Mysticism of the “Square Meter”

At this point, the international scientific community agrees that the imminent environmental catastrophe is the great issue of our time. Just ask the flooded Brazilians in Rio Grande do Sul or the inhabitants of New Delhi who have endured temperatures exceeding fifty degrees Celsius.

What can be done? Who is responsible for doing it? A useful approach would combine science + wisdom and, in the immediate term: technology + conversion. Science and technology are indispensable tools to reverse the course toward catastrophe. Wisdom, however, demands a conversion of the heart—a shift in perspective or a new way of experiencing oneself in the world that is essential for altering the current trajectory. This involves a subjective transformation that integrates the feeling of connection with Mother Earth.

These are two different kinds of knowledge that must be combined to forge a new civilization or, at least, to develop more humane lifestyles within the domestic sphere. It is unimaginable to think we can escape the ongoing collapse without science and technology. Yet, even if, in the long run, the planet slips out of our control, it will always be possible to heal and improve it within our own “square meter”—that small area we tend to, such as a garden, sorting waste, or choosing the type of packaging we use.

We have arrived at this situation—not just my opinion—because of blind trust in the idea that science and technology alone could provide humanity with a sense of purpose. The integration of this type of knowledge with humanistic, philosophical, and theological wisdom—an integration that has not yet occurred—should be pursued moving forward to urgently address global warming.

If we want to nurture a new humanity, we must advance on both fronts, starting with developing a mysticism of the “square meter.” No matter how small our conversion—turning off the tap, avoiding plastic, ending superfluous consumption, reducing air travel, saving electricity, harnessing solar energy where possible, restoring vegetation, or using public transportation—it will be crucial. Without this micro-level change, macro-level transformations will not happen. Without the “micro,” the “macro” cannot be achieved.

The integration of knowledge is key. A mysticism of the small cannot ignore the fate of other beings on the planet. False mysticism is always individualistic. Selfishness alienates us from others, and since there is no future without them, false mysticism also leads to disaster.

In these circumstances, it is essential to observe the spiritual experience of environmental activists. I’m not referring to activists who are Christians or belong to other faiths, but rather to those men and women who, like the prophets of Israel, have been ignored, ridiculed for decades, and even martyred by extractivist mining and logging companies due to their environmental commitment. It is true that there are various forms of environmentalism. The best among them have managed to combine these two domains of knowledge. Some of these individuals, as organic intellectuals, are ahead of us in their studies and the generation of new knowledge while also taking to the streets to protest and denounce injustice.

A final thought: perhaps someone cannot stop eating meat, but they can switch from gasoline to electricity and contribute to the actions mentioned above. At the very least, they can raise their voice and demand that the state stop handing over wetlands to private companies.

A RADICAL SPIRITUALITY FOR A NEW CIVILIZATION

On planet Earth, we are witnessing episodes of environmental catastrophes of enormous proportions. In Latin America, the floods in southern Brazil have caused incalculable damage. It is said that those of 2024 were worse than those of 2023.

The 124 km/h winds that recently hit Santiago de Chile did not cause as much devastation as in Porto Alegre, but they are unprecedented. They themselves serve as an excellent metaphor: on the least expected day, the wind can sweep away power, water, roofs, and people. Isn’t our very life exposed to similar gusts that make it difficult to remain standing? It’s not just about the weather. A virus, rising crime, large-scale mining, and new wars are ravaging communities, causing massive migrations. Artificial intelligence accelerates history. It will speed up our entry into a tunnel whose exit we cannot foresee.

Will the roots of Santiago’s trees withstand the cyclone of 2025? On what will we base our existence in the remainder of 2024? This is the radical question, equally valid for believers and non-believers.

It is worth asking, then: Is there a spirituality deep enough to anchor us to life, just as roots enable trees to withstand tornadoes? Is there a way of being that grounds us deeply in the cosmos, where stones and fire, air and water, living and inanimate beings, the rich and the poor, depend on one another? Is there a way for people of diverse religious and philosophical beliefs to bind together as one?

The answer is yes.

Human beings are spiritual individuals. We have the Spirit to co-belong and become co-responsible for the farthest galaxy and the sigh of the smallest atom. The same Spirit pushes back against ego and selfishness. The fate of the universe is a collective responsibility. The greatest poverty is having no one to rely on.

