Federico Reyes Heroles
Atheism implies knowledge of the non-existence of God. Agnosticism is closer: it does not deny the existence of God, but instead human access to absolutes, including God. Deism accepts the existence of a supreme being, but without belief in divine revelation. I found comfort in an expression by Victor Hugo: “the invisible evident.” It is everywhere in a flower, in a tree, when you look at the sky, or immerse yourself in the sea.
But it’s not only believers who are interested in mysteries. Teilhard de Chardin, who summarized his creed as Cosmos = Cosmo = genesis = biogenesis = Christogenesis, set a course for many. In the end, he was a pantheist. Studies show—contrary to what sociology claimed half a century ago—that science did not corner religion. On the contrary, a growing majority of scientists in the United States believe in a higher power, hold their own beliefs, and consider themselves believers.
How could they not be in the 21st century with the flood of cosmic information growing by leaps and bounds? The Hubble telescope expanded our horizons to frontiers that belong to the realm of mathematical imagination. Carl Sagan warned us clearly in Billions and Billions: we would have to learn to think with many zeros, both to understand the firmament and nanotechnology. So it is worth making a distinction: one thing is a passion for mysteries, and quite another is the role of churches in the world. They can be mighty forces for civilization or… generators of hatred.
The first thing that amazed me was learning that he had worked as a chemical technician before entering the Society of Jesus’ seminary. In other words, he used a microscope. He was a professor of literature and psychology, open to science and other disciplines of thought and art.
His sagacity in uniting the Jesuits and Franciscans, as evidenced by his self-designation, struck me as remarkable. In fact, my first article in Excélsior, entitled “El señor del portafolio” (The Man with the Briefcase), alluded to the new pope. His simplicity shook me: he stood in line to pay for the hotel in the Vatican, carrying his briefcase. His austere room, his farewell to gold, and the famous and expensive papal shoes. He did not wear a Rolex King Midas, all gold, like John Paul II. With his example, he began his earthly work.
Meeting with prisoners. Discussing taboo subjects: celibacy, women in the Church, pedophilia, hunger, corruption. “…The Church has to go out into the streets,” he said. Marked by dictatorship in his country, by the favelas and repression, he was very clear: “…no effort at pacification will be lasting for a society that ignores, marginalizes, and abandons…” How could one not sympathize with a pope who cultivated empathy? He incorporated African cardinals. He softened relations with members of the LGBTQ+ community, a contentious issue in that Church and others.
If Christianity was born out of persecution, promoting tolerance among Buddhists, Orthodox, Muslims, Shiite, Sunni, Yazidi, and other persecuted minorities, and dozens of different branches, was the way forward. He confronted the Armenian genocide and welcomed the prime minister of that nation. “All religions are paths to God.” Aware of the dark side of religion, he made it very clear: “The only enemy is hatred.”
In St. Peter’s Basilica, he recalled the ‘dramatic and unworthy humanitarian crisis in Gaza’ and warned of ”the growing climate of anti-Semitism spreading throughout the world.” In the middle of Easter, he met with JD Vance. Hopefully, the collaborator of a racist, Trump, learned something. Gone are the visionary encyclicals of profound modern humanism, such as Laudato si‘, in which he called for global governance to ensure human dignity and fight corruption. Laudato si‘ called for protecting “our common home” and listening to nature.
As if that were not enough, he liked soccer, and tango made its way to St. Peter’s Basilica.
Further Reading and a Video: