Pop 89: The Spirit’s Next Move
By Madonna Hamel
I’ve been glued to the screen, watching commentators and anchors report on the life and legacy of Pope Francis. I love the fact that, in order to speak of his papacy and the subsequent choosing of a new pope, they must mention the Holy Spirit. They must explain that the job of the conclave is to attend to “the movement of the Spirit.” How often, in a world that secularizes and politicizes, spiritual matters, do we hear “Spirit” mentioned in “tonight’s top story”? It’s too good to miss.
A couple of weeks ago I watched the movie Conclave with my sister and brother-in-law. It details the events going on behind the Sistine Chapel doors as cardinals choose the next pope. Now, what I’m trying to imagine, with even more curiosity and yearning, is how the Spirit moves the cardinals, who through silent reflection and, hopefully, sincere prayer, are “inspired” (ie: “inspirited” ) to vote for moral force, not political clout.
Yes, Catholicism is a weird religion, full of rituals and rites, bells and smells, gestures and prayers. But each one is designed to render us - and the cardinals - humble. To whisper into every ear: Yes, there is a God. And, no, it’s not you. There is, after all, more to heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophies and politics, as Shakespeare wrote. In a secular world, it’s hard to remember that a pope who speaks on behalf of, and visits regularly, prisoners, homeless, refugees and the sick, who washes and kisses their feet, is not making a political statement but an ancient religious one.
Living in a dormitory and eating in a cafeteria, riding on public transit and wearing Velcro sneakers instead of red leather loafers didn’t make Francis a Marxist, but a simple Christian. The papacy is there to remind the world of moral imperative, not political sway. It is there to be a spiritual presence in the lives of the marginalized and forgotten. Francis made the most of every encounter by embracing the least of us. But they are not just photo ops, they are how he exemplified a life aligned with mercy.
The word I equate most with Francis is “Mercy.” It’s a word on short supply these days. It is certainly not evident in certain media outlets and their guests who are already criticizing Francis for ignoring “tradition” by blessing “same-sex unions.” One priest actually asserted that, “We don’t bless sinners!” Really? I believe that was Jesus’ core message.
Mercy is, by definition, compassion shown to those you could just as easily ignore: The homeless, the refugee, the mentally challenged, the rehabilitated criminal, the old, the marginalized. These are the people Francis wanted to be with to remind them that we are all precious in God’s eyes. Mercy is the moral imperative of those more privileged among us - the rich, the politically powerful, the celebrity - anyone who has the luxury of ignoring the less privileged. We are always either in need of mercy or are in the position to show it.
The pope writes eloquently about caring for each other and our common home. I recently read an examination of his view on world economics, written by two Vatican reporters. It’s called “This Economy Kills”. Francis economics were in line with Christ’s, though not near as radical.
The authors quote him: “When money, instead of man, is at the center of the system, when money becomes an idol, men and women are reduced to simple instruments of a social and economic system, which is characterized-or better yet, dominated-by profound inequalities. . . . The promise was that when the glass became full, it would spill over and the poor would benefit. But, instead, when it was full, the glass magically got bigger and nothing trickled down to the poor.”
Why does Francis’ insistence we live frugally, share with the outsider, the poor and homeless, cause so much upset among American conservatives, including priests and bishops? It should come as no surprise that as a spiritual leader his theology would be in keeping with the church’s social teaching. Care for the poor, the prisoner, the sick, the homeless, the earth itself are all the focus of the Bible, Old and New Testament. Ironically, it’s those who claim to be bringing God back to America and who brag about their Christianity (though can’t seem to quote one line of scripture) who criticize Francis as unchristian.
I recall when John Paul II died. I was working at CBC at the time, and all the TVs were tuned to the rooftop chimney in St. Peter’s Square. When the white smoke finally came pouring into the sky, I wept. Why? It was a mysterious moment caught in an image that pointed to a mystery—a movement. A group of mortals had heeded a voice that moved them to choose one among them to become Hope’s next voice.
Who will he be? Will he exemplify mercy to each other? How will he do it? Dare we hope? Can we trust? I will keep watching for the white smoke despite my own skepticism and pessimism, not of Francis, or the Spirit of the church, but of those who act like the bouncers at an exclusive club.
In these days of fever pitch vituperative and repeated indignities, amid the rush and the noise of a world wherein mean-spirited remarks get far too much airplay, I say: Let the Spirit talk. We could do with more than a little bit of humility. And that would mean tuning out the voices of threats, fear, slander and control and listening for the still, small voice that reminds us we are here as brothers and sisters, not combatants in an endless war over money and positions of authority. Maybe we all need a conclave, a holy place, where we get down on our knees and welcome the Spirit to make the next move.