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The doubts of Francis, the transgressive Jesuit

Borges and Bergoglio, the poet and the Jesuit

By Cristina Bulacio



June 14th marked another year since Borges's absence; in this regard, I wish to pay him a simple tribute. I propose to the reader a playful perspective that will consist—with information taken from Javier Cercas's remarkable book, *The Madman of God at the End of the World*—in constructing a duality between Francis and Bergoglio, similar to the one Borges creates in *Borges and I*. Had they known, both would have attempted a faint smile.

There are no chance encounters, only unavoidable appointments, says the Master. Well, while I was reading and reviewing Cercas's book, I received—through other channels—a comment from Borges about his assiduous and friendly relationship with Bergoglio, before he became Francis, who visited him frequently. At a very young age, Bergoglio was already a lover of literature and taught classes on the work of Borges at a school in Santa Fe. He even had his students compile a book of their work on Borges.

The poet and the Jesuit became friends; They enjoyed a similar culture that allowed them to explore, in depth, topics of philosophy, theology, and politics. However, let us not forget that a chasm separated them. Borges was an unrepentant agnostic, and Bergoglio, a devout Jesuit. Alifano, Borges's companion, comments on something very interesting that Borges observed: while Bergoglio is a brilliant and sensible man, he has many doubts, like Bergoglio himself, which seems strange in a religious man, although being a Jesuit this was understandable. The Jesuits are different from other congregations; "they are transgressive and have a sense of humor."

Borges and I is a poetic-philosophical text in that—behind beautiful words and precise concepts—the core of the matter addresses personal identity, with echoes of Pirandello's "One, None, One Hundred Thousand." An unbridgeable duality is presented in it between the public Borges and the intimate Self, due to differences in their tastes, perhaps unspeakable shortcomings, and the simplicity of the Self that creates new themes to escape, but these, immediately, belong to Borges, the Other, the convening public figure who appears in books and dictionaries. He argues toward the end of the short text: "I live, I let myself live so that Borges can weave his literature."

Cercas, in the cited book, also speaks of a duality between Francis and Bergoglio, but in the opposite sense. Here, Bergoglio is the intimate Self, perhaps unspeakable, which is why "I am a sinner" and "pray for me" are two phrases often heard from Francis. Bergoglio, on the other hand, is remembered as a man whose private life is authoritarian, power-loving, and demanding; He struggles every day to escape his human weaknesses and shortcomings and become Francis, the public figure, the valuable one, the one recognized by the entire world as the Pope.

Francis, the Pope, on the other hand, lives for and by the poor, believes that the world would not exist without God's mercy, desires to alleviate suffering and help the hungry; he is an environmentalist Pope, who makes mistakes and apologizes, who knows prison, who always wanted to be humble and believes in God's mercy without conditions. Once transformed into Francis, he achieved almost everything he had set out to do through his faith in Jesus of Nazareth.

Thus, the duplicity that Borges reveals is also present in Francis, as in all men. Just as Borges has profound doubts, so does Francis even as the Pope. The duality persists between Borges and his innermost self and between Francis and Bergoglio. In both cases, we must ask ourselves: "Which of the two is writing this page?" We will certainly never have a definitive answer.

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