1
MARY BALL MARTÍNEZ
of the
CATHOLIC
CHURCH
2
Pagination Note
This page blank
in the 4th edition of book
All pages in this file
conform to book pages
3
MARY BALL MARTÍNEZ
The
UNDERMINING
of the
CATHOLIC
CHURCH
Christian Book Club of America
Post Office Box 900566
Palmdale, California 93590-0566
2007
4
By the same author:
FROM ROME URGENTLY
Copyright © 1991 by Mary Ball Martínez
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be
reproduced without written permission from the publisher,
except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in
connection with a review.
Library of Congress Catalog Card (U.S.A.)
N u m b e r 9 1 - 0 9 0 3 5 5
ISBN 3-929170-29-9
First edition, February 1991
Second edition, August 1991
Third edition, August 1998
Fourth edition, 2007
This Fourth Printing/Edition is produced
with permission and without any changes
made to the preceding edition.
C.B.C., 2007
Printed in the United States of America
5
CONTENTS
I METAMORPHOSIS ...........................................................9
II CHRONICLE: 1903-1963.............................................. 29
Forming an Alliance ............................................................... 31
Suffering a Setback ................................................................ 40
Starting Again ......................................................................... 45
Quelling the French ................................................................ 52
Quelling the Mexicans ........................................................... 56
Heading Toward War ............................................................. 63
Digging Deeper ...................................................................... 73
Safeguarding the Marxists ..................................................... 78
Quashing the Mind ................................................................. 89
Savaging Tradition ................................................................. 95
Gathering for the Kill ............................................................106
Collecting the Signatures ......................................................112
III MEN AT THE TOP .........................................................121
John XXIII................................................................... 123
Pius XII ....................................................................... 127
Paul VI .....................................................................................133
John Paul I ................................................................... 137
John Paul II .............................................................................145
IV REALITY IN THE NINETIES................................................161
Control ..................................................................................163
Anathema ...............................................................................171
Diaspora .................................................................................180
New Catholic, Old Catholic ..................................................191
Postscript ............................................................................. 204
Sources ................................................................................ 210
Bibliography ....................................................................... 211
Index ...................................................................................................214
6
To the Traditionalists,
those Roman Catholics
scattered over the world
who are resisting every effort
to take from them
the Faith of their fathers
7
I
METAMORPHOSIS
8
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in the 4th edition of book
9
In Rome the hours before dawn are never really warm,
even in summer. It was the vigil of Pentecost and virtually
summer (the great movable feasts came late in the year
1971) when some four thousand men and women from many
parts of the world knelt through the night on chill
flagstones below the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica. In the
immense circle of the piazza, only dimly lit by an
uncertain moon and a few electric bulbs hidden high
among the all-embracing Bernini columns, they would
have looked from above, even in such numbers, like small
huddled shadows.
Ahead, as if it were the object of their prayers, the
great facade, secure atop its thirty-eight steps, immutable
now for four hundred years, its magnificent stones
successors to lesser stones, said to cover the bones of the
Galilean fisherman, Simon called Peter. Here was the
core of Christendom, the Rock and the tangible sign of
Christian permanence. For the kneeling pilgrims the darkness
itself added dimension and wonder to the wall the Basilica
made, a wall to hold back not just the dawn that would soon
come out of the East, but a wall to hold back all the false
doctrines on earth. Hardly a handful among the crowd
would have known that already behind the brave facade a
hollowing-out process, an eating away of strength and
substance, had been going on for more than half a century,
that the Catholic Church had been undermined.
10
All of them knew that something was wrong; otherwise
they would not have joined the pilgrimage. In France, in
Germany, England, Argentina, the United States, Australia,
each in his own parish, had been stricken by sudden
change, by orders to worship in a strange new way. Nearly
half of the pilgrims were French, having arrived on
chartered trains from Paris and all had come to plead with the
Holy Father to give them back the Mass, the Sacraments and
a Catechism for their children.
Had any of them looked beyond the pillars and high
over to the right, they could have made out the shuttered
windows of the papal apartments. Was the Pope asleep?
Could he sleep, knowing they were there? From where
he lay, the murmured Aves and Paters of the fifteen decades
of the rosary cannot have sounded much louder than the
play of water on the ancient fountain in the piazza.
In Latin a French priest led one decade, a lawyer from
Canada the second, a farmer from Bavaria the third. At
midnight everyone rose to make “the way of the Cross”.
Holding lighted candles, they cast long shadows as they
moved in slow procession between the enormous columns.
With no painting to remind them of the suffering of Christ
they listened as a young man from one, then another, of the
main language groups, read a description of each “station”.
When the air grew more chilly, kettles of hot coffee
were provided. Someone carried cups to the carabinieri
sitting in their Fiat at a discreet distance. It was noted that
the shutters behind which Paul VI slept, or did not sleep,
remained tightly shut.
Months later it became known that the bishop who would
give resounding voice to the entreaty of these pilgrims, had
slept soundly through that June night in a modest convent
cell somewhere in the labyrinth of medieval streets on the
11
other side of the Tiber. In the summer of 1971 Msgr. Marcel
Lefebvre, missionary bishop to French Africa, already dissident
clerically, was not ready to declare himself publicly.
There was no such hesitancy on the part of Pope Paul VI. His
adamant refusal to receive the “traditionalist” pilgrims, while
making himself available as usual that week in a series of private
audiences, was a declaration no one could mistake.
It had been five or six years earlier that the seven hundred
million or so Roman Catholics scattered over the world had
experienced the first shock of change. On a certain Sunday in
the late 1960’s (the date varied from country to country) they
had gone to church to find that altar, liturgy, language and ritual had
undergone total metamorphosis. Rumors had been reaching them,
and virtually every Catholic from Long Island parishioners to
worshippers in grass-roofed chapels in the Congo, knew that
high-level meetings were going on in Rome. However, none of
the information they had picked up from hearsay or even anything
they had seen in print, had prepared them for what they found in
church that Sunday morning.
In the months that followed, bewilderment would fade into
resignation, very occasionally into satisfaction. Now and then,
however, there was a sharp outcry, as when the Italian novelist,
Tito Casini, denounced his bishop, Cardinal Lercaro of
Bologna, who happened also to head the Pontifical Commission
for the Liturgy: “You have done what Roman soldiers at the
foot of the Cross never dared to do. You have torn the seamless
tunic, the bond of unity among believers in Christ, past, present
and future, to leave it in shreds.” The Casini open-letter went
around the world in a dozen translations.
12
In Germany, historian Reinhardt Raffalt was writing:
“Those of other faiths are looking on in horror as the
Catholic Church casts away those ancient rites that have
clothed the mysteries of Christianity in timeless beauty.”
From England came a passionate, nearly resentful, plea
to Pope Paul to “bring back the Mass as it was so
magnificently expressed in Latin, the Mass that inspired
innumerable works of mysticism, of art, poetry, sculpture
and music, the Mass that belongs, not only to the Catholic
Church and its faithful, but to the culture of the entire
world.” The petition was signed by several score Londonbased writers, artists, philosophers and musicians,
including Yehudi Menuhin, Agatha Christie, Andres Segovia,
Robert Graves, Jorge Luis Borges, Robert Lowell, Iris
Murdoch, Vladimir Askanazy.
Among the faithful dissent began, expectedly, in the
intellectual circles of France. Jean Madiran, publishing an
effective little review, Itineraires, was already picking up
deviation from orthodoxy during the early Council sessions.
Writing in Madiran’s paper, the political economist, Louis
Salleron asked if the Church was turning Arian, a
reference to the great wave of heresy of the fourth century.
He had noticed a persistent downgrading of Christ implicit in
the just-published French translation of the Council’s
version of the Creed. Whereupon the philosophers, Etienne
Gilson and Gustav Thibon, joined novelist François
Mauriac to take up the question in an open letter to the
bishops of France.
Thus even before Vatican II came to a close a sizeable
public in France had become aware of the extent of the
transformation. The young priest, Georges de Nantes, had
begun to publish a newsletter daringly entitled La ContreReforme Catholique. Madiran’s Heresy of the Twentieth
13
Century and Salleron’s Subversion in the Liturgy came out,
along with a major work by the Belgian philosopher,
Marcel de Corte. Defining the new orientations as “a
spiritual degradation more profound than anything the
Church has experienced in history, a cancerous sickness in
which the cells multiply fast in order to destroy what is
healthy in the Catholic Church, he called them “an attempt
to transform the kingdom of God into the kingdom of Man, to
substitute for the Church consecrated to the worship of God,
a Church dedicated to the cult of humanity. This is the most
dreadful, the most terrible of heresies.”
Meanwhile a village curate in Burgundy, Louis Coache,
holder of a degree in Canon Law, was publishing a
sharply critical periodical which he called Letters of a
Country Priest and he was reviving a local custom long in
disuse, the open-air Corpus Christi procession. People
began coming by the hundreds from all over France to the
little town of Monjavoult in the lush Burgundian farmland
to walk in solemn procession behind the Sacred Host in
its glittering monstrance, singing and praying, as deacons
swung inscensors and little girls scattered flowers along the
path. By the third Corpus Christi march, Fr. Coache’s
bishop (as in the case of Joan of Arc, it was the Bishop of
Beauvais) had had enough of critical journalism and outdated
devotions. He ordered an end to the celebrations and he
suspended the Abbé “a divinis “. Under this ban priests are
forbidden to perform their priestly functions. Undaunted, Fr.
Coache not only continued to say Mass, he founded a retreat
house in the nearby town of Flavigny. French participation
in the 1971 pilgrimage to Rome was largely due to the
efforts of Fr. Coache and it was he, five years later, who
persuaded the aged Msgr. Ducaud-Bourget and his flock to
14
undertake the dramatic occupation of the Paris church of
St. Nicolas-du-Chardonnet.
Already by the end of the 1960’s the revolution, so long
in the undermining stage, was clearly in place. It had been a
relatively smooth operation, thanks to the fact that it had
been carried out, not by declared enemies of the Church, but
by her professed devotees. Unlike the near seizure in the
sixteenth century with its violent clamor for breakdown,
the twentieth century overturn had been accomplished in
comparative silence amid an orderly combination of stacked
position papers, situation reports, conference agendas,
curricular projects, all of which moved through committees,
commissions, working groups, study sessions, discussions
and dialogues. Once the Second Vatican Council opened,
the overturn was assiduously promoted in articles, press
conferences, interviews, exhortations, encyclicals, all in an
atmosphere of ecclesiastical prudence and discretion.
The Council finished, it became the turn of the commentators. In rapid succession in Europe and America,
article after article, book after book appeared, attempting to
explain what had happened. Admirably detailed accounts of
each session of the Council claimed to pinpoint the
precise moment in which each of the changes had been
effected. Much of the writing was done by liberal
theologians and laymen who extolled what they called
“the great work of opening the Church to the world”.
Even more was written by conservatives who, while
generally accepting the legitimacy of Vatican II, attempted
to show how its worthy intentions had been distorted.
These writers were particularly hard on what they
called “the Rhine Group”, a set of liberal-minded cardinals,
bishops and their periti hailing mainly from northern Europe,
who, it was alleged, dominated the debates, monopolized
15
media attention, to end up influencing the silent majority
of Council Fathers to vote their “progressive” way.
Commentators who came to be called “traditionalist” were
inclined to dismiss the Council altogether, claiming to see in it
an attempt to destroy the Church.
In all the writing, the Second Vatican Council, (“Pope
John’s Council”, they called it) was the protagonist. What
happened on the floor of St. Peter’s Basilica between
October 1962 and December 1965 was the whole story.
The Vatican itself fostered this idea and continues to
foster it today, passing judgment on virtually every
problem that arises “according to the Council”, even
referring at times to “the Conciliar Church”. In a very
real sense Vatican II documents have become the new
Holy Scripture.
It is with this contrived inflation of the importance of
the Second Vatican Council that the present study parts
company with the writers on the Right as well as those on
the Left and with the pretense of the Vatican because, as
Pope Paul’s good friend, the F r e n c h ma n o f l e t t e r s ,
J e a n G u i t t o n , w r o t e i n l’Osservatore Romano, “It was
long before the Council that new forms of spirituality,
mission, catechism, liturgical language, biblical study and
ecumenism were proposed. It was long before the Council
that a new spirit was born in the Church.”
It was very long indeed. For all their shock value, the
sight and sound of new kinds of worship, so startling to
Catholics and non-Catholics alike in the late 1960’s, were
only the far-shore waves of an explosion detonated a quarter of
a century earlier.
Jesuit theologians point to June 29, 1943 as the day of
the “big bang”. Fr. Virgilio Rotondi, S.J., editorialist of
Civiltá Cattólica, semi-official voice of the Vatican, was
elated: “All honest men, and all intelligent men who are
16
honest, recognize that the revolution took place with the
publication of the encyclical of Pius XII, Mystici Corporis.
Then it was that the groundwork was laid for the ‘newtime’ from which would emerge the Second Vatican Council.”
As a new-time Jesuit, Fr. Rotondi in the 1970’s was
naturally pointing with pride to the historical event that
he and his colleagues saw as the successful culmination of
agitation going on inside the Company for half a century,
beginning with the Anglican convert, George Tyrell, and
carrying on, ever more openly, with the bewildering
fantasies of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.
Fellow Jesuit Avery Dulles explains the nature of the
explosion. “Until June 1943 the juridical and societal
model of the Church was in peaceful possession but then
it was suddenly replaced by the mystical body concept.”
The designation was not new. It had been presented to the
Fathers of the First Vatican Council seventy years earlier.
They had rejected it out of hand on the grounds that it was
“confusing, ambiguous, vague and inappropriately biological”.
Indeed, it had been the growing proliferation of a whole
set of nebulous theological concepts that had prompted Pius
IX to call a council in the first place. Once in session, the
bishops of 1870 put forward their views on the nature of
the Church in no uncertain terms. “We teach and we do
declare that the Church has all the marks of a true society.
Christ did not leave this society without a set form. Rather
He, Himself, gave it existence and His will determined its
constitution. The Church is not part or member of any other
society. It is so perfect in itself that it is distinct from all other
societies and stands far above them.”
17
The man who was governing the Church in the year
1943 was talking a different language. He could, he said,
“find no expression more noble and sublime than the phrase
‘mystical body of Christ’.” Catholics agreed. The phrase
used in a pastoral, non-juridical sense, can be traced back
to St. Paul. Considered to be hopelessly old-fashioned by
progressive theologians of today, it remains dear to
conservative Catholics. That it is no longer useful to the
post-Conciliar Vatican becomes clear on reading the recent
encyclical of John Paul II, Ut Unum Sint. Referring to the
Church one or more times on each of the 114 pages of text,
he never once uses the term “mystical body”.
While in reality the papal letter of the 1940’s tended
to demote God, even as it elevated His creatures, the
current conception that the term is “exclusive” would make
it unhelpful in promoting the main thrust of Ut Unum Sint,
the plea that Catholics join hands with non-Catholics in
what it calls “the search for truth”, quite as though
Revelation had never occurred, or at least that neither the
Pope of Rome nor his hundreds of millions of followers had
ever heard of it.
Rarely found in Catholic writing prior to 1943
and not at all as an image of the Church in the liturgy,
the phrase “body of Christ” meant for St. Paul simply
the Christians of his time. Three centuries later St.
Augustine used the Pauline term, adding to the “body”
all the just since Abel. For St. Thomas Aquinas the
words signified “living Catholics in the state of grace”.
Apparently what inspired Pius XII to give quasi
canonical status to the term, elevating it to “mystical”, were the writings of a contemporary, Emile
Mersch. By-passing objections voiced at the first
Vatican Council, this Belgian Jesuit presented a new con-
18
cept by identifying the Church with the human body, adding
to it, as the encyclical would, two Persons of the Blessed
Trinity. In the analogy Our Lord is taken as the head, popes and
bishops the bones and ligaments, the Holy Ghost the life force.
Although difficult to find in print today, a considerable number
of theologians in 1943 are known to have echoed the protests of
Vatican I, pointing to a departure from reality in the divination
of the Church and the unsuitability of the biological references.
Should the boast of the neo-Jesuits of Civiltá Cattólica
that the Pacelli encyclical opened the way to Vatican II appear
far-fetched, consider the fact that until then the Magisterium had
insisted that God was God and that we were His creatures,
Christians among us the group or body of Christ. The body
Pius XII envisioned must be capitalized and raised to mystical
status, since he declared it contained God the Son and God the
Holy Ghost.
Why did the still-orthodox Council fathers of 1870 reject
this arbitrary new arrangement of God and man? Because it
reduced the transcendent God to the immanent God, the ancient
heresy. Without that reduction as a basis for new attitudes, the
acceptance, twenty years later, of radical change would have been
unthinkable. The mystical body concept divinizes men in line
with the false promise Masonry has always offered. Masonic
writing is full of references to “the divine spark that is in each
one of us”. As the Masonic Satanist, Elena Blavatsky, put it,
“the more polished the looking-glass, the more clear the divine
image. And Paul VI on Christmas, 1960: “Are you looking for
God? You will find Him in man!”
19
Everyman’s Encyclopedia (1958) takes from Pius X’s
Pascendi precise definitions: “Immanence is a philosophical
term used to denote the concept that the Deity pervades the
universe, that His existence is expressed only by the unrolling
of the natural cosmos. It is in opposition to transcendentalism,
which teaches that the Deity has an existence apart from the universe,
which is only a subsidiary expression of His activity.”
Tampering with the transcendence of Almighty God, albeit
“in a noble and sublime way”, has led Chicago nuns to dance
around a black cauldron in worship of an “earth mother” and
Cardinal Ratzinger the Prefect for the Doctrine of the Faith, to
call “senseless”, visits to the Blessed Sacrament.
That the average priest or layman of the 1940’s saw
anything important happening to the Church with the publication
of Mystici Corporis can be ruled out. In normal times papal
encyclicals are studied by theologians, read by a limited number
of bishops and priests and glanced over by subscribers to
religious periodicals. However, the year 1943 was not a normal
year. It marked the most terrible period of the Second World War.
In any case papal emphasis on the phrase would have seemed, to
the average Catholic who did read the document, to fall in line
quite naturally with such revered designations as “Lamb of
God”, the “Sacred Heart” or any of the long list of exalted
titles accorded the Virgin Mary in her litany. It certainly
would never have entered their minds that those two words
would be able to rock the boat, the age-old Barque of Peter.
To the serious student of theology, however, it was clear
that the phrase “mystical body” in the mind of Pope Pius XII went
much farther than mere pious name-giving. Used as he used it in
20
the encyclical, the phrase tore the Church away from its
institutional character of nearly two millennia, thus setting
aside its ancient identity for a thrust into the future.
Almost immediately Pope Pacelli’s encyclical gave rise
to a new intellectual discipline, ecclesiology. The word
“ecclesiology” which until 1943 meant the study of church
architecture and archeology, was now adopted to mean a
study of how the Church looks at Herself. For more than
nineteen hundred years there had been no name for such a
study because there had been no such study. The Roman
Catholic Church knew what it was, so did the hierarchy, the
clergy and the faithful. Suddenly confronted with the new
image indicated in the encyclical, it seemed urgent to
question what it was the Church really thought Herself to
be. Overnight a new kind of theologian, the ecclesiologist,
had to be invented and installed in seminaries, universities
and on editorial staffs of Catholic publications.
Very soon these scholars found they had more than
enough to do. The abrupt transition from Perfect Society to
Mystical Body turned out to be only the beginning. It was
not long before this first paradigm shift, to use the
ecclesiologists’ jargon, gave way to a n o t h e r . “ V e r y
s o o n ” , w r i t e s F r . D u l l e s , “ecclesiologists were asking
themselves ‘is the Mystical Body a pure communion of grace
or is it visible? Would not perhaps People of God be more
appropriate?”
Dulles goes on to explain that no sooner had People
of God been accepted (it was the favorite at Vatican II)
than the influential French Dominican, Yves Congar,
pointed out its weakness, “Does it not sound egotistical,
monopolistic? How about calling the Church a Mystery?”
Then it was that Jesuit Fr. (later Cardinal) De Lubac of the
21
Gregorian University opted for designating the Church as a
Sacrament. His reasoning? “If Christ is the Sacrament of
God, then the Church is the Sacrament of Christ.” Never
mind that Catholics had been taught since time immemorial
that there are just seven sacraments and that neither the
Church nor Christ is one of them.
Non-Catholics began to play the paradigm game. Karl
Barth, the Swiss Calvinist whom Pius XII once pointed to
as his favorite theologian, suggested that Catholics call
their Church a Herald-of-the-Word while Protestant
radicals, Harvey Cox and Dietrich Bonhbffer,
recommended the Church of Rome be called a Servant.
The usually unflappable Jesuits took alarm. Their
ecclesiologists could find no precedent for the Servant
image in Holy Scripture. Besides, they objected, did not the
connotation of servility present certain ambiguities?
Indeed from the Perfect Society “far-above-all-others” to
the Church-as-Servant, theologians had traveled a long way
and in the process, just as the Fathers of Vatican I had
predicted, they had frittered away the identity of the Roman
Catholic Church.
Avery Dulles admits, “The contemporary Church is
racked by paradigm shifts, so that we find the phenomena of
polarization, mutual incomprehension, inability to communicate, frustration and discouragement. When the
paradigm shifts, people suddenly find the ground cut out
from under their feet. They cannot begin to speak the new
language without already committing themselves to a whole
set of values that may not be to their taste. They then find
themselves gravely threatened in their spiritual serenity.”
22
Dulles is a priest addressing priests. While details of
the confusing shifts hardly get through to the man and
woman in the pew, at least not until another comes along to
take their place, the faithful are only too painfully aware of
what can happen to the spiritual serenity of their pastors, as
they watch the sweeping defection of the clergy. In the
United States it is estimated that around ten thousand
priests and up to fifty thousand male and female religious
have abandoned their vocations. Half of the five hundred or
so seminaries have been closed and the average age of the
clergy is over sixty.
Priestly defections continue worldwide at around four
thousand a year. In France, formerly averaging one
thousand ordinations annually there are now less than one
hundred. As serenity has vanished from the priesthood, so
worshippers have vanished from the churches. In Paris,
Mass attendance is down to 12% of the population. Even in
so-Catholic Spain only 20% of the citizens attend Sunday
Mass regularly and only 3% of the priests are under 40
years of age. According to the Chicago-based National
Opinion Research Center, the drop-off of practicing
Catholics between the years 1972 and 1973 may well have
constituted the most dramatic collapse of religious
devotion in the entire history of Christianity.
Current popular journalism has it that priests have defected
because of the Vatican’s insistence on the rule of celibacy
and that the laity has defected because of the Vatican
prohibition of artificial birth control. Forced to admit that
those restrictions have been part of the Catholic way of life
over the centuries, the writers counter with the thesis that
modern man, even Catholic modern man, has reached such a
level of “self awareness” that he cannot, must not, tolerate any con-
23
trol of his freedom.
The theory is spurious and altogether divorced from reality.
