Pope Francis, the search for balance

Two recent events demonstrate that Pope Francis’s pontificate has lost all balance. They occurred in Latin America and also testify to the polarization and “war” that took place in the Latin American Church in the Seventies.

The two events are the suppression of the Sodalitium Christianae Vitae, a lay association whose founder was convicted of abuse, and the new restrictive measures against Cardinal Juan Luis Cipriani Thorne, former archbishop of Lima, who was accused of abuse some years ago and placed under secret restrictions as a result.

Cipriani denies the allegations, which have not been tried—at least not publicly—and in fact has continued to exercise some ministry. Cipriani even served out his terms on various curial dicasteries until he reached the age of 80.

Why are these two events so alarming?

Because of the way they happened, the brutality of the debate around them, and the profound risk that they do not contribute to cleaning up the Church, as is desirable, but instead to create even more hatred.

It is worth remembering that Latin America has been shaken by a long debate about how to do theology after the Second Vatican Council. The complex social and economic situation, the presence of military dictatorships in several countries for more or less prolonged periods, and the absolute poverty experienced by the population have led the Church to be strongly involved.

This is nothing new in Latin America. With their reducciones, the Jesuits created accurate life models, effectively giving the local population a chance for emancipation. Evangelization, in short, also passed through civilization, with an effort that would later be called “integral human development.”

Marxist models, with the so-called Liberation Theology, also characterized the post-conciliar debate in Latin America. The oppositions were fierce, the points of view irreconcilable. John Paul II criticized the politicization of priests. Still, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith led by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, later Benedict XVI, overcame the issue with two instructions on Liberation Theology: one that took, appreciated, and exalted the positive points of view, one that criticized the aspects that went beyond the Christian vision and adhered instead to Marxist ideology.

This line was followed by Benedict XVI as Pope: not to seek opposition, but rather to try to reconcile visions, consistently placing Jesus Christ at the center. It is no coincidence that when the theme of the famous Aparecida Conference of 2007 was chosen, of which Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio was a speaker, Benedict XVI wanted the phrase “in Him” to be added to the selected theme, “Disciples and missionaries of Jesus Christ so that the peoples may have life.”

Pope Francis, however, has brought the debate back to the Seventies.

His model is the Latin American one, and in that model, there remains the residue of a debate that has never died down. There have been decisions, actions of power, sometimes cover-ups, and sometimes exasperated attacks. In the end, there has been no true reconciliation.

Thus, the Sodalitium was considered an expression of the “right.” The new Cardinal Castillo Mattasoglio, Archbishop of Lima, loudly called for the suppression of the movement in an article written in El Pais. In it, he complained, among other things, that communications with Rome were impeded and that Gustavo Gutierrez, the father of Liberation Theology, had asked him to personally deliver a message to Ratzinger.

Cardinal Castillo himself took the floor to comment on the measures against Cardinal Cipriani, stating that what happened “refers to the pain of the victims.”

There was no official communication of the penalty imposed on Cipriani, who has been retired since 2019. Only a statement from the director of the Holy See Press Office, not released through institutional channels, in which Bruni stated that “following accusations against him, and after the acceptance of his resignation as Archbishop of Lima, the Cardinal was imposed a penal precept with some disciplinary measures relating to his public activity, place of residence and the use of insignia, signed and accepted by His Eminence.”

Bruni added, “Although on specific occasions some permissions were granted to accommodate requests due to the Cardinal’s age and family situation, this precept appears to still be in force.”

Cipriani responded with an official statement, denying the accusations and emphasizing that “in August 2018, I was informed that a complaint had arrived that was not delivered to me. Subsequently, without having been heard, without knowing more, and without a process being opened, on December 18, 2019, the Apostolic Nuncio verbally communicated to me that the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith had imposed a series of sanctions on me that limited my priestly ministry and required me to have a stable residence outside of Peru.”

Cipriani was in Rome until he turned 80 when his term as a member of the Vatican dicasteries ended, and now he lives in Madrid.

Cipriani continued to be part of the Vatican dicasteries and participated in consultations.

It has been written that the measure against Cipriani is an attack by the Pope on Opus Dei, of which the Cardinal is a member. And, indeed, the Pope has practically weakened the prelature, modifying canons 295 and 296 of Canon Law in 2023 to “demote” personal prelatures, assimilating them “to public clerical associations of pontifical right with the faculty of incardinating clerics.” The only prelature is Opus Dei, which had already seen its new prelate installed without episcopal ordination in 2017.

So, what do the two cases—the Sodalitium and Cipriani—have in common?

Arbitrariness, for one thing.

The suppression of the Sodalitium stands in stark contrast to recent practice, viz. the Legion of Christ, the Emmanuel Communities in France, or the l’Arche Communities in Canada, all of which had founders who turned out to be abusers. They aren’t the only ones. Are there nuances we are not aware of? If so, these reasons should be communicated and explained.

Cipriani, meanwhile, appears never to have received the opportunity to confront witnesses or address the allegations at trial—not even in secret—though he has seen both the allegations and the measures imposed on him become public through the press.

Another common thread is, therefore, transparency, or rather the lack of it, with investigations and decisions being made not merely with due discretion but quite deliberately under a veil of secrecy that does not soften or attenuate the impression that both episodes—whatever the merits of the charges against principals—are highly politicized.

Even in the case of Cardinal Cipriani, the proceedings come toward the end of his mandate and almost as part of a necessary transition. For the mentality to change, those who were there before must be destroyed. John Paul II had called Cipriani to bring order to a difficult diocese, to bring orthodoxy. Like everyone, he had resistance, and he had allies. But he also had the right to defend himself from the accusations.

It seems as if, at this moment, all the protagonists of that great debate, all those who advanced the positions of John Paul II and Benedict XVI, have become targets. This does not mean that everything was good. On the contrary, there were errors, sins, and even abuses, as we have seen. But it does not mean that everything was bad either.

Today, Pope Francis is called to find a balance between the will to change the narrative and bring back into vogue the losing narrative of which he was a part, and on the other side, the fact that the Pope’s government is not secular, it must seek to create conversion and spread the faith. It is the famous todos, todos, todos principle. It appears, however, to apply only in some cases.