#Bergoglio and the Argentinian dictatorship
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The Argentine Iron Guard
#Bergoglio and the Argentinian dictatorship#Juan Domingo Perón#Eva Perón#Father Bergoglio#Pope Francis I#Virgin Mary of San Nicolás#Anti-Pope Peter II#Argentinian Iron Guard#Massimo Introvigne
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There is another famous Argentinian that might be laughing beyond the grave. His name is Leon Ferrari. He was already a famous iconoclast in the 70s and had lost his child by the hands of the Argentinian Military Dictatorship, which Bergoglio (now Pope Francis) was a collaborator of.
Fast forward, and in 2001 he had written a public letter to Pope John Paul II to evacuate and demolish Hell. Just 3 years latter, he had to abruptly close an exhibition of his most important works in Buenos Aires after receiving 4 bomb threats. Bergoglio, then an archbishop, had called for catholics to take the street against his blasfemous art.
"The problem I have with Bergoglio is that he thinks that people who don't think like him should be punished, condemned. And I think that no one, not even him, should be punished."
this is cute but also i like to think the pope has to preface every single statement with "this isn't dogma but" like he has to break character for a sec and clarify that he's not speaking ex cathedra
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Papal Fiction
Papal Fiction
By Rita Ferrone
December 23, 2019
“The most glorious journey can begin with a mistake.” This is the observation made by Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio in the opening scene of Fernando Meirelles’s The Two Popes, as he preaches to throngs of poor people in a Buenos Aires slum. It signals the central themes of the film: change, reconciliation, and hope for the future. The scene, shot on location in Argentina, surges with the energy of the people and the place. A kaleidoscope of color and activity soon settles into a moment of stillness and focused attention as Bergoglio speaks. He stands in the midst of all these people: not above them, but with them. And they are listening.
But what is the mistake? The first possible answer the film offers is that Bergoglio (played by Jonathan Pryce) has decided to resign from his position at the head of the church of Buenos Aires. He is tired and weary from the direction that the church is taking, and he wants out. As his repeated letters to Pope Benedict XVI go unanswered, he plans a trip to Rome to press the pope in person to let him retire.
Little does he know that, at the same time, Pope Benedict is contemplating his own resignation. What holds Benedict back from retirement, however, is his fear that Bergoglio might succeed him. In the 2005 conclave at which Benedict was elected, Bergoglio was a serious contender. The public forgot this fact during the conclave of 2013; many presumed that Bergoglio came out of nowhere. But the prospect of Bergoglio’s rise was not lost on Benedict. He kept an eye (and a file) on him. And he didn’t like what he saw: too much willingness to bend the rules and too little respect for tradition. Benedict comes to regard Bergoglio as his nemesis, someone with whom he disagrees so fundamentally that he fears what might happen to the church should the Argentine ascend to the Chair of Peter. Benedict (played by a fine Anthony Hopkins) decides to face his fears. Just as Bergoglio prepares to head to Rome, Benedict summons him for a face-to-face meeting—for his own purposes. “He must have gotten my letter after all,” Bergoglio mutters, not realizing there’s another agenda at play.
This is the stuff of comedy. And indeed The Two Popes is full of humorous bits, arising from the clash of opposites, thwarted expectations, and unexpected convergences. (One laugh-out-loud moment: the soundtrack accompanying the solemn entrance of the cardinals into the Sistine Chapel for the 2005 conclave suddenly blares strains of Abba’s “Dancing Queen.” A hat tip to Frédéric Martel?) Yet it is also a serious affair. The meeting between Benedict and Bergoglio becomes a three-day conversation over which the central drama of the film unfolds.
The first encounter between the two men takes place in a perfectly manicured garden at the pope’s summer residence—a sharp contrast with the rollicking streets of Argentina we’ve just seen. And of course this is a setup. All the clichés concerning the differences between the two popes come tumbling out. Benedict lives in regal isolation. He is stern, even censorious. He is concerned about protecting Tradition and Truth with a capital “T.” In a reminder that the indignities of old age are upon him, Benedict receives commands from his watch to “Keep moving” every time he pauses in his walk. Yet he’s clearly a tough old bird, and his strong will is on full display. Hopkins’s elderly pope knows that change is on the horizon, but he resists it with every fiber of his being.