True believers undertake any discipline. History shows they can
weather a lack of churches, priests and sacraments, take strong
doses of persecution, even face martyrdom. What they cannot
weather is a removal of spiritual certainties. The taunts of outsiders can make their faith stronger but when the taunts, the
doubts, come from within, their belief and consequently their
strength, wavers. At the first suggestion of doubt on the part
of his teachers, what young man will not begin to wonder if he
has the kind of faith needed to support the priestly life? The trials
of celibacy quite suddenly seem too difficult.
What the tampering with tradition did to Catholics was to
deprive them of their Church-as-Institution, that solid and
ancient framework they had counted on for support in the
delicate task of believing and the difficult task of living as
Catholics. Bereft they are, not because of imposed limits but
because of the lack of them.
The men and women who came to Rome in 1971 to pray
through the night in front of the Basilica of St. Peter were
praying that the framework be held together and that the
debilitating decrees of Vatican II be revoked. Like the writers
who were getting out books and articles at the time, they
thought all the trouble lay with the Council. The idea that an
encyclical issued twenty-eight years before could have
shaken spiritual serenity all over the world, that its author
could have been the Pope they revered above all others, would
have seemed to them altogether incredible.
24
In the hope of making the seemingly incredible not only
credible but obvious, this study will ignore the Second
Vatican Council as a cause and treat it as an effect, the
inevitable effect of a dedicated, single-minded line of
action begun decades before John XXIII called the
bishops of the world to assemble. His summons will be
seen not so much as a call for consultations as a demand
for signatures. With many of the transformations already in
place and many of the others well worked out on paper,
John’s welcome to the long, slow procession of high-mitred
prelates on that October morning in 1962 will be seen as
the fulfillment of an extended, persistent undertaking.
In perspective, the Council appears to have been a
bringing of the hierarchy to Rome in order to show them
what was already happening, to give them the satisfaction
of a very limited amount of participation and then to exert
strong moral pressure on them to put their names to each
and every document emerging from the skillfully managed
deliberations. Signatures were of the greatest importance,
giving as they would, credibility to the transformations,
thus making it easier for the bishops to face their flocks
when they returned with a bag full of novelties.
That the Second Vatican Council is the point of
departure for so many commentators is understandable.
While a look at events of earlier years would make it easy
for them to pick up the strands of change, it would also mean
having to confront the figure of Eugenio Pacelli, Pope Pius
XII, a discomforting prospect for liberal and conservative
alike. For the Left, with the passage of the years, if not in
his lifetime, Pacelli is an arch-conservative, sadly
unenlightened and probably anti-Semitic. For the Right, at
this distance, a saint. In both cases his life and work have
25
come to be overlaid with pious and impious myth.
Probably no pope in history has been as misunderstood. He
has been revered and scorned, loved and hated for all the things
he never did and never was. No pope in history did as much to
change the Church; yet Catholic conservatives look on him as the
last firm pillar of orthodoxy. No pope in history ever did as
much for the Jews; yet Jewish writers continue to accuse him of
indifference to their fate. No pope did as much to oblige the
Marxists; yet he is hailed in the West as an anti-Communist hero
of the Cold War.
In his long years as Vatican diplomat when he pioneered
what has come to be called Ostpolitik, in his decade as
Secretary of State to Pius XI, in his nearly twenty years as
Supreme Pontiff to be followed in extension through the pontificate
of his protégée and chosen heir, Giovanni Battista Montini, the
work of Pius XII spanned nearly a century.
If the facts of the transformation of the Church are to be
honestly accounted for, then the facts of the Pacelli contribution
to them will have to be made a part of that account. Ample
material is available. With the Second World War so long over,
American and German archives have been opened and
memoirs of important figures of the time are being published.
Vatican secrecy, however, can be and often is, everlasting. It
was only the accusation against Pius XII concerning his
alleged indifference to the Jews that caused a limited section
of Vatican Archives to be opened to four Jesuit scholars in the
1970’s. With or without Vatican cooperation, however, there is
still a wealth of Pacelli material available, enough to leave only
the foolhardy willing to continue to cling to the old myths.
26
Granted that Eugenio Pacelli was a giant among popes
and that his period of activity was unusually long, one may
ask what a pope has to do with revolution. In the case of
the Roman Catholic Church, everything. While it would be
hard to find a guerrilla movement, be it the Italian Red
Brigades or the Peruvian Shining Path that was not inspired
and directed by university students and professors, in the
Church with its unbudgeable hierarchical structure, the
intellectual top, the level at which theologians move, is not
high enough. Any mutation in doctrine or practice must
come from the very top, from the papacy itself. There is no
other way.
While Eugenio Pacelli was the dominant figure in the
undermining process, he was not alone. Four other
Italians shared his enterprise. Giacomo Della Chiesa,
Angelo Roncalli and Giovanni Battista Montini were
popes while Pietro Gasparri, as Secretary of State,
conducted his phase of the operation as though he were.
What the five accomplished was no small thing, being the
transformation of the single largest religious body in the
world, a body which had gone virtually unchanged for
nearly two thousand years.
Unchanged, it had weathered the great breakaway four
hundred years before, even gaining from the blow a certain
strength through forced redefinition of its own identity.
The Protestant shock had been a severing. What has
happened in our day has been no break but rather an inside
turnover, something altogether more drastic. Measured
against what had been taken to be the Catholic identity for
nineteen centuries, the undermined Church of today is
something quite new. While the outward structures of its
diminished bulk have been made more rigid than ever,
there has been a hollowing out of nearly all the old verities that
had been its life.
27
Undermining, says the Dictionary, refers to “the removal of a
foundation by clandestine means”. As far as the average
Catholic goes, what was taken from his Church was indeed taken
clandestinely, although not all the secrecy was deliberate.
Changes taking place under papal guidance among clerical
insiders were simply not shared or publicized while the faithful,
steadily deprived of theological teaching, tended increasingly to look
to their own piety, something the transformers were careful not to
disturb. As a result, until the first media light was thrown on
Council sessions, the average Catholic remained unaware that a
revolution had taken place. His natural reaction, once the New
Mass was imposed, was to assume that it was the Council that had
changed things.
The following twelve episodes in a six-decade chronology
will attempt for the first time to link together the chain of
Vatican moves, some clandestine, some openly proclaimed, that
forged the strange New Catholic Church.
28
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29
II
CHRONICLE
1903-1963
30
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31
Forming an Alliance
If the Catholic revolution was not born in the sessions of the
Second Vatican Council, neither can it be said to have originated,
pace Fr. Rotondi, in 1943 with Mystici Corporis. While the
Church had, in a real sense, been under a state of siege since
the French Revolution, the first impulses destined to move Pope
Pius XII to pronounce his great paradigm shift can be traced to the
turn of the century.
It was a period when the world seemed inordinately proud
of itself. Relative peace and prosperity had gone on longer than
many men could remember. Enormous empires had spread over the
world and were functioning more or less. satisfactorily, while
men of science were piling promise on generous promise for the
future. True, there had been a few sharp signals of tragedy ahead in
the assassination of an American President, an Austrian
Empress and an Italian King, but Vladimir Lenin was still
musing over the afternoon newspapers in a Zurich coffee
house, the bereaved Emperor was still kneeling through Mass each
morning in the Hofburg and his devoted Viennese were still
whirling to the waltzes of Johann Strauss.
The early 1900’s were relatively favorable years for the
Catholic Church, in spite of harsh doses of anti-clericalism from the
governments of Italy and France. While the missionary work of
French and Belgian religious orders had scarcely begun in Africa,
32
Church membership in the rest of the world was distributed
much as it is today. Although Pope Leo XIII, like his
predecessor Pius IX, insisted that he was a “prisoner in the
Vatican” in protest against insurgent Italy’s seizure of the
Papal States, he had reached the age of ninety after a
notably productive reign, little frustrated by captive status.
He had pursued vigorously a program of seminary reform,
opened the Vatican Library to scholars, founded a
commission for biblical studies and issued fifty
encyclicals, the most salient being Humanum Genus, a
candid denunciation of Freemasonry, and Rerum Novarum
in which he outlined the Church’s position on labor
relations.
Alive and well as the new century began were the five
Italians who, in the course of the coming decades, were to
take on the task of transforming the Roman Church. Oldest
among them was Pietro Gasparri, 48, the Neapolitan who
would become Secretary of State for both Benedict XV and
Pius XI. Giacomo Della Chiesa, the Genovese who would
reign as Benedict was 46, Eugenio Pacelli, 24, a Roman
just ordained, would become Pius XII. There were two
Lombards, Angelo Roncalli, the future Pope John XXIII, and
the three-year-old Giovanni Battista Montini who would
become Paul VI.
Already the lives of the four men and, through his
parents, that of the child, were linked with one another. As
the years went on, their careers would intertwine in what
might be seen as a kind of team effort which would be of
great practical help in their unusual undertaking. A
‘conspiracy’? The term is too facile, with its melodramatic
overtones, and too simplistic in its failure to take into
consideration the fact that each of these men, coming from
the particular families they came from, experiencing the
33
particular education they experienced and subjected to the
particular influences they were subjected to, could not,
short of five major miracles, have acted differently from
the way they did.
Let us say they held the same vision and that the vision
was that of a new kind of Catholic Church. They were not the
only men of their time who held such a vision, however,
because of the power each one of them would wield, they
were to become its executors. One after the other in close
succession they would come to see, slowly at first, their
vision taking shape. Its accelerating development would
sustain them for half a century and more, right up to the
last years of the last of the five when statistics began to
show that the dream was turning into a nightmare and
Pope Montini, ill-suited for carrying such a burden, broke
down in tears.
On Montini, weakest of the five, and on Pacelli, the
strongest, the pressure was heaviest. Biographical material
indicates an astonishing parallel in the early lives of the
two men. Each was chosen, educated and promoted by his
parents and powerful inside-Vatican friends of his
parents, to become a pope as surely as a crown prince is
groomed to become a king. Both the Pacelli and the
Montini families had long been bound up in Vatican
affairs. Eugenio’s grandfather, Marcantonio, had come to
Rome earlier in the century from the Province of Viterbo
when his brother Ernesto, a member of the Rothschild
banking firm, undertook to facilitate a sizeable loan to
the Papal States under Pope Gregory XVI. Ernesto stayed on
to set up the first offices of the Banco di Roma while
Marcantonio became the trusted legal advisor of both
Gregory and his successor, Pius IX, finally accompanying
the latter into exile in the coastal town of Gaeta when
political unrest in Rome seemed threatening.
34
The Rothschild connection soon gave rise to the near
certainty that the Pacelli banking family, like the Montinis
were of Jewish origin.
The instigation of unrest in the Papal States justifiable
or not, must be attributed to the heads of Italian
Freemasonry. Even as the Protestants of the sixteenth
century were ex-Catholics who were sure they had found a
better way to worship, so the Masons who badgered Catholic
countries with anti-clerical movements and governments
throughout the nineteenth century, were ex-Catholics, sure
they had found a better way to live and to manage society.
In the Catholic countries, particularly in Italy and France,
the lines were not always clearly drawn. It is known that at
the time of the French Revolution hundreds of Frenchmen
added a Masonic oath to their priestly vows and, according
to numerous Masonic sources, Fr. Mastai-Ferretti, who
would become Pope Pius IX, was admitted to the Eterna
Catena Lodge of Palermo in 1837 at the age of 46. Ten years
later as Pope he was granting a general amnesty to the most
revolutionary of all the Brotherhood, the Carbonari, and
halting the work of Jacques Cretineau-Joli, S.J., whom
Gregory XVI had ordered to investigate Masonic activity
in the Papal States. The Austrian Monarchy, aware of the
Mastai-Ferretti orientation, had tried to prevent his election
when, unexpectedly, it was rushed through.
Whatever happened to the thinking of Pius IX during
the two years in exile, it was enough to make him return to
the Vatican a changed man. Henceforth he was to dedicate
himself to the defense of the Church against its enemies and
his States against subversion. Père Cretineau-Joly was
reinstated. Pio Nono, as the Italians called him with
affection, lived to summon the Vatican Council of 1870,
which has come now to be called the “First”.
35
On the return from Gaeta Marcantonio Pacelli left the
Pope’s side to join the founders of the Vatican newspaper,
I’Osservatore Romano. As in the case of the Montini child,
years later, Eugenio, the grandson of Marcantonio, was not
permitted to attend school. Said to be too frail (as the little
Montini would be said to be), he was tutored at home until
the last years of high school when he received a diploma
from the Liceo Visconti, well known among Romans to be
the state-run educational center more hostile to the Church
than any other in the city.
Eugenio Pacelli had been only two when his father
brought him to the bedside of the dying Pius IX who is
reported to have said, “Teach this little son well so that
one day he will serve the Holy See.” Pius IX’s successor,
Leo XIII, carried on the tradition that the Pacelli’s were a
“Vatican family” taking Eugenio, the high school graduate,
to put him in the special care of his Secretary of State,
Cardinal Rampolla. “Make a good diplomat of him,” was
the Pope’s bidding. Again the youth was not to live a
normal school life. Priestly training proceeded privately
until the last two years of study when the Cardinal
prevailed upon the Rector of the Istituto Capranica to
accept his charge as a day student.
If the Pacelli family’s choice of the Liceo Visconti had
been an odd one, the Cardinal’s choice of the Capranica
was staggering. In the 1890’s this seminary was known up
and down Italy to be the headquarters of the kind of
theological radicalism soon to be labeled “Modernism”. To
our day the school has upheld that reputation, feting the
“Red Abbot” Franzoni after his suspension a divinis in the
1970’s and CIDOC’s Ivan Illich, while neighbors continue
to complain of all-night celebrations spilling out into the
36
darkened old streets at each major Leftist triumph from the
abortion victory in the Italian Parliament to referendum
results in Chile. While things would have been a good deal
more sedate at the end of the last century, unorthodox
teaching may well have been more serious.
The content of the private instruction offered the future
Pius XII may never be known; however his scanty
schooling in isolation and the revolutionary bent of the
schools he did attend, added up to strange preparation for a
career in the Catholic hierarchy. As Pope he was to remain
faithful to the Capranica, taking one of his very rare
excursions outside the Vatican in 1957 in order to inspect
restoration work he himself had ordered on the main buildings.
It is when we come to the name of the man Pope Leo
entrusted with the guidance of the boy, Pacelli, that it is
more difficult to avoid the term “conspiracy”, if only because
the Sicilian nobleman was one of the most controversial
figures in the history of the Catholic Church. Holding the
second most important post in the Vatican for sixteen of
the twenty-six years of the pontificate of Leo XIII, it had
been taken for granted that Cardinal Rampolla would
become the next pope. When Leo finally died in 1903 and a
conclave was held, Rampolla votes mounted in early
balloting until, to the astonishment of the electors, the
Cardinal Metropolitan of Krakow rose to his feet to halt
the proceedings with an announcement that would be
telegraphed around the world. Speaking on behalf of His
Imperial Majesty, Franz Josef of Austria-Hungary, the Polish
primate pronounced a veto on the election of Cardinal
Rampolla. As annoyed as they were astonished, the Fathers
soon found that a long forgotten clause in a treaty between
37
Vienna and the Vatican made the intervention legally binding.
No reason for the veto was given, although a political
one was suggested. It was supposed that Austria had been
displeased by some of Rampolla’s pro-French attitudes.
Years later, however, it was revealed that one Msgr. Jouin,
a French priest dedicated to tracking down Freemasons
with the zeal of a Simon Wiesenthal tracking down Nazis,
had come upon what he claimed was irrefutable evidence
that the Cardinal was not only a member of the Brotherhood
but that he was Grand Master of a particularly occult sect
known as the Ordo Templi Orientis into which he had been
initiated in Switzerland a few years earlier. Jouin’s efforts
to bring this information to the attention of Pope Leo
were naturally frustrated by Rampolla, his followers and
friends in the offices of State. Anxious that the facts be
known in advance of the forthcoming conclave, Jouin
contacted the Austrian court and found a hearing there.
In a recent study the Italian historian, Giovanni
Vannoni, goes into some detail on the subject of the Ordo
Templi Orientis, known as the OTO. He calls it “one of the
most disconcerting secret societies existing at the present
time”. It was founded only a few years before the papal
conclave in question by a prosperous Viennese whose
frequent travels to the Far East had made him an adept in
“the techniques of sexual magic” as taught by certain yogis
in India. Cofounders of OTO were two Germans, Theodor
Reuss who was also a member of the very occult Englandbased Rite of Memphis, and Franz Hartmann, a physician
who had spent years in the United States attached to the
headquarters of Madame Blavatsky’s Theosophical
Society. Later devotees of OTO would include Rudolf
Steiner whose teaching would play an important role in the
life of Angelo Roncalli, causing his dismissal from the
38
faculty of the Lateran seminary. The OTO’s most
notorious member was probably Aleister Crowley,
immortalized in the first successful novel of Somerset
Maugham, The Magician. Elected Grand Master in 1912,
Crowley proclaimed himself to be “under guidance of a
Higher Intelligence” that was counseling him to “open
doors on a New Age, that which was destined to supersede
the Christian Era already in its death agony”.
It may well have been alarm following Leo’s strong
indictment of Masonry in Humanum Genus that caused the
Brotherhood to force its way into real Vatican power. It
took three years until Rampolla himself was made Secretary
of State. Once so courageous, the Pope, after decades with the
OTO chief at his side, would refer discreetly to the
dissidents around Cardinal Gibbons as “Americanists”,
whereas Civiltà Cattólica was calling their Rome center a
Masonic lodge.
Of particular interest is the tracing of Rampolla’s
relationship with the five men who soon were to direct the
Catholic Church into its “new era”. Giacomo Della Chiesa,
the future Benedict XV, was a Capranica graduate chosen by
Rampolla as his private secretary at the Nunciature in
Madrid. It was to become a twenty-year relationship. As
Secretary of State, Cardinal Rampolla brought Pietro
Gasparri from the Catholic Institute in Paris to Rome to
become his chief assistant. Gasparri would become the
power behind the throne of Pius XI. Meanwhile young Fr.
Pacelli, long under the direct tutelage of Rampolla,
became his private secretary and regular traveling companion on important diplomatic missions. Together they
attended the funeral of Queen Victoria. Subsequently and
still in his mid-twenties, Fr. Pacelli, working as minutante in
the offices of State, was given access to high level Vatican meetings.
39
In and out of the offices of Secretary Rampolla in those
days was the journalist-politician father of the future Paul
VI, Giorgio Montini, whose idea of a C h u r c h - s p o n s o r e d
p o l i t i c a l p a r t y h a d c a u g h t Rampolla’s fancy. Pope
Leo, however, was not persuaded. As for the future Pope
John, his career was related to Cardinal Rampolla through
the latter’s good friend and confidant, Msgr. RadiniTedeschi, a long time fellow worker with Della Chiesa in
the offices of State. Angelo Roncalli, coming from a poor
peasant family, owed his education and rise to the episcopate entirely to Radini-Tedeschi, becoming his private
secretary and going on to write the bishop’s biography after
his death.
Given the power of the Sicilian Cardinal’s personal
charisma and the alleged direction of his commitment,
traditional Catholics are quick to point to a “Rampolla
clique” and even to a “Rampolla mafia”. An allian ce
the re c ertainl y was . Th e Vati can ’s l’Osservatore
Romano admitted as much in an editorial celebrating the
election of Cardinal Roncalli to the papacy in 1958, “It
was Benedict XV (Giacomo Della Chiesa) who, as he had
done with Achille Ratti (Pius XI) and Eugenio Pacelli (Pius
XII), put the foot of Angelo Roncalli, whom we now known
as John XXIII, on the first rung of the ladder that led to the Chair
of Peter”.
40
Suffering a Setback
Giorgio and Giuditta Montini, parents of the future Paul
VI, may have had as much to do as anyone with the hurried
substitution of Giuseppe Sarto, Patriarch of Venice, for
Secretary Rampolla, after the sensational interruption of
the Conclave of 1903. In his frequent trips to the Vatican
Montini may well have expressed the family’s preference for
Sarto, a preference conveyed by Rampolla to the
bewildered and frustrated electors. The Brescia group
headed by the Montini’s, as they worked to create a
Catholic political party, had been in touch with the
Patriarch when he was organizing after-work clubs for day
laborers in Venice.
“He is a man of our way of thinking”, Montini is quoted
as saying. That he was a man of sincere humility and
simplicity may also have recommended him as a substitute
for Rampolla. Indeed, as the Conclave resumed and his
election seemed imminent he was heard to protest to
Cardinal Gibbons “But I know nothing of world affairs!” to
which the American replied, “So much the better!”
Better indeed for what was going to continue to be a
Rampolla Vatican, the presence in the Chair of Peter of a
man who could be guided, even manipulated. Biographers
of Giuseppe Sarto, St. Pius X, tend to skip over the fact that
this brave hero for Traditionalists appointed Mariano
Rampolla to what, in the agitated theological climate of 1903
was the most sensitive post in the Curia, Prefect for the
Doctrine of the Faith, the Holy Office.
41
If the move seems incongruous, let it be one more strong
support for the thesis of this book: the undermining didn’t
happen during Vatican II. Clearly, 16 years with an OTO
chief as Secretary of State had established a Masonic grip on
the Vatican so unyielding as to bring the 1903 conclave to
conclude in a “deal”, a compromise. Although the Jouin
information had not gone out to the public, the Vatican knew
it would, thus leaving the papacy itself in a vulnerable
position. The truth about Rampolla would appear to be
absurd if he were given the Holy Office by the Pope.
What rescued the Sarto pontificate was the astonishing
appointment of Rafael Merry del Val as Secretary of State.
At 38, this English-born and educated, half Irish son of a
Spanish diplomat, knew a great deal about world affairs. He
had helped the Patriarch establish the workingmen’s clubs
and must as well have helped him to an intense awareness of
the goals of the Lodges. As an enemy of Masonry, Merry
del Val has had few apologists and those who have written
dwell on his piety, humility and “boy’s town” in a Roman
slum, ignoring what must have been an eleven-year battle
for the Faith. Rampolla headed the Holy Office, while
Della Chiesa was Under-Secretary of State. Still the first four
Sarto years were quiet with Pius X apparently totally
absorbed in reviving Gregorian chant and urging early
and frequent Holy Communion.
By the conclave year, 1903, a surprising number of the
theses which were destined to transform the Church
during the next sixty years were already in circulation,
deviations in orthodox doctrine as old as Christianity and as
far in the future as Pope John Paul II. Mainly in France but
also in England, Italy and Belgium, an alternative attitude
toward religion was beginning to surface in seminaries,
42
universities, on lecture platforms, in books and reviews.
What would come to be called Modernism was underway.
The movement had no founder, no program. It boasted only a
set of shared attitudes which included rejection of the
teaching of St. Thomas Aquinas as “medieval” and a feeling
that religion must have its origin in personal experience of
which “dogma can be an expression but not a suffocating
guarantee”. Among the frequent reunions of devotees of
this different way to be Catholic, the one at Subiaco in
Italy brought together delegates from France, Switzerland
and Italy who were urged to “tear away the bindings that
oppress and stifle the Church”. In a moment of unrestrained
exaltation it was declared that everyone present felt “Christ
is preparing an immense religious transformation by
means of the Prophets and the Saints”.
