Rome - Let's be clear: Francis' first overseas trip July 22-29 to Brazil for World
Youth Day almost certainly will be perceived as a runaway hit. He'll likely
draw large and enthusiastic crowds, his freewheeling and warm style should play
as well on the road as it does in Rome, and his palpable concern for the poor
should strike deep chords in a society where social justice is an idée fixe.
Moreover, amid a summer of discontent, Brazilians seem hungry for a good
story to tell about themselves. When the final word is in, the dominant headline
will probably be something like: "Francis brings peace and wins
hearts."
That said, every papal trip is a journey into the unknown, and Francis
faces some real risks on this outing, a few immediate and short-term, others
longer-term and harder to evaluate amid the euphoria.
In terms of security and crowd control, officials in Brazil have announced
they're categorizing the events on the pope's itinerary as "green,"
"orange" or "red," corresponding to the threat level they
believe each poses. Stealing a page from their playbook, we'll lay out here
several question marks facing Francis in Brazil in ascending levels of
seriousness.
Beyond the imagery and feel-good storylines, how well the new pontiff
navigates these risks will go a long way toward shaping the substantive success
or failure of the outing.
'Green'
risks: blowback and protest
Brazil's streets have been churning recently, and a principal cause is the
perception that the government is spending buckets of money on splashy events
such as the World Cup and the Olympics while public services such as education,
health care and transportation languish.
In theory, Brazilians could see World Youth Day as another case in point
and take out their frustrations on the pope. There are at least three
compelling reasons, however, why that seems fairly unlikely.
First, there's a basic dynamic on virtually every papal trip, no matter who
the pontiff is. Potential storm clouds, such as resentment over cost and mixed
public reaction to the pope's message, dominate the coverage in the run-up.
Once he lands, things go better than expected, and by the end, the trip is
styled a success -- in part, of course, because it's being measured against the
expectations of disaster the media helped create.
So far, there's no reason to think things won't play out that way this
time, too.
Second, Francis arrives with high levels of popularity as well as perceptions
that his heart is in the right place vis-à-vis the concerns that have driven
Brazilian protestors into the streets. He also benefits from the buzz of being
history's first Latin American pope making his triumphal homecoming.
In some ways, Francis has already achieved the kind of iconic moral status
that surrounds someone like Nelson Mandela, and few movements dedicated to the
pursuit of justice of any stripe would want to end up on his bad side.
Instead, the antagonists in Brazil's internal tensions seem to be competing
with each other to see who can show more deference and respect.
The mayor of Rio de Janeiro, Eduardo Paes, recently asked protestors not to
take out their grievances on the pope because he's not to blame for "the
sins of Brazilian politicians." In fact, Paes said, maybe Francis would
forgive them if they make a good confession. Leaders of the uprisings, for
their part, told reporters they have no intention of embarrassing Francis
because their resentments aren't directed at him.
The activists who propelled people into the streets in June have announced
they'll stage protests July 26 and 27 in Rio under the banner of, "Pope,
look how we're treated!" The assumption is that Francis is such a moral
beacon that airing the failures of the country's political class before his
eyes might shame them into reform.
That may not bode well for politicos, but it doesn't seem to augur any
massive antipapal blowback.
Third, there's no comparison in terms of the amount of public money being
invested in events such as the World Cup and the Olympics and the weeklong
World Youth Day.
Reportedly, the Brazilian government is shoveling $13 billion into the
World Cup, with much of that outlay going to install luxury sky boxes at soccer
stadiums. By way of contrast, the various levels of government are contributing
just $60 million for WYD in security and transport subsidies. Once Brazilians
realize the disparity, they'll probably be much less likely to lump the papal
trip in with the other objects of their pique.
'Orange'
risks: security and manipulation
Whenever a major world leader appears in public, including the pope,
there's always an outside risk of violence. While there's no reason to think
it's more likely in Brazil than elsewhere, there's also no reason to think it's
less likely, either.
If something does happen, however, it won't be because the Brazilian
security blanket wasn't sufficiently thick.
The defense ministry has announced a boost in the number of military
personnel on duty to 10,266, from an initial deployment of 8,500. Meanwhile,
officials in Rio de Janeiro have vowed to stage "the biggest police
operation in the city's history," assigning 12,000 regular officers and
1,700 members of an elite security unit to the pope's protection.
Adding it up, that's 24,000 soldiers, police and security experts. Vatican
officials have expressed "total confidence" in the security
preparations, and that massive deployment is probably part of the reason why.
Another risk, and one that's harder to put people in the field to prevent,
is that Francis' words and deeds could be exploited by various actors --
politicians, activists, pundits and media outlets -- to bolster one side or the
other in the country's internal battles.
At the moment, much of the political drama in Brazil is focused on the
future of the country's first female president, Dilma Rousseff. Not so long
ago, her re-election in October 2014 seemed a foregone conclusion, but now some
believe she's been sufficiently weakened that things may be more wide open, not
only for a challenger from the center-right opposition, but potentially even
from within her own center-left Workers' Party. A poll released Tuesday found
Rousseff's approval rating at 49 percent, down from 73 percent in June, before
the protests began.