Pryce’s Bergoglio is the perfect foil for all this. With wit and winsomeness, and aided by an uncanny resemblance to Francis, Pryce quickly helps establish the contrast between his character and Benedict. Bergoglio eschews luxury and lives simply. A true son of Argentina, he’s passionate about soccer and dances the tango. He enjoys his food. Most of all, he enjoys being with people. (At one point, Benedict arrives on the scene and is startled to find that Bergoglio has made friends with the gardener; together they are extolling the merits of oregano.) Throughout, and just as you would expect, Bergoglio wears clunky black shoes and carries his famous, scuffed black briefcase. The briefcase holds his resignation letter, which he will push under the nose of Benedict at every opportunity—a bit of stage business that grows more hilarious each time it is repeated (and it is repeated often). His dogged persistence in carrying out his mission is an indicator of his own strength of will. He does not bend easily.
There is no evidence either that Benedict was particularly anxious about the prospect of Bergoglio stepping into his shoes.
As their encounter progresses, Benedict proceeds to challenge Bergoglio on his record, while Bergoglio puts up a lively defense of his decisions and priorities. The discussion that follows is a quick run-through of matters of philosophical principle on which the two popes are reputed to disagree, or at least to have distinctly different practical approaches. But this is treated simplistically. At no point does The Two Popes become a film of ideas; there is no attempt to chart the nuances of their viewpoints. Meirelles hews firmly to the time-tested formula of setting two opposing personalities against each other.
Yet as they spend more time together, their exchanges become more personal in nature, more intimate, and more human. We learn through flashbacks about how the young Bergoglio decided to become a Jesuit priest. At a point of decision in his life, a chance conversation with a thoughtful priest whom he had never seen before and who, as it happens, was dying of leukemia, tips the balance. Is the unexpected conversation with a kind stranger perhaps the mistake that opens onto a glorious journey?
But the journey is not so glorious. Through flashbacks, we learn about the young Bergoglio (played by the accomplished Argentinian actor Juan Minujín). There are wrenching scenes concerning events that occurred during the dictatorship. Bergoglio was indeed mentored by a communist, a woman at a food chemistry lab whom he deeply respected. Her daughter was abducted by the regime, and she herself was later arrested and killed. We see the mistakes Bergoglio makes after being appointed provincial of his order at an early age. The film depicts the true story of how he ordered two Jesuits out of their frontline ministry among the poor during the Dirty War, out of fear for their safety, and his suspension of them when they refused. What he did not anticipate was that this suspension then would be interpreted as lifting the church’s protection; the two men were soon arrested, detained, and tortured. Many years later, one of these priests forgave him; the other never did. We learn of Bergoglio’s struggle with guilt for not having done more to save those targeted by the regime. We see how he carries within himself his own consciousness of sin and unworthiness as he goes into exile in Córdoba, Argentina, where his community has sent him after a tumultuous and divisive term.
Benedict, who by now has thawed considerably, listens and attempts to console Bergoglio. He confides his own sense of spiritual loneliness, and reveals his decision to resign the papacy. At the end of the scene, Benedict is moved to confess his own sins, and asks for sacramental absolution, which Bergoglio gives him despite being deeply shocked by what he has heard.
The roles are now reversed. Bergoglio forgets about pressing Benedict to accept his resignation as archbishop and tries instead to dissuade Benedict from resigning the papacy. Why? Because tradition demands it! The reformer doesn’t want so much change after all! Meanwhile, Benedict, loses his resistance to the prospect of Bergoglio as his successor. Maybe the man from Buenos Aires is just the person the church needs as pontiff. The defender of tradition becomes the one who breaks with tradition! And so we are to understand that the two men have looked into each other’s hearts with compassion. This changes everything.
All of this, of course, is fiction. Despite the emotionally satisfying resolution of the film, we need to remember that none of this actually happened. The conversation never took place. Confession and forgiveness were neither sought nor received. Benedict never threw his weight behind Bergoglio in the 2013 conclave (according to many journalists, he favored Angelo Scola of Milan and Marc Ouellet of Quebec), and in any case a retiring pope does not choose his successor. There is no evidence either that Benedict was particularly anxious about the prospect of Bergoglio stepping into his shoes, or that he changed his mind in the end. Although Francis has shown great kindness and solicitude toward his predecessor, the two have never become what you’d call buddies.