Unlike the dissidents of the sixteenth century the
innovators had no desire to leave the Church. Rather they
hoped to remake it from within. Euphoria over the coming
of a new century as well as excitement over unusual
initiatives in historical and scientific research, apparently
contributed to a growing urge to invent new ways to believe.
Pope Leo, in his nineties, with Cardinal Rampolla at his
side was not one to try to stem the tide of theological
speculation. However, neither did he do the slightest thing
to encourage it. If, in the early 1900’s religious novelties
had been given the kind of Vatican support the theological
innovations of the 1950’s were going to receive, the great
transformation would surely have taken shape before the
Second World War. That such support had been expected
with the election of Mariano Rampolla to the papacy must
be assumed.
43
Whether or not Merry del Val pressured the Pope to
remove the two longtime associates of Cardinal Rampolla
from his office, it was not until 1907 when Radini-Tedeschi
was consecrated Bishop of Bergamo and Della Chiesa,
Bishop of Bologna, that Pius X made any major move
against the growing chaos in Catholic intellectual circles.
Then, citing a grand total of sixty-five separate aberrations
of traditional doctrine to be found in current religious
periodicals, he dubbed the lot “Modernism” and issued two
formal denunciations, a pastoral letter beginning with the
word Lainentabili and an encyclical beginning with
Pascendi... He followed the two documents with the
formulation of a lengthy Oath Against Modernism to be
taken by the superiors of all religious orders, heads of
seminaries, and theological faculties as well as by every
priest at the time of his ordination.
The Oath acted liked a bracing tonic on restless,
vacillating clergy. In some 500 succinct words it defined
what Catholics are expected to believe. Beginning with
God Himself “Who can be known with certainty by the
natural light of reason” and by the “things that are made”, it
goes on to define the Church as instituted by the “historical
Christ while He sojourned on earth”. Hitting at the
widespread existentialism among the dreamers of a new
religion, the Oath reads, “I profess that faith is not a blind
religious feeling bursting forth from the recesses of the
subconscious... but the true assent of the intellect to the
truth as received...” and “I reject the heretical invention of
the evolution of dogma passing from one meaning to another.” The Oath continued to be required up to the middle
of the 1960’s, by which time theological speculation had
gone so far afield that to take the Oath would mean
challenging the Second Vatican Council itself.
44
In 1907 however, the decisive action of Pius X was
immediately effective. Insofar as it had been a movement,
Modernism fell apart. Its precipitous decline can be seen at this
distance to have been due to the fact that the theories it
promoted were bereft of any Vatican conduit to the faithful. Thus
Modernism remained exclusively a phenomenon of the academies.
The average layman had little notion that doctrinal errors, let
alone sixty-five varieties of them, were going the rounds. Had
papal action continued to be lacking, however, young priests
emerging from the seminaries would have given limited
expression to the new concepts, but to have them spreading to the parishioners the theories would have had to go through the bishops
and that would have meant Vatican involvement.
With Leo XIII and Pius X such involvement was out of the
question. While the Rampolla group inside the Vatican must
have felt encouraged when Modernism flourished and unhappy
now that it had been quashed, they showed consummate
wisdom in their refusal to give it the slightest public support.
Conscious of the fact that new doctrines can only be absorbed
into the Church through the acceptance and actuation of the
papacy, they bided their time. After the publication of
Lamentabili, Pascendi and the Oath they had only seven years to
wait.
45
Starting Again
The death of Pope Pius X occurred just eighteen days
after the outbreak of the First World War. The eleven years
of his intense and singularly honest pontificate left the
Catholic Church with a renewed sense of identity, while
decisive reaffirmation of the old certainties reawakened fervor
and devotion.
At the same time the later Sarto years had represented a
severe setback for the dreamers of a new way to be Catholic.
Even to regain the promise the beginning of the twentieth
century had offered would take years, perhaps decades.
While resurgence was assured if the hoped for election of
Giacomo Della Chiesa, the longtime secretary of Cardinal
Rampolla, went through, it would perforce be slow. Given
the new alertness on the part of the faithful to deviations
in the old teachings, every move in the directions of a
“Church of the Future” would have to be made with
caution and couched in the most pious terminology.
Archbishop Della Chiesa of Bologna did become Pope in
1914, taking the name of Benedict XV, while the other
Rampolla protégée, Pietro Gasparri, moved into Merry del
Val’s post as Secretary of State. One wonders if the very
old Emperor of Austria-Hungary, weighed down with
tragedy on tragedy, was aware, two years before his death,
that the Sicilian Cardinal, whose election his veto had
prevented had, after all, mounted the papal throne in the
person of his two closest assistants.
46
At the risk of indulging in generalities, a long look at the
Catholic Church would seem to make certain sweeping
qualifications plausible. Historically speaking, have there
ever been missionaries to equal the Spaniards, martyrs to
equal the English or thinkers about holy things, for better
of for worse, as gifted as the French? If the new Pope hoped
to reawaken liberalism, he would have to begin with the
French. The particular target of Benedict, logically, was the
group calling itself Sodalitium Pianein, an association of laity
and a few priests dedicated to keeping vigil on
expressions of heresy in teaching, preaching and publishing,
according to the norms set forth by Pius X. Although the
project originated in the minds of Merry del Val and his
secretary, Fr. Benigni, a journalist by profession, it was in
France that the idea flourished and where it showed no sign
of tapering off after the death of Pius X. With its call to
report directly to Rome on doctrinal aberrations, the
Sodalitium was highly distasteful to Pope Benedict and to
his Secretary of State. Years later when the process for the
beatification of Giuseppe Sarto was in progress,
Cardinal Gasparri voiced unrestrained bitterness, accusing
Pius X of “approving, blessing and encouraging a secret
society over and above the hierarchy which was dedicated to
espionage in its effort to monitor even the most eminent
cardinals. In short”, he averred, “the Pope blessed a kind
of masonry within the Church.”
The Sarto canonization taking place during the Pacelli
reign may seem to contradict the thesis that the latter was
the prime mover in the changes. However, since at the
same time the Pope was working with Fr. Bugnini on the
New Mass and struggling with the still conservative Curia to
put into action his Holy Week plans, it could have been a
compromise, a mutual concession.
47
Pope Benedict struck at the Sodalitium in his first
encyclical but he did it in muted terms, rather the way Pope
Pacelli years later would strike at the theories of evolution
being promoted by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. There was
no naming of names. Ad beatissimi was ostensibly a plea for
world peace in the rapidly spreading Great War. It urged
“an end to contention and discord in favor of a new sense
of brotherhood”. Although few of the laity, aside from the
leaders of Sodalitium, would read the encyclical, it gave
teachers and preachers everywhere to understand that the
war between the Vatican and the Modernists was over. The
leader of the long disbanded Sillon, prime target of
Lamentabili, Marc Sangnier, had already received the good
news in a warm personal letter from the new Pope in which
Benedict expressed his “high esteem”. Reading a work of
the French dissident today it is difficult to believe he was
not writing for the priestly junta of Nicaragua’s Daniel
Ortega, “The ideas of the revolution are nineteen centuries
old and they come right out of the Gospels. The Church
must therefore open up to the new trend and enter into the
movement which is building the modern world.”
As Cardinal Gasparri would later indicate, investigations
by the troublesome French laity were coming
uncomfortably close to “eminent cardinals”. Already they
had the anti-clerical government of France on the run so that
by 1921, the last year of Benedict’s reign, pressure from the
Quai d’Orsay, combined with Gasparri’s constant complaints, brought him to order the Sodalitium to disband.
On the hypothesis that men formed by Cardinal
Rampolla were sufficiently entrenched in the power
structure of the Vatican to be able to control the direction
taken by an electoral conclave, it can be supposed that the
48
death of Pope Della Chiesa at 68 presented them with a
dilemma. Had he lived the usual extended years of a man
in religion his death, a decade later, would have found
Eugenio Pacelli of a proper age to ascend the throne of
Peter. At 48 he would have been thought by the faithful
too young. There was, of course, Gasparri. However it
would seem he preferred to remain in his post of Secretary
of State. In any case he backed the election of the
Archbishop of Milan, Achille Ratti, an exceedingly unlikely
candidate.
A priest librarian until his sixty-second year, only three
years a bishop with two of those years spent as a diplomat
in media-remote Poland, devastated by the war, Ratti had
been a Cardinal-Bishop in Italy for just seven months.
Electors coming from outside Italy would hardly have
heard of him and those in Italian posts precious little. It
must have needed tremendous maneuvering on the part of
his sponsors, which we assume were the Rampolla group
around Gasparri, to assure venerable cardinals, many of them
with decades of episcopal experience, that little-known
Ratti was their man. In any case the effort succeeded and in
the seventeen years that followed its backers would have
reason to wish it had failed.
Achille Ratti, who took the name of Pope Pius XI, was
the most learned of modern pontiffs. In contrast to the
altogether sketchy, not to say peculiar, education to
which Eugenio Pacelli had been subjected, that of Pius XI
followed the usual course of a son of a northern Italian
upper middle class family at the end of the last century.
Leaving the seminary in Milan he took a triple doctorate at
the Gregorian University in Rome and within a few years
after ordination found himself the director of the great
Ambrosias Library in Milan.
49
If not quite a member of the Vatican inner circle, neither
was he quite out of it. He had been a student of Msgr.
Radini-Tedeschi and, like Pope Della Chiesa, he had helped
along the career of Radini-Tedeschi’s young secretary,
Angelo Roncalli. As a Milanese he had been on friendly
terms with the Montini’s of nearby Brescia as well.
On the other hand his choice of the name Pius had
been made he said, out of regard for Pope Sarto who had
moved him from the Ambrosias to head the Vatican Library
and with whom, now and then, he had enjoyed conversation
and tea at the Episcopal palace in Venice. How near he was
in outlook to Pius X becomes evident in several of his
encyclicals, while an equal number of his official acts
amounted to major strides toward the creation of a new
kind of Church. The paradox poses a nagging question
which can be answered in one of only two ways: either Pius
XI suffered from intermittent schizophrenia or his seventeenyear pontificate was a running battle with his successive
Secretaries of State, Gasparri and Pacelli.
The year of his election, 1922, was one of tremendous
portent for the world. It saw the birth of the Socialists
Soviet Republics, the near starvation of millions of
Germans, the converging on Rome of the Black Shirts of
Mussolini, the relentless continuation of twenty minor wars
and the conferring of the Nobel Prize for Science on a
Swedish physicist for a notable breakthrough in nuclear fission.
The new Pope looked on the shambles of that age-old
bulwark of Catholicism, the Hapsburg Empire (ruling house of
Austria, 1282–1918), and its replacement with a rash of
scattered republics decreed by the Treaty of St. Germain,
with the eye of a traditionalist. In his first encyclical, Orbi
Arcani, he decried the new egalitarianism, “With God
excluded from political life, with authority derived not
50
from God but from man, the very basis for authority has
been taken away, because the chief reason for the distinction
between ruler and subject has been removed.” Two years
later he defined his principles concerning Church-State
relations as the “Kingship of Christ” in the encyclical Quas
Primas. Either encyclical could have been written by Pius X.
Then, as if heading in the opposite direction, at the end
of his first year in office, Pius convoked a Eucharistic
Congress in Rome. Details, which had been worked out
by Cardinal Gasparri, included a midnight Mass on
Christmas Eve at the high altar in St. Peter’s with the Pope
singing the liturgy in a ritual so far without precedent. The
congregation sang the responses. Gasparri explained to the
crowds that “the Pope ardently wishes that the faithful take
part in the liturgy”.
Pius XI was the first pope to actuate what we now call
ecumenism. Like the word “ecclesiology” the word
“ecumenism” was given a meaning it never had before.
From signifying “general, pertaining to the whole world”
thus, an ecumenical council, it is now taken to mean a
coming together of the world’s religions. In the 1920’s
Rome had not yet begun to foster what seems with Pope
John Paul II to have become a consuming passion, a
commitment to global religion. When the first steps were
taken in the early 1920’s, no one called it “ecumenism” or
even “dialogue”; the gentle designation was “conversations”.
The Malines Conversations, a project of the much
publicized Desiré Cardinal Mercier of Malines-Brussels and
his avant-garde theologian Lambert Beauduin, brought
Britain’s Lord Halifax to Belgium to discuss with certain
members of Louvain University the feasibility of an
Anglican-Catholic rapprochement. The ensuing “conversations”, continuing intermittently during 1924 and 1925,
drew sharp protest from the Catholic hierarchy of England
51
who cited the decree of Leo XIII pronouncing Anglican
orders to be “absolutely null and void.” Although nothing of
substance seems to have come from the talks, they were not
forgotten. Fifty years later in an open letter to the successor and protégée of Cardinal Mercier, Leo Cardinal
Suenens, Pope Paul recalled the Malines Conversations,
describing them as “the fruit of a rediscovered love”.
Cardinal Mercier and Fr. Beauduin proceeded to turn
their transforming talents to making Jesuit Louvain a
center for advanced theological speculation while the
paradoxical Pope Pius, as if to do penance for having given
his consent for the Malines Conversations, sat down to write
what would turn out to be the last solemn pronouncement
to issue from the Vatican on the question of the uniqueness
of Catholicism as the one, true faith. Mortalium Animos was
a clear condemnation of the theses which the Conversations had promoted. “Let these separated children return
to the Apostolic See established in this city by the princes
of the apostles, Peter and Paul, who consecrated with their
blood this root and matrix of the Catholic Church; not
indeed with the idea or hope that the Church will abandon
the integrity of the faith and bear their errors, but to subject
themselves to its teaching authority and rule... Never has the
Apostolic See permitted its subjects to take part in
assemblies of non-Catholics. There is but one way in which
the unity of the Churches can be fostered and that is by
furthering the return to the true Church of Christ by those
who have separated from it.”
52
Quelling the French
Nearly as soon as Benedict XV’s condemnation, of the
Sodalitium became known, French anti-Modernists could
be found regrouping in several organizations, particularly in
the already flourishing Action Française. Founded by two
prominent literati, the parliamentarian and essayist, Leon
Daudet and the journalist Charles Maurras, l’Action
rejected the liberal dogma of separation of Church and
State, advocating instead the creation of a Catholic State,
preferably monarchist, with a corporative economic structure. Like the earlier Sodalitium, l’Action Française was
destined to fall under the papal axe.
The story of the condemnation is a bizarre one. How, it
has been asked, could Pius XI, who had so recently based
his encyclical, Quas Primas, on the same traditional values
l’Action promoted, turn against a movement so in line with
his own way of thinking? How could he put on the Index of
books Catholics were told not to read, the works of Charles
Maurras whom he had praised publicly as “the most
wonderful defender of the Faith”?
In several recently published memoirs of the time we find
evidence of sordid intrigue. Already in 1950 Maurras had
written from prison, “We now have proof that many copies
of my paper were falsified before being given to the Pope to
read. How otherwise could he have read my paper for months on
end to come up with obnoxious material which the most ob-
53
jective readers never found, virtual enormities against us?”
The full dregs of the story came to light only after
Maurras died at the age of 84, having spent the last nine
years of his life in solitary confinement, a victim of
General de Gaulle’s post-war political purge. In 1974 a
biography of Inspector Bony, the real-life “Inspector
Maigret” of the 1920’s, was published by his son. Writing a
review of the book in the Rome daily, Il Tempo, Aldo de
Quarto stated “In Rome in 1925 those heirs to Cardinal
Rampolla and the Sillon, headed by the Vatican Secretary
of State Pietro Gasparri, had long been putting pressure on
Pope Pius XI to condemn Charles Maurras, whose
publications were giving no peace to Freemasonry.
Vatican pressure was being seconded by pressure from the
French government.”
At this point Cardinal Mercier of the Malines
Conversations re-enters the picture. Early in 1926, as part of
his program for restructuring Louvain University, he
invited liberal-minded sociologists from all over Europe to
come to Brussels to formulate what he called the Social
Code of Malines, a kind of constitution for his newly
organized Institute of Philosophy, a body destined to
become a world center for radical Catholic thought.
Taking advantage of the presence of so many
scholars, Mercier caused a questionnaire to circulate among
the French-speaking Association of Belgian Youth which
he had founded the year before. The key question: whom do
you consider to be the greatest living Catholic teacher?
Overwhelmingly the answer was “Charles Maurras”.
54
The philosophers were alarmed. With Maurras’
outstanding appeal to youth, would not this French super
patriot be on his way to heading a successful revolution
such as had already taken place in Italy? Maurras’ enemies in
Church and State closed ranks. In an effort to keep the
affair confined to France, Secretary Gasparri ordered the
Nuncio in Paris to find a French bishop willing to act as a
front for a repressive operation. Cardinal Charest of Rennes
was indignant when approached, “Strike Maurras, the
greatest anti-Bolshevist in the country?” Said the
Archbishop of Paris, Cardinal Dubois, “Don’t count on me.
I’m one of the directors of l’Action Française”.
Losing patience with Vatican efforts, French Premier
Poincaré decided to act on his own. He had his man,
Cardinal Andrieu, Archbishop of Bordeaux whom
Inspector Bony’s men had lately caught red-handed in a
major diamond smuggling operation. The affair had been
hushed up on payment of a huge fine but when Andrieu got
word to attack Maurras he was quick to obey. On April 25,
1926, precisely on the sixteenth anniversary of Pius X’s
condemnation of Sillon, the Archbishop of Bordeaux issued a
widely published open letter of accusation against Charles
Maurras and l’Action Française. De Quarto writes, “Members
were accused of being exclusively political rather than spiritual Catholics, profaners of virtue, advocates of slavery,
paganism and atheism.”
All France was stunned. While the real atheists, pagans
and Marxists hooted with laughter as they read the letter
over coffee along the boulevards, sincere religious writers,
even staunch progressives like the Dominican editors of
Temps Prisént forcefully objected to what they called “a
letter of calumny containing the gravest errors.”
55
Unable to believe the Andrieu accusations, Pope Pius
ordered Gasparri to provide him with the Maurras newspaper
for daily reading. What he was provided with, however,
was daily listening to reading. When De Quarto was
writing in 1974, this bit of information was not available
to him. We now know that the Pope, in perfect trust,
allowed his private secretary Fr. (later Cardinal)
Confalonieri to read the morning papers to him, as the
Cardinal related in an interview in the Italian press some
years later. After three months of listening to Fr.
Confalonieri’s version of Maurras’ articles, Pius XI had had
enough. On December 20 he issued a solemn decree ordering
Catholics to abandon l’Action Française under pain of
excommunication.
Four days later, on Christmas Eve, the condemned paper
appeared carrying the banner headline, “NON
POSSUMUS!” L’Action Française could neither abandon the
faith nor abandon France. Wrote Maurras, “In the situation
France finds herself today the destruction of l’Action
Française is a political, not a religious act. Were we to
submit, our fatherland would find itself defenseless. Hard
as it is, if we are not to betray our country, our only
response has to be WE CANNOT!”
I n t h e pol it ic a lly p r e c a r io us 193 0 ’s yo ung Maurras
followers fought Communist youth in the streets of Paris,
while now and then a strange funeral procession was seen
with laymen assumed to be excommunicated, bearing the
crucifix and leading the prayers as a line of mourners
approached church doors that remained closed.
Correspondent Aldo de Quarto was writing his review
of the Bony biography at the height of the international
media furor over the “rebellion” of Archbishop Marcel
Lefebvre and he concluded his article admitting to an acute sense
56
of malaise, “Yesterday and today, who is it over there on
the other side of the Tiber in Rome who manages to
maneuver against everything that has the odor or the sound
of tradition, everything that we call today ‘on the Right’?
Yesterday against Charles Maurras, today against Marcel
Lefebvre. What are the mysteries of this Vatican?”
Quelling the Mexicans
As the drama of Catholic transformation continues,
bewilderment over Vatican mysteries can only deepen for
those who see each major event in twentieth century Church
history as separate in itself. Seen as a consistent line of
effort meant to push forward a new kind of religion, major
events can be taken to move in coherent sequence.
Seen thus, the crushing of l’Action Française was a
logical gesture. If the Perfect Society was to be superseded
by a new kind of Christianity, then ardor for the old verities
would have to be dissipated. Of gravest concern to the
progressives was l’Action’s advocacy of a Catholic State.
They remembered with distaste Pius X’s admonition, “It is
an absolutely false thesis and an extremely dangerous error
to think that Church and State should be separated. Such a
57
thesis is in obvious negation of the supernatural order. It
limits the action of the State to the sole purpose of public
welfare in this life and does not occupy itself in any way
with their more profound welfare, which is eternal
happiness, that which is prepared for them after this so brief
life.”
Even before the French troubles had been settled the
Vatican found itself confronted with another upsurge of
the old faith, this time nine thousand miles from Rome. In
Mexico the unexpected spelling out and application of
drastic anti-religious laws, alleged to be contained in the
Constitution of 1917, exploded into full-scale civil war.
During the next three years tens of thousands of peasant
far mers, workers, townsfolk and students would face
federal troops to fight and die to the cry, “Viva Cristo
Rey!” At the height of the conflict the rebels, scornfully
dubbed “Cristeros” by the government, numbered forty thousand men with a corresponding officer corps. There were
no uniforms, no pay, often no food and thanks to a strict
embargo on the sale of arms by the United States, few
weapons to fight with.
It was a layman’s religious war. Not more than seven
priests are known to have taken an active part. Laymen
fought in defense of their bishops, even though the
bishops had closed the churches and fled the country nearly
to a man. Persuaded that the enactment of the so-called
Calles Laws would mean the asphyxiation of Catholicism,
the hierarchy had telegraphed Cardinal Gasparri in Rome
for permission to close the Churches. Permission came and
suddenly there were no more Masses, no more sacraments.
Reaction among the people was immediate. Poor farmers
left the fields to volunteer, maid servants banded together
58
to defy the water cannon of Mexico City police for the right
to pray together and women of every social class throughout
the country formed an underground league dedicated to Joan
of Arc, enforcing on themselves a remarkable vow of
secrecy in order to raise money, undertake intelligence,
collect and serve food to the fighting men, while law
students, some of them hardly more than adolescents, faced
government firing squads. It was spontaneous collaboration
on a national scale not experienced in all of Latin America
before or since.
From the very beginning of the Mexican troubles two
contrasting signals were coming from the Vatican. There was
the sympathetic emotional reaction of Pius XI. After
listening in private audience to the tragic a ccounts of the
Bishops of Du rango , Leon and Tamaulipas, he sat down to
write the encyclical Iniquis Afflictisquae. Clearly overcome by
what he had heard of the deaths by firing squad he wrote,
“With rosary in hand and the cry ‘Viva Cristo Rey!’ on their
lips, these young students are going voluntarily to their
deaths. What a spectacle of holiness for the whole world!”
Feeling was considerably more restrained at the office of
the Vatican Secretary of State. After a lengthy exposition of
events in Mexico, Msgr. Gonzalez Valencia of Durango,
one of the few Mexican bishops who stood up publicly for the
Cristeros, was astounded to hear Cardinal Gasparri express
skepticism about the seriousness of the rebel movement. The
Mexican could only retort, “Eminence, some people are
refusing to give us aid because they doubt the seriousness of
our cause and others say our movement is not serious because we get no aid. This is a vicious circle that must be
broken.” He pleaded in vain.