As a result, Brazilians will be closely watching what happens during
Francis' trip to see if it seems to tilt the playing field in somebody's favor.
I asked a veteran Brazilian journalist what the reaction will be if, for
instance, Francis says something generic about poverty during his first
encounter with Rousseff on Monday afternoon. Without having to think about it,
here's what he rattled off:
·
Brazilian media: "Pope
presses Rousseff to do more for the poor"
·
Protestors: "The pope
supports us!"
·
Political opposition: "Pope
backs need for a change"
·
Rousseff's faction: "Pope
endorses our program"
In the end, there may be little Francis can do to short-circuit this sort
of spin other than by avoiding partisan gestures or language. At the end of the
trip, however, there is still a risk that it may come off as a political gift
for somebody -- with the potential to embitter and antagonize the perceived
loser.
'Red'
risks: mission and ecumenism
Probably the most serious risk Francis faces is that his trip will be a
short-term triumph, but without the long-term consequences he'd undoubtedly
wish it to have.
As the Pew study notes, Brazil is the largest Catholic country in the
world, with an estimated Catholic population of 123 million. Catholicism has
been the country's dominant, and for a long time basically only, religious
tradition since the era of Portuguese colonization in the 16th century.
Yet the Catholic share of the population has been dropping dramatically in
recent decades, and over the last 10 years, the overall number of Catholics
began to decline as well. A quarter-century ago, more than 90 percent of Brazil
was Catholic; a decade ago, it was 74 percent; and today, it's 65 percent.
It doesn't require a great leap of imagination to envision a situation not
too far down the line in which Catholics in Brazil represent a statistical
minority.
The big winners in this transition have been Protestants, mainly
evangelicals and Pentecostals, who now number 42 million, or 22 percent of the
population. Gainers also include Brazilians with no religious affiliation, who
in the West we would probably call "secularists." They now include 15
million people, more than 8 percent of the national total.
The Pew study finds that immigration and demographics don't account for the
rise of Pentecostalism in Brazil, among other things because less than 1
percent of the population is foreign-born. The main factor, according to the
study, is "religious switching" -- and although they're too polite to
say so out loud, what they mean is defections from the Catholic church.
Perhaps most relevant for the future, the Pew data suggest Catholicism is
having an especially hard time among the young and among city-dwellers -- in
other words, among precisely the demographic cohorts destined to set the tone
in Brazil. Here's one fascinating tidbit: According to the Pew study, only 46
percent of the population of Rio de Janeiro, the city Francis will be visiting
next week, actually identifies as Catholic.
These trends pose two clear challenges.
First is the ecumenical situation. Brazil is transitioning from a
religiously homogenous society to an eclectic mix of different affiliations,
which means Catholic leaders have some catching up to do in terms of dialogue
and outreach. Relations among evangelicals, Pentecostals and Catholics in
Brazil are a mixed bag; some get along quite well and perceive common cause in
regards to the increasing tug of secularism, while others are stuck in
confessional rivalries.
In the mid-1990s, for instance, Bishop Sergio von Helde of Brazil's
Universal Church of the Kingdom of God, one of the largest Pentecostal
denominations in Latin America, went on TV on the Feast of Our Lady of
Aparecida, the national patroness of Brazil, and kicked an icon of the Madonna,
declaring, "This is no saint!" Uproar ensued in which outraged
Catholics attacked Pentecostal churches and von Helde was convicted of public
disrespect for a religious symbol and sentenced to two years in jail.
To illustrate that such tensions have not entirely dissipated, consider
that there are three major Brazilian TV networks with correspondents aboard the
papal plane for Francis' trip. Yet the country's second-largest network,
Record, owned by an evangelical/Pentecostal billionaire named Edir Macedo
Bezerra, is not represented.
In the official program for the papal visit, there's no meeting planned
between Francis and leaders of other Christian denominations, although Benedict
XVI held exactly such an ecumenical session when he visited in 2007. Especially
given that omission, it's uncertain whether the trip will generate any new
ecumenical momentum.
On the missionary front, both during his 15 years as the archbishop of
Buenos Aires, Argentina, and since becoming pope, Francis has repeatedly
articulated his vision of a more evangelical church -- a church that, to use
the pope's language, gets "out of the sacristy and into the streets."
That was the heart of the vision for Catholicism in Latin America expressed
in the 2007 document adopted by the continent's bishops meeting in Aparecida,
Brazil, the famed Marian shrine that Francis will visit July 24.
If there's any place on the Catholic map where a more missionary version of
Catholicism is in order, it's arguably Brazil. Therein lies the genuine drama
of the trip: Can Francis translate his personal popularity into a lasting burst
of missionary energy?
If so, perhaps sober historians, not just excitable journalists and
pundits, will declare his first Latin American homecoming a success. If not,
then the trip may end up seeming a feel-good exercise with mixed results.
More
problems within the Vatican bank
A nasty war of words erupted Friday in Rome in the wake
of an explosive piece in the newsmagazine L'Espresso, charging
that a cleric hand-picked by Pope Francis to reform the Vatican bank was
involved in fairly brazen gay affairs while serving as a papal diplomat more
than a decade ago.