The most troubling fictionalization, however, is Benedict’s confession to Bergoglio. Meirelles muffles the dialogue, so we don’t actually hear what he says. But it seems we are to believe that Benedict confesses to knowingly reassigning predator priests—something not supported by his actual biography. The admission of guilt is prefaced by a vague reference to Marcial Maciel, the notorious sex abuser who founded the Legionaries of Christ. Ratzinger’s role in that case, however, was quite different from that implied by the movie. Far from enabling Maciel, Ratzinger, in his capacity as prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, strove to have him removed from ministry; it was John Paul II who resisted. As pope, Benedict finally got rid of Maciel, sentencing him to “a life of prayer and penance.”
Did Ratzinger perhaps reassign predator priests while he was archbishop of Munich? Anything is possible, and certainly this sort of thing happened in many dioceses. But it is not a known fact that Benedict did so, and on a topic like this, an admission of guilt is far from a harmless artistic embellishment. This stuff is radioactive.
Obviously, Meirelles wanted to dramatize a relationship in which two men acknowledge their sins and confide in one another about their feelings of unworthiness for the great office they have been called to fill. And many viewers like to see antagonists arrive at forgiveness and reconciliation. The imagined dynamic between the two men is the most engaging aspect of the film, the most hilarious, and also the most meaning-laden—and the confession scene is part of it. Yet to suggest complicity in the sex-abuse scandals without a solid anchor in fact needlessly complicates things. Wasn’t there something that Benedict actually felt remorseful about to depict instead?
Glorious journeys do unfold, despite all of our mistakes. And sometimes, tradition and progress meet—and embrace. That’s the uplifting message of The Two Popes. If only it could happen in real-life Rome.
Issue:
January 2020
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Pope Francis’ Silence on Pedophilia and Argentina’s “Dirty War”
BILL BERKOWITZ FOR BUZZFLASH AT TRUTHOUT
Based on the information I’ve garnered over the past week or so, it would not be fair to characterize Archbishop Jorge Mario Bergoglio – now Pope Francis – as having been complicit with the military dictatorship’s imprisonment, torture and murder of more than 30,000 Argentinians during that country’s “Dirty War.” It would be a lot closer to the truth, however, to see him as a man of inaction; one who, for whatever political, religious and/or personal reasons, chose to remain silent.
While it may be understandable that Bergoglio was unwilling to risk his life during the “Dirty War,” which would have been threatened had he vigorously spoken out against the military dictatorship’s human rights abuses, it is far less understandable why, for the longest time, he has remained virtually indifferent to those who suffered at the hands of sexually abusive clergy in Argentina.
The Washington Post’s Nick Miroff recently reported on the case of Father Julio Cesar Grassi, an Argentine priest who, in 2009 was convicted of sexual abuse, and is now free on appeal. According to Miroff, “in the years after Grassi’s conviction, Bergoglio … has declined to meet with the victim of the priest’s crimes or the victims of other predations by clergy under his leadership. He did not offer personal apologies or financial restitution, even in cases in which the crimes were denounced by other members of the church and the offending priests were sent to jail.”
There is no evidence, Miroff reported, that Bergoglio “played a role in covering up abuse cases.” However, “during most of the 14 years that Bergoglio served as archbishop of Buenos Aires, [prominent] rights advocates say, he did not take decisive action to protect children or act swiftly when molestation charges surfaced; nor did he extend apologies to the victims of abusive priests after their misconduct came to light.”
Ernesto Moreau, a member of Argentina’s U.N.-affiliated Permanent Assembly for Human Rights and a lawyer who has represented victims in a clergy sexual-abuse case told the Associated Press that “Bergoglio has been the strongest man in the Argentine church since the beginning of this century, [and yet] the leadership of the church has never done anything to remove these people from these places, and neither has it done anything to relieve the pain of the victims.”
Bergoglio’s silence during “Dirty War”
Father Jon Sobrino, the Spanish-born Jesuit who has lived, worked, and taught in El Salvador since the late 1960s, was recently interviewed about Pope Francis. When asked about Bergoglio,Sobrino said that while he didn’t know him personally, he has spoken with Argentinians who did. Bergoglio “has been professor of theology, superior and provincial. It is not difficult to talk about his external work. But of the more internal, one can speak only delicately and now respectfully and responsibly. Many companions have spoken of him as a person with deep convictions and temperament, a resolute and relentless fighter.
“…. His austerity was accompanied by a real interest in the poor, the indigenous, trade union members who were attacked; this led him to firmly defend them in the face of successive governments.
While a strong advocate for the poor, Bergogilio wasn’t one who was “actively going out and risking oneself in their defense in the time of repression of the criminal military dictatorships,” Sobrino said. “The complicity of the hierarchy with the dictators is known. Bergoglio was superior of the Jesuits in Argentina from 1973 to 1979, in the years of major repression of civil-military genocide.”