59
The French Charge d’Affaires in Mexico City wrote
confidentially to Foreign Minister Briand at the Quai
d’Orsay,” Gasparri is exhausted by a stream of Mexican
prelates with their strident orthodoxy and their
fulminating anathemas. He continuously urges them to
come to some agreement with their government, to
compromise with President Calles.”
Indeed, pitting Italian subtlety against Spanish
intransigence, Cardinal Gasparri worked assiduously to
dampen the Cristero fire. He advised members of the
Mexican hierarchy to refuse encouragement to the fighters.
He alerted the bishops of the United States to refuse all
appeals for economic aid. The student leader, René
Capistrán Garza, has left a pathetic account of his attempt
to raise funds among Catholics of the United States.
In an open second-hand Studebaker in the dead of
winter he and a bilingual companion made their way to Texas
armed with letters of recommendation to bishops and
regional commanders of the Knights of Columbus.
Stopping first in Corpus Christi, they stood waiting for the
bishop to read their credentials. Then they told their story.
Concluding, they heard words they could scarcely believe,
“Nothing doing, sorry.” In Galveston the bishop took a ten
dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to them.
Houston, Dallas, Little Rock brought hardly enough to
pay for their gasoline at 1926 prices. Then in the
prosperous German diocese of St. Louis the bishop gave
them one hundred dollars of his own. But at that point
the Studebaker broke down and in order to repair it the
youths had to pawn an heirloom gold watch and a new pistol.
Meeting constant rejection, they drove through sleet and
snow to Indianapolis, Dayton, Pittsburgh and finally to the
great diocese of Boston, already famed for its covey of Irish
Catholic millionaires.
Cardinal O’Connell received their letters and listened to
60
their tale. Then he made his contribution. It took the form of
advice, “I exhort you and your people to suffer in patience
the trials God has sent you.” He added that if either of them
felt like abandoning their project in order to look for jobs
in Boston, he would be happy to give them letters of
recommendation.
When two months later René and his friend José, were
home in Mexico, their hope was to soar for a last time. The
Texas oilman William F. Buckley notified them that he had
persuaded his good friend Nicholas Brady, Knight of St.
Gregory and Duke of the Papal Court, to donate one million
dollars to the cause. Arriving in New York after the long
train journey Capistrán found that the Vatican’s non placet
had got to Brady ahead of him. One can only conclude that
to have turned men like Brady and O’Connell away from
helping so Catholic a cause as that of the Cristeros, the
Vatican message must have been not only peremptory but
noxious.
Yet, in spite of unimaginable poverty, sacrifice and
suffering, little by little, battle by battle, Cristero fortunes
were rising and popular favor was growing to the extent
that by the spring of 1929 victory was in sight. Historians
agree that then and there the government of Plutarco
Elias Calles, faced with overwhelming adhesion to the
rebel cause, would have found it expedient to come to terms
with the Cristeros. It was the moment when Mexican
bishops, returning from self-imposed exile, could have
claimed the rights so many men had died for.
However, it was not the Mexican bishops but Cardinal
Gasparri who took the initiative. Alerted by the threat of a
Cristero victory, the Vatican Secretary of State began to pull
strings he had long been fingering. Having found two
bishops who were willing to compromise, Msgr. Ruiz Flores of
Morelia and Msgr. Diaz Barreto of Tabasco, he put them in
touch with the Apostolic Delegate and the National
Catholic Welfare Conference in Washington. It was soon
61
arranged that Dwight Morrow, a Protestant, and Ambassador to Mexico from the United States, would act as sponsor
for the Vatican peace plan.
Inviting the two bishops to ride to Mexico in his private
railroad car, Mr. Morrow also arranged for them to leave
the train when an unscheduled stop was made on his order a
few miles before reaching Mexico City. It was important
that the negotiations were not thought of as an American
undertaking. Once in town Ruiz Flores and Diaz Barreto
were deposited in the mansion of the banker Agustin
Legorreta, where they were to remain virtually incommunicado for twelve days. Meanwhile several other
bishops had returned to Mexico and were frantic for news of
what was afoot, however all their efforts to speak with the
two at the Legorreta house were in vain.
Finally on October 11, 1929 papers were signed which
amounted to nothing less than the unconditional surrender of
a victorious army. In the words of the Bishop of
Huehuetla to the faculty of Louvain University a month
later, “The Mexican people, preserving the pure, integral
faith of their fathers, look on the Pope as the Vicar of
Christ on earth. Knowing this fact the enemies of Christ
were very astute to betake themselves to Rome in order to
break the immovable wall of armed resistance. Very soon
they had the satisfaction of seeing the people surrender
their arms at the first signal from the Pope. Those in the
government who consented to a settlement, offered all
kinds of promises verbally but afterward never removed a
single comma from the monstrous laws that have
wounded Holy Church in Mexico and strangled the most
sacred rights of men and of society.”
Churches, it is true, were reopened to a great thunder of
clanging bells and general rejoicing. However it was not the
62
government that had closed .the churches in the first place.
Ostensibly nothing was changed. There was still no
religious education in the schools and monasteries,
convents and seminaries were to remain closed. Foreign
priests continued to be forbidden to exercise ministries
within the country and no priest might wear clerical garb or
enjoy ordinary civil status, including the right to vote. Exiled
for life were the two or three bishops who had
championed the Cristeros and the blanket amnesty
promised to rebel fighters was to result in a systematic
liquidation by assassins’ bullets of leaders of the movement
during the coming years.
Paralleling its canonical sanctions against members of
I’Action Française, the Gasparri Vatican threatened with
suspension any priest who administered sacraments to a
Catholic who was still bent on resistance. “As a
consequence”, in the words of Msgr. Gonzalez Valencia,
“the traditional esteem of the Mexican for his bishops
has been completely destroyed, as the faithful see the
inexplicable indulgence given by the bishops to the
persecutors and their no less inexplicable severity, even
cruelty, to the sincere defenders of the faith. And I warn
you, Eminence”, he was addressing the new Secretary of
State, Eugenio Pacelli, “these charges against the bishops
have now begun to touch on the Holy See!”
The role of Achille Ratti, Pope Pius XI, in the Mexican
tragedy was apparently much like his role in the French
affair. Msgr. Manriquez, the new Bishop of Durango,
attempted to explain it, “What we Mexicans must
remember about His Holiness is that the reason he acted
mistakenly is because of enormous pressure put on him by
individuals determined to get their way. In the end those
63
intriguers persuaded him that these “arreglos”, which we
all know resolved absolutely nothing, were the only way to
obtain freedom for the Mexican Church.”
To this day the treaty has never been given a more
dignified name than “los arreglos “, the arrangements. There
is a report from Cardinal Baggiani to the effect that, on
finally learning what the arrangements actually amounted to,
Pope Pius wept.
Heading Toward War
By the year 1930 the five leading transformers of
the Catholic Church had become effectively three,
Giacomo Della Chiesa having died eight years earlier
and Pietro Gasparri retiring after sixteen years as
Vatican Secretary of State.
Coming on the scene from the Nunciature in Germany
was Eugenio Pacelli, 53, and soon to join him, Giovanni
Battista Montini, 33. As for Angelo Roncalli, then 49, his
routine diplomatic reports were reaching Rome from the
Nunciature in Istanbul where, it was said, he had been
exiled by Pope Pius XI for having inserted into his
64
theological teaching at Lateran University theories of
anthroposophist Rudolf Steiner.
Returning to Rome in January 1930 to receive the
Cardinal’s hat and his appointment as Secretary of State,
Msgr. Pacelli was to find the Vatican enjoying a new status.
Inside the palaces there was business as usual but the
ground on which the palaces, the churches, gardens and
chapels stood had become a sovereign and separate State.
Letters dating from the early 1920’s have come to light
which show Charles Maurras urging Benito Mussolini, as
Prime Minister of Italy, to “establish religious peace by an
historic gesture”. Maurras was referring to the state of cold
war existing between the heirs to Italian insurgency of the
last century and the “prisoner in the Vatican”, Pius XI.
There followed a few cautious feelers on both sides and
then an event took place unprecedented since the troops of
Cardona broke through the Porta Pia on a Rome absorbed
in the First Vatican Council: Cardinal Merry del Val, still in
his early sixties but long out of the mainstream of Vatican
power, was invited to participate in the official ceremonies
of the Fascist Government to commemorate the sixhundredth anniversary of the death of St. Francis of Assisi,
patron saint of Italy. It may have been the Cardinal’s
enthusiasm for reconciliation that finally moved Pius XI to
begin negotiations. In any case, on February 11, 1929,
Cardinal Gasparri and Benito Mussolini signed the Lateran
Treaty and a Concordat between the new Vatican City State
and the Kingdom of Italy.
The agreement gave the Church sovereignty over 108
acres in the heart of Rome, thus creating the City State.
Catholicism became the State religion of Italy. Crucifixes
went up on the walls of all public buildings from
schoolrooms to police stations across the country and
religious education becam e obligatory in the nation’s schools.
65
Both the clergy and the hierarchy received certain
privileges in legal matters. In Rome slums were cleared to
make a wide approach to the Basilica of St. Peter while a
generous financial settlement was accorded the Holy See
by the Italian State as reparation for the material losses
which had occurred in 1870.
Mussolini’s historic gesture of peace, although
generally praised at the time, won him little lasting
gratitude. “To think of what my husband did for the
Church!” widow Rachele Mussolini would sigh to a
French reporter many years later and Cardinal Krol of
Philadelphia, called to Rome in 1981 to help sort out the
Holy See’s alarming financial problems, declared, “The
only thing that keeps the (Vatican’s financial) ship afloat
is the Patrimony of the Holy See, that reimbursement made
by Italy at the signing of the Lateran Treaty. It’s not an
inexhaustible resource.”
Scarcely had ink dried on the Concordat when young
Fr. Gianbattista Montini, chaplain of the Rome sector of the
Federation of Catholic university students, the FUCI,
managed to destabilize it. From early childhood he had lived
the excitement of politics, his mother having been as much
an activist as his father. Watching the Popular Party (later
renamed Christian Democrat) taking shape virtually in the
family living-room, he had followed each successive
election of his father as deputy for Brescia to the national
parliament up to 1924 when Italy became a one-party State.
After that year, like the forbears of Eugenio Pacelli, the
Montini,s went into banking. At a time when very few
Italians were antagonistic to Fascism, the Montini’s were
notable exceptions, and by the time the Concordat was
signed they had experienced five years of political
frustration. Not unexpectedly, Fr. Montini looked on his
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assignment with the FUCI as a chance to make a stand. He
decided to refuse to obey a government order to let his
students be incorporated into the national youth organization. Since the authorities, in strict conformity with the
provisions of the Concordat, were providing Catholic
chaplains for all sections of the Balilla formation, they
looked on the holding back of Montini’s Rome group as not
only unnecessary but divisive. Ordered to join up or
disband, Montini claimed persecution and the foreign press,
as is their custom, took up the cry. At the height of the
rumpus, the Vatican issued a fiery anti-government
encyclical which, for quick availability to the press, was
given out, not in the usual Latin, but in Italian. Non
Abbiamo Bisogno, according to a former FUCI member, the
senior statesman, Giulio Andreotti, was written, not by
Pope Pius XI, but by his new Secretary of State, Eugenio
Pacelli. The longed-for religious peace was shattered. To
salvage what it could of the hopes of 1929, and in the face
of worldwide incrimination, the Mussolini government
permitted the survival of the FUCI, provided it confined
itself to religious activities.
A mere six weeks before the appearance of Non Abbiamo
Bisogno, the Pope himself had issued what has come to be
seen as a pro-Fascist encyclical, Quadragesimo Anno.
Intended as a tribute to Pope Leo XIII on the fortieth
anniversary of his outstanding encyclical on labor relations,
Rerum Novarum, the new statement demonstrated the fact that
Catholic social doctrine is more in harmony with the
corporative industrial system being developed at that time
in Italy than it is with the basically class-struggle structure
of conventional capitalism.
In the eyes of Secretary Pacelli Fr. Montini’s triumph
against the Italian government had won him his spurs. Very
soon after the worldwide media furor, Pacelli brought
Montini into his office to begin an intimate working
association that was to last for twenty-three years. Of the
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five Italians who directed the changing of the Catholic
Church, the two who would prove to be the most effective
had become a team. A generation apart, they had
everything in common. Both of them had been born into
Vatican-ambitious families. Both of them had spent their
childhood in forced isolation with scant opportunity either
for normal association with their peers or for classroom
instruction. Their careers were notably Vatican nurtured.
Pope Leo himself had put the young Pacelli into the hands of
Cardinal Rampolla and another Pope, Benedict XV, would
consecrate him to the episcopate in a private ceremony in
the Sistine Chapel. As for Giovanni Montini, he was
received immediately on ordination by Pius XI who
appointed him to the Nunciature in Warsaw with the
words, “You are the most promising young priest in Rome”
and this in spite of the fact that it would be seventeen
years before Montini was to obtain a degree in Canon Law.
Indeed he had not received either the title or a consecration
to the episcopate when Pius XII made him Pro-Secretary of
State in 1954.
As international political tension mounted during the
1930’s. Secretary Pacelli and Fr. Montini found themselves
increasingly committed to one side. According to
Andreotti, not only was Non Abbiamo Bisogno the work of
Pacelli but also the vehement Mit Brennender Sorge, the other
vernacular encyclical, this one aimed against the government
of Germany. The late Cardinal Siri of Genoa has noted that
the original drafts of the latter document show numerous
corrections in Pacelli’s hand. The fact that Pius XI’s antiMarx encyclical Divini Redemptoris appeared just five days
after Pacelli’s anti-German Mit Brennender Sorge gives one
the impression that once more Pope and Secretary were
carrying on two separate battles quite out of tune with each other.
Divini Redemptoris with its most quoted line, “Communism
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is intrinsically evil”, was destined to present serious
problems for Pope Pacelli in his relations with American
Catholics when Russia entered the Second World War.
With Achille Ratti now in his eightieth year, Cardinal
Pacelli is known to have taken virtual charge of the Vatican.
Aware of the fact that Pius wanted to receive Adolf Hitler in
audience on a forthcoming state visit to Italy, he whisked
the aged Pope off to Castel Gandolfo. Then, finding that the
German Chancellor had expressed a particular wish to see.
the greatest Michaelangelo frescoes, he locked the Sistine
Chapel. There was acute embarrassment on the part of
Italian authorities when, without warning, the escorting party
was confronted with a sign, “closed for repairs”.
In March 1938, when German troops entered Austria,
Cardinal Innitzer of Vienna was caught up in the all-night
celebration along the Ringstrasse and wound up giving his
blessing to the ecstatic throngs. As soon as word reached the
Vatican, Cardinal Pacelli is said to have expressed “real
bitterness”. He promptly called Innitzer to Rome and
ordered him to make a public retraction and, although the
order came, not from the Pope but only the Secretary of
State, the Austrian complied. In that year, 1938, unnoticed
by all but an intellectual elite, Civiltá Cattólica, the Jesuit
review considered to be the semi-official voice of the Vatican,
suddenly left off its warnings about the danger to the
Church of Freemasonry, particularly in its declared
program to create what it called a “new world order”.
According to Giulio Andreotti, the two lengthy
international tours of Cardinal Pacelli were taken entirely
on the latter’s own initiative, rather than on orders of the
Pope. As Secretary of State he attended the International
Eucharistic Congress of 1936 in Buenos Aires and the
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same year found him in the United States where he
visited twelve ecclesiastical provinces, held consultations
with seventy-nine bishops, called on scores of religious
institutions, seminaries and hospitals, topping off the tour
as a guest of President Roosevelt at Hyde Park. The two
were reported to have “hit it off splendidly”, Roosevelt
going on in subsequent exchange of correspondence to
address Pope Pacelli as “my old and good friend”. In New
York the future Pius XII was the house guest of Myron C.
Taylor who, despite the fact that attainment of the ThirtyThird Degree in Freemasonry was well known, was to be
welcomed as Washington’s Special Envoy to the Vatican
during the war years. The spectacular American tour of
Pacelli in 1936 was stage-managed by Archbishop
Spellman of Boston and was to make of the Secretary of
State a far more important figure in the public eye than the
studious and rather stolid person of the reigning Pope.
On the religious front in the mid-1930’s the PacelliMontini partnership could look back at the two major strokes
of the decade, before the suppressions in France and
Mexico, with certain misgivings. If the brave new Church
was able to boast nothing but negation, it would appear as
rigid and intolerant as the old. Along with destruction must
come construction. Needed now was new spiritual
excitement.
Causing the greatest excitement in scholarly circles
at the moment was a privately printed essay entitled Le
Sens Humain by the French Jesuit paleontologist, Pierre
Teilhard de Chardin. Foreshadowing his Phenomenon of
Man, the paper offered a wild leap into evolution-based
eschatology which the creators of a new kind of
Christianity might well have been tempted to adopt and
adapt. In many ways it paralleled the more colorful
deviations of pre-Pius X Modernism. Admittedly under the
Teilhard spells themselves, the reformers decided against
70
inviting the Catholic masses to share in the French Jesuit’s
fantasies. Experience had shown them that the average believer expects a measure of realism along with his piety.
Dismissed although the Teilhard speculations were,
they did not draw Vatican condemnation. It was later
supposed that certain passages in the Pacelli encyclical
Humani Generis were meant as reproof of the Jesuit’s
evolutionism, however the papal document named no
names and, speaking on the centenary of Teilhard’s birth in
1970, Cardinal Casaroli lauded “the amazing impact of his
research, the brilliance of his personality, the richness of
his thought, his powerful poetic insight, his acute perception
of the dynamic of creation, his vast vision of the evolution of the
world”.
In the 1930’s it was not the Vatican but his own order,
the Society of Jesus, that forbade Teilhard de Chardin to
publish any religious works during his lifetime and for many
years the Society forbade him to lecture. However, soon
after becoming, Pope, Eugenio Pacelli persuaded the Jesuits
to lift the ban so that a series of Teilhard lectures could
take place in German-Occupied Paris during the latter years of the
war.
While the theories of Teilhard de Chardin attained a
certain vogue in the limited world of academia, it was the
thoughts of another Frenchman, a layman, which, once
they had been embraced by the Vatican, were to become the
spiritual food the transformers had been looking for.
Jacques Maritain, a professor of philosophy at the
Catholic Institute of Paris, had been born into a Protestant
family. During his student days at the Sorbonne he converted
to Catholicism and became a member of l’Action Française.
In 1926, astonished at the sudden Vatican clamp down on
that organization, he went to Rome where, thanks to his
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prestige as a Thomist scholar, he was able to talk
privately both with the Pope and the Secretary of State.
While the purpose of his journey had been to ask how the
Maurras condemnation had been possible, he must have
wound up expounding a set of theological ideas that had
been going around in his head for some time. He left
Rome with an assignment, whether from Pius XI or, as is
more likely, from Secretary Gasparri, to gather his
theories on what he called “integral humanism” into a book.
Ten years later the Church-shaking Maritain work
appeared. Nearly simultaneously with the first French
edition, an Italian version came out with a glowing
introduction by its translator, Giovanni Battista Montini.
The Maritain thesis calls for a basic shift in
ecclesiology, that is, in the way the Church looks at itself,
at its function and identity. His book prepared the way for
the great paradigm change to be found in Pius XII’s
encyclical Mystici Corporis. However, because it is the
pope, not the theologians, who actuate the acceptance of
new beliefs, the Maritain message, already circulating
freely in academic circles, had to wait for a papal encyclical
before it could become part of the lives of the faithful. In
1936 Achille Ratti was still Pope.
Integral Humanism, not unlike the theories of Teilhard
de Chardin, envisions religions of every kind converging
toward a single human ideal in a world civilization
wherein all men will be reconciled in justice, love and
peace. Friendship among men will guide all life toward a
mysterious accomplishment of the Gospel. As the French
theologian Henri Le Caron explains, “Integral Humanism is
a universal fraternity among men of good will belonging
to different religions or to none, even those who reject the
idea of a creator. It is within this framework that the
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Church should exercise a leavening influence without
imposing itself and without demanding that it be recognized
as the one, true Church. The cement of this fraternity is
twofold, the virtue of doing good and an understanding
grounded in respect for human dignity.
“This idea of universal fraternity”, continues Le Caron,
“is neither new nor original. It was already advanced by
the philosophers of the eighteenth century and by the
French revolutionaries of 1789. It is also the fraternity
beloved of Freemasons and Marxists. What distinguishes
Maritain’s humanism is the role it allocates to the Church.
Within the universal fraternity the Church is to be the
inspiration and the Big Sister, and it goes without saying
that if she is to win the sympathy of her little brothers, she
must neither be intransigent nor authoritarian. She must
learn how to make religion acceptable. She must be practical rather than dogmatic.”
That Fr. Montini’s early enthusiasm for Maritain stayed
with him throughout his life is described by the novelist
and one-time Jesuit, Malachi Martin, “The Integral
Humanism of Paul VI permeated the entire policy of his
pontificate. What the philosophy has to say is that all men
are naturally good, that they will respond to be good and
reject the evil if they are shown the difference. The function
of the Church is merely to bear witness by service to men
in today’s world where a new society is being born.”
Implementation of the Maritain doctrine can be
recognized in document after document emerging from the
Second Vatican Council and in most of the official
exhortations and encyclicals that followed, even though at
the time Maritain’s book first appeared, the Council was
still a quarter of a century in the future. The thesis can be
felt as a kind of ground bass beating right through to our time. It
was implicit in the warm welcome Pius XII accorded Maritain
73
when he came to Rome as the first post-war French
Ambassador to the Holy See, in the very frequent public
homage by Paul VI, in the constant study meetings and
symposia dedicated to his work that have proliferated
throughout the Catholic academic world and by the
glowing tribute paid to Maritain by John Paul II on the
centenary of the philosopher’s birth. By the end of the turbulent thirties Vatican acceptance of Integral Humanism
made it only a question of how to pass it on to the faithful
once the old Pope died.
In the third month of the last year of the decade
Eugenio Pacelli was elected to the papacy and in the ninth
month the Second World War began.
Digging Deeper
War or no war, the Catholic revolution, under the
impetus of its newly found theological boost, was to leap
ahead during the early 1940’s. In his first encyclical, Summi
Pontificatus, the new Pope offered a correction to his
predecessor’s Quas Primas with its plea for a return to
traditional Church-State relations. Instead of looking to
authority from above, from “Christ the King” as Pope Ratti
had defined it, Pacelli insisted the basis for government
should be human solidarity. The British historian, W. A. Purdy
comments, “Summi Pontificatus foreshadows that interest in
74
the ideal world community which would figure increasingly
in the Pope’s pronouncements over the succeeding
twenty years”. Although muted under traditional
phraseology there was implicit in the text the Maritain thesis
calling for a coming together of the world’s religions.
Summi Pontificatus foreshadowed John Paul 11’s Day of Peace
at Assisi.
