Old Augustinian colleague claims that Pope Leo fully understood the path taken by liberation theology sympathisers, showing them support and complete trust
Like every July, Augustinian friar Paulo Gabriel López Blanco (Zamora, 1950) traveled from Brazil to Salta to spend a few days with his sister, brother-in-law, and nephews. He moved to the Latin American country in 1972, inspired by "great pastors and prophets" such as the Peruvian Gustavo Gutiérrez and the Catalan Pedro Casaldàliga, leading exponents of a "living and committed Church" that, he says, "knew how to unite the experience of God with the poor to transform reality and the world."
Invited by Justice and Peace and the Latin American Agenda Commission, the Augustinian recently visited the Malgrat de Mar Cooperative Library to talk about his experience in Brazil, a country where, he says, the Catholic Church is losing ground to the Evangelical Church and where the only alternative to President Lula da Silva of the Workers' Party in the upcoming 2026 presidential elections will be Jair Bolsonaro of the Liberal Party, who previously led the nation from 2019 to 2023. "In the upcoming elections," he notes, "Brazil will have to choose between Lula's democracy and Bolsonaro's dictatorship."
The event in this municipality of Maresme, part of the Girona diocese, also prompted reflection on the figure of Pope Leo XIV, a man whom Paulo Gabriel voted Prior General of the Order of Saint Augustine in the general chapters of 2001 and 2006. "I still find it hard to think of him as Leo XIV. For me, he's Robert. Robert Prevost," he confesses.
What is your current community like at the Theologate, in Brazil?
It's located in a working-class neighborhood on the outskirts of Belo Horizonte, in the state of Minas Gerais. We are made up of nine people: five theology students and four religious with solemn vows. I coordinate the community, am responsible for the formation of theologians, and provide pastoral support in the parish. We arrived in the region fifty years ago with the idea of placing the formation house in contact with the people, moving away from the large convents and being close to the people. During the mornings, students teach at the Catholic faculty and in the afternoons, in the community. They also carry out pastoral activities with young people in our schools and social works.
What would you say has been the evolutionary profile of Liberation Theology from its birth in the 1960s to the present day?
During that first era of dictatorships, the Latin American Church was a prophetic Church, one of denunciation. The prophet has three missions: to announce the future of God's kingdom while maintaining hope; to denounce what is not in harmony with the Kingdom and justice; and to console the poor and disadvantaged. From this perspective, Liberation Theology produced extraordinary bishops, elected by John XXIII and Paul VI, and many martyrs. But John Paul II slowed down the process by appointing professors of average quality who were not as closely aligned with that movement, which was considered suspect by the Holy See.
After John Paul II, Benedict XVI continued along the same lines until Francis arrived. To what extent did the Argentine Pope manage to change the situation?
Francis made a change, choosing bishops from his own line. One of them was Robert Prevost, now Leo XIV, whom he met at the 2013 General Chapter of the Augustinians. Two or three years later, he made him Bishop of Chiclayo. Prevost was Francis's man in Peru, where until then the now-defunct Sodalicio de Vida Cristiana (Sodalicio of Christian Life) dominated. Later, he called him to Rome, to the Dicastery of Bishops, and what we all know happened.
How do you think Leo XIV's Pontificate will evolve?
He will continue Francis's line, but without frightening the traditionalists so much. Francis broke many ground, but created some cracks in the walls of the Catholic Church, where some even prayed for his death. The conclave welcomed Prevost for his Vatican II profile: a missionary, with a popular Latin American vision and a preferential option for the poor. But unlike Francis, Pope Leo has a more discreet, restrained, and introverted character; he listens a lot and speaks little: with him, the fear of a possible schism will disappear. Just as happened in the handover between John XXIII and Paul VI, the recent change in the papacy will serve to balance things out.
Does having a missionary Pope mean the Church has changed?
The Church is charisma, mission, and, at the same time, structure. Pedro Casaldàliga said: “If I were made Pope, the first thing I would do would be to close the Vatican for six months.” This would be impossible, but it is true that when the structure weighs too heavily, there is a risk of killing the charisma. Saint Francis of Assisi began with twelve disciples living “like the lilies of the field,” pure spirit. When 3,000 gathered around him, he discovered he had no vocation for that. The Church has two facets that must coexist, but it is clear that either it is missionary or it is not Church. We are a community of faith that must be nourished by the Word within and at the same time must look outward and evangelize, which does not mean converting others, but rather radiating the Gospel with witness.
