Leo XIV fulfills Benedict XVI’s dream at La Sapienza

Today, May 14, the Pope will make a five-mile journey across Rome. Though short in distance, it carries significant symbolic weight. He'll visit La Sapienza University, an Italian public institution. After stopping at the chapel and greeting the rector, Antonella Polimeni, he'll deliver a major address to students and faculty in the Aula Magna.

On this morning of Ascension Thursday — a public holiday at the Vatican, but not in Italy — the Pope's speech is expected to explore the relationship between faith and reason. This theme was deeply important to Benedict XVI, who was barred from entering this secular public university 18 years ago.

Invited by the rector at the time, Benedict XVI was scheduled to visit the prestigious Roman university on January 17, 2008, to deliver a speech for the inauguration of the academic year. The German pontiff, for years a university professor, was recognized as a rigorous scholar, far removed from the oversimplified image of a doctrinal watchdog often assigned to him.

Yet, as soon as the visit was announced, protests erupted among some teachers and students. Sixty-seven professors, mostly from the physics department, sent a letter to the rector demanding the event's cancellation.

At the heart of their criticism was a 1990 lecture the then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger had given at the very same university. In it, he quoted the philosopher of science Paul Feyerabend regarding the Galileo trial. Opponents accused the future pope of supporting the idea that the Church's condemnation of Galileo was “rational and just.”

This interpretation quickly spread through the Italian media, turning the visit into a national controversy. Just as with his 2006 Regensburg address — where his nuanced quotation of a Byzantine emperor about Islam was taken out of context — Benedict XVI's words were weaponized and distorted.

In reality, the context of the quote was much more complex. Ratzinger wasn't defending the Inquisition. He was discussing the modern crisis of confidence in science, citing Feyerabend as a symptom of a critical shift within the contemporary philosophy of science.

However, in the tense climate of the time, marked by debates on secularism and the Church's public role, this nuance quickly vanished. Students occupied the rector's office at La Sapienza and announced protests for Benedict's visit. Facing the risk of clashes, the Vatican ultimately decided to cancel the trip.

The cancellation sparked astonishment across Italy. Much of the political class, including the secular left, condemned what they saw as intellectual intolerance. President Giorgio Napolitano, a former member of the Communist Party, publicly expressed his solidarity with the Pope. Meanwhile, the writer and playwright Dario Fo, famous for his satirical anti-Catholicism, defended Benedict XVI's right to speak at the university.

The affair revealed a glaring paradox. Those who accused the Church of historically censoring science were now themselves accused of shutting down intellectual debate.

In the speech he had prepared — which he ultimately delivered in writing — Benedict XVI insisted on the need for dialogue between disciplines. He emphasized the university's calling as a place for the shared pursuit of truth. The Pope argued that scientific reason risks impoverishing itself when it cuts ties with ethical or metaphysical inquiry.

However, the incident also opened the door to dialogue. Several atheist and agnostic intellectuals engaged in exceptionally rich exchanges with Benedict XVI. Among them was the mathematician Piergiorgio Odifreddi, arguably Italy's most famous contemporary science popularizer and rationalist activist. Over the years, an unexpected intellectual relationship blossomed between the two men.

In 2011, Odifreddi published a lengthy critique addressed to Benedict XVI. Many expected a brutal confrontation. Instead, the Pope replied personally in a now-famous letter. He praised his opponent's intelligence and intellectual honesty while debating some of his analyses point by point. This remarkably courteous dialogue profoundly surprised the Italian public.

Odifreddi himself gradually admitted to discovering in Ratzinger an interlocutor of immense philosophical culture, far removed from the caricature of a dogmatist hostile to reason. After Benedict XVI's death, the mathematician even published a deeply respectful and emotional tribute, describing a relationship that had grown almost friendly despite their fundamental disagreements.

The La Sapienza affair left a paradoxical and mixed legacy. Initially, the canceled visit gave the impression of an irreconcilable divorce between science and faith. Yet, the following years revealed something else entirely: the possibility of a civilized space where certainties can be debated without mutual exclusion.

The episode serves as a reminder of how heavily laden with history, passion, and misunderstanding the relationship between science and religion remains. But it also proves that the fiercest oppositions can sometimes lead to profoundly deep dialogues. In this light, certainly Benedict XVI's humility shines as an important element for allowing dialogue to flower and progress.

Pope Leo XIV's visit now 18 years later also serves as a stepping stone toward his upcoming encyclical on contemporary anthropological challenges. According to Italian media, the document is expected to be titled Magnifica Humanitas (Magnificent Humanity). The Pope has already been dropping this phrase into his recent speeches and homilies.

The current Pope's scientific background — he is a former mathematics professor — fosters a climate of reconciliation between faith and science. When addressing this community of scientists and researchers, both believers and nonbelievers, he will likely highlight their work and efforts as an expression of a “magnificent humanity,” provided they embrace the ethical limits required by a respect for life.

Eighteen years after his canceled visit, it's pleasant to imagine that Benedict XVI might follow this speech with deep joy — watching from heaven, surrounded by other great scholars who have left their mark on the history of thought.