But, when everything is traced back to its origin, any human being brought into existence is poor. This very condition of poverty forms the stump from which branches emerge to withstand a life as difficult as the one slipping through our fingers. The poor person—whether economically impoverished, suffering due to health issues, homelessness, lack of work, or the loss of a spouse or children; the poor migrant, displaced person, or refugee; those living in tents or shacks by the train tracks; or even any of us, victims of our own inadequacies—must acknowledge that we are incapable of giving life to ourselves. Instead, we must be grateful for it. Grateful to Someone or Something. No one can rightfully say, “I deserve this.” Gratitude is the highest expression of spirituality. It is only comparable to the ashamed recognition of someone who boasted about conquering the land, wetlands, the best universities, and people to serve and fear them. Being rich is a sin. Sharing wealth is no virtue either. It is simply a duty.

The poor in spirit, as Jesus would say, have only God, for they have let go—or will let go—of what belongs to all of creation. Being poor can also be a sin, if one works or steals to become rich. But not when one does so to feed their children or to occupy land. The earth belongs equally to all.

Solidarity is the proof of authentic spirituality. There should be no other proof of God’s existence. Attention, theologians!

Radical spirituality, the inspiration to owe our lives to one another and coexist mutually, makes us better, binds us closely together, and fulfills us as people at the deepest level. One becomes truly someone by recognizing their dependence on others. Invoking eternal life is not alienating when eternity is anticipated among mortals as the triumph of a cosmic union.

Sharing the spiritual life of the poor is fundamental. They know they live on borrowed time and that existence gains meaning when they secure their daily bread. Wealth, on the other hand, isolates and disorients. It leads people into superficiality. In the end, it destroys the rich—says the Bible—and their accumulation destroys the poor.

Sharing is the theme. Sharing what we have and what we lack, and receiving as though we deserved nothing at all. This is the key to a new civilization: the civilization of gratitude that will surpass the civilization of entitlement.

THE CROSS AND WOMEN

Feminist theology constitutes a revolution in theology, and it remains to be seen whether it will activate a revolution in the history of Christianity. If this type of theology addresses the spiritual experience of women, pays attention to it, follows its course, and encourages women’s struggle for dignity, Christianity—which until now has primarily processed the spiritual path of men and clergy—will evidently change.

In the best-case scenario, this transformation will result in a genuine social and cultural contribution. Such influence is still far off, but feminist theologians do not rest and continue to believe in its possibility. The intellectual production of liberation theology for women is enormous, highly creative, and thought-provoking.

The most critical feminist theologies have focused on the very concept of the Christian God. Some theologians have stepped outside of Christianity, finding the male representation of divinity to be irreducible. Since referring to God as Father and Son is not inconsequential, they argue that the Trinitarian confession establishes Christianity as a patriarchal and androcentric religion harmful to women.

Other Christologists have taken a different route. They have incorporated the gender perspective into another semantic field, resolving the highlighted difficulty by embracing Jesus’ project, which consists of proclaiming the Kingdom of God—a liberating project for the oppressed of all kinds (Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Madrid, 2000). From this perspective, no one in the Church should invoke male gender as a basis for assigning women a particular or even honorable place. Can women not be priests because the apostles were men? Feminist theologians use gender theories precisely to unmask such arguments.

In light of the above, it is crucial to examine what “salvation” means in Christianity and how it occurs.

Liberation theologies have preferred the term “liberation” to describe a salvation rooted in history, without dismissing the salvation Christianity affirms for the “beyond.” Even if Christianity is freed from the machismo of its Trinitarian vocabulary, it is imperative to review how Christ’s cross is understood to save/liberate. In theology, Christian devotion, and the Church’s liturgy, the opposite understanding has often prevailed. Examining closely what is said about Christ’s cross is fundamental to liberating both women and men from an oppressive version of Christianity.

Feminist Christologies have worked to denounce soteriologies that have facilitated the abuse of women. Christ’s suffering has been used to justify their suffering. Women, particularly over the last millennium, have been encouraged to find in the crucified Christ the strength to patiently endure injustices and indignities imposed on them by men—especially clergy. Joane Carlson B. and Rebecca Parker assert:

“Christianity has been a primary force—in the lives of many women, the principal force—for shaping our acceptance of abuse.” They continue: “Christianity is an abusive theology that glorifies suffering” (New York, 1989).

Women have found in Christ’s wounded, scarred, and bleeding body a principle of identification that, instead of liberating them from oppression and awakening their awareness of innocence, has served to keep them in their pitiful condition and allowed continued exploitation. For this reason, it has been the merit of feminist theologians to recover the connection between Jesus and women. If women can cling to the crucified one for comfort and companionship, it is because Jesus was nailed to the cross for taking on the consequences of violence against humanity and for seeking to dignify and integrate women into a society that marginalized them. This Jesus can indeed inspire hope in women, as well as rebellion to fight for their vindication.

