Question 4.90

4.90 How would you describe precisely what Francis intends for the government of the Church?

The institutional framework of all interior reform is important. If structures become obstacles to evangelization and the Church’s mission, one must not pretend to look elsewhere; I think that this goes to the heart of the governmental reform courageously desired by Francis. It had become apparent that some aspects of the life of the Roman Curia would have to be the object of real reflection.

We addressed these issues a lot during the discussions that preceded the beginning of the conclave, in March 2013. Personally, I think that it must be stressed that the members of the Curia are not high-ranking officials; they are laymen, priests, bishops, and cardinals who must not forget their vocation. Today, the pope’s difficult job is to clean up the structures. But above all the Holy Father wants to restore a greater interior dynamism to those who work alongside him. This is why he wanted the Curia to make a long spiritual retreat in Lent of 2014, outside of Rome and far from everyday activities.

At another level, I think that the reform he envisages has to do with our relationship to power, money, and wealth. In this regard, there is a big job ahead that extends beyond the Roman Curia alone; the whole Church, alas, is concerned about the problem of careerism, that frantic search for power, privileges, honors, social status, and political and financial power. Only a true conversion will make it possible to get beyond these failings, which are nothing new.

True power in the Church is essentially humble and joyful service in imitation of Christ, who “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mt 20:28). If we ignore Christ’s poverty, forgetting that he reminded us that we cannot serve two masters, God and the golden calf, no reform will be possible. Once again, the only solution is found in prayer that pastors might place themselves once more facing Christ and their vocation; in this sense we must not let apathy and weariness obscure the promises of our priestly ordination or of our religious profession.

Since the origins of the Church, prayer is often combined with fasting; our body must be completely involved in the search for God in the silence of prayer. It would be false to put God first in our lives if our bodies were not really involved. If we are not capable of denying this body not only foods but also certain pleasures and basic biological needs, out of love for God, we will lack an interior disposition. This is why, from the beginning of Christian tradition, chastity, virginity, consecrated celibacy, and fasting became indispensable expressions of the primacy of God and of faith in him.

Concerning this connection to the body and to sexuality, I am not forgetting that some members of the clergy, worldwide, have been accused of genuine crimes. The Holy See has been the subject of publicity campaigns of unprecedented violence, as though old enemies who are still ready to kill were seeking to take advantage of a great weakness. But I am perfectly aware of the abominable acts that have been committed by some priests.

The abandonment of sexuality is one of the promises made by a priest, except in the Eastern Church, where the ordination of married men is possible, even though the most ancient tradition seemed to retain abstinence as a rule. We understand then that reform involves the whole man, including his corporeal nature. The Holy Ghost Fathers I knew had a real mastery of their body, the result of a solid formation and a real contact with God that filled their heart.

When I think back to my seminary years, I remember a large number of rules that helped us to control our instincts. For example, it was positively forbidden to take even the smallest snack outside of meals. In the superiors’ view, someone who could not obey that strict dietary rule did not have a vocation; indeed, he was not capable of controlling one of his natural needs. This discipline of the body was essential in the discernment of future priests. I have not forgotten, either, that it was absolutely forbidden to go to the dormitory outside of the hours prescribed by the rule. Our entire days were considered in terms of a discipline of the mind and body. This asceticism was understood as a path of sanctification and an imitation of Jesus.

All the seminarians desired to make progress in sanctity. They had to have a spiritual director who could help them at any moment to confront a crisis situation. In life, we are like the creepers in the forest. In Africa, a creeper is a flexible stem that is incapable of lifting itself up. Therefore it creeps along the ground until it meets a hardy tree. Then it latches on to this support and climbs to the top. For it, too, would like to see the sun. It is the same with us. If we do not find a solid tree whose roots are nourished by God, so as to ascend toward heaven, there is no chance of our being able to see the light. Recall also the proverb in the Mossi language: “The desert creeper, finding no tree around which to wind, winds around God.”

In the desert, and at certain times in our life, we can count on God alone.

Of course, I am not unaware of the fact that a wolf can always get into the sheepfold. In my formation I had the chance to learn from professors and priests who transformed us by their example and led us daily to Christ.

One of the reasons for the moral crisis no doubt had its origins in the hedonistic sexual revolution of the 1970s. When confronted with that “liberation” of the body, which was directed toward its impulses and rejected all restraints, and given the eroticization of entire sectors of society, the Church made no effort to form her ministers more thoroughly. The start of the reform must concentrate on Catholic schools and seminaries.

I know that what I say may sound controversial; I do not mean to offend anybody, much less pass judgment on anyone at all, but how can we deny that the reform desired by Francis is urgent?