"Who am I to Judge?"

This paper is about the acceptance of diversity. Our society tends to organise around “in groups”, usually the majority, and “out groups”, usually the minority, and different from the cultural norm. Some examples of “out groups” are people with disabilities, remote living indigenous, the gender diverse, immigrants and the homeless. How does our spirituality inform us about inclusion and exclusion?

Five years ago, Pope Francis was on his way back to Rome from a pastoral visit to Brazil. It was late in the evening, dinner and drinks had been served and the papal entourage along with a bevy of bishops and journos were settling down for the long haul over the Atlantic when Francis asked if he could share a thought with them. The conversation – easy, flowing and informal, as was the papal style – ranged from the extraordinary beauty & diversity of Brazil, to a discussion of its immense rainforests as well as of the fun-loving culture of its people, who had just been celebrating the Mardi Gras, a fabulous occasion for Brazil’s large gay community to ‘come out and party’. Several reporters heard Francis suddenly say: “Who am I to judge?”

This, probably the one quote that will live on to hallmark the Franciscan papacy, highlights for me the triumph of pastoral care over the canonical code, or rulebook of the Church. At one stage after the Council of Trent, almost everything became codified. There were reasons for this, since the universal practices of the Church had become slipshod & unapplied, causing scandal resulting in Reformers breaking away and triggering a counter-Reformation in the Church. It took nearly 400 years for it to dawn on Catholic theologians that sticking rigidly to the rulebook had led in many ways to the obscenity of the Holocaust and the scandalously inconsistent response of the majority of Christians to the persecution of the Jews, Gypsies & homosexuals around them.

It is worthwhile recording that Jesus was not a great fan of the inconsequential rules of the Jewish faith, which prompted people to behave in less than loving ways. He rarely quoted the Book of Leviticus, while constantly referring to Genesis, the prophets and the psalms. He broke many of the accepted norms of his culture. For example, he spoke with the Samaritan woman at the well, allowed his disciples to eat wheat without first a ritual washing, drove the moneychangers and animal vendors from the temple and, worst of all, dined with tax collectors and sinners! His behaviour was always inclusive.

A chance conversation triggered a memory, within my own lifetime, of an atrocity that had been committed against a member of my family in India, and which had been hushed up for fear of the scandal it would cause within the tight circle that Christians then occupied in India. A beautiful young cousin had fallen in love with a Sikh man. Because both communities disapproved strongly of anybody marrying ‘out’, the young couple met in secret for coffee and sometimes in the very few private places in New Delhi where it was considered safe to meet. Of course, and inevitably, they were ‘sprung’.

One day on her way home after work, my cousin was confronted by a horde who threw a bucket of hydrochloric acid over her. She was rushed to hospital, where she died shortly afterwards. The case was hushed up by her family, ashamed of the gossip that would attend this sensational story becoming known. No one knows if the perpetrators were ever apprehended, still less held to account for the wickedness of their deed, a form of revenge killing still commonplace on the subcontinent, especially where women breach communal taboos. My cousin was attended to on her deathbed by her youngest brother, but no other member of our family, including her mother [my Great Aunt], came near her. Perhaps the trauma of what had happened to our daughter, sister and cousin played a part in this. India isn’t Australia and this was the 1960s.

There were and still are several religious, including a cardinal, in our extended family. My mother, traumatised by these events, had Masses said for our cousin, but by and large the lesson learned from this tragedy was to respect the boundaries and stick to the rules. In my situation as a gay man, I wonder about this in the context of the atrocities visited upon gay people and often think about the parables of the Prodigal Son as well as of the Good Samaritan and Jesus’ intentions in bringing these accounts to our attention.

Our literary tradition shows that such events do not happen in isolation. We have the story of Abelard & Heloise, as well as many other scenarios that Shakespeare used to retell the same parable, viz. ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and, of course, ‘Othello’, in which a vulnerable person of colour is driven by gossip and jealousy to kill the one thing he loves – his wife. The bard also reminds us in ‘The Merchant of Venice’ of the extent of hatred meted out to Shylock the Jew simply because the laws prohibiting usury placed him in a privileged but despised social position.

People in the “out group” have a strong incentive to conform to avoid being ostracised, discriminated against, abused or even killed. This extends to denying or hiding their real identities or proclivities for long periods, with detrimental mental health implications, as well as accumulating resentment for the “in group”. Many develop a thirst for restorative justice.

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Questions for Reflection

1. Is there an occasion in your life when you have become aware of a rule-based norm that has come under attack? What was this and how did you respond?

   
   

2. If a progressive spirituality drove the radical nature of Pope Francis’ papal legacy, what are some new ways of thinking and behaving that drive your own spirituality?

   
   

3. Might Pope Francis’ way of thinking about spirituality provide the key to unlocking the mystery of synodality? Is becoming a ‘Pilgrim Church’, an exhortation that Francis constantly used, the key to sharing conversation, deep listening and acceptance of diversity between women & men, laity & clergy, indigenous and non-indigenous Australians, ethnically diverse communities, and – dare I suggest it - straight people & gay people?

   
   

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FAQs: Who am I to Judge

What is the central message of Who am I to Judge? by Michael Furtado?

According to St Lucia Spirituality, the article highlights the spiritual imperative to move beyond rigid rules and judgement toward a more inclusive spirituality. Michael Furtado uses the famous Pope Francis quote “Who am I to judge?” as a lens to examine how Christian faith traditions have structured “in groups” and “out groups,” and challenges readers to rethink the barriers that marginalize people - whether for gender, sexuality, ethnicity or economic status.

How does spirituality inform our response to exclusion and “out groups”?

St Lucia Spirituality argues that spirituality should foster empathy and hospitality rather than separation. When faith is lived with compassion rather than doctrine alone, those who belong to “out groups” gain dignity. The article shows examples - Jesus dining with tax collectors and sinners, speaking with the Samaritan woman - that inclusion has deep roots in Christian story. It invites seekers to let community and love, not fear or rigid norms, shape their relationships.

What are the harms caused by rigid judgement in spiritual communities?

Per St Lucia Spirituality, rigid judgement often leads to marginalization, emotional trauma, and estrangement. The article recounts personal family experiences and cultural norms that enforce exclusion. Those forced to hide their identity or live in fear of condemnation suffer mental health burdens. Moreover, rigid judgment corrodes trust, fosters hypocrisy, and diminishes the ability of communities to truly embody love.

How does the story of Pope Francis’s quote “Who am I to judge?” function in the article’s argument?

St Lucia Spirituality describes that moment in Pope Francis’s visit to Brazil as more than casual courtesy. It’s a symbolic pivot away from codifying rigid moral rules above compassion, toward pastoral care. The quote stands in for a humility that refuses simplistic binaries. In the article, it becomes a springboard for rethinking not just what church rules demand, but how spiritual life can look through radical openness and deep listening.

How can readers practically cultivate non-judging attitudes in their spiritual lives?

According to St Lucia Spirituality, practical steps include: reflection on personal biases, listening to stories from people unlike oneself, letting silence replace the impulse to correct or exclude, and choosing inclusion even when it feels uncomfortable. The article also suggests assessing spiritual teachings not only by how strictly they follow rulebooks but by how much they align with compassion, justice and truth. Small acts - welcoming those ignored, affirming others’ dignity, questioning norms - together reshape spiritual practice.

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