To this end, feminist Christologists have insisted on returning to Jesus’ history. Elizabeth A. Johnson expresses it as follows:

“Jesus’ characteristic behavior of partiality toward the marginalized included women at every moment as the most oppressed of the oppressed in each group. Treating women with kindness and the respect due to their human dignity, Jesus healed, exorcised, forgave, and restored women to Shalom. His table community was inclusive, and women—both sinners and those counted among ‘his own,’ as Luke called his followers—shared the joy of the coming Kingdom of God” (New York, 1990).

What to do with the word “sacrifice”?

From a feminist perspective, invoking the cross as a sacrifice has sacrificed women. The word is odious to mothers, wives, and women in general. It could be said that the term—belonging to a religion two thousand years old—is tolerable if it serves to express that the only authentic sacrifice is that of love. Jesus paid dearly for this; it cost him his life. He gave himself completely, “sacrificed” himself to liberate the women of his time in Palestine. The cross, therefore, cannot be equivalent to offering a sacrifice to the deities of the Neolithic. Instead, contemplating Jesus’ wounded hands and feet should remind us of the historical reasons for his crucifixion and inspire Christian women in their liberating struggle for crucified women worldwide.

With this in mind, theology owes feminist theologians progress in orthodoxy. This new understanding of the mystery of Christ still has much work to do in showing that those who, being women, have been treated as guilty, are actually innocent. For the correct, orthodox belief is that the crucified, rather than representing sinners, was the advocate of victims such as the sick, prostitutes, foreigners, and all sorts of marginalized women whom the religious experts of Jesus’ time excluded.

There is a long way to go.

If some women rebelled and left the Catholic Church, others might rebel and stay. It is unlikely that the male ecclesiastical hierarchy will understand the need for major changes in the Church. Christian women who wish to remain Christian will have to force the hand of Church authorities and move forward with them, despite them, or against them.

GUSTAVO GUTIÉRREZ DIED

Gustavo Gutiérrez Merino (1928–2024), a Dominican, is an icon of the post-conciliar Latin American Church. No one would be mistaken in calling him the “Father” of Liberation Theology.

Gutiérrez’s contribution to the Church on the continent is framed within the challenging reception of Vatican II, undoubtedly one of the most important councils in the history of the Catholic Church. The Peruvian theologian played a remarkable role in the Second Conference of Latin American Bishops, held in Medellín (1968), whose mission was to implement the Council in our continent. On that occasion, the Conference, much like Vatican II, raised its gaze and asked about the “signs of the times.” What did it see? Enormous cultural transformations and, particularly, grave social injustices whose consequences were violence and misery.

In those years, Gutiérrez, who would later join the Dominican Order, made his first attempts at drafting his renowned work A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, and Salvation (1971). This work, in his own words, was intended to be: “A theology that does not limit itself to thinking about the world but seeks to position itself as a moment in the process through which the world is transformed: opening itself—in protest against the trampling of human dignity, in the struggle against the dispossession of the vast majority of humanity, in liberating love, in the construction of a new, just, and fraternal society—to the gift of the Kingdom of God.”

He was not alone. A host of theologians walked alongside him: Juan Luis Segundo, Leonardo Boff, Hugo Assmann, Jon Sobrino, Joseph Comblin, Pedro Trigo, Ronaldo Muñoz, Pablo Richard, Juan Carlos Scannone, Diego Irarrázaval, and Sergio Torres. In later years, a feminist theology of extraordinary quality emerged in Latin America. While nuanced, many of these theologians have shared a similar methodological approach in subsequent years: Elsa Támez, Ivone Gebara, Maria Clara Bingemer, Virginia Azcuy, Ana María Isasi-Díaz, María Pilar Aquino, and Nancy Bedford, among others. They are many.

Although this theology has developed in tension with the ecclesiastical hierarchy, particularly with the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and has been censured in some theological faculties, it is also true that bishops and theologians alike have agreed on a fundamental point: the conviction that God opts for the poor, and that Christians, to be authentically so, must also opt for them.

From the Church’s millennial perspective, it is even more significant to note that beyond being a liberative theology, this movement has helped the Church in Latin America emerge as a mature institution. For centuries, our continent has been intellectually dependent. Here, particularly, Catholics have been regarded as minus habens. Today, however, there is greater awareness of having been victims of an exported Roman Western Catholicism. Latin American bishops and liberation theologians represent a Church reaching maturity. In the post-conciliar context, a Church of age has appeared in society.