So far, the pope appears to be standing by his man, with a senior Vatican
official saying Friday morning on background that Francis "has listened to
everyone and has confidence" in Msgr. Battista Ricca, the cleric named in
the piece.
On the record, Vatican spokesman Jesuit Fr. Federico Lombardi on Friday
branded the story "not credible."
The Ricca story broke the same day Francis announced a new pontifical
commission dealing with the Vatican's economic and administrative structures.
The aim, according to a legal document with which Francis created the body, is
to draft reforms promoting "simplification and rationalization" and
"more careful planning of economic activities," as well as to
"favor transparency" and "ever greater prudence in the area of
finances." The eight-member commission is composed almost entirely of
laypeople, led by Joseph F.X. Zahra of Malta, an economist and businessman who
has also served as a board member of the Vatican-based Centesimus Annus
Pro Pontifice Foundation and on the International Audit Committee of the Holy
See and the Vatican State.
While waiting for the dust to settle on how accurate the specific claims
against Ricca may be, two preliminary observations suggest themselves.
First, it confirms how much the Institute for the Works of Religion,
popularly known as the Vatican bank, has become a primary acid test and
battleground for the larger question of Vatican reform.
In the last 14 months:
·
One bank president has been fired
for alleged incompetence and erratic behavior while insisting he was trying to
promote transparency;
·
His successor, tapped by Benedict
XVI as one of his last acts, faced a mini-tempest at the beginning because of
his ties to a German firm that manufacturers warships;
·
The bank's top two managers
resigned while facing an Italian probe into alleged money-laundering; and
·
A new commission was created to
investigate the bank at roughly the same time a former Vatican accountant was
charged, among other things, with illicit use of his bank accounts.
·
Now, the bank prelate finds
himself in the eye of the storm.
It's almost enough to make one think the Vatican bank ought to come with a
skull-and-crossbones label, like a pack of cigarettes. "Warning: Working
at this place may be dangerous to your health."
Second, the Ricca affair also illustrates how Francis himself is still
viewed positively by almost everyone because the one thing everyone appears to
agree on is that Francis is not to blame.
Friday's story by veteran journalist Sandro Magister claims that Ricca, now
57, had a live-in lover when he served as a papal diplomat in Uruguay in the
late 1990s and early 2000s, that he cruised gay bars and once got beaten up,
and that another time he brought a young man back to the papal embassy and
ended up trapped in an elevator with him overnight before being freed by the
local fire department.
It should be noted there's no suggestion in the story that Ricca was guilty
of criminal conduct or sexual abuse and no suggestion he ever faced civil
charges.
Battista later returned to Rome and ended up as the director of the Casa
Santa Marta, the residence on Vatican grounds where Francis now lives, earning
the pope's trust and being tapped to become his "prelate," or
delegate, at the bank. (Technically, the prelate is appointed by a body of
cardinals that supervises the bank, but it's widely believed they acted on Francis'
wishes.)
Magister insisted Francis did not know this chapter of Battista's past
before naming him on June 15, suggesting Ricca's Vatican file had been
sanitized by elements of a purported "gay lobby."
After the Vatican called the story "not credible," L'Espresso fired back with a strongly worded response
confirming the report "point by point," insisting it was based on
"primary sources," and calling the Vatican's denial "improbable
and improvident."
In sotto voce fashion, two competing narratives quickly emerged in and
around the Vatican to account for the situation.
For Magister and those who accept his analysis, a decadelong effort to
conceal Battista's past is proof positive there's a shadowy network of people
with secrets to keep in the Vatican, including some in senior positions, who
protect and shelter their own and who thereby allow corruption to fester.
That's what's usually meant by the term "gay lobby," though most
Italians don't understand it to refer just to secrets about sex, but also other
skeletons in the closet such as financial improprieties or political
maneuverings.
For this group, the occult influence of the "gay lobby" is proof
of the need for precisely the house-cleaning Francis has started to launch, and
most express confidence he'll do the right thing.
Defenders of Ricca insist there's another side to Ricca's story not given
in Magister's piece but known to Francis. They say Ricca is a genuine reformer
and dredging up a seamy chapter of his past from more than a decade ago may be a
smear campaign by elements of a Vatican old guard that doesn't want its power
and privilege to slip away.
Even if he is gay and perhaps struggled at one point with celibacy, they
say, what does that have to do with his ability to implement reform in a bank?
These voices, too, generally say the situation confirms how much Francis is
needed and insist he'll make the right call.
All of which may illustrate that because of his personal popularity and
because his papacy is still young and capable of seeming all things to all
people, Francis remains largely untouchable and above reproach.
What the Ricca story also shows, however, is that the same thing can't be
said for those around him.
by John L. Allen Jr. | Jul. 19, 2013
[John L. Allen Jr. is NCR senior
correspondent. His email address is jallen@ncronline.org. He will be traveling with Pope
Francis to Brazil on the papal plane. Watch the NCR website for
regular reports, and follow Allen on Twitter: @JohnLAllenJr.]
in NCR (National Catholic Reporter)
