Pope Francis in the American context

For American Catholics, Pope Francis was elected to lead the Roman Catholic Church at a time of crisis for the institution and the faithful. The U.S. church was reeling from exposés of widespread sexual abuse by priests and the growing rift between Church leadership and many younger Catholics disenchanted with, even hostile to, an institution they saw as ossified and irrelevant to their lives.  

The American Catholic Church had long been an ethnic immigrant church. As waves of immigrants from largely Catholic European countries came to America, they settled in neighborhoods, bringing their cultures and religion with them. They built churches and schools that solidified their communities and preserved their traditions.  

As they prospered, their children married and moved to ethnically and religiously diverse suburban neighborhoods. The impact on the church was profound. The mosaic of ethnic Catholic Churches melded into an American Catholic Church. The ties that created a single faith community remained but were less potent than in their old homogeneous ethnic communities. Intermarriage became more common as did a loosening of the church’s hold over belief and practice.  

Catholics, like all Americans, were transformed by the political, social, and cultural upheavals of the 1960s and 1970s. Americans divided over issues of race, the war in Vietnam, and the sexual revolution. A 1950s poll found that a majority of Americans would strongly disapprove of their children marrying someone from a different religion. Fifty years later that concern was replaced by disapproval of their children marrying someone of a different political party.  

While the Catholic faithful divided, the bishops largely did not. If anything, they became more conservative and increasingly focused on sexual matters: abortion, birth control, divorce, and homosexuality. While some still spoke about war, racism, labor rights, or poverty, matters of sex, and specifically abortion, trumped all else.  

 Then came the bomb—the 2002 report from the Diocese of Boston detailing the sexual abuse by priests of thousands of young people spanning decades. It shook the church to its core.  

My brother was commissioned by the US Conference of Catholic Bishops to poll American Catholics about this scandal. The reactions were predictable: anger and disgust. Meanwhile the bishops appeared more interested in protecting their institution than in rooting out the problem. The crisis only grew as other dioceses and states released equally damning reports.   

Yet the bishops responded by doubling down on abortion and other sexual matters as litmus tests for the faithful. When the bishops clearly preferred the Republican presidential candidates in 2008 and 2012, prominent Catholic politicians noted that of the bishops’ 25 stated policy concerns “we agree with you on 24 and disagree on one (abortion). And yet you show preference for candidates who agree with you on just one and disagree with you on the other 24.”

Into this divided church, Francis became pope in 2013. His impact was profound, yet subtle. He never directly challenged the conservative positions on abortion, homosexuality, or women’s role in the church. But his gestures spoke of a kinder, gentler approach to the faithful. He displayed humility, foregoing ostentatious papal trappings. He washed the feet of prisoners, met with refugees, victims of priestly abuse to ask for forgiveness, and gay Catholics to demonstrate acceptance.

For Arabs, four gestures stand out. On his visit to Bethlehem he stopped his motorcade, walked to Israel’s notorious wall, and putting his head to the concrete barrier prayed and said, “We need bridges, not walls.” This past Christmas he prayed in front of a manger scene featuring the baby Jesus lying on a Palestinian keffiyeh. He placed nightly FaceTime calls to the Palestinian Christian church in Gaza to speak with Gaza’s suffering people. Finally, at an historic meeting with Sheikh al Azhar in the UAE,  he co-signed  a declaration promoting understanding and mutual respect between Muslims and Catholics.

His gestures outraged conservatives who sought to undermine him. Some liberals were left dissatisfied because he didn’t change church teachings and practice. The Catholic Church he leaves is as divided as it was when his papacy began. But his legacy is an example of hope and compassion, respect and an invitation to dialogue. It may not be enough to save the Catholic Church in America, but it may light the way forward.

The writer is president of the Washington-based Arab American Institute