It is said that Leo XIV will have to balance tradition and openness. It seems complicated.
It will be a difficult balance; I don't know to what extent he will be able to maintain it. On the one hand, he has chosen a name associated with the social aspect of the Church, and on the other, he wears a mozzetta, appeals to Greeks and Trojans alike; I don't know how far he will be able to maintain the balance. But in any case, he is who he is, and he doesn't respond to what others expect. He is the son of Francis, but he is Leo XIV. He is authentic, a man of God, religious, profound: he will chart his course and continue to open the paths pioneered by the Argentine, giving more importance to the laity and women and deepening synodal reform at a perhaps more moderate pace.
Have you spoken with him since he was elected Pope?
No, but I hope to see him in September at the next general chapter. The last time we spoke was in 2018 at the chapter in Nigeria. When he was prior general, he helped our group in Brazil a lot, especially when there were tensions over pastoral policy. We were more in tune with the line of Liberation Theology, while other Augustinians were not so much. He told us he fully understood the path we were following, and in a moment of conflict, he showed us support and complete trust. We have always been very grateful for the stance he took toward us.
Returning to Brazil. In the colloquium, you said that, with rare exceptions, the current diocesan clergy in Brazil is, in general, sadly poor in human and spiritual terms. Why?
Young priests come from poor sectors of the population. In Brazil, being a priest still means social advancement, and many, when they reach the priesthood, place themselves in a position different from ours, who were trained to serve. There is a significant segment of the clergy who once again dress in cassocks and Roman collars, and you have to request an audience to speak with them. They are disconnected from reality and from social and political commitment. If Liberation Theology failed because it did not take much care of liturgy and spirituality, today's movement has a spirituality that is personally satisfying but not committed to social transformation.
Casaldáliga was a man with his eyes deeply fixed on Jesus, with extraordinary faith, dedicated to the causes of a region where peasants and Indigenous people were being expelled from their lands.
A transformation that other priests in Brazil were deeply involved in, such as Bishop Pedro Casaldàliga, with whom you lived for twenty years in São Félix. What did this experience with the prophet of the Amazon mean to you?
It was a grace from God. Pedro was a mystic; his social and political commitment was not born from an ideology but from his experience of faith. That was his strength. He was a man with his eyes deeply fixed on Jesus, with extraordinary faith, dedicated to the causes of a region where peasants and Indigenous people were being expelled from their lands by large estates. When Pedro arrived in São Félix, which was then a village of twenty houses on the banks of the Araguaia River, the military dictatorship was seizing the Amazon to sell it to large multinational corporations. In that context, one of the first things Pedro said to Brother Manuel upon seeing the suffering of the people was: "Either we leave or we face this." Pedros or Franciscos aren't born every day; they are very special people.
What virtues would you highlight about Casaldàliga as a leader?
He had many virtues. One of them was knowing how to surround himself with extraordinary pastoral workers. He had a great team: young people, educators, people from the political and pastoral fields, all of them well-suited to facing that turbulent reality. In Catalan, there's an expression that speaks of sanity and impetus: Pedro combined these two qualities. He is best known for his charisma, activism, poetry, prophecy... but at the same time, he had a fantastic practicality. He knew how to distinguish between those who served him and those who complicated things for him. He was threatened with death from all sides, but nothing kept him awake at night, and every day, after lunch, he would peacefully go for a siesta.
You lived with him in two stages, from 1980 to 1990, and from 2000 to 2010. You knew Casaldàliga in his prime, and Casaldàliga when he was afflicted with Parkinson's disease.
Indeed, I had the opportunity to live with Pedro, the great orator and missionary figure, for a time, and with Pedro during the last fifteen years, which were a total ordeal. He lost his vision and couldn't read or respond to emails. We had to read them and he dictated the answers to us. Then his Parkinson's disease progressed, and he lost his mobility to the point where we had to bathe him, feed him, and put him to bed. In the end, he spent the day unable to move, enduring the 40-degree heat of São Félix. Despite this situation, he never complained about anything. He referred to the disease as "Brother Parkinson." The Peter of that period was more admirable than the previous one.
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