Posted on 10/22/2025 10:01:18 AM PDT by ebb tide
A few weeks after his election, Pope Leo XIV sent a telegram to Cardinal Jaime Spengler, Archbishop of Porto Alegre, Brazil, commemorating the creation of the Latin American Episcopal Council (CELAM). Cardinal Spengler is progressive and, as discussed below, CELAM has deep roots in liberation theology, but the core message of Leo XIV’s telegram did not appear problematic:
“IN THE CURRENT HISTORICAL SITUATION, IN WHICH A LARGE NUMBER OF MEN AND WOMEN SUFFER THE TRIBULATIONS AND POVERTY CAUSED BY CONTINUING CRISES ON A CONTINENTAL AND GLOBAL SCALE, WE URGENTLY NEED TO REMEMBER THAT IT IS THE RISEN ONE, PRESENT IN OUR MIDST, WHO PROTECTS AND HEALS THE CHURCH, RESTORING HOPE TO HER, THROUGH THE LOVE THAT ‘HAS BEEN POURED OUT INTO OUR HEARTS THROUGH THE HOLY SPIRIT THAT HAS BEEN GIVEN TO US’ (RM 5:5), EARNESTLY BESEECHING HIM TO STRENGTHEN HER IN HER MISSION TO GO OUT TO MEET SO MANY BROTHERS AND SISTERS, TO PROCLAIM TO THEM THE MESSAGE OF SALVATION OF JESUS CHRIST AND TO SHARE WITH THEM THE JOY THAT COMES FROM A PERSONAL ENCOUNTER WITH HIM.”
This resonates with Church teaching and provided an early indication that Leo XIV could be more willing than his predecessor to spread Catholic truth.
Liberation theology is hard to miss in the following passage from Pope Leo's Dilexi Te. In it, we learn that Christ focused His mission on preaching the liberation of the poor, which likely would have come as a surprise to Our Lord and His Apostles.
Leo XIV’s recent apostolic exhortation “on love for the poor,” Dilexi Te, added other connections to CELAM, especially in paragraph 90, which cites the “Medellín Document” from the Second General Conference of the Latin American Bishops (24 October 1968):
“At Medellín, the bishops declared themselves in favor of a preferential option for the poor: ‘Christ our Savior not only loved the poor, but, ‘being rich, he became poor.’ He lived a life of poverty, focused his mission on preaching their liberation, and founded his Church as a sign of this poverty in our midst . . . The poverty endured by so many of our brothers and sisters cries out for justice, solidarity, witness, commitment and efforts directed to ending it, so that the saving mission entrusted by Christ may be fully accomplished.’ The bishops stated forcefully that the Church, to be fully faithful to her vocation, must not only share the condition of the poor, but also stand at their side and work actively for their integral development. Faced with a situation of worsening poverty in Latin America, the Puebla Conference confirmed the Medellín decision in favor of a frank and prophetic option for the poor and described structures of injustice as a ‘social sin.’”
Whereas one could not identify any definite hint of liberation theology from Leo XIV’s telegram celebrating the creation of CELAM, it is hard to miss in this passage from Dilexi Te. In it, we learn that Christ focused His mission on preaching the liberation of the poor, which likely would have come as a surprise to Our Lord and His Apostles. One could be forgiven for thinking that Our Lord’s mission instead related primarily to leading souls to God.
This calls for us to look more closely at CELAM.
Dom Hélder Câmara and CELAM
Many Traditional Catholics are familiar with Dom Hélder Câmara through Michael Matt’s reporting on how the Brazilian bishop played a vital role in the so-called “Catacombs Pact” and also influenced the World Economic Forum’s former chairman, Klaus Schwab. A passage from The Great Facade: The Regime of Novelty in the Catholic Church from Vatican II by Christopher Ferrara and Thomas Woods Jr. adds to the picture of Câmara as a revolutionary:
“The neo-Catholics will generally deny that Vatican II had anything to do with the current state of the Church, but eyewitnesses without an agenda can offer more objective testimony. No eyewitness is more compelling than Msgr. Rudolf G. Bandas, himself a conciliar peritus. Only two years after the Council had ended, Msgr. Bandas was constrained to ask: 'How could our Church be so profoundly blighted in so short a time?’ Answering his own question, Msgr. Bandas cited progressivist Bishop Helder Câmara’s praise of Pope John for his ‘courage on the eve of the Council in naming as conciliar experts many of the greatest theologians of our day. Among those whom he appointed were many who emerged from the black lists of suspicion’—that is, from the censures and condemnations of Pius XII and his Holy Office.”
