Cambridge, MA. I am sure I am not alone in having mixed feeling about Pope Benedict’s coming visit to the United States. Of course I share the respect and even reverence due to the Papacy in general and to this holy Pope in particular, and of course I share in the prayers of all those hoping that his visit will help challenge and invigorate the American Church, while awakening all Americans to the wider range of religious truths and values for which the Church stands. It is providential that he is on the east coast, while the Dalai Lama is in Seattle. But there are factors that dim my enthusiasm. Perhaps I am a typically introverted Harvard professor, when I lack enthusiasm for big crowds and big media events. I have not contemplated traveling south to join the crowds looking to glimpse Benedict during his visit. I was not invited to any special event, nor do I watch much television, so the week may slip by before I realize it. But it also true that I am one of those who feel that there is a real conversation to be had, most desperately important for the American Church — and that Benedict, so perceptive and so intelligent, is a person with whom we might conceivably have that conversation: about the direction of change in the Church; about how to speak the faith powerfully to that large segment of Catholics who are disillusioned by the Church and have walked away from our parishes; about clericalism, the priesthood, and religious vocations; about the risks and challenges of that true interreligious learning that draws people back to God; and even about the forbidden issues that are-not-to-be-discussed: the place of gay women and men in the Church; the fact of Catholic women who have discerned it to be the will of God calling them to ordained ministry; the long-running agony even among good Catholics about abortion. Of course these issues are often written, argued, yelled about — there is no lack of opinion on such topics! But it is still most poignant that when this particular Pope — again, so gifted, holy, perceptive — appears in our midst, the needed dialogue — listening, before speaking — is unlikely to happen. This is a week of crowds, media events, extensive coverage, papal addresses in large venues and to important invited guests, but it does not seem (according to the media — I have no insider information) that that tougher, direct, honest exchanges — where no one gets to speak without listening first — will occur. So my hope for the success of the Pope’s visit is necessarily dampened by a sense of how much more might occur if his visit were also to proceed in a quieter, off the record manner, where he could stop and listen to a wider and more unpredictable range of Catholics. We can dream: it would be truly providential were Benedict to drop in again next year, unannounced, telling no one that he is coming, perhaps staying at a Catholic Worker House — and then visit with small groups of Catholics for unscripted and private conversations. Short of that, we must at least remember, this week, that alongside the public event and the lectures, there remains another conversation that needs to occur before the Church can find its voice again. Let us listen to what is said loudly in public, but also for is not said, not listened, not heard, in the days to come.
