By William C. Shelton

(The opinions and views expressed in the commentaries of The Somerville Times belong solely to the authors of those commentaries and do not reflect the views or opinions of The Somerville Times, its staff or publishers)

Throughout his visit to Cuba and the United States, certain observers in the media have commented on “contradictions” in Pope Francis’ message. Anticipating his speech before Congress, they speculated that both Republicans and Democrats would take turns cheering and sitting in stony silence.

In fact, the contradictions are in the embedded mental categories that observers impose on the world, not in the Pope’s message. Comprehending this requires understanding two things.

The first is that the essence of Francis’ message is love. He loves all of God’s creations, regardless of public policies that favor some over others. He loves the environment, “our common home. “ He loves the poor. And he loves all human beings, born and unborn.

Jesus had a lot to say about love. He told his followers, “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” (John 13:35) But Jesus’ love wasn’t just for those who agreed with him. He said, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.” (Matthew 5:44)

Jesus summed up his teachings and those of the prophets who preceded him in two commands:  Love God and love your neighbor as you love yourself. (Matthew 22:40) When a lawyer asked Jesus who his neighbor was, Jesus told a story about a Jewish traveler who was robbed, beaten, and left naked and “half dead” beside the road.

Two spiritual leaders of the victim’s own faith crossed the road to avoid the unpleasantness. But a Samaritan bound up his wounds, took him to an inn, and paid for his long-term care. (Matthew 10:30-37)

Samaritans were as despised by the Jews of that day as illegal immigrants are despised by certain Americans and Europeans today. But Jesus said that the Samaritan and the Jew were “neighbors” who should love each other.

And he made clear that love is pragmatic, not abstract. He told the rich to sell their goods and give them to the poor. When a wealthy young man became unhappy with that admonition, Jesus said, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.” (Matthew 19:24)

So after his congressional speech, Francis bypassed dining lavishly with the wealthy and powerful in favor of eating with and serving the homeless, thus evoking Jesus’ promise that “The last shall be first, and the first last.” (Matthew 20:16)

Francis understands that for love to be real, it must engage those loved as whole people, not as demographic groups, or opinion segments, or personas presented to obtain a job, or fill a role, or win a political office.

In recent columns I’ve written about how we become fully human in community, and how we lose community and might recreate it. Francis, too, tells us that, “We must regain the conviction that we need one another, that we have a shared responsibility for others and for the world”

He said that last week in Washington’s National Shrine Basilica. And he implied that what we find when we follow the path of love is not “fun,” or “happiness,” but joy. “Something deep within us invites us to rejoice and tells us not to settle for placebos which simply keep us comfortable.”

But all of us will encounter institutional constraints if we wholeheartedly follow Love’s path. Understanding Francis’ constraints is the second requirement for resolving his apparent “contradictions.”

He leads an institution that spans six continents and two millennia. Like the proverbial supertanker captain, he cannot abruptly and decisively change its direction, whether or not he may wish to.

Throughout Christianity’s first three centuries, being a Christian meant simultaneously being a Jew and often risking one’s life. But after Christianity became the Roman Empire’s state religion, becoming a Christian was no longer a life-risking commitment, but could be a means for those questing wealth and influence to find favor among the powerful.

Over the ensuing centuries, the Roman Catholic Church embraced a variety of doctrines that have nothing to do with Jesus’ message of love. Prohibitions against birth control, which do not exist in the Bible, became a Church tenet only on December 31, 1930.

Jesus said nothing against homosexuality. And the Jewish and Christian scriptures are both silent on the matter of abortion.

The Church has repudiated a variety of doctrines that contravened Jesus’ love, but which in past centuries were reinforced more brutally than the foregoing prohibitions are today. So it is reasonable to question whether today’s hurtful doctrines are eternal.

Francis told those who heard his homily at the Basilica to “Embrace life as it is, and not as you think it should be.” Heeding his own admonition, Francis must work with the Church, as it is, while doing what he realistically can to make it what it should be.

So when asked about homosexuality among priests, he did not repudiate Church doctrine. Nor did he repudiate Jesus’ love by reciting Church doctrine.  He said, “Who am I to judge?” Since who he is, is the Pope, the implications are profound.

In contrast, it is difficult for me to believe religious and political fundamentalists when they say they are guided by love. Some, for example, will insist that an undifferentiated mass of cells is a human being that cannot be aborted. Others will deny that an unborn child that has achieved some measure of consciousness is a human being worthy of life.

It seems to me that the love that Francis expounds would guide us to listen to each other and to the scientific evidence that is God’s creation. Doing so could produce caring solutions that reject both extremes, whether or not Francis is institutionally capable of accepting those solutions.

All of us in our own ways face both Francis’ dilemma and his opportunity because each of us functions within institutions that constrain what Abraham Lincoln called “our better angels.” Our daily challenge is to confront what the institutions are with what they realistically could be.

Thinking about how we do that, I remember a conversation I had with Junot Diaz at a Somerville Times Writers Festival a few years ago. When I asked him to write a dicho in my copy of his novel, he wrote:  “El sendero del amor es el único.”  That is, the path of love is the only one.