Professor Roberto de Mattei’s The Second Vatican Council: An Unwritten Story sheds further light on why Câmara applauded John XXIII’s appointment of heterodox theologians — such as Hans Küng — as experts at Vatican II:
“On October 29 [1962], speaking at the Domus Mariae to the Brazilian bishops, [Hans] Küng relates that he had asked one of his Lutheran colleagues in Tübingen: ‘If Luther were alive today, would he feel the need to leave the Catholic Church in order to promote reform or would he attempt reform from within the Church?’ Bishop Hélder Câmara, who reports the episode, is naturally enthusiastic about the plan for protestantizing the Church that crops up in these words. In the very first week Câmara started an intense collaboration with Cardinal Suenens, whom he mentions in his correspondence by the code name 'Padre Miguel.’ The Brazilian bishop relates how at the beginning of the first session he went to meet Suenens so as to ask him to head the progressive front, which was privately organizing a group that was later called ‘ecumenical.’”
Câmara welcomed the “protestantizing” of the Catholic Church and helped encourage Suenens to play a major role at Vatican Council. Câmara helped bring this about, and it seems evident that he was pleased with the way in which Vatican II acted as the "French Revolution in the Church.”
So Câmara welcomed the “protestantizing” of the Catholic Church and helped encourage Suenens to play a major role at the Council. We can gauge the influence that Suenens had at the Council from Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre’s words in Open Letter to Confused Catholics:
“It was Cardinal Suenens who exclaimed, ‘Vatican II is the French Revolution in the Church’ and among other unguarded declarations he added ‘One cannot understand the French or the Russian revolutions unless one knows something of the old regimes which they brought to an end. . . . It is the same in church affairs: a reaction can only be judged in relation to the state of things that preceded it.’ What preceded, and what he considered due for abolition, was that wonderful hierarchical construction culminating in the Pope, the Vicar of Christ on earth. He continued: ‘The Second Vatican Council marked the end of an epoch; and if we stand back from it a little more we see it marked the end of a series of epochs, the end of an age.’”
Câmara helped bring this about, and it seems evident that he was pleased with the way in which Vatican II acted as the "French Revolution in the Church.”
As Yves Chiron wrote in his Paul VI: The Divided Pope, Câmara also played a role in the formation of the National Bishops’ Conference of Brazil, which served as a model for other episcopal conferences:
“Another visitor was Dom Hélder Câmara, who was made auxiliary bishop of Rio de Janeiro in 1952. During a visit to Rome, he explained to Msgr Montini: ‘You know, in Brazil we have a chance to create an almost ideal model for relations between Church and state. In our country, Catholicism does not have the status of official religion. But there is a great mutual respect between the Church and the government, and we work together in loyal collaboration.’ Such a position was highly attractive to a man who had been hostile to the Italian concordat. The Brazilian bishop also suggested the creation of an episcopal conference in Brazil. Even if the authority to create it did not rest with Msgr Montini, the idea was kept in mind until the Substitute found occasion to bring it to fruition and create the National Bishops' Conference of Brazil, in which Bishop Hélder Câmara would serve as Secretary for twelve years, and which would serve as a model for the creation of episcopal conferences in other countries.”
