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    Jürgen Moltmann, Who Reconciled Religion With Suffering, Dies at 98

    Considered one of the leading Christian theologians of the 20th century, he insisted that any established set of beliefs had to confront the implications of Auschwitz.Jürgen Moltmann, who drew on his searing experiences as a German soldier during World War II to construct transformative ideas about God, Jesus and salvation in a fallen world, making him one of the leading Protestant theologians of the 20th century, died on Monday at his home in Tübingen, in southwest Germany. He was 98.His daughter Anne-Ruth Moltmann-Willisch confirmed the death.Dr. Moltmann, who spent most of his career as a professor at the University of Tübingen, played a central role in Christianity’s struggle to come to grips with the Nazi era, insisting that any established set of beliefs had to confront the theological implications of Auschwitz.As a teenage conscript in the German Army, he barely escaped death during an Allied bombing raid on Hamburg in 1943. The horrors of the war led him to chart a path between those who insisted that faith was now meaningless and those who wanted a return to the doctrines of the past as if the Nazi era had never occurred.Though his work ranged widely, including ecological and feminist theology, he specialized in the branch of theology known as eschatology, which is concerned with the disposition of the soul after death and the end of the world, when Christians believe that Christ will return to earth.Dr. Moltmann outlined his eschatology, and established his reputation, with a trilogy of books, beginning with “The Theology of Hope” in 1964.“Theology of Hope” (1964), the first book in a trilogy, established Dr. Moltmann’s reputation.Fortress PressDr. Moltmann’s next work, “The Crucified God” (1972), tackled the question: Does God suffer, or, as the all-powerful being, is he incapable of experiencing pain and sorrow?Fortress PressWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Backlash to Anitta’s Music Video Evokes a Painful History in Brazil

    Outrage over the pop star’s new music video brought Brazil’s struggle with religious intolerance into view.Anitta, the popular Brazilian singer, was the target of intense backlash over the release of a music video in an episode that highlighted persistent religious intolerance and racism in Brazil.The furor began on Monday, when the 31-year-old pop star shared a preview of the video for her new song, “Aceita” (“Accept” in Portuguese), with her 65 million followers on Instagram. Within two hours, she lost 200,000 followers, she said.The video depicts the practices of her faith, Candomblé. Her Instagram account showed images of the artist dressed in religious garb with a Candomblé priest and stills of spiritual items and other iconography associated with the faith.Candomblé is considered a syncretic religion, meaning it draws from various faiths and traditions.It evolved from a mix of Yoruba, Fon and Bantu beliefs brought to what is now Brazil by enslaved West African people during the colonial expansion of the Portuguese empire, scholars said.Although they are practiced by only 2 percent of the population, Afro-Brazilian religions such as Candomblé make up a disproportionate number of reported religious intolerance cases, according to a 2022 U.S. State Department report on religious freedom in Brazil.For centuries, Candomblé was relegated to the shadows. It was considered demonic sorcery and a public danger in an overwhelmingly Catholic society.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Did the Israel-Hamas War Affect Your Seder? Tell Us.

