Apologies Excepted

There is much good in our Holy Father’s new encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas. The media has made a big deal about his comments on Artificial Intelligence, but the encyclical is broader than that: it reiterates the perennial Catholic teaching on human dignity. It is a needed clarion call about what makes us human and why no technology can ever achieve the dignity inherent in the human person, given by our Creator.

But there is another point from the encyclical that is making the news, much to my surprise. In his writing, the pope apologizes—yet again—for the Church’s role in owning slaves, permitting the enslavement of native peoples, and propagating the slave trade. It was truly a complicated—and tragic—part of our Catholic history. As with any organization that stretches across twenty centuries and spans the globe, there are dark blots on our history, and it can be good to acknowledge these flaws and failings if we are to speak prophetically to the modern world. But I have a few reflections upon this most recent apology.

First, how many apologies does one need to offer in order for the offense to be expunged? All the way back to Pope Leo XIII in the 1880s, the popes have apologized. John Paul II apologized multiple times on his many trips to Africa. Now Pope Leo XIV. When will the apology finally be accepted—and by whom? The people whom this directly impacted are long dead, both perpetrators and victims. Or will we be apologizing until the end of time?

Second, when does the Catholic Church get to receive apologies? How about from the Italian government for the ancient Roman persecutions? The Mexicans for how they treated the Church in the 1920s? The formerly Communist bloc? The current regimes in China, Nigeria, and elsewhere? Why do people move on so quickly at the travesties that Catholics have had to endure throughout the centuries?

Third, it is so dangerous to read the past with the eyes of the present. Yes, popes endorsed the Doctrine of Discovery—because they lived in the 15th century and were children of their time. We like to think that popes have crystal balls and know at all times the will of God, but that is not the case. Except in the limited instances where they speak infallibly, popes are products of the culture in which they live—as we all are. This means we have blind spots to things that are culturally acceptable. I can think of a few things that we may regret in a few centuries (such as the relative apathy and silence of most Christians on the topic of abortion).

Fourth, the line between good and evil stretches directly through the human heart. No one race and no one person is completely perfect and innocent—nor is anyone perfectly evil. Even during the height of the Age of Discovery, there were some papal attempts to curtail the slave trade, such as the 1435 papal bull Sicut Dudum (referring to the Spanish attempts at enslaving the residents of the Canary Islands), which was reinforced by Popes Pius II and Sixtus IV.

Later, in 1537, the papal bull Sublimis Deus was issued, stating that indigenous Americans “should not be deprived of liberty.” It would be erroneous to think that the Catholic Church was monolithically promoting the slave trade throughout the centuries until the modern era. We cannot forget those past attempts, as short-lived and imperfect as they may be, to counterculturally curtail the travesty of trading in human flesh.

Finally, it would also be nice to hear a reckoning from the other nations and religions that have practiced slavery in human history. It is well-documented that Islam practiced a robust African slave trade. Throughout Scripture, God allowed the Jews to take slaves from conquered nations. Even within the African and American continent itself, tribes were often attacking and enslaving one another. So let us not single out the Catholic Church for criticism when almost every country, government, and religion was involved in the slave trade for centuries.

At the same time, it is a sideways compliment to hear people take stronger outrage at Catholic malfeasance, for it is a recognition that the Catholic Church should be held to a higher standard. Indeed, as the Body of Christ—who is divinely inspired and imbued with the very Spirit of Christ—we ought to be examples to the world of holiness, and it carries the shame of scandal when Christians embody the zeitgeist. But the Church is both sinner and saint, until the end of time. This is the great promise of the Book of Revelation; only in eternity will we see the Church fully adorned with virtue as a Bride prepared for her Divine Groom.

The Church is filled with imperfect sinners who often make mistakes. Perhaps these apologies have the influence to bring a soul back to the Church, or to imbue the Church with a stronger moral voice in our modern culture, or to learn from our mistakes. If so, then we will keep apologizing until Christ comes again.

But there is also a flip side to these apologies: it is discouraging to those who are committed to the Church to see its past flaws continue to be brought up again and again, as it would be for a married couple to keep rehashing the same past hurts, year after year. As Catholics, we believe in absolution. When will we be granted absolution for the harms done centuries ago?