A few years later, Câmara helped found the Latin American Episcopal Council (CELAM), which hosted the 1968 conference at Medellín, which produced the document that Leo XIV cited in Dilexi Te. Here is how Professor de Mattei described the conference:
“The general conference of the Latin American episcopate held in Medellín, in Columbia, from August 26 to September 6, 1968, was the point of arrival for the ideological process that the council had begun and the point of departure for the spread of liberation theology on an international scale. For Schillebeeckx, liberation theology represented essentially ‘the spirit of Medellín [reduced to] a theology.’ . . . Oscar Beozzo pointed out that Medellín had its roots in Paul Gauthier’s group, ‘Church of the Poor,’ which had been organized at the time of the first session of the council, after John XXIII had alluded to this topic in his address on September 11, 1962. A group called ‘Church of the Poor’ had proposed the so-called ‘pact of the catacombs,’ signed on November 16, 1965, in the Catacombs of Domitilla by forty bishops, most of them from the third world. The signatories pledged to lead a life of struggle for the poor and of solidarity with their needs, in keeping with the new principles of Vatican II.”
Thus, by citing the Medellín Document in paragraph 90, Leo XIV’s Dilexi Te extended its roots to the “Catacombs Pact.”
Fortunately for the legacy of Dom Hélder Câmara, though, Francis and Leo XIV were able to “thread the needle” by focusing entirely on sins against the poor.
Câmara’s own words about Medellín from his 1978 essay in CrossCurrents, “CELAM: History is Implacable,” demonstrate the truly revolutionary nature of the conference:
It is of course striking to read Câmara praising the encyclicals of Leo XIII, but we have to recall that Nancy Pelosi recently had occasion to do so as well:
“For many of us, the name Leo XIV happily brings to mind Leo XIII’s Rerum novarum which was a blessing for working people.”
Dilexi Te and Rome’s 1984 Condemnation of Liberation Theology
As discussed in a previous article, paragraph 98 of Leo XIV’s Dilexi Te included an odd citation from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith’s “Instruction on Certain Aspects of the ‘Theology of Liberation’” (6 August 1984):
“Finally, in a document that was not initially well received by everyone, we find a reflection that remains timely today: ‘The defenders of orthodoxy are sometimes accused of passivity, indulgence, or culpable complicity regarding the intolerable situations of injustice and the political regimes which prolong them. Spiritual conversion, the intensity of the love of God and neighbor, zeal for justice and peace, the Gospel meaning of the poor and of poverty, are required of everyone, and especially of pastors and those in positions of responsibility. The concern for the purity of the faith demands giving the answer of effective witness in the service of one’s neighbor, the poor and the oppressed in particular, in an integral theological fashion.’”
Leo XIV did not elaborate on why the document was not well received, but the reason is obvious: it (mildly) condemned liberation theology. However, Leo XIV did not quote anything negative about liberation theology; instead, he cited a passage critical of “defenders of orthodoxy” and those with “concern for the purity of the faith” — the people most likely to condemn liberation theology.
Never mind sins of the flesh (promoted by Fidcucia Supplicans and Amoris Laetitia) or sins against charity and the Faith (promoted by Traditionis Custodes), the worst sins are apparently those highlighted by Câmara decades ago.
On the basis of Leo XIV’s citation of this random passage, one might suspect that the 1984 document condemning liberation theology somehow opposed “defenders of orthodoxy.” Here, though, is the only other reference to “orthodoxy” in the 1984 document:
“Because of this classist presupposition, it becomes very difficult, not to say impossible, to engage in a real dialogue with some ‘theologians of liberation’ in such a way that the other participant is listened to, and his arguments are discussed with objectivity and attention. For these theologians start out with the idea, more or less consciously, that the viewpoint of the oppressed and revolutionary class, which is their own, is the single true point of view. Theological criteria for truth are thus relativized and subordinated to the imperatives of the class struggle. In this perspective, 'orthodoxy' or the right rule of faith, is substituted by the notion of 'orthopraxy' as the criterion of the truth. In this connection it is important not to confuse practical orientation, which is proper to traditional theology in the same way that speculative orientation is, with the recognized and privileged priority given to a certain type of 'praxis'. For them, this praxis is the revolutionary 'praxis' which thus becomes the supreme criterion for theological truth.”