In the way of practical application of the thesis that had
been timidly promoted as “conversations” between
Anglicans and Catholics two decades before, ecumenism now
moved into full-fledged symposia. In Rome a gathering
called “Love and Charity” took place under the auspices
of the Holy See. The presiding Cardinal, Lovatelli, called
for an “end to useless and divisive polemics in favor of
love for our brothers in Christ”. Effectively it was a call
for heart to replace mind, sentiment to replace sense. Thus
discussions over such questions as the real presence of
Christ in the Eucharist gave way to the question of
whether Protestants and Catholics felt affection for one
another. Meanwhile Jesuits entered the new public forum
sponsoring the lectures of global-Church enthusiast, Fr.
Charles Boyer at their Gregorian University. In thirty-six
years of teaching there it is estimated that Fr. Boyer
influenced something like five thousand elite candidates for
the priesthood with his passion for ecumenism.
As the war raged more furiously than ever,
spreading now to the Pacific, occupied Paris offered an
oasis of curious tranquility. The dress designer Christian
Dior, thanks to generous allowances of lavish materials
granted him by the German authorities, was presenting his
soft and flowing “new look”, while Pierre Teilhard de
Chardin, thanks to the sympathy of Pius XII, was
expounding his soft and flowing new way to be Catholic.
75
He exulted to a friend, “I now have so many friends in
good, strategic positions that I am absolutely without fear
for the future.” At the same time word reached him from
occupied Brussels that one of his disciples, Fr. Jean
Monteuil, was addressing a convention of philosophers and
theologians at Louvain University on some of the more
fanciful T e i l h a r d t h e o r i e s . “T h e r e v o l u t i o n ” , d e c l a r e d
Monteuil, “demands new techniques but that is not
enough. What must take place is reclassification. All the
concepts of humanity must be called into question.”
Occupied Paris was to become the milieu of Msgr. Angelo
Roncalli. As the war drew to a close and ideological purges
of the defeated began, Pius XII, who had been in close
touch with Nuncio Roncalli in the Balkans over his project
to get Polish Jews into British Palestine, was finding
himself in urgent need of a trusted diplomat in order to
confront a triumphant and vengeful General Charles de
Gaulle.
The retreat from France of the German Army had left the
Church in an awkward position. De Gaulle was accusing one
hundred French bishops of having collaborated with the
Germans and with the so-called “Vichy” government of
Marèchal Pétain. Returning to France to take over as
head of government, De Gaulle had been appalled to find
himself unable to secure even one priest in all of Paris
whom he considered sufficiently “anti-Fascist” to say
Mass for him and his staff at the Elysée Palace. Finally his
secretary, Claude Mauriac, a son of the novelist, came upon
Fr. (later Cardinal) Jean Danièlou, immersed at the time in
setting up an association of “Catholics of the Left”. De Gaulle
was satisfied.
While ordinary French Catholics by the thousands met
imprisonment or death, often in summary execution at the
hands of the triumphant “Resistance”, smooth diplomacy
76
on the part of Msgr. Roncalli, Pius XII’s new Apostolic
Nuncio to France, managed to save all but two members of
the French hierarchy from any punishment whatsoever. The
message of the future Pope John to General de Gaulle was
as remarkable as it was successful: “Wait! Let them be. We
in the Vatican are engaged in creating an entirely new kind
of Church, one that will be to your liking and we will see to
it that the Bishops of France go along with us. Be patient!”
Not only was the General patient, he became notably
cooperative by assigning Prof. Jacques Maritain to the Holy
See as French Ambassador. The formulator of Integral
Humanism had spent the war years in Canada, a refugee
from Vichy France, because of his wife, Raissa’s, Jewish
origin. Teaching mainly in Toronto he had also been
engaged as guest lecturer at several universities in the United
States.
Ro me a t that time s a w th e founding of the Focolare
Movement, a forerunner of both the “Charismatic
Catholics” and the so-called “basic communities”, the celllike organizations in the parishes which would prove so
effective in spreading Marxist “liberation theology” in
Latin America. Today a worldwide organization,
Focolare’s early commitment to a “new priesthood” and a
“new humanity” made it a rich font for progressivism. An
early Focolare enthusiast was Countess Pacelli, sister of Pope
Pius XII.
Meanwhile sacramental discipline was loosening. One of
Pope Pacelli’s first acts was to relax the rules for the
sacrament of penance by reviving the permission granted
during the First World War for general versus individual,
absolution for soldiers about to go “over the top”.
Subsequently he extended the indult to include civilians in
danger of aerial bombardment and finally to prisoners of
war with language problems.
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The liturgy was still in Latin, however the Dialogue
Mass or Missa Recitata wherein responses were made by the
congregation rather than by a server at the altar, was
becoming so widespread in wartime Germany that Bishop
Gröber of Freiburg-im-Breisgau expressed concern that “the
eager insistence of neo-liturgists on laity participation is
beginning to subtract from the sacrificial role of the priest.”
Such complaints brought forth a papal response in the
way of the encyclical Mediator Dei on the subject of the
liturgy. Didier Bonneterre in his excellent study, Le
Mouvement Liturgique, has high praise for the document
which urges caution and prudence regarding liturgical
reform. Then he laments, “However, I regret and I continue to
regret that this beautiful piece of writing was accompanied by
no concrete measures, no sanctions. Pius X had not been
content with writing Lamentabili, he outlawed the Sillon
and excommunicated Tyrell and Loisy.” With its selections
from St. Paul of such phrases as “Try everything; retain
what is good”, Mediator Dei was, in fact, taken by the neoliturgists as a go-ahead for experimentation.
Meanwhile the Vatican approved a liturgical updating
in the way of a new Latin translation of the Psalms for
the Canonical Hours. Fr. Bonneterre remarks, “This
version, very faithful to the Hebrew text, lacks all poetic
feeling. It is full of words difficult to pronounce and
impossible to sing to Gregorian melodies. It remains a
witness to the lack of liturgical sensitivity on the part of
Augustin Bea and his fellow Jesuits at the Biblicum.”
The Pontifical Biblical Institute, known in Rome as the
“Biblicum” had been founded by Pope Pius X as a center
for the setting of orthodox norms in biblical research and
interpretation at a time when the approved Vulgate
translation of the Scriptures was under attack both from
Protestant and Modernist Catholic exeg etes . To wa rd the
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end of th e 1930’s th e Biblicum began to undergo rapid
change as Secretary of State Pacelli brought to Rome an
old friend from his Berlin and Munich days, Fr. Bea,
Provincial for the Company of Jesus in Germany, asking
Pius XI to make him head of the institution. In the end the
Pope also accepted Bea as his confessor.
Safeguarding the Marxists
Again and again in her long history the Roman Catholic
Church reacted spontaneously to severe outside pressure. At
each major attack She called a council so that in Episcopal
assembly She could redefine and thus reaffirm Her identity.
Such recourse was taken twenty-six times in nineteen
hundred years. Then in the mid-1940’s, to the sharpest blow
since the Protestant revolt, namely, the advance across
Europe of atheistic Communism, an advance which involved
the subjugation of sixty-five million Roman Catholics, the
Vatican registered no reaction whatsoever. Indeed Rome
would wait seventeen years before calling a council and
during the sessions of that council the question of
Marxism was not only not discussed, discussing it was strictly
forbidden.
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The outcome of the Second World War entailed for the
Church some of the most violent experiences in its history.
Any business enterprise confronted with flood or fire would
take immediate action, calling in its board of directors to
assess damages and work out future strategy. If ever there
was a time for a Pope to gather his chieftains around him it was
the year 1946.
However, in a thick series of public appearances during
that year Pius XII avoided all reference to Marxism. In
his June address to the College of Cardinals, while
“rejecting rivalries and groupings dictated solely by
political and economic interests”, he expressed
confidence that “dangers on the Right and on the Left” could
be avoided “in the light of the Church”. He then went on to
defend the remarkably one-sided stance he had maintained
throughout the war saying, “We, as head of the Church
refused to call Christians to a crusade.” He had been careful,
he said, in spite of pressures, “to insure that not one word of
approval of the war against Russia was permitted to be
said”. As Hungarian Catholics drawn into the Sovietic
vortex begged him for help, Pacelli urged “patience and
endurance” because, he said, “the old oak can be buff e t e d
b u t i t c a n n o t be u p r o o t e d . ” I n t h e Ac t a Apostolica,
the official catalogue of Pontifical speeches and acts,
neither the word “communism” nor the word “socialism”
can be found for twelve long crucial years, that is from
1937, the year following the Pacelli talks with President
Roosevelt and 1949 when defeat of the Italian Christian
Democrat Party by the Communist Party in upcoming
national elections seemed imminent.
As for the crusade referred to by the Pope, in 1941 the
French Cardinal Boudrillat had come to Rome to ask a
papal blessing for the volunteer regiments of Frenchmen,
Spaniards, Italians, Croatians, Hungarians and Slovenians,
Catholics nearly to a man, who were setting out with the
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German Army to conquer Soviet Russia or, as the Cardinal
put it to the Pope, “to free the Russian people”. Along with
the volunteer “crusaders” went a sizeable contingent of
Russian and Ukrain i an -s pe a kin g p r ie st s , yo u ng
g r ad ua t es o f the Russicum, Rome’s Russian seminary,
who hoped to open long closed churches along the way.
Cardinal Boudrillat’s expectations were speedily dashed by
Pius XII who ordered the request for a blessing to be immediately retracted. In addition the Cardinal was to have
no contact whatsoever with the press.
As the war dragged on there would be even stronger
pressures on Pius XII to lend the weight of his office to
resisting the advance of Marxism. By May 1943 Nuncio
Roncalli was writing from Istanbul expressing “panic” at
the new Soviet offensive. He had tried in vain, he said to
find out from his recent visitor, Cardinal Spellman of New
York, just how much Roosevelt had promised Stalin.
From Berne the Nuncio to Switzerland, Msgr.
Bernardini, wrote to the Pope that the Swiss press, “up to
now preoccupied with German hegemony in Europe, has
suddenly begun to take account of a far greater, indeed
mortal danger, that of Germany falling into the hands of
the Soviets.” Pleading for the Catholic majorities in
Poland and Hungary, he urged the Pope to back any
reasonable Allied peace initiative and to condemn the
intransigent insistence of Roosevelt and the American
Secretary of the Treasury, Morgenthau, that Germany must
surrender unconditionally.
In March Cardinal Maglione, the Vatican Secretary of
State, without, it must be assumed, the Pope’s knowledge,
was urging Britain’s envoy to the Holy See to try to
convince Prime Minister Churchill that the British Empire
needed a non-Communist Germany in a stable Europe.
Finally in April the Prime Minister of Hungary, Kallay,
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came to the Vatican with a desperate plea to the Pope to
put himself at the head of a peace initiative capable of
halting the Soviet advance that was about to engulf the
Christian peoples of Europe.
Pius XII, as he would boast in his 1946 message to the
College of Cardinals, resisted every pressure, rejected
every plea. And he gave his reason: “National Socialism has
had a more ominous effect on the German people than has
Marxism on the Russians. Only a total reversal of German
policy, particularly those relating to the Jews, could make
any move on the part of the Holy See possible.”
A strange comparison to make when, in contrast to
Soviet isolation in aggressive atheism, Germany and the
Vatican were enjoying full diplomatic relations, when
churches were not only open but, like Catholic schools and
universities, subsidized by the German State. Adolf Hitler
was never excommunicated nor was his autobiography,
Mein Kampf, ever put on the Index.
The curious legend that Eugenio Pacelli was indifferent
to the fate of European Jews had its origin in the thesis,
“the silence of Pius XII”, an invention of a German
Protestant playwright, Rudolf Hochhuth, and a German
Jewish journalist, Saul Friedlander, both writing, in the
1960’s. That there had been a tragic silence, the twelve
volumes of the Acta Apostolica attest, but the silence did
not concern the Jews. On the contrary, as the Jesuit historian
Robert Graham asserts “Pius XII was the greatest
benefactor of the Jews in modern times.”
Adolf Hitler had been Chancellor of Germany less than
half a year when Secretary of State Pacelli was urging Pope
Pius XI to give hospitality inside Vatican City to prominent Jews
82
who requested it. In 1937 coming into New York Harbor on
the Conte di Savoia, Cardinal Pacelli requested the Captain
to run up an improvised banner with the six-pointed star
of the future state of Israel in honor, he said, of six hundred
German Jews on board. A year later Catholics in
Munich were astonished to see the Torah and other ritual
objects being removed from the city’s chief synagogue in
the limousine of the Archbishop for safe keeping in the
Episcopal palace and to learn that it had been the Vatican
Secretary of State, Cardinal Pacelli in Rome, who had
ordered the transfer. One of his last acts before becoming
Pope was to notify American and Canadian bishops of his
displeasure at the reluctance of Catholic universities and
colleges in their countries to accept more European Jewish
professors, scholars and scientists on their staffs and he
looked to the bishops to remedy the situation.
As Pius XII, Pacelli understood early on the importance
of Palestine to the Jewish mind. As soon as the news
reached Rome of the German advance into Poland he was
telegraphing his Nuncio, Paccini, in Warsaw to “try to
organize Polish Jews for a passage to Palestine.” Meanwhile
in Istanbul, Msgr. Roncalli, asked to work at the halfway
point where the Jews were to be given Catholic baptismal
certificates in the hope the British would let them through,
registered a forthright protest. “Surely”, he wrote to Pius
XII, “an attempt to revive the ancient Kingdoms of Judea
and Israel is utopistic. Will it not expose the Vatican to
accusations of support for Zionism?” The Secretary of
State, Cardinal Maglione was hardly less troubled. “How”,
he asked the Pope, “can you justify historically, a
criterion of bringing back a people to Palestine, a territory
they left nineteen centuries ago? Surely there are more suitable
places for the Jews to settle.”
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Years later, provoked by the Hochhuth accusations,
Pope Paul VI permitted the opening of a certain section of
the Vatican Archives to take place under the care of four
Jesuit scholars. The American among them, Robert Graham,
told the Washington Post, “I was stupefied by what I was
reading. How could one explain action so contrary to the
principle of neutrality?” He was finding that during the
first months of the war the new Pope was himself writing the
intensely anti-German texts beamed around the world by
Vatican Radio. Although his personal involvement was
not discovered at the time, the sensational nature of the
tracts were so strong that they brought vigorous protest
from the German Ambassador to the Holy See and even from
the Polish bishops themselves. The broadcasts were
suspended to the chagrin of London which lost what Fr.
Graham calls “a formidable source of propaganda.”
Pius XII then turned his attention to setting up his
Catholic Refugee Committee in Rome, putting it in charge
of his secretary, Fr. Leiber S.J. and his housekeeper, Mother
Pasqualina. Msgr. Georges Roche in his Pie XII Avant
I’Histoire says this committee paved the way for thousands
of European Jews to enter the United States as “Catholics”,
providing them with a regular and efficient documentation
service, baptismal certificates, financial aid and
arrangements abroad. The French historian estimates that
by 1942 over one million Jews were being housed in
convents and monasteries throughout Europe on Vatican
directives. According to the British historian, Derek
Holmes, Jews, as well as partisans of the underground
guerrilla movements, were dressed as monks and nuns and
taught to sing plain chant. The Pope himself set an
example by taking care of some fifteen thousand Jews and
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anti-government Italians at Castel Gandolfo, as well as a
thousand in Vatican City, among them the Italian Socialist
leader, Pietro Nenni.
St. Francis’ little hilltown of Assisi became the chief
center for the printing of baptismal certificates, as Pius XII
proceeded to set up the complex known as the Cittadella, a
kind of “think tank” for new Church projects which would
one day organize Pope John Paul II’s “Day of Peace”.
Throughout the Second World War papal permission was
given for synagogue services to be held in the lower level
of the Basilica of St, Francis. It was here, at the Cittadella,
that Msgr. Bugnini did most of his work on a “New Mass”.
Even as Nuncio Roncalli, despite his protest, was
knuckling down to provide fake baptismal certificates,
Cardinal Tisserant and his Joint Distribution Committee
were facilitating Jewish emigration under the very nose of
the Vichy government. Msgr. Roche, who acted as the
Cardinal’s secretary, describes an underground printing
press at Nice which was protected by the Mayor of the
City and the Archbishop where 1895 false identity cards,
136 false work permits, 1230 false birth certificates, 480
false demobilization letters and 950 false baptismal
certificates were produced before the operation was discovered.
In a spectacular gesture Pius ordered the papal seal to
be engraved on the front of Rome’s main synagogue, prior to
the arrival of German troops, while in Hungary Fr. Montini
was working to protect 800,000 Jews, provided they submit
to mass baptism. In neighboring Czechoslovakia Jewish
families like that of Madeleine Albright would enjoy the
same privilege, something, which the American Secretary of
State told the press, caused her “great pain”.
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To the continued amazement of the Jesuit scholars, they
came upon archived documentation of Pius XII’s personal
involvement in a plot to overthrow Hitler. In January
1940 the Pope was approached by an emissary of a certain
clique of German generals who asked him to tell the British
government that they would undertake to “remove” Hitler if
they were sure Britain would come to terms with a moderate
German regime. Pius promptly carried out the mission
through Sir Francis D’Arcy Osborne, London’s envoy to
the Holy See. The offer was turned down. Three months
later, on May 6, 1940, thanks to his friend Josef
Mueller, a German double agent, the Pope was able to give
Osborne details of the forthcoming German advance on the
West, the so-called Blitzkrieg, urging him to pass the word on
to the governments of Holland, Belgium and France. All
three were later reported to have been incredulous.
Papal preference for one side during the war hit a major
snag when the Allied side became the Soviet side. By that
time Hitler’s so-called Fortress Europe had become
overwhelmingly Catholic. With the incorporation of the
Germans of Catholic Austria, Alsace-Lorraine, the
Saarland, Sudetenland and German-Occupied Poland, the
Third Reich had an enormous Catholic majority while its
allies, Italy, Slovakia, Slovenia and Croatia were entirely
Catholic, Hungary mainly so. Occupied France was
cooperating and Catholic Spain and Portugal were
sympathetic. A Catholic priest had been elected as
president of the German-created Republic of Slovakia and
with the Axis’ extended ban on Masonry, crucifixes went
up on the walls of all public buildings in France as they had
in Italy at the time of the Vatican-Fascist Concordat, while
the old motto from the French Revolution, Liberty,
Equality, Fraternity was replaced on French coinage with
Work, Family, Fatherland.
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With the “fortress” virtually a Catholic one, Pius XII
found himself in the awkward position of having become
the champion of atheistic Russia and overwhelmingly
Protestant Britain, her vast mainly non-Christian Empire
and the mainly Protestant United States of America. His
predicament reached a climax with Pearl Harbor and the
American entry into the war. How were forty million
American Catholics going to face that contingency? Already
most of those of Itali a n , Ge r ma n , I r i s h , Hu n g a r i a n ,
S l o v e n i a n a n d Slovakian descent were calling themselves
“isolationists”. Communist atrocities suffered by priests
and nuns during the recent Spanish Civil War were fresh in
their minds.
Skilled diplomat that he was, Pius XII met the
challenge. Appointing the dynamic young Michael J. Ready,
Auxiliary Bishop of Cleveland, to head a campaign to
“reinterpret” the anti-Marxist encyclical of Pius XI, Divini
Redemptoris, word was put forth that Josef Stalin was
opening the way for religious freedom in the Soviet Union.
It must have been a remarkable juggling act on the part of
Bishop Ready and his assistants when one considers that
the old Pope, Achille Ratti, had been able to preempt
this very disinformation campaign when he wrote the
encyclical two years before the outbreak of the war. From
Divini Redemptoris: “There are even some who refer to
certain changes recently introduced into Soviet legislature as
a proof that Communism is about to abandon its program of
war against God. But do not be deceived!”
That it perturbed Pius XII as head of the Catholic Church
to face so many millions of European Catholics as an
enthusiastic supporter of their enemies, is evident from a
poignant letter the Pope wrote to his old friend and host in
New York, Myron C. Taylor, President Roosevelt’s envoy
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to the Vatican during the long years of the war in Russia.
From the letter, “At the request of President Roosevelt,
the Vatican has ceased all mention of the Communist
regime. But this silence that weighs heavily on our
conscience is misunderstood by the Soviet leaders who
continue the persecution against churches and faithful.
God grant that the free world will not one day regret my silence.”
Still the efforts of Pope Pacelli in behalf of Marxism
continued. In July 1944 he consented to a meeting between
Msgr. Montini and the undisputed leader of Italy’s
Communists, Palmiro Togliatti, who had just returned to
Italy after eighteen years of exile in Soviet Russia.
According to Document JR1022 released by the
Washington Office for Strategic Services in 1974 “the
discussion between Msgr. Montini and Togliatti was the
first direct contact between a high prelate of the Vatican
and a leader of Communism. After having examined the
situation, they acknowledged the potential possibility of a
contingent alliance between Catholics and Communists in
Italy which could give the three parties (Christian
Democrats, Socialists and Communists) an absolute
majority, thereby enabling them to dominate any political
situation. A tentative plan was drafted to forge the basis on
which the agreement between the three parties could be
made. They also drafted a plan of the fundamental lines
along which a practical understanding between the Holy See
and Russia could be created.”
The OSS showed sloppy homework in citing this as the
first Vatican-Soviet encounter. Both Jean Madiran and I
queried Msgr. Roche about his mention of a wartime
meeting between Montini and Stalin himself. We received
identical non-answers: “Yes, I agree with you that the MontiniStalin accord in 1942 was of the greatest importance.”
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A shocking event that occurred soon afterward was
the publication by the Vatican Poliglot Press of a book,
Madonna di Fatima in which Our Lady’s words are so
twisted as to provide the enemies of Germany with
prime propaganda. The name, “Russia” was removed, so
that German guilt was implied.
Who, one wonders, filed Report JR-1022? In the book
OSS, the Secret History of America’s First Intelligence
Agency, published by the California University Press in
1971, there are indications that it was Montini himself.
According to the author, R. Harris Smith, the future Pope
Paul was the key Vatican man in a network of Allied spies
particularly charged with gathering information
concerning strategic bombing targets in Japan. As for the
key Vatican man in Japan at the time, it was none other
than Pedro Arrupe, S.J., the future Father General of the
Society of Jesus, and survivor of the bombing of Hiroshima.
At the time of his official meeting with Togliatti,
Giovanni Montini was 47 and not yet in possession of a
Canon Law degree, let alone a bishop’s mitre. Yet he was
charged with carrying on top level negotiations in the
name of the Church. He had indeed gone a long way along
the path dreamed of by those early political activists who
were his parents.
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Quashing the Mind
Q. Who made you?
A. God made me.
Q. Why did He make you?
A. He made me to know Him, to love Him and to serve
Him in this life and to be happy with Him forever in the next.
Thus the serene opening of religious teaching for Catholic six-year-olds the world over before the Vatican
undermining. It was the simple question and answer
formula known as the Catechism. Missionaries had long
relied on the method. In sixteenth century Mexico
Augustinians and Franciscans from Spain had been able to
Christianize the Indians in a remarkably short time by asking
such questions as “Are there many gods or is there only
one?” Answers were learned by rote so that they were apt
to remain on call throughout a lifetime. Repeating the
questions and answers of the Catechism left to them by
Spanish missionaries was all the Catholics of Japan had to
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help them live through two centuries without priests or
sacraments and often under intense persecution.