    We want to know if the war influenced your Seder rituals.For an article later today, The New York Times is hoping to learn more about how the Israel-Hamas war may have affected Seders last night, or preparations for Seders tonight or later.If you participated in a Seder where rituals were influenced or changed by the war, and you’re interested in sharing your story, we’d love to hear from you about your experience. Were different items placed on the Seder plate? Were discussions about the war part of the Seder?We will not publish any part of your submission without contacting you first. We may use your contact information to follow up with you.Have your Seder rituals been influenced by the Israel-Hamas war? More

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    No Bias Found in F.B.I. Report on Catholic Extremists

    Republicans claimed the bureau’s memo was evidence of an anti-conservative strain among F.B.I. ranks, but an internal investigation failed to uncover any “malicious intent.”A memo by the F.B.I. warning of possible threats posed by “radical-traditionalist” Catholics violated professional standards but showed “no evidence of malicious intent,” according to an internal Justice Department inquiry made public on Thursday.Republicans have seized on the 11-page memo, which was leaked early last year, as a talking point. They have pointed to the document to sharply criticize the bureau and suggested, without evidence, that it was part of a broader campaign by the Biden administration to persecute Catholics and conservatives over their beliefs.The memo was quickly withdrawn after being leaked, and top law enforcement officials have repeatedly distanced themselves from it.The assessment by the Justice Department’s watchdog found that agents in the F.B.I.’s office in Richmond, Va., improperly conflated the religious beliefs of activists with the likelihood they would engage in domestic terrorism, making it appear as if they were being targeted for the faith.But after a 120-day review of the incident ordered by Congress, Michael E. Horowitz, the department’s inspector general — drawing from the F.B.I. report and interviews conducted by his own investigators — found no evidence that “anyone ordered or directed” anyone to investigate Catholics because of their religion.A statement from the F.B.I. on Thursday said the inspector general’s review aligned with the bureau’s own accounting.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    The Psychedelic Evangelist

    Before he died last year, Roland Griffiths was arguably the world’s most famous psychedelics researcher. Since 2006, his work has suggested that psilocybin, found in magic mushrooms, can induce mystical experiences, and that those experiences, in turn, can help treat anxiety, depression, addiction and the terror of death.Dr. Griffiths and his colleagues at Johns Hopkins University received widespread recognition among scientists and the popular press, helping to pull the psychedelic field from the deep backwater of the 1960s hippie movement. This second wave of research on the hallucinogenic compounds bolstered political campaigns to decriminalize them and spurred biotech investment.Dr. Griffiths was known to friends and colleagues as an analytical thinker and a religious agnostic, and he warned fellow researchers against hype. But he also saw psychedelics as more than mere medicines: Understanding them could be “critical to the survival of the human species,” he said in one talk. Late in life, he admitted to taking psychedelics himself, and said he wanted science to help unlock their transformative power for humanity.Perhaps unsurprisingly, he held a vaunted, even prophetic role among psychonauts, the growing community of psychedelic believers who want to bring the drugs into mainstream society. For years, critics have denounced the outsize financial and philosophical influence of these advocates on the insular research field. And some researchers have quietly questioned whether Dr. Griffiths, in his focus on the mystical realm, made some of the same mistakes that doomed the previous era of psychedelic science.Now, one of his longtime collaborators is airing a more forceful critique. “Dr. Griffiths has run his psychedelic studies more like a ‘new-age’ retreat center, for lack of a better term, than a clinical research laboratory,” reads an ethics complaint filed to Johns Hopkins last fall by Matthew Johnson, who worked with Dr. Griffiths for nearly 20 years but resigned after a charged dispute with colleagues.Roland Griffiths, director of the Center for Psychedelic and Consciousness Research at Johns Hopkins, in 2021.Matt Roth for The New York TimesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Iowa Pastors Say Video Depicting Trump as Godly Is ‘Very Concerning’

