Lumen Fidei' at 10: Instructions for our confused, wandering, utilitarian age

By Elizabeth Scalia, OSV News

At the start of the 2022 documentary "Moonage Daydream," we hear David Bowie wondering aloud, "At the turn of the 20th century, Friedrich Nietzsche proclaimed that God is dead, and that man had killed him. That led to a terrifying confusion: For if we could not take the place of God, how could we fill the space we had created within ourselves?"

It's not clear when he made the remark, but while rereading Pope Francis' first encyclical letter, 2013's "Lumen Fidei", Bowie's question came to mind. I couldn't help but think that the iconic rock star, who died in 2016, might have appreciated this joint effort begun by Pope Benedict XVI and completed by his successor, and perhaps found at least a partial and relevant response.

The preamble gives Nietzsche an early mention, quoting the philosopher's instructions to his sister, Elisabeth -- "If you want peace of soul and happiness, then believe, but if you want to be a follower of truth, then seek" -- as though belief contains no searching or journeying element. Were he correct, the encyclical notes, "Faith would be the illusion of light, an illusion which blocks the path of a liberated humanity to its future."

But of course, Nietzsche was not correct. Through the ages, Jesus Christ and his cross have remained a sign of contradiction to worldly sentiment, but a confounding one. Thus, a world that perceives Christianity as a persistent and suppressive negative toward human instinct, desire and curiosity might be surprised to hear not one pope, but two, championing the liberation of humanity.

But "Lumen Fidei" translates, of course, to "The Light of Faith," and on this 10th anniversary of the encyclical's release, we are reminded that light is something shared, sustaining, real and available in plenitude when sought out with a willing heart, and received with even a modicum of belief. It becomes the very thing able to fill the space that Bowie correctly noted we create when we become overfull of ourselves.

"Lumen Fidei" is not a long encyclical; it completed the trilogy focused on faith, hope and charity intended by Benedict XVI, the first two letters being "Deus Caritas Est" ("God is Love") and "Spe Salvi" ("Saved by Hope"). Its brevity, however, belies its depths as the two popes explore both the Old and New Testaments to outline how God's light comes to us in both sensory and spiritual ways through the sacraments, and accompanies us in our journeying, whether we are keeping near to Christ through his church or wandering; whether we are permitting Christ's light to bathe and inform us in the recognition of truth, and thus of love, or are instead engaging with the pale facsimile of light given off by our burnished idols -- which show nothing of God, but simply reflect us back to ourselves, inviting us to take neither the risks nor the adventures we are offered in the life, and light, of faith:

"Before an idol, there is no risk that we will be called to abandon our security, for idols 'have mouths, but they cannot speak' (Ps 115:5). Idols exist, we begin to see, as a pretext for setting ourselves at the centre of reality. ... Idolatry, then, is always polytheism, an aimless passing from one lord to another. ... Those who choose not to put their trust in God must hear the din of countless idols crying out: 'Put your trust in me!'"

In refamiliarizing myself with "Lumen Fidei", I had intended to create a kind of social-media friendly "listicle" -- an appealing, easily digested list of "top quotes" from the document. But the thing is ripe and rich spiritual food. To cherry-pick favorite passages might unfairly rob a reader of finding his or her own sustenance within a different passage. So, I instead urge Catholics and friendly Christians to delve into this timely meal on their own. It is full of wise warnings against valuing utilitarianism over faith, among them: "Those who live this way, who want to be the source of their own righteousness ... become closed in on themselves and isolated from the Lord and from others." It features unexpectedly lyrical lines that speak profoundly of how we often-polarized Christians may together understand the concept of journeying:

"The star is a sign of God's patience with our eyes which need to grow accustomed to his brightness. Religious man is a wayfarer; he must be ready to let himself be led, to come out of himself and to find the God of perpetual surprises. This respect on God's part for our human eyes shows us that when we draw near to God, our human lights are not dissolved in the immensity of his light, as a star is engulfed by the dawn, but shine all the more brightly the closer they approach the primordial fire, like a mirror which reflects light. ... The more Christians immerse themselves in the circle of Christ's light, the more capable they become of understanding and accompanying the path of every man and woman towards God."

I do believe that would assuage even the star-fixated Bowie's "terrifying confusion."