The Catechism was the kind of natural, basic
structure that was certain to set the troubled minds of
modern Jesuits on a course of frantic invention. Already in
1929 A.J. Jungmann, S.J., a young professor at the University of Innsbruck, was petitioning Rome for permission to
submit a comprehensive revision of the entire catechetical
system. He received no encouragement from Pius XI. It was
not until well into the reign of Pius XII and the conclusion
of the Second World War that anything was done and then it
was done with a vengeance. By 1946 the Jesuits in Brussels
were ready with what they called a catechetical center. In
reality Lumen Vitae turned out to be headquarters for a
frontal attack on Catholic belief unparalleled in history. It
was a Jesuit project to be carried out by Jesuits. That it
could have come into being or continue to function without
papal approval is impossible. Popes are very well informed
about what the leading religious orders are up to and Pius
XII was in daily contact with one of the highest ranking
members of the Society of Jesus, Augustin Bea.
Interviewed shortly after the death of the Pope the head of
the Biblicum said, “As his confessor I can, of course, say
nothing. However I was continuously in close touch with
His Holiness on matters which had nothing to do with confession.”
The Lumen Vitae center at 186 Rue Washington in
Brussels was established ostensibly for the creation and
dissemination of catechetical publications. Writing in The
Wanderer; Farley Clinton considered the significance of the
organization: “It was an all-Jesuit institution dedicated to
the more or less rejection of all received ideas and the
divesting of religious teaching of all traditional content.
Lumen Vitae was extremely well financed from the first and it was
meant to function as a worldwide movement. It is difficult
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to convey in words how extremely big this organization
had become, even within ten years of its founding, that is,
by 1956. When the Second Vatican Council was announced
it was able to act effectively on an enormous scale because it
had been set up by men with very big ideas and
extraordinary patience.”
It had taken over a quarter century for the pioneer in
the movement, the Austrian Jesuit, Dr. A. Jungmann, to
realize his project to efface the Catechism. A dry,
scholarly priest, Jungmann was an early and passionate
participant in the neo-liturgical movement and he would go
on to guide the drafting of the Liturgical Constitution of the
Council. In the view of Jungmann, “for religious teaching
to be effective it must get away from the sterile
transmission of theological knowledge and offer instead the
good news of the Kingdom of God.” This was the precise
message of Cardinal Karol Wojtyla to the 1977
International Episcopal Synod when he wound up his
intervention with the words, “Personal acceptance is what
counts, not mental assent. The best catechist is one who
lives out the catechesis.”
As far back as 1943 alert observers monitoring the
frequent discourses of Pope Pius XII could have guessed
that a new approach to religious education was in the
offing. Among new openings for aspirants to the priesthood
he was suggesting they explore a field only hurriedly
touched on up till then, namely that of comparative religion.
Then came Menti Nostrae, an encyclical which would form
the basis for the overturn of a great deal of seminary
teaching. In the opinion of Cardinal Garrone, the Curia
member in charge of education during the pontificate of Paul
VI, “Menti Nostrae was not only in tune with the times, it
was prophetic, one of the most heroic writings of Pius XII’s
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audacious ministry. The Council document on seminaries
would have been unthinkable without Menti Nostrae
having set the precedent. In the beautiful Council texts we
find everything Pius XII asked for with such courage in his
encyclical.”
Just how audacious were his thoughts on the learning
process was to become crystal clear in an address he
made to the Brothers of the Christian Schools in Rome:
“The art of education” said the Pope, “is in many aspects the
art of adaptation, adapting to the age, adapting to
temperament, to character, to the needs of all just
aspirations, of adapting to time and place and adapting to
the rhythms of the general progress of humanity.”
It has been a short, fast trip from Menti Nostrae to life in
today’s seminaries. Setting the pace, the school Ignatius
Loyola founded in Rome in the year 1551 as an intellectual
citadel from which to battle the Protestant revolt, the
Pontifical Gregorian University. By the end of the 1960’s
Latin had disappeared at the “Greg”, along with traditional
monastic routine and all off-campus restrictions. Women
came on the scene, some two hundred attending classes,
Protestant and Jewish professors were appointed, cinema
cou rses included uncenso red fil ms of Buflu el,
Bergman and Dreyer and beer became available at an inside
bar.
Reinhardt Raffalt recalled dropping in one day in 1940
at the Germanicum, Rome’s German-Hungarian College, to
find the students clad in their fire-engine-red cassocks
dining in silence as they listened to devotional reading.
Paying a second visit in 1970 he was greeted by a babel of
jeans-clad youth shouting from table to table.
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Other young Germans had been treated to a curious
experiment during the late 1940’s when Nuncio Roncalli
and Pro-Secretary Montini dreamed up a correspondence
course for prisoners of war, dubbing the scheme, “barbed
wire seminaries”. The curriculum was publicized as being
the work of Msgr. Montini, however, considering his very
heavy schedule, virtually running the Vatican, and
considering Pius XII’s penchant for writing, it can be
reasonably assumed that the lessons were planned and
detailed by the Pope in his excellent German.
W h a t h a p p e n e d a t t h e “ G r e g ” ( G r e g o r i a n )
a n d t h e Germanicum was happening all over the world
during the sixties and seventies. The faithful of Newark,
New Jersey, had pooled their meager savings during the
Depression years to build what soon became a flourishing
major seminary at nearby Darlington. Today faculty
members admit, “there are so few vocations in Newark
that we accept students from anywhere, including lay
people, both men and women, nuns, Protestants.” Roman
Catholic doctrine has been replaced almost entirely by
what is called “current Catholic thought” and the few
students who aspire to the priesthood are as free to come
and go as any of the others, each sharing a two-bed
apartment with bath, television, stereo, refrigerator and, on
demand, a portable bar.
An extreme case, perhaps, but in line with the
worldwide consequences of the destruction of the Catechism
and the invitation to freedoms initiated at the top with a
papal encyclical. Kenneth Baker, one of the few Jesuits
unwilling to go along with the Lumen Vitae crowd, wonders
now that seminary after seminary has been forced to close
down for lack of students, if the future training for the
priesthood had best be done privately by knowledgeable,
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still dedicated, pastors. Obviously the time for finding
those pastors is running out.
The enthusiasm expressed by Cardinal Garrone for
Menti Nostrae was matched only by his joy over another
Pacelli encyclical of the 1940’s, Divino Afflante Spiritu
which he described as “a powerful breath of fresh air”.
Dedicated to the problem of biblical scholarship this
document deals with the precise subject which had touched
off the Modernist movement of the turn of the century. It
had been the publication of a study called The Essence of
Christianity by the German Lutheran theologian, Adolf
Harnack, with its demand for a radical reassessment of
the Scriptures and the subsequent favorable reaction to
that book on the part of prominent Catholic pedagogues,
that had set the stage.
The American exegete, Raymond Brown, agreed
wholeheartedly with the applause of Garrone for Divino
Afflante Spiritu saying the encyclical “represents a complete
about-face in attitudes toward biblical study” and he
expressed satisfaction that, thanks to the opening it
afforded, it is now possible in Catholic seminaries “to
consider that the early chapters of Genesis were not
historical, that the Book of Isaiah was not a single book,
that Matthew was not the work of an eye-witness, that the
four Gospels were not four harmonious biographies and
were sometimes inaccurate in detail.”
Another well-known churchman who had kind words
for Divino Afflante Spiritu was the usually dissident Fr. Hans
Küng. “It shows”, he wrote, “how far the Church is willing
to go in accepting modern attitudes toward exegetical
methods and along with it, shows a tacit disapproval of the
anti-Modernist decrees of Pope Pius X. Moreover the
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document gives clear recognition of the authority of the
original texts over that of any translation, ancient or
modern. Hence it gives a definite decrease in the
importance of the Vulgate.”
When in the early 1950’s Pius XII gave the green light to
Bea and his staff at the Biblicum to begin work on a new
translation of the Psalms, as well as the scriptural prayers
recited in the priest’s daily office, they were meant to
replace those contained in the Vulgate, the officially
accepted translation of the Bible since the days of its
author, the fifth century St. Jerome. Not only was the
resulting text, as Bonneterre points out, impossible to sing
to plain chant but it was to provide yet another blow to
what Avery Dulles calls the priest’s “spiritual serenity”
by taking away the familiar and beloved ring of the old,
often recited phrases of the Vulgate.
Savaging Tradition
In comparison with the chaos that followed it, the long
reign of Pius XII seems to older conservative Catholics of
today to have been a time when all was right with the
Church. Except for occasional rumors of liturgical
experimentation in Belgium and France, the old institution
appeared to be united in doctrine a n d r i t u a l , s e c u r e i n
96
i t s M a g i s t e r i u m a n d t h a t Magisterium safe in the austere,
rather remote figure of Pope Pacelli. Wraithlike in white, he
enhanced his frequent pronouncements in melodious
Italian with unequaled dignity. It was a time when eighty
percent of American Catholics were attending Sunday
Mass regularly while an atmosphere of absolute certitude
brought conversions and not only in the missionary fields
of Africa. In 1950 Cardinal Spellman was able to say, “If
the present rate of conversions continues, in another
century the United States will be a Catholic country.”
Yet it was precisely in those flourishing times that the
Pope, who was coming to be referred to as “the Angelic
Pastor”, with Fr. Montini, his right-hand man in tandem,
was pushing through mutations in doctrine and practice that
were going to set the whole edifice trembling. Step by step
the two were moving toward a Council that would be a
kind of final solution for those mutations.
While the destruction of the Catechism would be the
most telling blow the faithful would be asked to take, the
subversion of the liturgy would effect them emotionally to a
much greater degree. As early as 1947 Pope Pacelli, in
consultation with academics of Louvain University along
with a group of advanced neo-liturgists based in Paris,
was setting up a commission for the complete overhauling
of the sacred liturgy. As Secretary he chose a thirty-five
year old priest, one Fr. Bugnini, who had the evocative
first name of Annibale, having been born in a town along
the shores of Lake Trasimeno where Hannibal and his
elephants roundly defeated the Romans. Beating the
Romanness out of the Missal, the ancient Book of the Mass,
became the major goal of Fr. Bugnini and his group of
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periti. That the Pope gave great importance to this
committee and its works is evident in lines from an
autobiography which Bugnini wrote many years after the
Council when he had attained the rank of Archbishop.
“We enjoyed the full confidence of Pius XII who was kept
informed of our work by Msgr. Montini and even more
by Fr. Bea, his confessor. Thanks to these intermediaries
we could arrive at remarkable results even in periods when
the Pope’s illness prevented anyone else from seeing him.”
Had it not been for this enthusiastic support of the
Pope, it is probable that major liturgical changes would
not have been attempted by the commission, since
members of the Curial office, the Sacred Congregation for
Rites, opposed Bugnini nearly all the way. Even to attain
the radical changes that the Pope wanted in the Easter rites
took six years, but Pacelli was Pope and he would have to
be the victor. Finally in 1955 the papal decree Maxima
Redemptionis went into effect, moving the Holy Saturday
celebrations from the morning to late in the night and
calling for a series of variants, making of it a kind of
rehearsal for the New Mass, still a decade in the future. In
many of the Pacelli-planned Easter ceremonies the priest
faced the people, the opening prayers at the foot of the altar
and the last Gospel were suppressed, as were the traditional Holy Week devotions of the Three Hours on Good
Friday and the very moving solemnities of Tenebrae.
It was early in the 1950’s that Pius XII sent a directive
to the superiors of every order of women religious in the
world. Its message, according to a Canadian nun who
remembers it, was “modernize, or else...” The directive
had to do with spiritual attitudes, the cloistered life, dress and so
98
on. It had gone largely unheeded. Apparently dismayed, the
Pope ordered the superiors to come to Rome so that he
could impress upon them the seriousness of intention to
bring nuns up to date. Mentioning in his initial address to
the group that sending for them had cost a good deal of
money, he was promptly presented with a generous check
to cover expenses. He returned it saying that a better way to
use the money would be to contribute it to a fund to
establish a school for higher studies in Rome where certain
women in the worldwide religious orders could come for
special courses and seminars. This was the origin of the
women’s College of Regina Mundi.
During the decade between 1944 and 1954 the French
worker-priest movement had its beginning and its subsequent
ups and downs. During the last year of the war the three
most liberal-minded Cardinals of France, Lienart, Suhard
and Feltin, obtained from Pius XII permission for a project
in which certain priests were to be freed from ordinary
duties to work in factories and in what were termed “city
missions”. The idea, it was said, was to evangelize workers
who were being increasingly subjected to Marxist
pressure. Within a year or so there were around a
hundred French worker-priests, half of them members of
religious orders.
It was not long before many of these men became
involved one way or another in Marxist cadres. Instead of
converting, they were being converted. Even so, there
appears to have been no conflict with the Vatican until the
spring of 1949 when Pius XII made an abrupt move
amounting to a political about-face. The politics were
Italian, not French. Since the war the heirs to Giorgio
Montini’s Popular Party, the Christian Democrats, had been the
leading,force in the Italian Parliament. By 1949, however, the
99
growing Communist Party was threatening to overpower
them in coming elections. Then it was that Pius XII came
to the rescue in a pragmatic gesture that would win for him
a mythical status, that of an “anti-Marxist”. Calling in the
Holy Office, he ordered them to publish a decree
forbidding Italian Catholics to join the Communist Party.
As a consequence the Christian Democrats pulled through
and the Pope, already ten years in the Chair of Peter,
delivered the first recognizably anti-Marxist discourse of his
pontificate.
Immediately Vatican Radio, broadcasting internationally, startled the world with a wealth of data they had
been collecting but had been forbidden until now to divulge.
Suddenly it was learned that, not only was it true that some
sixty-five million European Catholics in the East were
finding it difficult or impossible to practice their faith, but
priests had been executed, some six thousand of them as a
matter of fact, mostly in the Ukraine, but also in the
Baltic States and in Bulgaria. Four thousand five hundred
priests had disappeared, deported to Siberia or
i mprisoned in Czechoslavakia, Hungary and Poland.
Neither that news, the papal discourse, or even the
Holy Office decree put an end to the worker-priest
movement in France, however. There followed four more
years of activity, much of it exceedingly controversial
with priests reported wounded and even arrested in street
battles. From the Vatican came occasional reminders of the
wrongness of class struggle but it was not until 1953 that
Pius XII withdrew permission for the worker-priest
movement. How effective the notice to withdraw was, can
be judged from a note in the Paris daily Le Monde in 1987
citing the presence of at least eight hundred worker-priests
operating in the country.
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Meanwhile, as if to balance in a very small way his turn
against the far Left, Pius XII directed his attention to
Catholics at the other end of the social scale. For three
successive years, on one excuse or another, he had put off
the customary annual reception of the Roman aristocrats,
members of the Black Nobility, men and women of
ancient lineage who had closed their palace doors in 1870
when the Papal States fell to the insurgents. Refusing all
favor from the newly installed royal House of Savoy, they
professed solidarity with the “Prisoner in the Vatican”.
Finally deciding to receive them in 1956, Pius in effect
dismissed them. His explanation: “The impetuous wind of a
new era blows away many traditions of the past. It carries
with it much that the past has built up. Italy’s new postFascist constitution does not recognize any particular
mission in any social class, neither any attribute nor any
privilege. A page in history has been turned, a chapter
closed. A new chapter has opened. You may think what you
like but those are the facts.” He was echoing the words of
Franklin Roosevelt to Winston Churchill when the latter
lamented the fact that America seemed indifferent to the
fate of the British Empire. Said the President, “A new period
has opened in the world’s history and you will have to adjust
yourself to it.”
For the Church the early 1950’s brought more
loosening of sacramental discipline. Pius XII gave
permission for the celebration of evening Masses and he
reduced the period of fasting from the midnight before the
reception of Holy Communion to a mere three hours, while
in the United States a major step in liturgical change got
underway when the Confraternity for Christian Doctrine
requested and received permission from the Vatican for the
celebration of what it called an “American Ritual” in which
a good deal of the Mass was said in English.
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Structures which would become important in the New
Church were beginning to take shape. At the suggestion of
the radical Brazilian, Msgr. Helder Camara, the Pope sent
Bishop Antonio Samord, assisted by the young Fr. Agostino
Casaroli, to Colombia to pull together the individual
episcopal conferences of the vast regions of Latin America
into a cohesive, easier to manage, super-episcopal
conference which would emerge after the Council as
CELAM. At the same time the Pope gave encouragement to
Spaniards to launch the Cursillo movement, like the Focolare
and the Base Communities, convenient to the eventual
spread of “liberation theology” in Central and South
America. One Latin American, destined to become a
Marxist martyr, the young Colombian Camilo Torres,
S.J. turned up in Rome in 1953 to receive the blessing not
only of the Jesuit Father General but of Pope Pius who
praised him for his expressed g
oal of establishing a “new
world order for Latin America.”
Soon Pius XII was joining the worldwide hue and cry
organized by the Socialist International to save the Soviet
spies, Ethel and Julius Rosenberg, from the electric chair.
The gesture was in line with his intervention ten years
earlier when his friend, the British envoy to the Holy See,
armed with the signatures of forty pro-Marxist Londonbased intellectuals, begged him to save the life of Italy’s
top Communist leader, Luigi Longo, rumored to be slated
for execution. To the acute embarrassment of the Vatican,
the Fascist Foreign Minister, Count Galeazzo Ciano, replied
icily that “Although the militant Communist Longo is being
held in detention, there has never been the intention of
executing him.”
Outstanding among the Pacelli encyclicals of the 1950’s
was Humani Generis, which dealt with the origin of man.
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John Paul II referred to it in October, 1996: “Humani Generis
considered evolution to be a serious hypothesis worthy of
more deeply studied investigation.”
At the time, particularly in France, intellectuals, both
those pro and con on the evolutionism of Teilhard de
Chardin, reached for first copies with interest, only to find,
as “Xavier Rynne” explained, “What was immediately
discernible about the encyclical was its pastoral spirit. It
cited no one for condemnation nor did ecclesiastical
censorship occur after the publication, although eventually
two provincials, a Dominican and a Jesuit, were shifted to
other assignments. Although certain tendencies and ideas
were proscribed, the encyclical made no attempt to stifle
theological initiatives. Rather it encouraged vital and
existentialist investigation of current problems.”
That was the good news that reached Fr. Teilhard
boarding an ocean liner at Southampton for a voyage to
Buenos Aires. Having recently been invited to join the
dissident Old Catholics in Utrecht, he had declined saying
that, while he agreed in general with their stand, he intended
to remain within the Church in order, as he put it, “to
transform it”. His letter to Holland read in part, “I think
essentially that the Church has come to the point where
transformation, that is, essential reform, must occur. After
two thousand years there is no help for it. Mankind itself is
in the throes of transformation; how could Catholicism
escape? To be specific, I believe this reformation, a much
more radical affair than the one in the sixteenth century, is
not a mere matter of institutions or morals but of faith itself. Somehow our conception of God is divided. Besides
the traditional transcendent God a sort of God of the future
has arisen for us in the course of the last century.”
103
In France just then, Catholic academics were playing
with the idea of rehabilitating the one-time Augustinian
monk, Martin Luther. A young priest who protested,
Georges de Nantes, was relieved of his teaching post.
Nearly as serious to the Abbé as losing his job, was the
appearance of the first major work by the Dominican, Yves
Congar. It was shock from reading, True and False Reform in
the Church as much as the personal matter that took him to
Rome in 1953. “I wanted to alert those responsible against
the grave danger of the reforms Congar proposed. I saw
them leading to a perversion of the whole Church, along the
lines we were already experiencing in France. Although
I was well received and listened to, I found the Romans
did not take our French quarrels seriously and were too
certain of their own authority over the rest of the world.”
Meanwhile in Rome Msgr. Bugnini and his Pontifical
Commission were proceeding energetically with the organization of international liturgical congresses. Successive
meetings at the German shrine of Maria Laach, at Lugano
in Switzerland and Louvain in Belgium were dedicated to
the progressive reduction of what had come down through
the ages as the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. The continual
hacking away for the purpose, it was claimed of making it
“more relevant to modern man” was to attain its goal a
decade later when a representative of the Lutheran
Augsburg Conference was able to declare that “obstacles
hindering the Protestant participation in the (Catholic)
Eucharist are disappearing. Today it should be possible
for a Protestant to recognize in the Catholic eucharistic
celebration the Supper instituted by the Lord.”
104
After Louvain came the greatest of the liturgical
congresses, that of Assisi. Twelve hundred delegates, among
them six cardinals and eighty bishops, converged on the
little Umbrian city of St. Francis. The year was 1956. In his
book Has the Catholic Church Gone Mad? the British
scholar, John Eppstein, considers this assembly to be the
run-up to the drastic liturgical decrees that followed the Council.
He writes, “Here was a group of enthusiasts ready to
implement the pre-Conciliar organization still to be
convoked by Cardinal Cicognani. Its members were drawn
mostly from France, Germany, Belgium, Holland and the
United States. It did not take them long to work out the
schema for the Liturgical Constitution which was ready
when the Council met. Many of the same group worked
together throughout the Council and found their way into
the post-Conciliar commission set up to implement the
principles which Vatican II had adopted. And during the
whole process the dominant figure was Msgr. Bugnini who
headed each of the stages of work in the reforming bodies.
...Bugnini was as much an architect of the New Mass as
Cranmer of the Book of Common Prayer.”
That Pius XII was pleased with the Congress at Assisi
and with its guidance by his appointee, Bugnini, was evident
from the closing message he addressed to the assembly. In
part, “The liturgical movement has appeared like a sign of a
providential gift of God for our time, like a passage of the
Holy Spirit over the Church in order to show the faithful
the mysteries of the faith and the riches of grace that come
from active participation in the liturgy.”
Among the events drawing inspiration from the Assisi
Congress that year, was a Canadian symposium entitled “The
Great Action of the Christian Church”, organized by the
North American Liturgical Conference and a committee
headed by Bishop (later Cardinal) John Wright of
105
Worcester, Massachusetts, it presented a central ritual
unparalleled at the time. Replacing the Introibo, the opening
words that had come into the Mass in the days of
Charlemagne, “I go unto the altar of God, to God who
gives joy to my youth” with “We welcome our president”
chanted in unison, t he ce re mon y pro ceed ed to the tune
of rousing Lutheran hymns, a sermon in which it was
explained that the Eucharist was a community meal rather
than a sacrifice and to top the morning off there was a Pontifical Blessing from Pius XII in Rome.
Another, pocket of devotion that was already well
updated long before the Council, was Downside Abbey in
England. The novelist Evelyn Waugh, spending his
customary Holy Week in retreat at Downside, noted in his
journal, “Rather boring, since the new ritual, introduced
for the first time this year, leaves many hours unemployed.
There is a bright young philosopher, a Fr. Illtyd Trethowan,
who gave outstanding conferences. I found myself
disagreeing with everything he said and resenting the new
liturgy.”
106
Gathering for the Kill
In 1954 the priest, reported by several important
observers to be virtually running the Vatican, Fr.
Montini, 57, received his consecration to the episcopate
and an appointment to the second most important
Archbishopric in Italy, that of the northern industrial city of
Milan. That it must have cost the Pope, now 78, dearly to
send away his closest collaborator of more than two
decades, there can be no doubt. As he became more and
more absorbed in the writing of encyclicals and, as we
now learn, in planning the Council, Montini must have
become virtually indispensable to him.