    A viral video praising former President Donald J. Trump has offended a key Iowa constituency in the lead-up to next week’s critical Iowa caucuses: faith leaders.The video, which Mr. Trump first posted to Truth Social last Friday and then played before taking the stage at several rallies in Iowa over the weekend, is called “God Made Trump.” In starkly religious, almost messianic tones, it depicts the former president as the vessel of a higher power sent to save the nation.“God looked down on his planned paradise and said, ‘I need a caretaker,’ so God gave us Trump,” begins the video, which appears to use artificial intelligence to mimic the voice of Paul Harvey, a conservative radio broadcaster who died in 2009. Mr. Trump, it adds, “is a shepherd to mankind who won’t ever leave nor forsake them.”Since the video was posted, it has been widely shared, racked up millions of views and drawn a lot of attention. But much of that attention has been negative, particularly among Iowa’s pastors, some of whom said they were shocked and offended by the content.“It was very concerning,” said Pastor Joseph Brown of the Marion Avenue Baptist Church in Washington, Iowa, a town of 7,500 people about 40 minutes south of Iowa City. He took issue, he said, with how it used language plucked from the Bible — such as describing Mr. Trump’s arms as “strong” yet “gentle” — to compare Mr. Trump directly to God, rather than a servant of a higher power.“The original sin of Satan or Lucifer is not that he wanted to take over God’s position but that he wanted to be like God. There is only one god, and it’s not Trump or any other man,” said Mr. Brown, who voted for Mr. Trump in 2016 and 2020 but says he will not this year.The opinions of religion leaders like Mr. Brown carry considerable weight in Iowa. More than three-quarters of the state’s population identifies as Christian, according to the Pew Research Center, and 28 percent of the population describes themselves as evangelicals — both measures are well above the national average. What’s more, the preponderance of voters in Iowa primary elections have historically been evangelicals.Mr. Trump, who rarely attends church, has nonetheless managed to gain the support of a large swath of the nation’s faithful — particularly less traditional, non-churchgoing Christians. But the cohort has not universally embraced him.A high-profile example came in November, when the Iowa evangelical leader Bob Vander Plaats endorsed one of his rivals in the primary race, Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida.For pastors like Darran Whiting of Liberty Baptist Church in Cedar Rapids, who say they would never vote for Mr. Trump, the video only underscores why.“God has ordained servant leadership, not the arrogant, self-serving righteous leadership that particular video portrays,” said Mr. Whiting, who plans to vote for Mr. DeSantis. He noted that while Mr. Trump’s campaign did not make the video, the former president’s decision to share it speaks to his endorsement of its message.The clip’s authors are members of the Dilley Meme Team, an organized collective of video producers who call themselves “Trump’s Online War Machine.” The group’s leader, Brenden Dilley, describes himself as Christian and a man of faith, but says he has never read the Bible and does not attend church. He has said that Mr. Trump has “God-tier genetics” and, in response to outcry over the “God Made Trump” video, he posted a meme depicting Mr. Trump as Moses parting the Red Sea.Other members of the meme team frequently express religious faith, and one, a musician named Michael Beatty, has recorded several albums of original Christian songs. Multiple passages in “God Made Trump” hew closely to language from the Bible, and they are delivered in a voice that sounds nearly identical to Mr. Harvey’s when he spoke at the 1978 Future Farmers of America convention. That speech was called “So God Made a Farmer.”A different oratory by Mr. Harvey, 1965’s “If I Were the Devil,” is the seeming inspiration for another video created by the Dilley Meme Team that went viral last summer. Called “If I Were the Deep State,” it also features a voice-over that sounds like Mr. Harvey, a symbol of Midwestern practically and old-fashioned conservative values, in this case delivering ominous lines about fraudulent elections, corrupt prosecutors and the medical establishment.“If I was the Deep State, you would fear to ever resist me,” the video intones. “If I was the Deep State, you would wish I was really the devil.” More