Unsurprisingly, Cardinal Ratzinger’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith criticized liberation theology with an obvious attempt to find some balance between spiritual and temporal objectives, and between Catholic truth and the ways in which the Church tends to the needs of mankind. However, we can clearly see the “condemnation” of liberation theology in the document’s introduction:
“Faced with the urgency of certain problems, some are tempted to emphasize, unilaterally, the liberation from servitude of an earthly and temporal kind. They do so in such a way that they seem to put liberation from sin in second place, and so fail to give it the primary importance it is due. Thus, their very presentation of the problems is confused and ambiguous. Others, in an effort to learn more precisely what are the causes of the slavery which they want to end, make use of different concepts without sufficient critical caution. It is difficult, and perhaps impossible, to purify these borrowed concepts of an ideological inspiration which is compatible with Christian faith and the ethical requirements which flow from it.”
Keeping in mind that this document from Ratzinger’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith was approved by John Paul II, who ordered its publication, it should be clear that neither Francis nor Leo XIV felt at liberty to openly contradict it. As such, their writings on the topic could not overtly put “liberation from sin in second place.”
Fortunately for the legacy of Dom Hélder Câmara, though, Francis and Leo XIV were able to “thread the needle” by focusing entirely on sins against the poor:
“In his Encyclical Dilexit Nos, Pope Francis reminded us that social sin consolidates a ‘structure of sin’ within society, and is frequently ‘part of a dominant mindset that considers normal or reasonable what is merely selfishness and indifference. This then gives rise to social alienation.’ It then becomes normal to ignore the poor and live as if they do not exist. It then likewise seems reasonable to organize the economy in such a way that sacrifices are demanded of the masses in order to serve the needs of the powerful. Meanwhile, the poor are promised only a few ‘drops’ that trickle down, until the next global crisis brings things back to where they were. A genuine form of alienation is present when we limit ourselves to theoretical excuses instead of seeking to resolve the concrete problems of those who suffer.”
Never mind sins of the flesh (promoted by Fidcucia Supplicans and Amoris Laetitia) or sins against charity and the Faith (promoted by Traditionis Custodes), the worst sins are apparently those highlighted by Câmara decades ago.
For better or worse, this scourge of heterodoxy — which Leo XIV now perpetuates — will continue until God intervenes or enough Catholics repudiate the errors that Dom Hélder Câmara helped proliferate at Vatican II.
For better or worse, this scourge of heterodoxy — which Leo XIV now perpetuates — will continue until God intervenes or enough Catholics repudiate the errors that Dom Hélder Câmara helped proliferate at Vatican II. To a large extent, the key to restoration is to undo an evil that Professor de Mattei noted in his The Second Vatican Council: An Unwritten Story, quoting a proponent of liberation theology:
“In an article published in 2007 . . . Father Clodovis Boff . . . conducted a lucid self-critique of his thought, admitting that the basic error of liberation theology lay in having made the ‘option for the poor’ its epistemological axis or center, in effect displacing the transcendent primacy of God. In this inversion of the epistemological primacy, ‘the first operative principle of theology is no longer God, but the poor person.’ The root of this error, according to Boff, goes back to the ‘anthropological revolution’ in modern thought that posits man as the new axis mundi. At the origins of the anthropological trend of modernity, in his opinion, at protestantism (especially in Schleiermacher’s liberal formulation), modernism, and the transcendental theology of Rahner. Boff says nothing about the council, which in this development was the immediate antecedent of liberation theology, but the ideological choices of the Brazilian Franciscan and of his traveling companions, during and after the council, were the eloquent confirmation of this continuity.”
We must restore the Kingship of Christ, but that leaves no room for Protestantism (promoted by false ecumenism), modernism, or the theology of Rahner, all of which flourished at Vatican II and through its revolutionary implementation. We must choose: God or man, Christ or chaos, Vatican II or Catholicism. Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us!
Ping
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