Amid the never-ending polemics as to why the
appointment to Milan was made without the bestowal of a
cardinal’s hat, there have been at least three altogether
different stories. It has been suggested, but only in Italy, that
Fr. Montini was somehow involved in the squalid Montesi
scandal that was making international headlines at the time.
Another version has it that Montini had resigned in a huff
over a budget scheme for Vatican City of which be
disapproved. However most often it was thought,
particularly outside Italy, that the Pope, discovering that his
trusted assistant was having secret talks with Communist
leaders, banished him from his sight in shock and sorrow.
So far no serious evidence for any of the stories has
come to light. Most unlikely of all would be the third and
most popular tale, considering the fact that Nuncio Pacelli
107
was himself practicing Ostpolitik as f a r b a c k a s 1 9 1 8
w h e n h e c a r r i e d o n p r i v a t e negotiation on behalf of
Pope Benedict with top Soviet leaders. Hansjakob Stehle,
Vatican correspondent for Die Welt of Hamburg and author
of the comprehensive study Die Ostpolitik des Vatikans 1917-
1975 found in recently opened German State archives details of protracted talks between Bishop Pacelli and Soviet
Commissar Cicerin. Stehle says he was astounded at the
concessions offered by the Nuncio. There were to be no
Polish priests sent into Russia and no priests of any
nationality who were not approved by Moscow. Before the
talks were concluded, Soviet attitudes hardened and in the
end nothing was done.
As for the Montini-Togliatti rendezvous it happened a
good ten years before the Milan appointment and, while it
was certainly secret until revealed by the American State
Department in 1974, the meeting was no secret from ‘the
Vatican. Msgr. Montini met Togliatti, as he had met
Stalin in 1942 as Substitute Secretary of State, the
recognized spokesman for the Pope. Moreover, according
to Stehle, no sooner had Pius XII dispatched Montini to
Milan in 1954 than he himself reopened negotiations with
the Soviets by sending the Viennese theologian Msgr.
Röding, on a confidential mission to Moscow.
It is true that Pius did not make Montini a cardinal and
that the See of Milan is usually ruled by a cardinal.
However the explanation, as revealed by subsequent
events, lay in the fact that the Pope did not want Montini
to be available for election to the papacy in a conclave he
knew could not be far off. Montini must be spared the
brunt of what was going to be a severe shock to the faithful,
namely the Council he was planning. Meanwhile the
message sent to the new Archbishop at the time of his installation
was glowing with warmth, gratitude and praise.
108
Msgr. Montini seems to have taken to the new more
independent life in Milan with zest. Initiating what would
become an eight-year sojourn in the Lombard capitol
with a dramatic gesture, hitherto unknown among Catholic
prelates, that of kissing the ground on arrival, he went on
to play host to a succession of men whose influence would
weigh heavily on the future of the Church. There were
successive delegations of non-Catholic theologians staying
at the Episcopal palace, most of them members of the Anglican Communion. There was Jacques Maritain whose
“integral humanism” Montini and Pacelli had been
promoting for the last twenty years. By the mid-1950’s the
Maritain thesis had become the hidden life of the Church
only awaiting the Council to insert itself into the lives of
the faithful. Following his wartime years as a refugee in
Canada the French philosopher had spent three years in
Rome as Ambassador to the Holy See and had now returned
to France in order to dedicate all his time to writing.
One summer Maritain brought to Montini’s residence an
American whom he said he considered to be “one of only
three revolutionaries worthy of the name, indeed, one of the
few really great men of this century”. It was Saul David
Alinsky. The self-styled “professional radical” was to spend
an entire week with Archbishop Montini discussing the
Church’s relations with the powerful local Communist
trade union. “It was an interesting experience”, Alinsky told
his biographer, M.K. Sanders, “There I was, sitting
between the Archbishop and a beautiful grey-eyed
blonde Milanese Communist union official, exploring the
common interests bridging Communism and capitalism.”
109
As for religion, Saul Alinsky explained his attitude to
Playboy a few years later. He said he had turned away from his
strict Jewish family in order to join the International
Brigade in the Spanish Civil War. Going on to develop his
theory of “People Power”, he said that it was after meeting
Jacques Maritain that he began to see how revolution could
become part of the Catholic Church. He preferred to call it,
however, the “Church of Today and Tomorrow” and it was a
Church which he felt must become quite free of dogma.” I
detest and fear dogma. Nobody owns the truth and
dogma, whatever form it takes, is the ultimate enemy of
human freedom.” Alinsky, Montini and Maritain expressed
serene accord that the Church Militant must give way to the
Church Loving.
By the late 1950’s the days of Eugenio Pacelli were
drawing to a close and the time of the Council
approaching. Unusual light is thrown on the feverish
activity of that time by Elizabeth Gerstner, an assistant to
the German who headed the Bonn office of the Lay
Apostolate, a newly set up Vatican organization. It was the
illness of her chief that brought young Mrs. Gerstner to the
central office, some twenty rooms in a complex of old
buildings in Rome’s Piazza di San Calisto. The
coordination and promotion of major assemblies
throughout the world was the aim of work carried out
with strenuous efficiency by a staff of twenty-five, under
the direction of Rosemary Goldie, daughter of a Jewish
newspaper man in Australia.
From the beginning Mrs. Gerstner was astonished at the
familiarity with which Miss Goldie and the other members of
the staff treated Curial cardinals and bishops. There was no
difficulty in communicating with them at any hour of the
day. Gradually it dawned on her how important this committee
110
was, functioning as a kind of processing center for every phase
of hierarchy-laity relations throughout the world.
In retrospect, however, the center has taken on an ever
greater significance for it as an antechamber of the Second
Vatican Council. Well before the announcement of the
Council the kind of churchmen who moved in and out of
the offices at San Calisto presaged the changes ahead.
There was the jolly old Jesuit Augustin Bea, 78, whose
Episcopal consecration, his negotiations with Jewish
leaders and his Secretariat for Christian Unity were still
ahead of him. There was the protégée of that long-deceased
pioneer of change, Cardinal Mercier of Malines-Brussels,
Leo Suenens, now Auxiliary Bishop of the same diocese,
not yet “born again” nor converted to Pentecostalism. There
were the younger avant-garde Jesuits, Jean Danièlou,
Malachi Martin, Roberto Tucci who would go on to head
Vatican Radio and there were the even more avant-garde
theologians, such as Yves Congar, Josef Ratzinger, and
Bernard Häring. Members of the Laity Committee itself
included François Dubois-Dumée, journalist and avowed
Communist, as well as Msgr. Achille Glorieux who would
be found to have been in charge of the waylaying operation
in which an anti-Marxist draft resolution signed by 450
Council fathers vanished from sight. In his The Rhine Flows
Into the Tiber Fr. Wiltgen wrote, “From four different
sources I learned that the person who had withheld the
document was Msgr. Glorieux of Lille, France, who was
holding down half a dozen Vatican posts at the time.”
Inevitably the continued presence of men like these
engendered an atmosphere entirely new to the young
representative from Germany. Neither her considerable
travel nor her wide international contacts had prepared her for
the kind of language she was hearing at San Calisto. She was
unable to reconcile it with anything she knew to be Catholic.
111
When news came that a Council had been summoned, it
suddenly became clear to her that these men had not only been
working toward Vatican II but were moving way beyond it,
planning situations and inventing structures for an entirely new
kind of Church in which the priesthood, the liturgy, the
Sacraments and the Mass itself would be of little importance.
Late in 1962 making her farewells after three years at San
Calisto, Mrs. Gerstner stopped in to see one of the men whose
reasoned words had rested her mind after the incomprehensible
goings-on at the Lay Apostolate offices, the ageing Spaniard,
Arcadio Cardinal Larraona. She told him of her feeling of dread
for the future of the Church. He gave her no comfort.
“They are going to change everything”, he said, “the liturgy,
everything. Latin will go completely.”
She told him of her love for Latin and how she had taught
Gregorian plain-song to Black girls in a settlement house in
New York City and how, to their delight, by the end of summer
they were able to sing through the entire Mass. The Cardinal’s only
comment, “They are going to do away with all of it.”
What is interesting is that as an insider Larraona knew at least
a year before the Council opened that in top Vatican circles a plan
to phase out Latin had been formulated, decided upon and only
awaited the bishops’ signatures to be ratified. Mrs. Gerstner’s
revelation thus makes pointless the mountain of post-Conciliar
analyses about how and when it was that events during the
Council were decisive for change. What happened to the liturgy
had begun to happen in 1947 when Pope Pius XII set up his
liturgical commission and selected young Fr. Bugnini to manage it.
112
Collecting the Signatures
Pope Pius XII died four years before the Council he
conceived assembled. That in reality it had been Pacelli,
the “Angelic Pastor”, who had willed the event supposed
responsible for creating a Church he would hardly have
recognized, is difficult for most Catholics to grasp. For
conservatives, what they saw as the firm orthodoxy of a
revered Pope would have made his sanctioning of
troubling Council documents impossible, whereas
progressives would be loath to give such a “rigid” Pontiff credit
for change.
Yet the Propositor for the beatification of Eugenio Pacelli,
Msgr. Paul Molinari, S.J., speaking on Vatican Radio, called
“ignorant” those who assume the Church did a turn-about on
the death of Pius XII. “There was no break. On the contrary,
one has only to look at the Council documents in which the
teaching of Pius is referred to more than two hundred
times, far more often in fact, than any source with the
exception of Holy Scripture. For years His Holiness worked
at preparatory studies for the Council. He only suspended
work on them when he became convinced that Catholics
did not have enough preparation to withstand the shock of a
council.”
Marcel Clement, French journalist, agrees with Msgr.
Molinari, “This great Pope not only made the Second
Vatican Council possible, he prepared the way for it. I
personally was able to observe, while following the Council
day by day as a reporter, how many of the ideas and aspirations
113
which only came to light under the cupola of St. Peter’s
had actually been anticipated under his pontificate. He was
the first to ease the discipline of the Eucharistic fast. He
modified the Tridentine liturgy and the Easter rites. He
further authorized reading in the vernacular. He was first to
accord mass media the same importance the Council
would afford it. In short he began the whole process which
was to continue during and after Vatican II.”
In a Jesuit Year Book Fr. Giovanni Caprile, a senior
editor of Civiltà Cattólica, put it this way: “One need only
think of Pope Pius’ approval of the secular institutes, of
his exhortation to female religious, Sponsa Christi, his
discourses in 1950 and later.”
The well known dissident, Hans Küng, has written
glowingly about the progressive steps taken by Pius XII.
Mistaking him for the originator of the Dialogue Mass which
antedated the Pacelli reign and even his tenure of Secretary
of State, Küng rejoiced that it “helped to recover the
explicitly communal character of the Mass”. He goes on to
laud the Pope for giving permission as far back as 1949 for
the use of Hebrew and Chinese for the entire Mass with the
exception of the Canon. Then there was the renewal “full of
promise” of the liturgy for Holy Week, his discouragement
of subjective devotions in favor of common prayer, his
internationalizing of the College of Cardinals with thirty-two
new appointments and finally his giving permission to
German Lutheran pastors who became Catholic priests to
remain married and to make full use of their marriage.
The year before he died, Pius XII opened seminaries,
monasteries and convents to the deadly brainwashing
known as psychoanalysis by bestowing his blessing on the
founding of the Marsalin Institute in the Boston diocese, a
114
center to be dedicated to early detection of mental illness in
apparently normal recruits for the religious life.
As Fr. Jerome Maynard, O.B., explained to a large group of
Council Fathers at the invitation of Belgium’s Cardinal Suenens: “If
a young Catholic is presumed to be a believer at the start of
analysis and comes out of it unbelieving, it can only mean that
his previous religiosity was the product of a sick mind.”
Years later, repentant psychotherapist, William Coulson,
confessed to Dr. Marra in The Latin Mass that he and famed
therapist Carl Rogers literally destroyed whole communities of
Franciscans, of Sisters of Charity and a dozen more orders across
the United States. They even aided in ruining the Jesuits who rewarded them with two honorary degrees. Said Coulson,
“Everywhere we talked we tried to show these people how to
become aware of themselves, their real, their inner selves.” To
help them see that Christian asceticism, the giving of one’s self
to God, is a sick and childish absurdity, unfair to their precious
selves in our sexy, consumer society?.
Had he lived a few more years, would Pius XII have had to
rescind his approval of the Freudian evil as he had been forced
to rescind his sanction of the worker priest movement?
It was late in 1958 and the death of Eugenio Pacelli was
bringing renewed activity to the offices at Piazza San Calisto,
when coming on a weeping Elizabeth Gerstner, Miss Goldie
asked what troubled her. The answer seemed obvious so the
German countered with a question of her own, “Tell me,
Rosemary, who do you think is going to be the next Pope?”
“Why, didn’t you know? Angelo Roncalli, of course.”
115
Who? Oh, you mean the Patriarch of Venice? But why ?”
“Oh, Elizabeth, you don’t know anything, do you? Roncalli
will be Pope for a few years and then Gianbattista Montini,
of course.”
Cardinal Heenan of Westminster who took part in the 1958
Conclave, confirms the Roncalli-Montini plan. In his biography,
Crown of Thorns he relates, “There was no great mystery about
Pope John’s election. He was chosen because he was a very old
man. His chief duty was to make Msgr. Montini (Archbishop of
Milan) a cardinal so that he could be elected in the next
conclave. That was the policy and it was carried out precisely.”
One insider, Msgr. Bruno Heim, who had been Roncalli’s
secretary during the Nunciature days in Paris, had no doubt
about who was going to emerge as Pope from the forthcoming
conclave. His hobby was heraldry and for weeks before the
meetings he had been working on a papal coat of arms for his
former chief.
Commenting on his election, the new Pope, 78, apparently found
a certain satisfaction in his interim status, expressing it in quite
transcendental terms: “I shall be called John, a name dear to us for
its reminder of the precursor of the Lord who was not himself the
Light but was to bear witness to the Light.” Was it, one
wonders, the future Montini pontificate or the as yet
unannounced Council he was comparing to the coming of
Christ? And Pope John was not alone in building up his
proposed successor on the Throne of Peter. Mrs. Gerstner tells us
that members and employees of the Lay Apostolate at Piazza di San
Calisto were instructed to form a clique to applaud each public
appearance of Msgr. Montini.
116
Pope John must have been strangely confident that of the
several hundred people involved for many months in setting up the
Council, not one of them had breathed a word of it. Or perhaps it
was only a measure of how little the faithful are aware of what
goes on inside the Vatican that his way of describing how he
had come to call a Council did not strike them as absurd. “The
impulse came”, he said “completely unexpected like a flash of
heavenly light, shedding sweetness in eyes and hearts.”
Four whole days before those ethereal words were uttered
“insider” Hans Küng proved to be so well acquainted with the
basic themes of the Council-to-be that he was outlining them to
an astonished lecture audience in the Hofkirche of the city of
Luzern. In his book Council, Reform and Reunion, published on
the eve of Vatican II, Küng shows that he knew even a little
better than the Pope what was afoot, since he had been present
at the last high-level meeting in Munich, chaired by
Archbishop Montini, in which Pacelli plans for the Council
had been thoroughly worked over. Taking part, besides Fr. Küng,
were such notably progressive bishops as Msgr. Dópfner,
Suenens, Kónig and that up and coming protègèe of Pope John,
Albino Luciani, the future John Paul I, one of the very few
Italians admitted to the Montini inner circle. Along with the
prelates were their indispensable periti, the German Bernard
Häring and Josef Ratzinger, among others.
One priest who left the Munich conference with a serious
commitment was Augustin Bea. He had been charged with telling
Pope John that it had been decided the time had come to set up
a special Vatican office to be devoted to ecumenism. John is
reported to have been delighted with the idea. A few months
later, on the feast of Pentecost, the Secretariat for the Promotion of
117
Christian Unity came into being. On that day, June 5, 1959, as if
by coincidence, its first president, Fr. Bea, happened to be in
New York; thus Vatican ecumenism was launched where the
media would do it the most good. Msgr. Lefebvre, talking in
Turin in 1974, said Council Fathers knew Bea’s Manhattan trip
was to obtain approval for the new Secretariat from the top Jewish
Lodge, B’nai B’rith.
Among the first appointees to the Secretariat was Fr. Gregory
Baum, a convert from Judaism who has subsequently left the
priesthood. “Bea”, said Baum, “told us how we were to promote
ecumenism. We were to try to influence bishops in our countries
by influencing public opinion. We were to write as much as we
could and to speak often on radio and TV.”
Meanwhile Angelo Roncalli, the interim Pope, was doing
his best to line up the kind of dramatis personae that could be
counted on to put through the Pacelli-Montini plans at the Council
and to carry them on afterwards. Holding five consistories, he
appointed 52 cardinals, among them the liberal Germans who
would dominate the debates, Döpfner and Alfrink, C a r d i n a l
M e r c i e r ’ s p r o t é g é e , L e o S u e n e n s , Confalonieri, so
important during the Action Française troubles when he
acted as Pope Ratti’s private secretary, South Americans who
would prove invaluable when it came to getting “liberation
theology” underway, Silva Henríquez of Chile and Landazurri
Ricketts of Peru. For his Secretary of State Pope John chose a
man only one year younger than himself, Amleto Cicognani,
who as Apostolic Delegate of Pius XII had controlled the
appointment of two hundred of the two hundred fifty bishops
who would make up the American contingent at the forthcoming
Council.
118
Between trips to Germany the Archbishop of Milan was
also running back and forth to Rome. Looking in one day at the
office of the Vatican’s official Preparatory Commission for
the Council he was stopped with the words: “Look, Monsignor,
this kind of thing is not Catholic. We will have to condemn it.”
Montini’s reply was brusk, “With you, Msgr. Lefebvre,
everything is ‘condemn, condemn’. You might as well
understand now that in the future there are going to be no more
condemnations. Condemnations are finished”. One wonders if
those words reverberated in the mind of the venerable Frenchman
twenty-eight years later when he read the sentence of his own
excommunication. Or did he perhaps recall the more recent
pronouncement of Msgr. Tomko, head of the Permanent Episcopal
Synod, to the effect that “excommunication is as outdated as the
electric chair or the gas chamber”? As for Marcel Lefebvre’s
presence in the Preparatory Commission, it had been
obligatory under existing protocol, since he was Superior
General of the world’s largest missionary order, the Holy
Ghost Fathers. As Council sessions began, his recommendations
and others like his were discarded as irrelevant. Indeed the
Council had hardly gotten underway when the entire two years
work by the official Preparatory Commission was thrown out
to make room for the well programmed agenda already prepared by
insiders.
Insider preparation for the Council was also going on in
faraway New Delhi. A Vatican envoy was negotiating with
Patriarch Nikodim of the Soviet branch of the Orthodox
Church, who was taking part in the World Conference of
Churches then in session in the Indian city. It was agreed that the
Patriarch would meet Cardinal Tisserant in the French town of Metz
119
to work out plans for Orthodox observers to attend the
Council on condition no derogatory words concerning
Marxism were allowed to be spoken during the entire term of
the assembly.
By October 1962 with the first session of the Council
about to begin, Pope John and Archbishop Montini were
exuding confidence. Time, writing on the election of Paul
VI years later, recalled their mood, “Pope John showered
attention on Montini who is reported to have had a hand in
preparing the keynote speech which opened the Vatican
Council.”
While John and the future Paul approached the Council
optimistically, certain insiders expressed misgivings. Fr.
Hans Küng was writing that he wondered if the gathering
was coming too late. He realized that “in certain circles of
ecclesiastics there are those who are not in the least
interested in a Council and have no use for reform.” How,
he wondered, was it going to be possible to get the
majority in favor of far-reaching changes? And then he
answered his own question: “Everything that comes before
the Council must be strained through carefully selected
commissions and then proceed not so much as if through the
will of the bishops as through the will of the Pope.”
And so it was done. Looking back many years later
Archbishop Lefebvre would admit to having been taken in by
that strategy, “I, too, was persuaded and personally
impressed by the fact that the Pope wanted the documents
signed as presented. I signed all but two of them.”
Over and over during the three years of meetings the
artful combination of papal charisma and the continuous
and determined action of papally-appointed, liberal-packed
commissions was able to push through the revolution. The
very goodness and trust of those who let themselves be shunted
120
along, rather than their indifference, worked toward certain
victory for the insiders who had long been making plans to
change the Church. Unless a Council Father happened to be one
of the inner group, he would have had no notion of how well
organized the rebels against tradition were and how long and
patiently they had been at work. Certainly it would never have
occurred to any them, least of all to a man like Msgr. Lefebvre,
that the driving power behind all that they regretted had been that
of four Popes and a Vatican Secretary of State.
121
III
MEN AT THE TOP
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in the 4th edition of book
123
“Pope John was spared the agony of seeing the Catholic
Church in decline”, wrote the Archbishop of Westminster, John
Cardinal Heenan, not long after the conclusion of the Second
Vatican Council. “At the time of his death there was no hint of
impending disintegration. John would have wept over Rome
the way Jesus wept over Jerusalem if he had known what would be
done in the name of the Council.”
So it may have seemed at the time. In perspective,
however, the idea of Angelo Roncalli weeping over a
revolution he had helped bring about would seem not only
unreasonable but quite out of character. He was not a tragic figure.
Undeniably there was anguish in the last years of both his
predecessor and his successor in the Chair of Peter and it is
precisely in their last years that the essential personality
differences between Pius and Paul as well as John become
strikingly apparent. Until that time their lives and work were
closely enough linked, to blur their individual roles in the process
of change. The three lived into their eighties to die at different
stages of the revolution, Pius and Paul embittered with selfreproach.
Roncalli who became John, however, was far from being a
troubled person. Rather, he was an accommodating one. Willing
to take another’s name -an earlier John XXIII was declared an
“anti-pope”- willing to take on a Council invented and worked out
by a former Pope and call it his own, willing to proclaim as his an
encyclical written by his predecessor and another by his successor
and willing to follow the guidance of the man who would be Pope
after him, Angelo Roncalli was the ideal “interim” choice.
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Contact with the Modernists and their striving to create a new
kind of Church, became part of his life early on. Growing to
manhood during the demanding years of the Sarto pontificate, he
was quickly drawn into the opposition, thanks to Msgr. RadiniTedeschi who virtually adopted the poor country boy, seeing
him through the local seminary, then on to ordination in Rome,
after which he took him as private secretary. Those were the days
before the Episcopal appointment of Radini-Tedeschi, when he
still formed part of the Rampolla group along with Gasparri,
Della Chiesa and the young Pacelli, all of whom where biding
their time in the top office of the Vatican under the watchful eye
of Pius X’s Secretary of State, Rafael Cardinal Merry del Val.
When Radini-Tedeschi became Bishop of Bergamo,
Roncalli went north with him and, since Bergamo and Brescia
are not far apart, the young priest soon became involved in the
political struggle of the Montini family. Giuditta Montini,
activist mother of the future Pope Paul, appointed him chaplain
of the union of women factory workers which she had organized and before long Roncalli was taking part in strike
action. With the outbreak of the Great War he became an army
chaplain assigned to duty at home in Bergamo and by the early
1920’s he was teaching at the Lateran University in Rome.