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    Why Fundamentalists Love Trump

    I just finished reading Tim Alberta’s masterly new book, “The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism.” It’s a powerful and emotionally resonant account of the transformation in evangelical politics that has brought us to the current moment: A godless man, Donald Trump, may now possess more devoted support from white evangelical Christians than any other president in the history of the United States. And most worrisome of all, that support is now disproportionately concentrated among the most churchgoing segment of the Republican electorate.One of the troubling aspects of the Trump era for me, as a churchgoing evangelical, has been watching the evolution of his support among white evangelicals. During the 2016 primaries, I took some solace in the fact that Trump’s support seemed to decline the more a voter went to church. According to the 2016 American National Election Studies Pilot Study, he received majority support from white evangelicals who seldom or never attended church, but he received barely over a third of the votes of white evangelicals who attended weekly.As we headed into the general election, a self-justifying narrative emerged. Countless churchgoing evangelicals told friends and neighbors that Trump had been their last choice among Republicans but that they had to vote for him against Hillary Clinton as the only pro-life option remaining.Soon enough, however, the churchgoing dynamic flipped. I noticed the change among people I knew before I saw it in the data. After Trump won, folks in the pews warmed up to him considerably, especially those who were most firmly ensconced in evangelical America. Most home-schooling families I knew became militantly pro-Trump. I watched many segments of Christian media become militantly pro-Trump. And I always noticed the same trend: the more fundamentalist the Christians, the more likely they were to be all in.Then the data started to confirm my observations. In 2018, Paul Djupe, a Denison University professor, and Ryan Burge, a statistician and associate professor at Eastern Illinois University, reported that Republican approval for Trump was positively correlated with church attendance: The more often people went to church, the more likely they were to strongly approve of Trump. By 2020, white evangelicals who attended church monthly or more were more likely to support Trump than evangelical voters who attended rarely or not at all.I’m certainly not arguing that all regular churchgoers are fundamentalists, but in my experience fundamentalists are virtually always regular churchgoers. To understand why they support Trump, it’s important to understand fundamentalism more broadly and to understand how Trump fits so neatly within the culture of fundamentalist Christianity.For some readers, that might be a head-spinning idea. How on earth could a secular, twice-divorced, philandering reality television star fit in neatly with fundamentalist Christians? It makes no sense until you understand that the true distinction between fundamentalism and mainstream beliefs isn’t what fundamentalists believe but how fundamentalists believe. As Richard Land, a former president of the Southern Baptist Convention’s Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission, once told me, “Fundamentalism is far more a psychology than a theology.” That’s why, for example, you can have competing Christian fundamentalisms, competing Muslim fundamentalisms and secular movements that possess fundamentalist characteristics.I grew up in a church that most would describe as fundamentalist, and I’ve encountered fundamentalism of every stripe my entire life. And while fundamentalist ideas can often be quite variable and complex, I’ve never encountered a fundamentalist culture that didn’t combine three key traits: certainty, ferocity and solidarity.Certainty is the key building block. The fundamentalist mind isn’t clouded by doubt. In fact, when people are fully captured by the fundamentalist mind-set, they often can’t even conceive of good-faith disagreement. To fundamentalists, their opponents aren’t just wrong but evil. Critics are derided as weak or cowards or grifters. Only a grave moral defect can explain the failure to agree.That certainty breeds ferocity. Indeed, ferocity — not piety — is a principal trait of every truly fundamentalist movement I’ve ever