Build the Wall!
An Ambivalent Image in Magnifica Humanitas
Pope Leo XIV, in his recent encyclical Magnifica Humanitas, warns that contemporary society is tempted by what he calls the “Babel syndrome,” that is, “the idolatry of profit that sacrifices the weak, a uniformity that neutralizes differences, and the pretense that a single language—even a digital one—can translate everything, including the mystery of the person, into data and performance” (#10). Here the pope is, of course, appealing to the image of the Tower of Babel, the biblical symbol of humankind’s hubris.
Leo contrasts this image with another from the Old Testament, the rebuilding of Jerusalem’s walls under the leadership of Nehemiah (#8). Much of the city, including its walls and gates, had been destroyed by the Babylonians, and when the Israelites returned from exile in Babylon, Nehemiah organized the restoration of the walls. This image reflects humankind’s efforts over the centuries to build “a common language—not one of uniformity, but one of communion, namely the harmony that arises when all persons assume their own role and recognize that their strength comes from the Lord” (#8). As he later explains, these efforts represent our cooperation with God in “building up the Kingdom of God” (#49) of which the Church is the sign and sacrament in the world.
On first reading the encyclical, I found Leo’s appeal to rebuilding walls as an image of the Kingdom’s presence in the world jarring. After all, “build bridges, not walls” was a favorite slogan of Pope Francis, a summary of how he viewed the Church’s mission in the world. As far as I know, Pope Francis first uttered the phrase as a criticism of US President Donald Trump’s position on immigration early in the latter’s first term (recall that “Build the wall!” was one of the most popular slogans of Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign). Of course, Pope Leo has followed in his predecessor’s footsteps by standing up for the dignity of migrants, for example on his recent trip to Spain.
Francis was not simply referring to walls built to keep out immigrants, however; for Francis, “walls” embody what the Church opposes. In Fratelli Tutti he writes that Christians should resist “the temptation to build a culture of walls, to raise walls, walls in the heart, walls on the land, in order to prevent [the] encounter with other cultures, with other people” (#27, citing an earlier address). The People of God “break down walls” (##195, 276) rather than construct new ones (#284). Does Pope Leo’s appeal to (re)building walls represent a turn away from Francis’s stance? Taken in isolation, this image suggests a defensive stance for the Church, perhaps even a “fortress mentality” characterized by hostility to the world. And the call to rebuild what has been destroyed suggests a desire for the restoration of something lost. Such a stance sounds more characteristic of the nineteenth century than the post-Vatican II Church! Luckily, however, it’s not at all consonant with how Pope Leo is governing the Church. So, what is going on here?
To be fair, stylistically speaking, the “walls” in Magnifica Humanitas serve as a synecdoche (the literary device in which a part stands for the whole) for the city of Jerusalem itself, and Leo also draws on the image of building or rebuilding the city throughout the encyclical (##1, 11, 185, 242, etc.). In the Bible, Jerusalem serves as a symbol of God’s reign, and the “city” has served as a common image of the Kingdom of God in the Christian tradition; earlier this week I noted that Magnifica Humanitas relies heavily on St. Augustine’s City of God, in which Augustine describes the community of those united by love for God as the Heavenly City or the City of God, for its theological framework (see MH #130). And—perhaps recognizing the ambivalence of the image of “walls”—Pope Leo clarifies later in the encyclical:
The image of rebuilding Jerusalem evokes the New Testament promise of the holy city, which is given to us first and foremost as a gift. In the Book of Revelation, the new Jerusalem descends as a gift for all God’s people, “prepared as a bride adorned for her husband” (Rev 21:2). The walls of Jerusalem are no longer defensive fortifications, but the precious adornments of the Bride of the Lamb. Its gates, which Nehemiah guarded so diligently, remain permanently open to all nations. God’s presence offers light and life to all. The city is a new Eden, with its living water offered to the thirsty, and its tree of life whose leaves “are for the healing of the nations” (Rev 22:2). As we await its fulfillment, this vision is set before us as an encouragement—a call to overcome our divisions and to work together—for this is the way of Jesus Christ, yesterday, today and forever. (#242, emphasis added)
Unlike the walls we find in this world, the walls Christians are called to build promote openness and communion, and so building these walls, it seems, is not that different from building bridges, after all.