And while Bergoglio was not directly complicit in the dictatorship’s crimes, “it seems correct to say … Bergoglio distanced himself from the Popular Church which was committed to the poor. [He] wasn’t [like El Salvador’s Archbishop Oscar] Romero – celebrated for his defense of human rights and assassinated [by the country’s right-wing death squads] while exercising his pastoral ministry. I don’t have enough knowledge, and I say this with the fear of being mistaken, Bergoglio did not present himself like Bishop Angelleli, Argentinian bishop assassinated by the military in 1976. Very possibly this took place in his heart, but he was not accustomed to make visible in public the living memory of [Bishop] Leonidas Proaño [of Ecuador], Bishop Juan Gerardi [of Guatemala], Bishop Sergio Mendez [of Cuernevaca, Mexico]…”
Sobrino goes on to say that “since 1998, [Bergoglio] as archbishop of Buenos Aires, … has accompanied the poorly treated sectors of the big city in various ways -– and with concrete deeds.”
Earlier this week, a U.S.-based group called Bishop Accountability “called on Pope Francis to apologize Tuesday for what it called the Argentine church’s protection of two priests [Grassi and Father Napoleon Sasso] who were eventually convicted of abusing children.”
Bishop Accountability co-director Anne Doyle told the AP: “We would be alarmed if the archbishop Bergoglio had done this in the ‘60s or ‘70s. That would be sad and disturbing. But the fact that he did this just five years ago, when other bishops in other countries were meeting victims and implementing tough reporting laws, it puts him behind some of his American counterparts, that’s for sure.”
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What Did Pope Francis Really Do In Argentina In The 1970s?
As discussed in the Academy Award-nominated Netflix movie The Two Popes, a military dictatorship seized control of Argentina during the mid-1970s. A "Dirty War" raged between rival political factions, with Argentinians struggling to survive amid the chaos and violence that characterized daily life. The Dirty War began when the military, backed by the United States, ousted Isabel Peron, widow of former President Juan Peron, in 1976. Called the Process of National Organization, or El Proceso, the military dictatorship targeted leftist politicians and suspected sympathizers among the citizenry. During the Dirty War, between 10,000 and 30,000 individuals were slain or "disappeared." These actions took place amid strict censorship and repression that hindered responses from the international community. While the Dirty War raged from 1976-1983, the Catholic Church in Argentina watched on. Some personnel supported El Proceso, while others became increasingly troubled by its actions. Jesuit priest Jorge Mario Bergoglio - the future Pope Francis - served as a provincial superior within the Society of Jesus for much of the Dirty War. Given Bergoglio's leadership position during that time - and his subsequent ascension to the Holy See - his responses and reactions have been heavily analyzed, criticized, and questioned. Opinions vary about what Pope Francis did and did not do in Argentina. According to observers, participants, and Pope Francis himself, here's what happened. What Did Pope Francis Really Do In Argentina In The 1970s? published first on https://superworldrom.tumblr.com/
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What Did Pope Francis Really Do In Argentina In The 1970s?
As discussed in the Academy Award-nominated Netflix movie The Two Popes, a military dictatorship seized control of Argentina during the mid-1970s. A "Dirty War" raged between rival political factions, with Argentinians struggling to survive amid the chaos and violence that characterized daily life. The Dirty War began when the military, backed by the United States, ousted Isabel Peron, widow of former President Juan Peron, in 1976. Called the Process of National Organization, or El Proceso, the military dictatorship targeted leftist politicians and suspected sympathizers among the citizenry. During the Dirty War, between 10,000 and 30,000 individuals were slain or "disappeared." These actions took place amid strict censorship and repression that hindered responses from the international community. While the Dirty War raged from 1976-1983, the Catholic Church in Argentina watched on. Some personnel supported El Proceso, while others became increasingly troubled by its actions. Jesuit priest Jorge Mario Bergoglio - the future Pope Francis - served as a provincial superior within the Society of Jesus for much of the Dirty War. Given Bergoglio's leadership position during that time - and his subsequent ascension to the Holy See - his responses and reactions have been heavily analyzed, criticized, and questioned. Opinions vary about what Pope Francis did and did not do in Argentina. According to observers, participants, and Pope Francis himself, here's what happened. What Did Pope Francis Really Do In Argentina In The 1970s? published first on https://superworldrom.tumblr.com/
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