate, where his universal paternity/kinship germinated, is impressed in the memory of collective consciousness, along with the spark that shed a powerful light on his mission. The bishop and the people go hand in hand like two realities that always act together. He recalled it also in the speech at Aparecida, during the World Youth Day. In these features we also find the essence of pastoral renewal, which sounds like a revolution and requires a conversion: a conversion of the heart and a pastoral conversion, placing the poor at the centre, not only in terms of a choice, but exemplifying an authentically poor Church. A year later, the wonder that every day is renewed with new and ancient words lingers on, collected by Francis in the “Evangelii gaudium”, the “summa” of evangelization in contemporary societies, the eternal “newness” that is Christ (n.11), the only reason of life of the Church and her shepherds. In his words we find the joy of the disciples and the salvation of the world: the joy of the Gospel, the Gospel of joy.