Why are some people against Cardinal Sarah's visit to Sainte-Anne-d'Auray?
The author of the commentary expresses surprise and indignation at the choice of the Guinean cardinal, describing his return through the "front door" as disconcerting. He insists that another legate would have been "more legitimate," implicitly questioning the legitimacy of an African prelate representing the Church in a major Breton pilgrimage site. This reaction—like those seen flourishing on social media—reveals a worrying implicit hierarchy of geographical origins in the Church, as if ecclesial Africa were unfit to carry a universal message or preside over a celebration in a European sanctuary. To put an end to such quibbles, a point of view—which is solely the responsibility of the author of this article—is in order. Beyond the criticism of Cardinal Sarah's doctrinal position—described as "traditional," even associated with "the fachosphere" in order to blacklist him—what is striking is the condescending and suspicious tone toward a prelate who, whether one adheres to his convictions or not, is a man of the Church respected worldwide. By quoting certain remarks by Cardinal Sarah, without context or nuance, the author of the comment, who has certainly not read his writings or the acts of the Second Vatican Council, constructs a caricatured opposition between a post-Vatican II "open" Church (supposedly embodied by Pope Francis) and an "anachronistic" representative from the Global South.
But even more serious is this sentence, also found among some Facebook users: "Among all the cardinals he created, wouldn't there be a more legitimate legate?" It betrays a vision of legitimacy in the Church that is, to say the least, ethnocentric, as if Cardinal Sarah—by his origins or his conservative profile—could not worthily embody the message of the successor of Peter.
This type of discourse, too often trivialized, is part of a logic that could fully be described as soft neocolonialism: figures from Africa are expected to be "representatives" of a certain Catholicism that is appropriate, conciliatory, exotic if possible, but certainly not prescriptive or possessing doctrinal authority. When an African prelate deviates from this assigned role, he is labeled "disconcerting," anchored in the past, or even illegitimate.
Yet the Church is, in essence, universal. It cannot, without contradiction, claim its catholicity and refuse some of its members – because of their continent of origin or their beliefs – the right to speak in its name, especially when it is the Pope himself who has made them his legate. Denying Cardinal Sarah the right to preside over a celebration in Brittany is not simply opposing a theological current: it is maintaining the idea that certain voices, coming from the South, should not have any weight on the Western ecclesial scene. Some comments thus reveal this exoticizing view, which accepts the presence of African figures in the Church as long as they remain symbolic or folkloric – but is reluctant to grant them full doctrinal or institutional legitimacy. Much like how we accept, more or less willingly, that Bretons sing a few hymns during a pardon and occasionally wear traditional costumes, as long as they stick to their assigned role.
Criticism of a prelate's liturgical or doctrinal orientation is, of course, legitimate in a vibrant Church. But when this criticism borders on cultural or racial rejection, it loses its credibility and harms the unity of the ecclesial body. The Grand Pardon of Sainte-Anne-d'Auray is a wonderful moment of gathering, fraternity, remembrance, and faith, and there is no doubt that everyone, regardless of their sensitivities, can find their place in this celebration of the 400th anniversary of the apparitions of Saint Anne to Yvon Nicolazic.
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