encountered. Ferocity is so valuable to fundamentalism that it can cover a multitude of conventional Christian sins. Defending Trump in 2016, Robert Jeffress, the pastor of First Baptist Dallas, an evangelical megachurch, explained, “Frankly, I want the meanest, toughest son of a gun I can find. And I think that’s the feeling of a lot of evangelicals.”Alberta captures this rage well in his book. He tells a gut-wrenching anecdote about receiving a nasty note in 2019 at the funeral of his father, a pastor. After Alberta spoke at the service, he was handed the note from a member of the congregation condemning him as part of an “evil plot” to “undermine God’s ordained leader of the United States” and demanding that he seek absolution by investigating the “deep state.” This would be a strange message to direct at a journalist under any circumstance. But to do so at his father’s funeral is grotesque.Yet certainty and ferocity are nothing without solidarity. It’s the sense of shared purpose and community that makes any form of fundamentalism truly potent. There is an undeniable allure to the idea that you’re joining a community that has achieved an understanding of life’s mysteries or discovered a path to resolving injustice. As angry as fundamentalists may feel, at the same time, there is true joy among comrades in the foxhole — at least as long as they remain comrades.I’m reminded of an infamous quote by Mike Huckabee, a former Baptist pastor, regarding the necessity of loyalty. Explaining Trump’s hostility toward Ron DeSantis, Huckabee said, “I think there are two virtues — loyalty and confidentiality. Be loyal to the people who helped you and learn how to keep your mouth shut.”Again, that’s not piety. It’s solidarity.When you recognize the psychology of fundamentalism, fundamentalist Christian enthusiasm for Trump makes considerably more sense. His fundamentalist supporters are certain that he is fulfilling a divine purpose. They are ferocious in their response to opponents, especially those Christians they believe to be weak or squishes. And they experience great joy in their motivated, activist solidarity.But the keys to fundamentalist success are also the source of its ultimate failure. Certainty, ferocity and solidarity can combine to create powerful social and political movements. They can have a steamrolling effect in institutions because their opponents — almost by definition — have less certainty, less ferocity and less solidarity.We’ve seen this phenomenon in both secular and religious spaces across the political spectrum. A small number of extremely confident and aggressive people can turn an organization upside down. Political activists who possess fundamentalist intensity can push through resistance — at least until their inherent intolerance creates sufficient backlash to trigger real opposition.That’s how fundamentalism fails. Certainty, which gives so much purpose, ultimately struggles in the face of complex realities. Ferocity, which allows fundamentalists to bully and intimidate opponents, also limits the ability to win converts. And solidarity, which creates community, can become stifling, as it encourages conformity and punishes those who raise good-faith questions.Why do so many fundamentalists love Trump? Because in his certainty, ferocity and demands of loyalty, he’s a far more culturally familiar figure than a person of restraint and rectitude such as the departing senator Mitt Romney, who has the piety of a true believer but does not possess the ferocity of the fundamentalist. Thus Romney was culturally out of step with the millions of Christians who wanted, in the words of Jeffress, “the meanest, toughest son of a gun” they could find.That’s why Trumpism, too, is ultimately doomed to fail. It’s engineered to destroy, not to build. The very characteristics that give it life also plant the seeds of its destruction. And so as we watch the continued marriage between Trumpism and fundamentalism dominate the right, the proper question isn’t whether fundamentalism will permanently remake American culture in its own image. Rather, it’s how much damage it will do before it collapses under the weight of its own rage and sin. More

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    Javier Milei, el candidato de Argentina que ha insultado al papa

