1It turns out that all this religion stuff no longer interests us at all; but it also turns out that we can't stop talking about it, even if it's bad. So what's the point? The death of Pope Francis has brought this and other picturesque contradictions to the surface (again). The "spiritual supermarket," in Peter Berger's felicitous phrase, is overflowing. It's likely that, in all of human history, no generation has visited as many and as varied temples as it does today. These forays, however, are merely excursions: they are almost never related to a real spiritual feeling but rather to more or less touristy circuits that may include—sometimes in one and the same pack- Gothic cathedrals, Buddhist pagodas, remnants of pagan antiquity, and Catholic cemeteries filled with decaying celebrities. Is spirituality at a low ebb? Yes and no. Never has this notion been so invoked as it is now, but neither has its profound meaning been so eroded. There is no other time in Western history when so many religious cantatas, oratorios, and motets have been heard. In the mid-1990s, the austere monks of Silos competed with Madonna and Prince in top tenDo these forms of spirituality really have any transcendent dimension? Probably not. To argue this, I needed to write an essay that was published in February, which I don't think I can summarize here.
2So, where are we? We are rather faced with the decontextualization and loss of unity—and, therefore, of original meaning—of certain spiritual manifestations, but in no case with a true process of secularization. We summarize the paradox in an image: Hinduism or the motley paraphernalia of Caribbean Santeria. Juan Estruch states that "we have often interpreted as secularization what was—is not—but a metamorphosis of the religion of our time." This is due to the proximity of religious or parareligious symbols (almost never recognized or accepted as such).
3The increasingly frequent "emotional mobilizations" – from the global event of Lady Di's funeral in 1997 to the celebration of a sporting victory four days ago – are often only a response to collective feelings of disintegration and disorientation, which find – pardon: that believe to finally find something in common, even if it is trivial, absurd, or untimely. A kind of remedy for the Great Void, available wholesale in the desolate theme parks of commodified emotionality. The drive toward spirituality is incompatible with our reluctance to admire (in the profound Heideggerian sense of the term). In the encyclical Dilexit us Pope Francis said: "The symbol of the heart is often used to express the love of Jesus Christ. Some wonder if it has a valid meaning today. But when we are assailed by the temptation to surf the surface, to live in a hurry without knowing why, to become insatiable consumers enslaved by our importance, the need for meaning, which has no interest in meaning." This heart has nothing to do with postmodern emotional spontaneity. It is not a psychological issue, but a theological one. That's why he goes even further: "I am my heart, because it is what distinguishes me, configures me to my spiritual identity and puts me in communion with other people. The algorithm shows that our thoughts and what our will decides are much more... standard than we thought. They are easily predictable and manipulable. The heart is not like that."
4. In recent days, I've heard and read incredible things, especially when comparing the figure of Benedict XVI with that of Francis. It seems that the former was more or less like Margaret Thatcher, while the latter was a bit like Che Guevara with a tiara. I would recommend to those who make these unheard-of simplifications that they read the encyclical in parallel. Caritas in veritate of Benedict XVI and the one I mentioned before of Pope Francis, Dilexit usYou will notice that both interpret our times through the prism of the Gospel, with much more in common than this simplification, if not an uninformed caricature, suggests.