Gutiérrez expresses it in these terms: “Liberation theology is one of the expressions of the adulthood that Latin American society and the Church present within it have begun to achieve in recent decades. Medellín took note of this adulthood, which significantly contributed to its historical significance and scope.”

What lies ahead? Today, the Catholic Church experiences greater tension. Across different regions of the world, in the various continents where it is present, there are calls for respect for a cultural synthesis that is locally determined. Rome has the responsibility to safeguard the unity of the Church, but the Pope cannot turn a two-thousand-year-old Tradition into a multiplicity of infantilizing traditionalisms.

The Church on this continent owes its future to those who, like Gutiérrez, have had the courage to think for themselves and the bravery to risk answering a crucial question: “How can we tell the poor that God loves them?”

INTERVIEW WITH THE HUMANITAS INSTITUTE – UNISINOS – BRAZIL

How did the Chilean Church react to the cardinal appointment of the Archbishop of Santiago, Monsignor Fernando Natalio Chomalí? How do you evaluate this appointment?

The Chilean Church is pleased with Fernando Chomalí’s appointment. It is inevitable to note that his predecessors were criticized by Catholics, either for their handling of clergy sexual abuse accusations and cover-ups or for their lack of public representation. In the Church, authorities play a representative role for the People of God. Many Catholics, including priests, have felt abandoned for years.

Fernando Chomalí, in contrast, has stepped into the public arena, filling a significant void. People were expecting a voice from the Church. The new cardinal of Santiago does not shy away from any issue. Moreover, he introduces new topics into public debate that interest both Christians and non-Christians. He is open to criticism, and there will undoubtedly be reasons to object to some of his ideas. Nonetheless, and precisely because of this, his friendly and dialogical approach to society is appreciated.


How are the Chilean Church and the Society of Jesus in Chile addressing the crisis of sexual abuse today?

The clergy sexual abuse crisis in Chile has had catastrophic effects on the Chilean Church. It has also impacted non-Catholics who once held a positive view of the Church.

The cases of abuse are numerous and have involved high-profile individuals. It is a sad paradox that we, as priests—representatives of “faith”—have become people who are “unworthy of trust.”

Even so, the Chilean Church and the Society of Jesus, for better or worse, have undergone an arduous process of learning to investigate, punish, and offer reparations to victims of abuse. Protocols for safeguarding have been established in schools and other Church organizations; scientific studies and publications have been produced; efforts have been made to learn from comparative experiences and to submit to international oversight.

On a personal note, it pains me deeply to know that colleagues and friends of mine have been accused and punished. On the other hand, I am very glad that those who knocked on the Church’s door seeking justice have been heard and not dismissed, as was the case in the past.

There is something that few people have likely grasped. The abuses of conscience, sometimes linked to sexual abuse and other times not, have opened our eyes to the sacrament of confession. There are two reasons to reconsider the viability of auricular confession. One is old: those of us who have been confessors often encounter people who return to confession thirty years—give or take—after a traumatic experience with a priest who mistreated them. The second reason is new: we are now aware that the disclosure of intimate matters cannot be forced, encouraged, or suggested. Intimacy is sacred. It can only be shared freely and in an environment of utmost trust.

The problem is not about good or bad priests and the need to improve their formation. The very institution of auricular confession is abusive, as it expects or exposes Catholics to an inhuman experience.


How would you assess the XVI Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops on Synodality so far? Could you highlight three positive aspects and three challenges of the Synod?

I do not have enough information. I do not feel capable of evaluating the entire process because, as I understand it, some of the proposals concern issues already present in canon law but not implemented in practice, while others involve doctrinal changes that will likely not materialize, such as the ordination of women priests or deaconesses. Perhaps the ordination of viri probati might be authorized—I don’t know.

I don’t foresee that, at the end of the process, the Pope will repeal the Humanae Vitae encyclical, which has blocked the possibility of offering new generations truly guiding moral and sexual teachings. The prohibition of the contraceptive pill in 1968 was not accepted by the People of God—no one abides by it anymore. Yet for years, it condemned women to confess regularly to receive Communion. They had to confess a “sin” that, in reality, was an act of responsibility toward their families. The damage has been immense.

Another issue: accountability needs improvement. Mechanisms for accountability and checks on the exercise of power must be established. The Church cannot have a clerical class that self-selects and allows the rest of the People of God very little participation in its governance. Why don’t Catholics elect their authorities? Their bishops? It is unacceptable that communities have to endure despotic parish priests for years.