    El candidato favorito para ser el próximo presidente de Argentina tiene un largo historial de ataques contra uno de sus compatriotas más famosos.Javier Milei, un libertario de extrema derecha que lidera las encuestas en las elecciones presidenciales de Argentina este mes, ha hecho muchas declaraciones polémicas en los últimos años como cuando afirmó que los humanos no causaron el cambio climático, cuando dijo que la gente debería poder vender sus órganos o cuando aseveró que la moneda de su país “no sirve ni para abono”.Pero, para muchos argentinos, ha hecho algo mucho peor: atacar al papa.En 2020, Milei, quien se identifica como católico, calificó al papa Francisco de “imbécil” y dijo que “es el representante del maligno en la Tierra”. El año pasado, Milei dijo que el papa siempre está “parado del lado del mal” porque apoya los impuestos. Y el mes pasado, en una entrevista con el expresentador de Fox News Tucker Carlson, Milei dijo que el papa “tiene afinidad por los comunistas asesinos” y viola los Diez Mandamientos al defender la “justicia social”.Son palabras atrevidas para un hombre que intenta ser el presidente de Argentina, donde casi dos de cada tres personas se identifican como católicas, donde el Estado es oficialmente católico y el papa argentino es, para muchos, un héroe nacional.Pero Milei —quien cantó en una banda que tocaba versiones de los Rolling Stones, además de ser un economista libertario, comentarista de televisión y político— no es el típico candidato presidencial.Se ha postulado con poca estructura de partido a su alrededor. Ha prometido diezmar el gobierno que aspira a dirigir. Promete fuertes recortes en los servicios sociales. Quiere deshacerse de la moneda nacional.Y en vez de hacer campaña con su esposa e hijos, la familia inmediata de Milei está formada por su hermana (que dirige su campaña), su novia (una actriz que se hizo famosa por imitar a su archirrival política) y sus cinco perros mastín (que son clones de su anterior perro).El planteamiento es poco ortodoxo, pero funciona. En agosto, Milei ganó las primarias abiertas del país con el 30 por ciento de los votos, por delante de los candidatos del partido de centroizquierda que gobierna el país y del partido conservador tradicional. Desde entonces, ha seguido liderando las encuestas y los analistas dicen que es probable que logre los votos necesarios en las elecciones del domingo para pasar a una segunda vuelta o ganar los comicios.Pero sus comentarios del pasado aún lo persiguen.“Habló mal del papa”, dijo María Vera, de 47 años, vendedora de empanadas en una villa miseria llamada Villa 21-24, en el sur de Buenos Aires. “Si Milei no quiere tener respeto al padre, no sé a quién”. Ella no va a votar por él, dijo.En una carretera que conduce a un barrio popular, las paredes estaban cubiertas de carteles con el rostro del papa y un mensaje claro: “Milei lo odia. El pueblo lo ama. ¿Vos dónde te parás?”.Carteles en una villa ensalzando al papa y afirmando que Milei lo odia.Sarah Pabst para The New York TimesEl Vaticano ha guardado silencio sobre el asunto y no respondió a una solicitud de comentarios. Pero en Argentina, los líderes eclesiásticos están contratacando.El mes pasado, algunos de los principales sacerdotes católicos de Argentina organizaron una misa en la Villa 21-24 para expiar los “insultos indignos” de Milei hacia el papa. Levantaron un altar afuera de la iglesia y 30 sacerdotes leyeron una declaración de apoyo al papa Francisco, mientras los feligreses llenaban la calle.El líder de la iglesia, el padre Lorenzo de Vedia, conocido como padre Toto, dijo que gran parte de su rebaño sigue sacando a relucir los comentarios de Milei. Afirmó que incluso la gente que no está tan involucrada en la vida cotidiana de la Iglesia, está ofendida, todavía más que “tiene posibilidad de ser presidente”, dijo.Sus oponentes han intentado aprovechar la polémica.Sergio Massa, ministro de Economía argentino, que aparece en las encuestas en segundo lugar, después de Milei, aprovechó su única oportunidad de interpelarlo durante un debate celebrado este mes para preguntarle sobre el papa. “Ofendiste al jefe de la Iglesia” , le dijo. “Quiero pedirte que aproveches estos 45 segundos para pedirle perdón al papa, que es el argentino más importante de la historia”.Milei trató de desestimar sus comentarios diciendo que los hizo antes de entrar en política, aunque varios han sido hechos desde que fue elegido para el Congreso en 2021. También dijo que se había disculpado con el papa, aunque el Times no pudo encontrar un registro de eso y su campaña no pudo proporcionar detalles específicos.