ROME – Of all the time-honored myths about the Vatican that Catholic evangelists are sure to encounter sooner or later, one is so obvious it often escapes notice unless someone calls attention to it—to wit, the notion that there is something called “the Vatican” at all.
By that, I don’t mean to deny the existence of a 108-acre physical space called Vatican City. My wife and I live about ten minutes away from it in Rome, after all, and we’re in and out of the place on a regular basis, so I know full well it’s not a myth.
What I have in mind instead is the sense in which we use the phrase “the Vatican” in casual conversation. Consider the following formula, which occurs in Catholic chatter all the time:
- The Vatican wants x
- The Vatican is afraid of x
- The Vatican hates x
- The Vatican loves x
The unspoken assumption in such expressions is that there’s an organism out there called “the Vatican,” which has a central nervous system and thinks just one thought at a time, which uniformly likes one set of things and dislikes others, and which uniformly feels comfortable in one set of circumstances and awkward or anxious in another.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is the myth, because the Vatican is not an organism. It’s a complex bureaucracy that includes many different experiences, outlooks, agendas, and sets of hopes and dreams, fears, and anxieties. In that sense, there are as many “Vaticans” as there are personnel who work there—which, if you want to be technical about it, runs to about 5,000 souls.
Although the cultural ethos of the Vatican is still overwhelmingly Italian despite multiple attempts at internationalization, the fact remains that Vatican personnel hail from multiple cultures and languages, and they have wildly diverse backgrounds and outlooks. For every stereotype of a Vatican official one could roll out, I could easily name a dozen or so officials who defy it without breaking a sweat.
Never assume the Vatican is your enemy, whatever your cause or concern might be.
Think Vatican officials are all power hungry? To be honest, most of the people I’ve met over the years who work inside the system are just trying to do their jobs as best they can and are anxious to get out, not to move up. In reality, those who are most obviously power hungry stall out fairly quickly, because everyone can sense what they’re up to, and it strikes most in the Vatican as fairly embarrassing.
Think all Vatican officials live in the lap of luxury? You should see the apartments some of these people live in. I once knew a guy who worked in a Vatican council, who today is a diocesan bishop, and for the seven years he was in Rome his living quarters consisted of a tiny front room, a kitchenette with no stove or oven, just a hot plate, and a bathroom.
That was it. You could have fit the whole thing in a phone booth if you laid it end to end.
Think all Vatican officials are out of touch? On the contrary, I’m the one who often feels out of touch in talking to today’s generation of Vatican officials, many of whom are far more at home in social media than I am, and many of whom are late vocations who have deep experience of the business world, or the academy, or politics, or whatever, but they entered the priesthood or religious life.
Frankly, because of the demands to be multilingual and to travel the world for many in Vatican employ, I suspect they’re probably far more familiar with basic global realities than, say, the average American politician.
Think all Vatican officials think alike? That’s the craziest idea of all.
I remember that under St. John Paul II, the head of the Vatican’s department for liturgy, Chilean Cardinal Jorge Medina Estévez, was a staunch liturgical conservative, while the pope’s own master of liturgical ceremonies, Italian Archbishop Piero Marini, was something of a progressive.
Once, when John Paul II went to Mexico for the canonization of Juan Diego in 2002, Marini authorized some local Aztec shamans to dance down the walkway at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Guadalupe during the Mass and perform a native ceremony over the pope for the casting out of evil spirits—in effect, they performed an exorcism on John Paul.
I called an official in Medina’s office while all this was unfolding to ask for a reaction, and the response I got was so loud it almost shattered the handset I was holding.
“Marini must go!” the official bellowed.
Yet Marini didn’t go, and for much of the John Paul II papacy you had diversity enshrined in the tit-for-tat between his two most senior liturgical officials. John Paul had the same approach in many areas of governance; knowing that he intended to challenge the Soviet system as pope, for example, he made sure his first secretary of state, Italian Cardinal Agostino Casaroli, was a dove and an apostle of détente.
We could go on, but I suspect the point is clear: The Vatican is a constellation of intelligent, creative, driven people, all of whom bring their own perspectives and dreams, which makes it a complex place where stereotypes go to die.
For Catholics generally, the main takeaway is to never assume the Vatican is your enemy, whatever your cause or concern might be. The far more constructive use of energy is to assume someone in the system is bound to be sympathetic, to identify those officials, and to reach out to build coalitions.
For evangelists, another conclusion may also be helpful in talking to people who may be attracted to Catholicism but who perhaps feel a bit put off by the Vatican. Here’s what you should tell them: “Whatever your beef with the Vatican is, I promise you there’s someone inside the system who shares it—which means your problem isn’t really with the Vatican, it’s with people, and no matter where you go, you’re always going to find some people who aren’t to your taste.”
That may not immediately win them over to the faith, but it might at least remove one of the conventional obstacles that often keeps people away from it.