Canonical changes are needed. But these will not suffice if the clergy refuses to abide by the rules. Let’s face it: the clergy is the number one obstacle to synodality. They do not want to lose power.

The clergy have not been trained to interact with the laity. The Vatican II reform of clerical formation has failed. The Church has returned to the Tridentine seminary: seminarians trained behind four walls, representatives of the sacred, liturgically commemorating the sacrifice of an innocent victim, separated from other Christians and supposedly superior in dignity and holiness. The Church will never be synodal while governed by the “sacred man.”


What are the three most urgent topics that need to be discussed in the Church today?

This last issue is crucial. Trent, in its time, correctly addressed the dire state of the priesthood. Clerical formation was minimal, and the results were disastrous. However, what was valid 500 years ago is no longer suitable as it stands.

Vatican II, in the 20th century, returned to the origins: the identity of presbyters is distinct but inseparable from that of the laity, as what matters most is being “Christian,” being baptized. The sole purpose of ordained ministry is to serve the common priesthood of the faithful and guide their communities.

Another topic: the participation of women. Much has been said about this. I won’t elaborate. However, one key point stands out: if the teaching of the Gospel ultimately depends on the spiritual experience of Christians, the day the Christian experience of women is taken into account, we will have a better, more human Church.

A third or fourth topic is the development of a Catholic Church with diverse regional versions. In antiquity, there were major patriarchates: Alexandria, Antioch, Jerusalem, Constantinople, and Rome. Could something similar not be possible in the 21st century?


In a 2022 article in Religión Digital, you stated, “The main problem in the Church is not clericalism but the priestly version of Catholicism.” Later, you added, “The Catholic Church does not need to solve the problem of clericalism. First, it needs to de-sacralize itself.” Can you explain this idea? What does “de-sacralizing” mean? What theological basis do you have for this position? What practical and spiritual consequences do you foresee for the Church with this proposal?

I do not expect women to be ordained as priests. We risk duplicating the problem. It would be even worse if women sought priesthood as a matter of entitlement and joined the caste of those with a “vocation.”

Not long ago, I wrote an article in Seminarios magazine titled “De-sacralizing the Presbyteral Ministry: A Horizon for Seminarian Formation” (2022). My initial idea was that, over the centuries, the leadership ministry within communities had become sacralized in ways contrary to the simplicity Jesus envisioned for those serving in such roles. As I delved into the research, I realized I was far from original on the subject. Many theologians had already written about the need to de-sacralize, desacralize, or de-clericalize the ministry.

Vatican II, in the decree Presbyterorum Ordinis, aimed to set things right. It prioritized the ministry of proclaiming the Gospel. To this end, it re-ordered the tria munera (three ministerial roles) as follows: prophet (Word), priest (sacraments), and king (leadership or governance). Furthermore, it proposed that ministers be called “presbyters,” as in antiquity, rather than “priests” (a term never used in the New Testament for ministers and one that leaves the door open to a revival of the Old Testament priesthood, which the Letter to the Hebrews asserts Jesus abolished).

Within a few years of its promulgation, this significant reform was discarded. The first important document on clerical formation in 1970, just five years after Presbyterorum Ordinis, was titled Ratio Fundamentalis Institutionis Sacerdotalis. National rationes have followed this model to this day.

In just a few years, we reverted to the “sacred man” who inspires sacred fear, distances himself from the world and people, dresses differently, and carries within himself a split between the perfection he must represent and the imperfection he hides.

In 2018, you wrote in an article for Religión Digital that the Pope “should encourage the autonomous development of the Latin American Church.” What does this mean in practice? What do you understand by “autonomous development,” and could you provide some examples?

The theologian Karl Rahner, in an article titled Fundamental Interpretation of the Council (1980), argued that it is possible to envision a third major “theological” stage, beginning with Vatican II, which he identifies as the era of a “world Church.” The first stage, he says, was Judeo-Christianity, which Saint Paul ultimately transcended. The Apostle of the Gentiles convinced the apostles in Jerusalem that one did not need to become Jewish to be Christian. From then until now, the Greek, Latin, and Western Church we know has prevailed everywhere. Our local churches are essentially exports of this Church. We are colonies.

The third stage, the “world Church,” could resemble those five ancient patriarchates. For example, the African Church might express Catholic dogma in new categories, develop a moral framework suited to its own issues, celebrate the Eucharist with elements as meaningful to them as bread and wine are to us, and draft its own canon law. Why not?

This is what I mean when I say the Pope should encourage the autonomous development of the Latin American Church. I envision regional churches gathering Catholics who share similar cultural characteristics.

