We lost the Pope early this week, on Easter Monday. He was laid to rest this morning in the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, hands down the most beautiful of the major churches in Rome, in my humble opinion. After what would be his final act as Pontiff, blessing the multitudes gathered in St. Peter's Square to celebrate the most important holiday in Christendom, Pope Francis retired to his residence in the Vatican where he left this world at 7:15AM local time.
May he rest in peace.
It's interesting that in one of his final meetings with a world leader, Francis met with the Vice President of the United States. The late Pontiff made no bones about his opposition to the current US administration, especially regarding its stance on immigration, refugees, and mass deportation.
One may be tempted to think the VP lectured the ailing Pope on Catholic teaching that he believes justifies mass deportation, just as he lectured Germans that they're being too hard on Nazis or to Volodmyr Zelenski that he wasn't sucking up enough to the current POTUS.. But it doesn't appear the Easter Sunday meeting between the two was anything more than an exchange of pleasantries and the all-important photo-op.
The rift between the Pope and the VP began with a Fox interview in January where the VP addressed how his administration's policies on deportation and foreign aid, jibe with his Christian faith. He said this:
You love your family, and then you love your neighbor, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens in your own country. And then after that, you can focus and prioritize the rest of the world.
He went on to claim that the "far left" inverts that hierarchy.
Then he attached a name to the hierarchy during a social media squabble:
Just google “ordo amoris.” ...the idea that there isn’t a hierarchy of obligations violates basic common sense. Does Rory (Stewart, a British commentator and former politician) really think his moral duties to his own children are the same as his duties to a stranger who lives thousands of miles away? Does anyone?
On a very basic level, the VP is right of course. Ordo amoris, first introduced to the Church by Saint Augustine in the early Sixth Century, makes clear that all forms of love are not equal. Scripture puts love of God and love of one's parents squarely at the forefront, as clearly stated in the Ten Commandments. From there the other kinds of love we share with others naturally follow.
How absurd would it be if we for example, sent our entire paycheck to charity without leaving enough to feed our own family?
To the best of my knowledge not explicitly mentioned in scripture, love of oneself might also reside at the center of the hierarchy. More than anything, ordo amoris addresses the practical aspects of life in relation to the practice of faith. We are only human after all.
Much like the instructions we hear on every commercial flight when we are told that in the case of the loss of cabin pressure, we should place the oxygen mask over our face before helping others do the same, it is practical and logical to assume we are not in a good position to help others if we don't help ourselves first.
The same goes for love.
But what about the idea that beyond our family and other loved ones, there is a hierarchy of categories of relationships, each one less worthy of our love and charity than the one proceeding it?
Was that what Jesus had in mind when he commanded his disciples to love one another as he had loved them? Did he have a hierarchy which determined how much he doled out his love and compassion to each of them?
With that logic, one could easily construct an infinite number of categories to separate people in the hierarchy chain. How about fellow members of a particular faith or political party? Or members of the same ethnicity or race? What about fans of the same football team?
If I were to use that logic, woe be to the Trumplican, Muslim, Indonesian, Green Bay Packer fan who happens to cross my path during a crisis.
The VP's interesting take on Catholic theology was not lost on Pope Francis who shortly before his final health crisis, wrote an encyclical to the bishops of the United States where he states that the universal dignity of every human being surpasses all other concerns. He wrote:
...Jesus Christ, loving everyone with a universal love, educates us in the permanent recognition of the dignity of every human being, without exception. In fact, when we speak of “infinite and transcendent dignity,” we wish to emphasize that the most decisive value possessed by the human person surpasses and sustains every other juridical consideration that can be made to regulate life in society. Thus, all the Christian faithful and people of good will are called upon to consider the legitimacy of norms and public policies in the light of the dignity of the person and his or her fundamental rights, not vice versa.
You can read the encyclical in its entirety here.