“Si me equivoco, no tengo problema en repetir que estoy arrepentido”, dijo Milei a su oponente en el debate. “Dejá de chicanear y dedicate a bajar la inflación”.El padre Lorenzo de Vedia en la iglesia de la que es párroco en la Villa 21-24 de Buenos Aires. Dijo que sus feligreses se habían sentido ofendidos por los comentarios de Milei sobre el papa.Sarah Pabst para The New York TimesAlgunas personas que alguna vez fueron cercanas a Milei han criticado sus comentarios sobre el papa. Eduardo Eurnekian, uno de los empresarios más prominentes de Argentina y antiguo jefe de Milei cuando era economista dijo en una entrevista de radio que los comentarios de Milei “están completamente fuera de lugar”, y añadió: “El papa es el papa, tiene una responsabilidad enorme y además hace 2000 años que estamos respetando la figura por sus principios religiosos y sus ideas”.Pero otras personas —y votantes— parecen menos inquietas con sus declaraciones.En la pequeña localidad de Chicoana, al norte de Argentina, Daniel Mamani, de 64 años, ha representado por más de una década a Jesucristo en las celebraciones de Pascua de la población.Aunque los comentarios de Milei sobre el papa lo hicieron sentir incómodo, dijo, tiene la intención de votar por él porque el país necesita un cambio. “Tendrá que pagar por sus deudas, ¿no? O sea, con el Señor de arriba”, dijo Mamani, un mecánico. “Me interesa en la parte que nos traiga a la Argentina un bienestar”.Daniel Mamani, un mecánico, afirma que planea votar por Milei pese a las opiniones del candidato sobre el papa.Sarah Pabst para The New York TimesLilia Lemoine, amiga de Milei y peluquera que se postula al Congreso en su partido, dijo que ella y Milei han hablado durante mucho tiempo sobre lo que describió como las posiciones izquierdistas del papa.“Pienso exactamente lo mismo que él”, dijo refiriéndose a Milei. El papa “apoya el comunismo y la ideología de género, y no creo que en eso consista el catolicismo”. Y añadió: “Javier se disculpó por lo que dijo, pero yo no lo haría”.Lemoine dijo que Milei también se había ido alejando de la Iglesia católica de otras maneras. Afirmó que él “ahora estudia cábala”, una forma de misticismo judío. “Se hizo muy amigo de un par de rabinos”.De hecho, después de que Milei ganara un escaño en el Congreso de Argentina en 2021, varios medios de comunicación argentinos lo citaron diciendo que estaba considerando convertirse al judaísmo y que aspiraba a “llegar a ser el primer presidente judío de la historia argentina”. La campaña de Milei negó que hubiera dicho eso.En agosto, en una entrevista con el diario argentino La Nación, Milei dijo que, en muchos sentidos, se sentía judío. “No voy a la iglesia, voy al templo’’, dijo. “No hablo con sacerdotes, tengo un rabino de cabecera y estudio la Torá. Se me reconoce internacionalmente como amigo de Israel y como estudioso de la Torá”. El mes pasado, Milei dijo que fue a Miami a pasar el sabbat con amigos y luego voló a Nueva York para reunirse con un rabino.Sin embargo, ha seguido describiéndose como católico, y ha apostado por posiciones más en línea con la política del Vaticano que sus oponentes, incluyendo el objetivo de prohibir el aborto, que fue legalizado en Argentina en 2020.El papa Francisco nació como Jorge Mario Bergoglio en Buenos Aires en 1936. Desde 1998 hasta su elección como papa en 2013, fue el más alto funcionario católico de Argentina, conocido por su trabajo con los pobres.El papa Francisco, entonces cardenal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, en el metro de Buenos Aires en 2008. Es el primer papa del continente americano.Pablo Leguizamon/Associated PressNo es la primera vez que el papa ha tenido tensiones con algún político. Su firme apoyo a las posiciones del Vaticano en cuestiones sociales como el aborto, el matrimonio entre personas del mismo sexo y las adopciones por parte de parejas homosexuales, también lo convirtieron en una especie de rival político de Néstor Kirchner y Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, expresidentes de izquierda de Argentina.En 2010, cuando el gobierno de Cristina Fernández de Kirchner apoyó la legalización del matrimonio igualitario, Francisco, que aún no era papa, calificó la ley como “una maniobra del diablo”. Kirchner replicó que la postura de la Iglesia era “medieval”.Las críticas de Milei han sido mucho más duras. Ha llamado al papa Francisco “zurdo asqueroso”, “comunista impresentable” y un “potato” (el nombre en inglés del tubérculo papa).Durante sus 10 años como el primer papa del continente americano, Francisco ha visitado todos los países vecinos de Argentina, pero no ha regresado a su patria. Se ha especulado ampliamente que ha evitado su país de origen para mantenerse al margen de su política polarizante.Pero Francisco afirmó que planea volver a casa el próximo año.¿Quién podría darle la bienvenida? Milei.Natalie Alcoba More