The tension is mounting. In the Synod’s discussions, we see significant friction among ecclesial sectors that differ culturally, not only between conservatives and progressives. At the end of the Synod on the Family, the Pope noted a wide diversity of views on important issues among the participants.

This is the kind of autonomy I mean. It would require a major ecclesial restructuring to organize relations between the Roman Church and other churches. Rome is responsible for maintaining the unity of the Church, while other churches have the duty to help the Pope fulfill this role. It is no simple task.


In the same article, you stated, “The Chilean Church urgently needs the Pope to introduce key changes in the doctrine, structure, and governance of the universal Church.” What needs to change in the doctrine, and why would such changes be positive? Regarding the Church’s structure and governance, what changes do you suggest and for what reasons?

What I said about the Chilean Church applies to the Church in other regions. I refer to matters I have already mentioned.

In Chile, however, there is a specific issue deserving attention, though it is also present in other Latin American countries. In Chile, it is accelerating. The transmission of faith has stalled.

The reasons may be many. One significant reason is cultural. In addition to the long-standing process of secularization, we now face the new ways in which young people are being “formatted.” New generations seem to believe they can edit themselves. It appears they think it is possible to start anew, as if no one preceded them. They feel no need for parents, teachers, priests, or nuns. How, then, would they need a millennial religious tradition? They shrug it off. While they don’t start from zero, it seems they act as though the world begins with them.

If this is indeed the case, Christianity will be entirely different or will disappear—not only because catechists will have no students but also because, before long, there won’t be any catechists either.

In Chile, seminaries are closing. In the largest seminary, only one to five seminarians enroll each year. They enter and then leave. In 2024, the Jesuits in Chile had no novices, and in previous years, there were almost none. Women’s religious life is also in decline. If this trend continues, in fifty years, we will have a completely different Church.

It would be tragic to lose a millennial tradition of wisdom in such confusing times. However, it is also true that this opens the possibility of a de-sacralized Christianity. But who truly knows what will happen?


What challenges and opportunities for theological work in Latin America arise from Pope Francis’s provocations in the Apostolic Letter Ad Theologiam Promovendam for a theological reflection “that is fundamentally contextual, capable of reading and interpreting the Gospel in the conditions in which men and women live daily…” (§4)?

I did not expect this question. It touches on something very new that has gone largely unnoticed.

The text continues with an even stronger statement: “For this reason, it is necessary to prioritize the knowledge of people’s common sense, which is, in fact, the theological place where many images of God are found, often not corresponding to the Christian face of God, who is only and always love.”

This motu proprio acknowledges what already happens in Latin American Christian communities, especially in Basic Ecclesial Communities (BECs). In these settings, theological authority is given to the faith experiences of Christians.

Up to now, it has been common to think that the sources of revelation are primarily Scripture and the Church’s Tradition. This text acknowledges and calls for making room among the “proper theological loci” for the lives of people and historical events.

The Vatican II constitution Gaudium et Spes inaugurated this way of doing theology at the magisterial level. In essence, it was invented by Joseph Cardijn, the creator of the see-judge-act method (I recommend Agenor Brighenti’s excellent book on this method).

At Vatican II, the greatest theologians debated this method. They found it difficult to accept a theological method that included an inductive moment. Hesitantly, they spoke of the “signs of the times,” a theological category used to structure the constitution and establish a dialogue between the Church and the contemporary world.

In any case, I am not aware of another magisterial document as clear as Ad Theologiam Promovendam in affirming that God speaks today—not only in the Bible. This simple text—whether it has been translated into Portuguese or Spanish, I do not know—signals a revolution in theological history. Future treatises on fundamental theology will be divided between those giving Ad Theologiam Promovendam the importance it deserves, those treating it as an interesting reference, and those simply ignoring it.

What intuitions from the Vatican II constitutions can inspire pastoral renewal and a more synodal Church?

The most important step is to follow John XXIII’s conviction to make Vatican II a pastoral council. According to the Good Pope, the Church needed an aggiornamento to proclaim the Gospel in a way that contemporaries could truly see as Good News.

A key element was presenting the Church as a community where its members have fraternal relationships. Chapter II of Lumen Gentium holds significant relevance: the Church is the People of God. Baptism levels the playing field. Before any organization or authority we create, we are brothers and sisters because we have been baptized into Christ.

If the Church’s mission is to announce the possibility of a fraternal world, it must live out that fraternity. Synodality involves walking this path together, as those who have been made siblings by Christ, the elder brother. Or, as Pedro Trigo would say, the “Universal Brother.”


How do you view the theological landscape in Latin America?

