“Harsh and divisive language…has no place in his heart; although it may momentarily seem to win the day, only the enduring allure of goodness and love remains truly convincing.”

Listening to Pope Francis’ address to Congress on Thursday, you would have heard him use the word “dialogue” twelve times. Eight times in his speech to the Bishops and once at the White House.

My favorite professor once told us, “If the author mentions something more than once, it is important. He isn’t stupid. He’s making a point.”

And almost magically, like it was planned in advance, everyone sprinted to the nearest newspaper, blog, or social account to soliloquy on how satisfied or unsatisfied they were with the Holy Father’s take on [insert issue].

Almost like Francis knew everyone would fail his challenge immediately.

What challenge?

In his homily to the Bishops, Francis explored the meaning behind this favorite word of his, dialogue, and issued an even more difficult challenge to them:

“The richer the heritage which you are called to share with parrhesia, the more eloquent should be the humility with which you should offer it. Do not be afraid to set out on that “exodus” which is necessary for all authentic dialogue. Otherwise, we fail to understand the thinking of others, or to realize deep down that the brother or sister we wish to reach and redeem, with the power and the closeness of love, counts more than their positions, distant as they may be from what we hold as true and certain. Harsh and divisive language does not befit the tongue of a pastor, it has no place in his heart; although it may momentarily seem to win the day, only the enduring allure of goodness and love remains truly convincing.”

Acknowledge the human dignity all people. Reach out to them, be amongst them and enter into dialogue. Authentically listen to them and share an encounter.

This, on its face, is Francis’ challenge.

How can we hope to reach the most troubled among us if we do not even know them? How can we heal the wounds of sin if we are not first open to our brothers and sisters?

Momentarily winning the day

Many complain that Francis did not speak as strongly as they had hoped or focused on certain issues more than others. But, after reflecting on his challenge, it occurred to me how pompous and blind we are:

Q. Why did the Holy Father leave out the word “abortion?”

A. Maybe because we do not know any women who have had abortions.

Maybe we should start by reaching out to women in bad situations before we demand the Holy Father admonish them for their sins.

The challenge is squarely on us — not on him. Like Christ, Francis does not have to pass a personal litmus test for “true.” Nor is it in kindness or ambiguity that the Holy Father chooses his words, but as a father who intimately knows his children. How can he ask of his children to change a behavior when we cannot even talk to each other first?

Francis is correctly challenging us to take the first step most of us have long forgotten. That step is our ability to love.

It is regrettable that we lust for condemnation to pave the bulwark of our Christian towers — while instead, we should be tearing down our own walls and building others up.

Dialogue vs. Soliloquy

What does it mean to enter into authentic dialogue? Earlier I criticized folks rushing to their favorite medium and canonizing their thoughts. I am easily guilty of the same.

However, the difference between dialogue and soliloquy is the vulnerability of the author and his desire to enter into conversation. We are so used to speech as the preface to a manufactured messaging point that we do not understand what authentic dialogue means. Arguments that occur between friends are no more than an opportunity for two parties to exchange text, two soliloquies exchanged simultaneously. There is rarely an encounter.

We hacks inside the beltway find this challenge especially difficult because we live inside a world we create daily. For us, an event or news hit that occurs without a contrived title and angle is a communications failure. We must learn that building bridges are more important than winning the day.

The type of dialogue we should be pursuing is one that reflects this challenge of human experience and ultimately brings about a greater good.

Do we really need another man who says great things?

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This futility of words is not lost on Pope Francis, who speaks of the tragedy of reductionism constantly. We have so many vacuous politicians who, on a daily basis, rebuke Francis’ challenge of honest dialogue with their repetition of drafted talking points and sound bytes.

It is no wonder Francis is so careful with his words, as to preserve the substance of his message — incidentally, a message of God.

If Francis had stood up in front of the joint session of Congress and rained Catholic social teaching down the throats of those members, would his message of mutual respect remained intact? Of course not.

We seek to mold Francis into yet another empty politician who says great things for our satisfaction. Instead, we should see his challenge as an opportunity to create more inclusion and actually enter into greater dialogue with our fellow man.