On the true ordo amoris, Francis writes:
Christian love is not a concentric expansion of interests that little by little extend to other persons and groups. In other words: the human person is not a mere individual, relatively expansive, with some philanthropic feelings! The human person is a subject with dignity who, through the constitutive relationship with all, especially with the poorest, can gradually mature in his identity and vocation. The true ordo amoris that must be promoted is that which we discover by meditating constantly on the parable of the “Good Samaritan” (cf. Lk 10:25-37), that is, by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.To current ears, the phrase "Good Samaritan" implies anyone who does a good deed, generally above and beyond the call of duty. But in the time the parable found in the Gospel of Luke was written, the Samaritans were a group of people who shared a common mistrust and emnity with the Jews (the original recipients of the Gospel). From the perspective of a contemporary dyed-in-the-wool believer, the term "good Samaritan" might have the same impact as calling someone a "good athiest", which is precisely why the story is so compelling and revolutionary.
Answering the question "who exactly is my neighbor?" Jesus proposed the story of a man, presumably a Jew, who is robbed and left for dead on the side of a road. Two upstanding members of the Jewish community, a priest and a Levite have neither the time not the inclination to help the man. Next comes a Samaritan who cares for the man's wounds then takes him to an inn where he asks the keeper to care for the man until his return where he will compensate the innkeeper for all his expenses.
Which of the three Jesus then asked, was doing God's will? Not even willing to let the word Samaritan cross his lips, the questioner responded: "He who showed mercy on him."
"Now go and do likewise" was Jesus' reply.
In his encyclical, Francis places the migrant fleeing terror, oppression, and all other sorts of indignities at home at the center of Scripture. He leads off his letter describing the Jews' Exodus from Egyptian slavery and the Holy Family's escape into Egypt, fleeing a jealous and "ungodly" king. (Could there be someone currently in our midst that the Pope had in mind?).
In the late Pope's words, The Holy Family:
are the model, the example and the consolation of emigrants and pilgrims of every age and country, of all refugees of every condition who, beset by persecution or necessity, are forced to leave their homeland, beloved family and dear friends for foreign lands.The late Holy Father did not discount the practical concerns of society facing an influx of immigrants:
one must recognize the right of a nation to defend itself and keep communities safe from those who have committed violent or serious crimes while in the country or prior to arrival.And yet:
the act of deporting people who in many cases have left their own land for reasons of extreme poverty, insecurity, exploitation, persecution or serious deterioration of the environment, damages the dignity of many men and women, and of entire families, and places them in a state of particular vulnerability and defenselessness.
Much has been made about the differences between Pope Francis and his immediate predecessors. But those differences were as much if not more about style rather than substance.
Conservative pundits in the US and perhaps elsewhere, couldn't hide their giddiness at this Pope's passing. To them he was an unapologetic progressive, even a heretic who was bent on destroying the Church and its traditions. Liberals on the other hand lamented that Francis did not do enough to reform the Church, changing all the things about it they didn't like. I guess the fact that the bitterly divided Church still remains intact, at this writing anyway, means that Pope Francis did a pretty good job.
Shortly after he became Pope, in 2013, I wrote this piece about how the dean of American blowhard ultra-conservative talking heads, the late Rush Limbaugh, was particularly unhappy with Francis, particularly with his views on capitalism. I pointed out in the piece that while Limbaugh couldn't say enough good things about Francis' two predecessors, Popes Benedict XVI and John Paul II, he either didn't know or ignored that those two were also very critical of systems that place the making of money ahead of basic human dignity. In fact their views on the subject were hardly different at all from Francis's.
Naturally right now there is a spirited debate about who will be chosen to carry on as Pope. Conservatives have made a list of candidates they feel will best represent their interests and liberals have done the same. But the story of the Good Samaritan is so central to the faith that whoever ends up wearing the "shoes of the fisherman" in a few weeks' time, will be loathe to go against it, J.D. Vance's opinion notwithstanding.
I closed that post with this thought:
We may claim the Almighty for ourselves but God is neither liberal nor conservative, Democrat nor Republican. He is neither a Communist nor a Capitalist. His message doesn't belong exclusively to the Right nor to the Left, to the Jew or the Gentile, or to you or me. It belongs to all of us.
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