The most significant development comes from the work of Leonardo Boff.

The great sign of the times is the growing awareness of the ecological and environmental catastrophe. In line with Ad Theologiam Promovendam, I believe we need to develop a theology that starts from the spiritual experience of all people who are sensitive to the “cry of the earth and the cry of the poor,” as Francis states in Laudato Si’.

But the planet’s future is uncertain. An atomic war could end all “theological places” and with them both progressive and conservative theologians. The recent uncertainty surrounding artificial intelligence shows that the planet could slip from our grasp at any moment.


What are the challenges in building a civilization of gratitude, recognition, and thankfulness?

The theological challenge outlined above offers a unique opportunity to contribute to the emergence of a new civilization. The capitalist civilization that pitted everyone against one another in a race for survival, put a price on all creatures (including people), and left us bankrupt must end.

The experience of creation demands acknowledgment that no one owes their existence to themselves. There was always Someone—or something, as even atheists must admit—that preceded us. Perhaps we had a bad father or a bad mother. But recognizing this precedence is precisely the foundation of a better world. Gratitude, even as an ideal, opens the door to mutual appreciation.

And this is what we were created for. God’s glory lies in sharing ourselves with one another—among creatures, both living and non-living.

OVERCOMING THE “PRIESTLY” VERSION OF CHRISTIANITY

Put simply: the “sacred man” remains the problem. It must be acknowledged that ours is a “priestly” version of the Catholic Church. This has not always been, nor does it need to remain, the expression of the Church of Christ, as it seems exhausted in its ability to convey Christianity. In the current structure of the Latin American and Caribbean Church, ecclesial belonging is mediated through the sacred person of priests. In our context, the main sacraments are performed by presbyters. Additionally, institutions that officially govern ecclesial life are often seen as divine and unchangeable.

The Latin American and Caribbean Church aspires to advance in synodality. However, as long as the Church clings to the idea of the presbyter, priest, or cleric as the “sacred man,” intra-ecclesial relationships will continue to short-circuit.

These are the most concerning expressions of this situation:

1. The “sacred man” is a problem ad intra (within the Church):

  • The “sacred man” establishes unhealthy relationships: the priest carries an authority that inhibits people’s intelligence and freedom. It is unhealthy for the relationship between the minister and the laity to remain solely asymmetrical (they should also be symmetrical, as between adults).
  • The “sacred man” infantilizes both individuals and the Church itself, which is led by pastors who treat Christians as sheep (an animal not known for intelligence).
  • The magical aura of presbyters fosters and enables abuses of a sexual, conscientious, and authoritative nature, as highlighted in reports from Australia and France on these issues.
  • The “sacred man” centers the Church/communities around what only he can do (sacraments). He does not foster communities but rather creates an “audience,” “clients,” or “faithful” (a “loyalized” following).
  • The priest exalts himself and others in a self-referential way.

2. The “sacred man” is a problem ad extra (outside the Church):

  • It frustrates the Church’s evangelizing mission: Jesus did not demand recognition of “sacredness”; instead, he invoked his union with the Father as the foundation of the Kingdom’s advent. Jesus did not aspire to be “sacred” but sought to be compassionate.
  • Jesus was a victim of an “auto-sacralized” institution. Therefore, the “priestly” Catholicism we have today serves as an anti-testimony of the Gospel.

To foster growth in synodality, reforms of structures and conversions of the heart are necessary. Both are mutually dependent. Here, we focus on one issue: the formation of clergy (both religious and diocesan).

The Narrative Synthesis Document of the Latin American and Caribbean Ecclesial Assembly states: “Eradicate clericalization. Change the vision and mission of seminaries because they are where clericalism is forged” (2021, p. 135). Elsewhere, it adds: “Clericalism begins to form from the moment candidates enter seminary” (p. 107). Across the continent, we observe that the doctrine of the Second Vatican Council has been received incompletely. Even more concerning, in many places, this teaching has simply been forgotten. This shortfall is evident in the Ratio norms for seminarian formation.

As a precedent for overcoming this problem, it is worth recalling how the Council of Trent (16th century) responded to a profound ecclesial crisis caused by various abuses by bishops and priests. To address these issues, it created seminaries that separated seminarians from the rest of society, emphasized the cultivation of virtues among young men, stressed the Eucharist as a sacrifice rather than a meal, and funneled the life of the Church through priestly actions (sacraments).

