“We live amid a veritable tsunami of apology. The Catholic Church, which, of course, has much to apologize for, has, of late, offered mea culpas to Galileo, the Jews, the gypsies, Jan Hus, whom it burned at the stake in 1415, even to Constantinople (now Istanbul) for its sacking 800 years ago by the knights of the Fourth Crusade, an event for which the late John Paul II expressed ‘deep regret.’ No wonder that a group in England, claiming descent from the medieval Knights Templars, is asking the Vatican to apologize for the violent suppression of the order and for torturing to death its Grand Master Jacques de Molay in 1314, an apology timed to commemorate the 700th anniversary of that fell deed.”— American literary critic and scholar Gorman Beauchamp, “Apologies All Around,” The American Scholar, Autumn 2007
Almost lost
in the hoopla over last week’s release of Magnifica Humanitas, Pope
Leo XIV’s encyclical about AI (which I will try to discuss sometime in the near
future), was his apology for the Catholic Church’s role in legitimizing slavery and centuries-old slowness over condemning the practice.
A couple
of days later, I came across Beauchamp’s appraisal of expressions of regret by
major nations and institutions over past injustices. If he took in the
pontiff’s more recent statement, I can’t imagine he regarded it with anything
other than cynicism.
To some
extent, Beauchamp’s outburst was understandable, as he wrote it when cries for
reparations, most notably for slavery, began to gain steam in legislatures
across the country. Still, there seemed something altogether too categorical
with his concluding sour plea, “No more apologies.”
Within a
couple of years, the Grouchy Gus persona adopted by Beauchamp spread through
American conservative circles. Although Barack Obama never used any form of the
words “apology” or “sorry,” his remarks to foreign countries about America’s
past tangled history in his first term fed a myth that he had done so.
It all climaxed
in Mitt Romney’s charge during his 2012 debates with the President that he had
been on an “apology tour”—a phrase that Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan, in
a different context, would have called “boob bait for the bubbas,” or
tough-sounding rhetoric meant to turbo-charge populist hordes. It was not one of the shining moments of Romney's career, and one that I'm sure he would prefer that people forget.
During his
first year at the Vatican, Pope Leo was extremely cautious, making some moves
that helped mollify the Church’s right wing that had smarted over the more
spontaneous Pope Francis (e.g., calling for “generous inclusion” of those
attached to the Latin Mass). But I’m afraid that President Trump’s increasingly
intemperate outbursts (including, this weekend, his third) about Leo have
neutralized that effort toward internal unity.
One sign
of the end of this era of good feeling came in Christopher Tremoglie’s essay
a few days ago in the conservative Washington Examiner, which posited
that the pope and other liberals should have saved their breath, because it was
African chiefs, waging war on fellow rulers and selling as chattel to whites,
who were really responsible for the African slave trade.
Leo is not
engaging in the “woke culture” or “white guilt” that has led Trump, Florida
Governor Ron DeSantis, and other GOP politicians to interfere in how Americans
learn about the greatest stain in our history.
Instead, experience—in dealing with emerging Third World countries considering their relationship to Catholicism, and in tracing mixed-race Black creoles on his mother’s side of the family—has taught Leo how complicated and wounding the Church’s attitude towards slavery has been over the centuries—starting with ecclesial institutions owning slaves themselves in the Middle Ages, and continuing with Renaissance popes legitimizing the quest of Spanish and Portuguese conquerors to subjugate and seize the lands of “Saracens, and pagans, and other infidels, and enemies of the name of Christ" anywhere, according to Nicole Winfield's article for the National Catholic Reporter.
Africans
now account for roughly 20% of the Church’s population worldwide. Moreover, it
is growing rapidly not just in overall numbers but also, in contrast to what
has been happening in the U.S. and Western Europe, in terms of seminarians,
priests, and nuns.
For
conservatives holding the line against any changes, if the Church hopes to
retain its ban on clerical celibacy, it will have to import to the U.S. many of
these African-trained religious personnel. And to appeal to these people
entering the ranks of the religious, the church that can’t own up to its past terrible
mistakes related to the continent.
But another
aspect of acknowledging past injustices, whether the Vatican’s or the West’s in
general, is being lost. Formally admitting these mistakes not only has the
potential to heal the wounded but to remind others why they would feel this way
in the first place.
Slavery
perpetrated over centuries, for instance, permeated virtually every aspect of
culture and commerce over much of the world. Given that all-pervasive influence,
nobody should imagine that it would not leave psychic stains on those it
injured.
All the
same, don’t be surprised if the pope’s right-wing critics begin to resurrect
that “apology tour” bit. Only the next time, I want that “tour” to be comprised
of Donald Trump and his supporters for denouncing a not-at-all-radical pontiff
trying to speak plainly about the facts of history.





