The rationalization complex is an ego mechanism in which a person creates rational and socially acceptable explanations to justify behaviors, thoughts, or feelings that would otherwise generate conflict or anxiety. The inability to respond to marginalization or racism, for example, leads us to create a socially acceptable narrative to mask our refusal to engage with the problem.

We analyze, debate, and theorize, only to remain disconnected from the issue at hand.

My cousin Cristóbal’s recent visit to the parish made me think about the rationalization complex we have in the church.

“Rather than talking about Muslims, we must talk with Muslims.” These phrases have become the motto of the Archbishop of Rabat, Cardinal López Romero. During the Eucharist and subsequent dialogue with those present, he had to respond to the tiresome and repeated questions he received about the Islamic world, with the audience providing facts and information that the cardinal had to reinterpret. The questions were, in fact, pejorative statements about the Moroccan people. One of the figures the prelate provided was that of the approximately one million Moroccan citizens residing in Spain, four hundred thousand are contributors to Social Security.

The same reality, analyzed from the outside or experienced from within, is radically different. It doesn’t matter what the topic. Father Carlos Fuentes, Media Delegate for the Diocese of Mallorca, deals with many celebrities from the music world, as well as other prominent figures. He notes that the price of fame is being perceived as rare specimens, denied the treatment of normality. Even when he assists them as a priest, and shares this with his religious colleagues, they doubt the celebrities’ faith. As if they were always the characters they play, and therefore lacking spiritual needs.

Not to mention when it comes to other personal or social characteristics, such as poverty, addiction, or crime. Sin is confused with the sinner. The subject is denied the dignity of a person and is spoken of as non-human specimens. The cardinal’s motto can also be applied to any of these classifications. We could say that talking about young people is not the same as talking with young people.

We have developed a culture of reflection, analysis, and criticism, but not the culture of encounter that Pope Francis spoke of. In the encyclical Fratelli Tutti (on fraternity and social friendship), the Pope explains what the culture of encounter consists of. For him, it is a lifestyle that tends to shape that polyhedron that has many facets, many sides, but all forming a unity full of nuances. The image of the polyhedron used by the Pope represents a society where differences coexist, complementing, enriching, and illuminating each other. The culture of encounter refers to a lifestyle where we seek to encounter one another, build bridges, and project something that includes everyone. In the face of the various forms of nationalism, racism, xenophobia, gerontophobia, aporophobia, wars, and conflicts that sow death and destruction, Francis leaves us with the challenge of encounter as culture.

A few years ago, I attended a parish meeting where parishioners from the archpriesthood reflected on the welcome given to immigrants. Several groups had been working on the issue from a biblical and theological perspective. The general discussion focused on the measures the government should take. Analysis and the voices of the wisest were at the heart of the topic. There were more than one hundred participants. I presented the case of an immigrant who, after obtaining a residence permit and employment contract, was looking to leave the shared room he was staying in and want to rent a room of his own. When we called the ads for rooms for rent, they told us they were available. But when we gave their names and surnames, they changed their minds and problems arose, ultimately denying the possibility of renting the room. I asked if there was anyone among the attendees who had a room to rent. Many of them live in large apartments and live alone. No one came forward. Some dared to tell me that this was not the place to make that request. The discussion about welcoming immigrants continued along the same lines, with statements about the rights they are denied. It even ended with a manifesto.

Classification, the labeling of people, is innate to human beings. We define ourselves by differences. But when differences become derogatory, they undermine dignity.

It also happens that when we are insecure or dissatisfied with our identity, one of the ways to feel better is to demean others in dignity. Discrimination is the hidden face of the inferiority complex.

In Jesus’ society, as in our own, people are classified. Women are discriminated against compared to men, the tax collectors, Pharisees, Samaritans, and so on. In many cases, they correspond to archetypes of our time.

The Gospel from beginning to end is filled with transgressions of marginalization. Jesus breaks with the marginalizing separations. In some cases, he critiques the system that marginalizes. Consider the parable of the Good Samaritan, for example.

But above all, Jesus’ preaching is an encounter with those who are “special,” different: tax collectors and sinners, the Samaritan woman… or the shepherds at his birth. This encounter breaks down prejudices.

Marginalization isn’t just for religious or economic reasons. Illness, especially leprosy, and those who are grieving also contribute to isolation from those who consider themselves normal.

The lepers of our century may be mental illnesses mixed with addictions. Many of the transients, the lost vagrants, the discarded who live in our large cities, carry stories of mental difficulties exacerbated by the consumption of substances harmful to their health. Recovery centers and self-help groups have an important element in deep listening. The encounter with the person, overcoming the barriers of stigma. Therapy, in addition to establishing healthy skills and abilities, brings with it the recovery of belonging: being someone for someone. The marginalized, in Jesus’ time, unnameable, are rescued by the one who heals and touches them, overcoming the barriers that separate them from others. Through encounter, Jesus breaks down barriers.

Everyone has their theories and is capable of suggesting solutions. Few come into direct contact with any of them. Direct contact informs us of their procedures. In my first stage of working with the marginalized on the streets, inexperienced, I was part of the team of Sister Genoveva Massip, Daughter of Charity of Saint Vincent de Paul, the Catalan “Teresa of Calcutta.” I asked her for training. She responded with a phrase: “They will be your teachers.” Indeed, they taught me from the very beginning. I went from solving without listening to listening before solving. The first few nights I walked the streets of Barcelona, ​​I found a young man sleeping on the street. I offered him a place to stay at a hostel. I paid for three nights in advance. On the third night, I returned to the hostel and was informed that he hadn’t even stayed the first. I understood that my need for him to sleep in a decent place wasn’t what she was looking for at that moment.

Listening is what Pope Leo proposes, and from the beginning he has shown himself to be a bridge-builder between the different sensibilities within the Church. In his first addresses, specifically with the Curia workers, he urged Vatican employees to be “builders of unity (…) avoiding prejudice and also with a good dose of humor, as Pope Francis taught us.”

And he recalled that to “cooperate in the great cause of unity and love,” we must do so “first and foremost with our behavior in everyday situations, beginning also with the workplace.”

In his first extensive interview with Crux, given on July 30, 2025, he stated in response to a question about polarization, “synodality represents a possible antidote:  listening to others, reflecting together, walking together beyond differences, not only within the Church, but as a way of relating in the world.”

In a short time, he has welcomed religious leaders of different persuasions, achieving greater unity. According to Religión Digital, “Robert Prevost’s method of government: listening to people with such diverse backgrounds as Cardinal Burke, defender of the pre-conciliar liturgy, to Jesuit James Martin, activist in pastoral care for LGBTQ people.”