If Trent emphasized the sacraments, Vatican II (20th century) emphasized the preaching of the Gospel. It sought dialogue with the Protestant Reformation (which prompted Trent’s response) and modernity (which threatened to marginalize the Church into fideism). Vatican II highlighted the importance of the Word (Dei Verbum), demanded that presbyters prioritize its proclamation (Presbyterorum Ordinis), sought to make Scripture the “soul of theology” studied by seminarians (Optatam Totius), emphasized the common priesthood of the faithful and subordinated ministerial priesthood to it, and promoted the sanctity of all baptized people, aiming to abolish “states of perfection” (clerical and religious superiority) (Lumen Gentium). Additionally, Vatican II engaged the Church in dialogue with cultures and contemporary issues (Gaudium et Spes).

However, Vatican II failed to harmonize theological innovations regarding presbyters and their formation. Its documents juxtaposed these innovations with Tridentine elements. The Council tolerated contradiction. The most complex issue has been the persistence of clerical superiority based on ordination.

After years of experimentation and identity crises among priests, John Paul II took a definitive stance. In Pastores Dabo Vobis (1992)—a document reinterpreting Optatam Totius—he declared: “It is time to speak courageously about priestly life as an inestimable value and a splendid and privileged form of Christian life” (n. 39). According to Gilles Routhier, since then, “through successive shifts, the priesthood, increasingly viewed through the lens of the sacerdotal category, has been re-established as a state of perfection. After fifty years, the perspective introduced by Vatican II has been practically reversed” (2014).

Recommendations

  1. A theological harmonization of documents regarding the identity and mission of presbyters is necessary, as they contain elements of the old regime that facilitate a return to Tridentine seminaries, which isolate seminarians from the world and send them back into it as sacred individuals superior to others.
  2. Formation systems must avoid separating seminarians from ordinary people. Instead, seminarians should engage in affective, spiritual, intellectual, and pastoral relationships that, following the paradigm of the Incarnation, make them more human.
  3. The formation of future ministers should be the responsibility of the entire People of God. Catholics must have a decisive voice in accepting candidates for formation and ordination and in establishing the criteria governing this lengthy process.

GOD IS AN ATHEIST

On a wall near my house, a graffiti artist wrote, “God is an atheist.” Spot on. The possibility of invoking God in vain is as ancient as it is dangerous. Nothing in the history of Christianity has been more harmful than translating God into crusades, privileges, and rights over others. Before Constantine (4th century), Christians were persecuted by the Empire. After the emperor’s conversion, Christians began persecuting non-Christians.

The common prayers of leaders from major religious traditions in recent decades—such as John Paul II praying with Protestant, Muslim, Jewish, and other representatives—point in the opposite direction. Not so the atrocious acts of terrorism committed in the name of God or the inveterate confessional colonialism. Globalization, which interweaves or pits beliefs against one another, demands now more than ever that we meet on fundamental grounds. Put simply, it demands we “keep the ball on the ground.” Let’s play, but under conditions that allow everyone to enjoy the game equally.

Humanity needs to dig deep. Whether one is a believer or non-believer, holds this or that belief, only by sharing the deepest core of what is essential can we achieve reciprocal understanding, fostering coexistence and joyful mutual belonging. These are undoubtedly more desirable than imposing one’s own creed on others. If we believe there is a principle—Spirit, as Christians call it—that generates differentiation and convergence among humanity, then an agnostic is no more valuable than a Buddhist, nor a Muslim than a Christian.

Is it possible to share a spiritual experience? Yes, it is. It is within reach. It manifests in almost all human beings, even if they are not fully aware of it. On a purely rational level, anyone can recognize that Someone or Something gave them life, that they did not create themselves; and, conversely, that they cannot demand justice in the face of suffering and death because existence is not, first and foremost, about fairness but about having been given to ourselves. Precisely for this reason, no one has the right to lay claim over others or the resources that enable them to be who they are. It happens, of course—it’s plain to see how the planet has been parceled out and appropriated by the few. Someone once stamped “In God we trust” on a U.S. dollar coin. Pure sincerity. But if we accept that human beings are a case of pure gratuity, then no one can be priced or exploited.

If someone believes their life is a gift and recognizes that others’ lives are as well, they are on the right path. Any religion embracing this philosophical conviction should contribute to the flourishing of other religious traditions. Without this belief that life is a gift, it will be nearly impossible to avoid fanaticism, proselytism, terrorism, and religious wars. And, first and foremost, capitalism.

Once again, peace has become humanity’s desideratum. Once more, religion can either reconcile human beings or estrange them. It will offer its best if it incorporates an absolute ignorance about “God” and an irrefutable certainty that, contrary to Descartes, “we are, regardless of what we think or believe.”