If one considers the influences that surrounded Angelo
Roncalli from an early age, the presence in his life of
strongly committed men like RadiniTedeschi, Della Chiesa,
Gasparri, it is small wonder that young Professor Roncalli
became bedazzled by the writings of Rudolf Steiner, Zionist
activist and ex-adept of Cardinal Rampolla’s Ordine Templi
Orientis who was, b y the 1920’s, pro moting his own
“anthroposophia”, or that Roncalli began spicing his
125
theological lectures with Steiner theories. How strong was
the reaction of Pope Ratti, Pius XI, when news reached
him, one can only guess. However it is clear that the “grey
eminence” in the Vatican, Secretary Gasparri, must have
stepped in to save Roncalli from punishment or at least
from punishment more severe than admission to the
episcopate and banishment to nunciatures in the Balkans.
Exile was to last for nineteen years. The end of the first
ten found Nuncio Roncalli in Istanbul where, according to
the Milanese journalist; Pier Carpi, who claims to have
absolute proof for the fact, he was initiated into Masonry
attaining, like Pius IX, the 18th or Rosicrucian Degree.
Unlike Pio Nono, however, Roncalli apparently never
repented. In France today retired members of the
gorgeously caparisoned Presidential Garde Republicaine,
attest to the fact that from their post of duty in Paris during
the mid-1940’s they had been able to observe the Nuncio in
civilian clothes leaving his residence to attend the Thursday
evening meetings of the Grand Orient of France. Whereas
exposure to such a dramatic conflict of loyalties would
unnerve the average man, be he Catholic or Freemason,
Angelo Roncalli seems to have taken it in stride.
As the Second World War came, Turkey proved to be the
key spot from which to implement Pius XII’s scheme to get
Polish Jews past British check points as “Catholics” and
into Palestine. Overcoming his initial objection to routing
out the native Arabs in order to make room for European
Jews, Roncalli was soon working obediently to produce the
thousands of documents the Pope demanded. He was to show
equal tractability in 1945 when his urgent plea to the same
Pope to sue for peace in the face of the Russian advance
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met with no response. Then it was, however, that his exile
ended and he was ordered to pack his bags for Paris where, as
Papal Nuncio, it was hoped he would be able to recycle the
political thinking of the hundred French bishops accused of
having collaborated with the Germans throughout the Occupation.
Biographers deny that the considerable Roncalli girth could
have been due to epicurianism although they admit that his
frequent receptions and elaborate dinner parties as handled by his
talented chef, Roger, made the Paris Nunciature a favorite
rendezvous of French politicians and literati along with the
pioneer planners of a European Common Market. The hospitality continued when, at 73, he took his last diplomatic post, that
of Vatican envoy to Paris-based UNESCO. Two years later at the
age when bishops are now asked to retire, he was given his first
real Episcopal assignment as Archbishop-Patriarch, or Cardinal, of
Venice.
By this time, the mid-1950’s, the leading figures of the future
Second Vatican Council were preparing to move into position.
Montini had become a bishop and was resident in Milan. During
the next five years he and Roncalli would be in constant touch
as they prepared to implement Pius XII’s plans for a Council.
Although the election of Angelo Roncalli to the papacy did
not go uncontested, its aspect as a temporary measure was
patent. Even so, the 78 year-old Pontiff tackled his new duties
with youthful energy, holding no fewer than five consistories
in order to bring the long-neglected College of Cardinals up to
full strength. Archbishop Montini’s frequent attendance at the
international symposia of liberal-minded bishops and theologians
helped him to provide the new Pope with a short list of candidates
for the red hat, men who would be sure to push the Council toward
certification of the revolution.
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Pope John XXIII died before the certificates, the Vatican II
Documents, were signed. However. aside from his grave
illness, there is no evidence that his last years were clouded.
Even if he could have seen the future he could excuse himself
for his part in the debacle. He had only done what he had been
asked to do. The responsibility was Pacelli’s and would be
Montini’s. He had only tried to be accommodating, never claiming to
be himself the “Light” but only “the herald of the Light”.
Pius XII
In contrast, the final years of both Eugenio Pacelli and
Giovanni Montini were burdened with tragedy. Pacelli was
strong enough to withstand it, Montini clearly was not. With
Pacelli it was not what he had done to the Church that plagued
him; not much of that became apparent during his lifetime. It was
rather what his lifelong commitment to the politics of the Left had
helped to do to the world.
Malachi Martin, whose copious writings on the Church tend
to be stronger on fiction than fact, may well have set down very
cogent facts in his Decline and Fall of the Roman Church when he
described conversations between the aged Pope and the still older
Cardinal Bea. Martin had been a young peritus assisting Bea
during the first part of the Council and it is likely that the
German took to reminiscing with his staff at the end of the day.
According to Martin, Pius XII kept insisting that Bea answer
one repeated and terrible question: did Bea think he, the wartime
Pope, had made a mistake to have assessed Hitler as a greater menace
to the world than Stalin? Had he chosen the wrong side in the
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war? Had he made a terrible mistake? Bea tried to console him,
“But how could we have known the Anglo-Saxons would let
Russia go so far?” Pius was not comforted. He would only
repeat. “We should have known, we should have known!”
An added cause for dismay during his last years was the loss
of the man who had been nearest to his work for over twenty
years. He knew however, that if Montini was to carry the Church
on his shoulders in the difficult post-Conciliar days, he would have
to gain pastoral experience and be able to work on his own. A further
consideration must have been the mobility accorded Montini by
his separation from Rome. In the decisive series of
international conferences to be attended by insiders, the prelates
and theologians working toward a Council, he was able to take
part simply as an Italian bishop rather than as the Pope’s right-hand
man.
Throughout the 1950’s, alone and tormented, Pius XII turned
inward. He held no more consistories although the College of
Cardinals had fallen to the low number of fifty-seven. As for the
Secretariat of State, there had been no proper head of that
department for ten years, not since the death of Msgr. Maglione.
Pius had taken on some of the work himself, allowing Tardini
and Montini to do the rest. After Montini was transferred to Milan,
Tardini fell ill and for much of the time rarely showed up at
his office. Suspended were the so-called intabella audiences
by which the Pope made himself available at fixed hours of
fixed days to cardinals, bishops, heads of Curial congregations
and religious orders, so that he became virtually inaccessible. Vatican
observer, Corrado Pallenberg, commented at the time that it was
more difficult for a man like Cardinal Tisserant to obtain an
audience than say, diplomat Clare Booth Luce or even actor
Gary Cooper.
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A strange aspect of the those years of papal retirement
was the interest of Pius XII in rejuvenation as practiced by
his good friend Paul Niehaus, a Swiss Protestant minister,
33-Degree Mason and “cellular therapist”. The Niehaus
system consisted in the injection of the living cells of
animal fetuses. He claimed to be able to halt a spate of
degenerative diseases with one injection. The Pope took
three and would have continued had his personal
physician not forbidden it. An obituary in the New York
Times of February 5, 1972 cites Dr. Tito Ceccherini, the
Pacelli family physician, as Sovereign Grand Commander
of the Supreme Council of the Free Masons of Scottish Rite
in the 1950’s, rising to Grand Master of all Masonic Rites
four years before he died. A kind of pope within Masonry?.
In comparison with his two successors, Pius XII was a
giant among popes. Although he would not have been one to
weep, whatever the extent of his anguish, there is evidence
that it was very great. In the last lines of a series of
articles written to commemorate the centenary of the birth
of the “Angelic Pastor” Fr. Virgilio Rotondi, a member of
the editorial staff of the Jesuit review Civiltà Cattólica,
noting that he had at one point been in daily touch with Pius
XII due to the latter’s interest in the Company’s Movement
for a Better World, confessed he was dumbfounded one day
to hear the Pope say, “Pray for me Father, pray that I do not
got to Hell!”
Rotondi, who admitted he considered Pius XII to have
been a saint, might have consoled the aged Pacelli with
the observation that whatever he had done throughout his life
had been conditioned from infancy. He had hardly been
given a choice. Since childhood, since the very day the two
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year-old Eugenio had been taken to the bedside of the dying
Pio Nono and heard the Pope tell his father that the little one would
grow up to be of great value to the Vatican, his father had
set out to make him a pope. Tutored at home, the boy was
allowed no classroom contacts. Then, as if the whole
Vatican sensed this preparation of an heir apparent,
Eugenio was handed over to Cardinal Rampolla who chose
the Capranica’s Modernist curriculum, again to be taken
apart from normal school life. After ordination Fr. Pacelli
became the constant companion of Rampolla as his private
secretary. When not traveling, his close associates inside
the Vatican were those of the Rampolla “team”, Della
Chiesa, Gasparri, Radini-Tedeschi and the young Roncalli.
Thus the whole pattern of his thinking and believing had
been set for him long before he met up with the highly politicized Giovanni Montini. A major miracle on the order
of the one experienced by St. Paul on the road to Damascus
or the Emperor Constantine on the Milvio Bridge might have
dissuaded him from embracing the revolution, but nothing less.
In 1958, while the worldwide effects of his wartime
political choice continued to appall him, Eugenio Pacelli
would die with his hope for a new kind of Catholic
Church intact. Giovanni Battista Montini, his longtime cotransformer, would be able to see it through.
Readers who are dismayed at finding Pius XII named
as the chief protagonist of change, do well to read again the
last page. The phrase, “he hardly had a choice” is an
apology for Pacelli, the man. Pacelli, Pope, is another matter.
The family had come to Rome in the early 1800’s at the
bidding of the House of Rothschild. Is it reasonable to
suppose that the astute Frankfurt bankers would entrust to
a “goy” a key part of their thrust across Europe, that of
bringing the Papal States firmly into their orbit? To Jews
who practiced Catholicism, yes.
131
It is one thing to admit of Jewish success in money matters,
politics and culture, then to refuse to believe in their penetration
into the Vatican. However, we have all seen photographs of Paul
VI wearing the Ephod of the High Priest of Jerusalem. In the
directory of Italian nobility at the headquarters of the Knights of
Malta in Rome one finds a mutation under the name Montini, several
generations back, from the Jewish name, Benedetti. The
Benedettis of today with the Banco di Roma, Olivetti, etc., can
be called the Rockefellers of Italy.
There is no reason, as Teresa of Avila proved, why a Jew
cannot become a great Catholic saint, except for early
conditioning. To Jewish Peter and Paul we owe the beginnings
of Christianity. However, the adult life of the Pacelli child, as
well as the Montini child, indicate training that endowed them
with an all-embracing loyalty that was not Catholic. Otherwise,
why were they isolated from their peers, all Catholics in Italy?
Poor health? Unlikely. Isolation was to last for Eugenio into his
studies for the priesthood. Then immediately on ordination he
began to live the strenuous life of Mariano, Cardinal
Rampolla, who moonlighted work as Secretary of State with
duty as Grand Master of the occult Ordo Templi Orientis. In like
fashion, the privately educated, supposedly delicate
Giovanni Montini was sent off to face the hardships of wardevastated Poland immediately on ordination.
The close partnership of Pacelli and Montini must have owed
its long duration to their shared background, making for
intense political commitment. Even as Secretary of State,
Pacelli was composing the two vernacular encyclicals attributed to
Pius XI , Non Abbiamo Bisogno and Mit Brennender Sorge, the latter smuggled into Germany to be privately printed, hardly a
papal way to do things. As Secretary, he stopped the popular
broadcasts in America of Fr. Charles Coughlin, which were
exposing Jewish international financial power.
132
The Second World War had hardly begun when Pacelli,
now Pius XII, was writing atrocity propaganda against
Germany for Jesuit-run Vatican Radio. By 1940 he was
absorbing and exposing revelations by a double agent of the
coming Blitzkrieg.
Obviously this strong political bias, inculcated from
childhood, made it impossible for Pope Pius XII to fulfill
the role of neutral, compassionate Holy Father to each and
every Catholic.
While the faithful remained unaware of these political
initiatives, news of his peremptory repression of the
crusade of volunteers ready to fight atheistic Russia must
have swept across the youth of continental Europe as a
violent shock. The granting of hundreds of thousands of
false baptismal certificates to deceive immigration officers
in British Palestine was a degradation of the sacred, while
the pleas of 65 million Roman Catholics of Eastern Europe
to raise the papal voice in an effort to save them from the
oncoming Soviet hoards, met with adamant refusal...
“until Germany totally reverses its policy toward the Jews.”
His priority: Jews, not Catholics.
Al th oug h th e r e i s a mp l e evi d en ce th at th e
Sanhedrin did not loosen its hold on the Chair of Peter
after the Pacelli and Montini papacies, that would have to
be the subject of another book and another year in Italy to
convert evidence into proof.
133
As for Montini, probably the high point of his life was
when, on that cold, clear December noon in 1965, as he
emerged from the Basilica of St. Peter in procession with
the bishops of the world, safe in the knowledge that the
revolution had been signed and sealed, he found the 83
year-old Jacques Maritain waiting on the church steps to
embrace him. From that moment the remaining twelve years
of his life were to run downhill.
For the public Montini lacked both the ethereal charisma
of Pacelli and the earthy charm of Roncalli. As the blows of
reaction to the Council began to strike, fringes of the public
pushed at him from both sides so that gradually his rather
dapper North Italian efficiency started to show a nervous
dislocation. Even as a minority on the Right prayed under
his window for a return of the Mass, a minority on the Left
was protesting his encyclical Humanae Vitae. The late Scottish Catholic commentator, Hamish Fraser (ex-Communist),
saw a link between the two causes, suggesting that the reason
for the publication of that essentially superfluous
document – (Catholics had no need to be told that artificial
birth control was tabu) – was to put conservative Catholics
in a pro-Vatican frame of mind when, a short while
afterward, the New Mass was thrust upon them.
As if to escape the growing dissent, Pope Paul began a
series of travels such as no Roman pontiff had yet
undertaken. He journeyed to Jerusalem, to Manila,
Sidney, Hongkong and to Bogotá for the CELAM
congress. In New York he told the assembly of the United
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Nations that they were “the last best hope of Man” and he
begged the world to recognize the Church’s new
humanism. “We, too, more than any others, do venerate
Man.” Man reaching the moon took him yet further:
“Honor to human courage! Honor to the synthesis of the
scientific and organizational activity of Man, king of the
earth and now prince of the heavens!”
On this upward note Paul VI went on to exalt the World
Council of Churches meeting in Kenya. To a Wednesday
audience crowd, “Oh, if I had wings I wo u l d f l y t o
Na i r o b i , t o t h a t a s s e mb l y o f 2 7 1 Churches. Think of it,
271 Christian Churches!” Holy Year 1975 brought
extraordinary celebrations planned by Augustin Bea’s heir,
Jan Cardinal Willebrands, the persistent Dutchman who had
been sent by Pope John to Moscow to invite Orthodox
observers to attend the Council. Willebrands reminded
Paul that his great teacher, Pius XII, had predicted that
“a new and letificante Pentecost” would come upon the
Church and here it was in the form of some ten thousand
“born-again” Catholics from all over the world, members of
Catholic Charismatic Renewal.
Paul VI began to find himself in strange company.
Coming to the Vatican was Rodman Williams of the
Melodyland School of Theology in Anaheim California,
South African Dr. David du Plessis, known as “Mr.
Pentecost”, head of the World Pentecostal Council, the
Anglican Pentecostal leader, Michael Harper and the
German, Arthur Bittlinger. Greeting them in private
audience he assured them that they had been “dealing with
spiritual resources of which the whole human family has
urgent need. Let us walk together, listening with docility
and care to what the Spirit is saying today and ready to
move into the future with joy and trust.”
135
Then on Pentecost Sunday thousands of Catholics who
had taken to “Charismatic Renewal” poured into St. Peter’s.
Mostly from the United States but also from Ireland, Canada,
India, Mexico and a dozen more countries, they went through
a morning as bizarre and a good deal more delirious than
Pope John Paul’s extravaganza ten years later at Assisi. The
Charismatics, mostly middle-aged, stood facing the great
twisted Bernini columns of the main altar, one arm
waving, the other holding Japanese transistors on high
while all over the marble floor thousands of others sat
huddled in circles, arms entwined. Suddenly there came a
loud microphoned male voice. Even in Michigan accents its
message was portentious: “Know that I, your God, brought
Peter and Paul to Rome to witness to my glory. Now I,
your God, have chosen to bring you to Rome. Listen, my
people. I speak to you of the dawn of a new age! My
Church will be different. My people will be different.
Prepare yourselves. Open your eyes! Open your eyes!”
Seven hundred Catholic priests, mostly American and
newly converted to the cult, concelebrated at the papal
altar with starry-eyed Cardinal Suenens of MalinesBrussels. The priests moved down the center aisle giving
out communion wafers by the fistful to be passed from
hand to hand, many of them falling to the floor. Then, from a
small side altar came the voice of the Pope. After a tenminute paean of praise for the Charismatic movement, he
flung up his arms shouting “Jesus is Lord! Hallelujah!”
Paul’s euphoria was short-lived. Within a few months
he had lapsed into dejection once more, asking a
bewildered general audience, “Have we offended those who
rebel and who defect? We want to assure them that was not
our intention and that we will want to be the first to ask them to
forgive us.” Those words, so out of key with his station, were
136
said just ten years after the great moment of the Maritain
embrace at the conclusion of the Council. The course of
Maritain’s Integral Humanism has reached its logical
conclusion. A Church that asks for nothing receives nothing
and Paul VI, like the amiable Church he and Saul Alinsky
had projected, was breaking down. As conditioned as
Pacelli had been by his parents, his training, his associations
and above all by his long Vatican partnership with Pacelli,
Giovanni Montini was showing clearly that he was unable
to endure what it was adding up to.
As he continued to lose courage his pronouncements
grew more and more dramatic. He called the defection of
priests his “crown of thorns”. More than once he thought of
resigning, according to a posthumous report of his
confessor, Paolo Dezza, S.J. He began to lace his sermons
with reference to a character the brave new Church had
long since done away with, the Devil. “Satan’s smoke has
made its way into the temple of God through some crack”
he said and “there has been the intervention of a hostile
power, an alien agent, a mysterious being, the Devil.”
The New York Times, reporting an incredible discourse to
a crowded congregation of tourists in St. John Lateran,
told of “the frail looking 76 year-old Pontiff speaking in
quavering tones, near to tears, `Who is speaking to you? A
poor man, a phenomenon of smallness. I tremble, my
brethren and children. I tremble because I am feeling
things to say that are immensely larger than I am... But I
am the successor of St. Peter. Accept me. Do not despise
me. I am the Vicar of Christ.”‘
Harking back to his days as chaplain to the FUCI when
he had urged Roman students to defy the Mussolini
government, he finally put aside his identity as Pope by
making a public offer to the Red Brigades of the
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person of Gianbattista Montini in exchange for
their hostage, Aldo Moro, one-time FUCI leader and
several times Prime Minister of Italy. The offer was
ignored. Moro’s murder and Montini’s death occurred
not long afterward. The year was 1978.
John Paul I
A member of the Vatican press corps, the author witnessed
at close range the going of Paul VI, the coming and
going of John Paul I and the coming of John Paul II.
Many of the following notes were made at the time.
The death of two popes within fifty-four days made of
the second half of the year 1978 one of the most dramatic
periods in modern Church history.
Although Paul VI was over 80 and had long been said to
suffer from a number of ailments, his death, like every
death, came as a shock. Vaticanisti, the journalists who
specialize in Vatican affairs, rushed back to Rome from
August holidays at beach and mountain resorts. Cardinals,
kings, queens and heads of state arrived to attend what
turned out to be strangely austere funeral rites. On a carpet
spread over flagstones on St. Peter’s Square the coffin lay
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bare of crucifix, candle or flower, accompanied only by a great
open book whose pages flapped disconsolately in a light
wind.
A conclave, the first from which 80 year-old cardinals were
excluded, voted in newly enforced secrecy with startling rapidity.
In an interview given to a Milan newspaper at the time
Archbishop Lefebvre commented, “A conclave coming to
perfect agreement in so short a time must have been well worked
out, even before the seals were put on the doors”.
Albino Luciani, Patriarch of Venice, a bland and docile
functionary of the changing Church was able to cause a flurry in
his month as Pope if only because his was a new and cheerful
face in the Vatican. Everywhere there seemed to be a feeling of
relief, even of hope. While a few traditionalist voices
contended there was no Pope because members of an incomplete
conclave led by their most progressive elements had chosen one
of their number and one who refused to be crowned, a certain
traditionalist voice, that of the usually perceptive Abbé Georges
de Nantes, hailed the new Pope, on Heaven knows what
grounds, as a second Pius X. It was a time of wild talk and
inaccurate reporting.
Albino Luciani was a protégée of Angelo Roncalli. The two
had come into contact in 1953 when Roncalli left UNESCO in
Paris to take on the Patriarchate of Venice. The younger man’s
work of organizing congresses and conferences for the
Bishop of Belluno brought him often to nearby Venice. That
the future Pope John came to see in the priest promising talent
for the changing Church is clear from the fact that one of his
first acts as Pope was to consecrate Fr. Luciani a bishop in St.
Peter’s with his own hands. Soon afterward when he announced
139
the Council, he set up the two preparatory commissions, the
official group whose two years of work would end in the trash
can and the inner group of “experts”, among them Msgr.
Luciani.
How the new Bishop arrived at the status of peritus came
out in an interview the Italian writer Alfonso Strpellone gave
to Rome’s Il Messaggero at the time of Luciani’s death. He said
the Patriarch had told him one day during the Council that he
had undergone what he called a “severe spiritual crisis”
which, fortunately, he had been able to overcome.” He told me
that until quite recently he had accepted and promoted the concept
held by the Holy Office that within the Church only truth had
rights. Then, as he confided to friends, he became convinced that
he had been mistaken, after which he agreed, not without a
certain torment and hesitation, to take an active part in the
formulation of the document on Religious Freedom, one of the
fundamental texts of the Second Vatican Council.” This is the
decree making religious belief a matter of choice or, as it asserts, a
matter of conscience, a decree conservative Council Fathers
refused to sign.
Formulations of the decree were done under the tutelage of
Augustin, (later Cardinal) Bea and on its acceptance in Council there
came a spate of interfaith panels in various parts of the world,
the most important series taking place in Venice throughout the
decade. The Rev. Phillip Potter, West Indian head of the World
Council of Churches at the time of Luciani’s election,
remembered a long association: “Oh yes”, he told the press, “I
know the new Pope. We have had the Joint Working Committee
(on ecumenism) since 1965. Cardinal Willebrands and I were
house-guests in Venice when he was Patriarch and I remember
140
very well the speech which he gave the group in 1974 concerning his convictions about the positive value of
ecumenism. Certainly he was very open in his attitude.
Then there is the fact of his refusal of crown and throne.
It demonstrates clearly the evolution taking place in the
Catholic Church and it shows up the personality of the new
Pope.”
The sudden death of Albino Luciani remains
shrouded in mystery. Of the two young papal secretarries,
the Irish Fr. John Magee, who was said to have found the
body, refused to speak to reporters, while the other, the
Italian Diego Lorenzi, greeted them with “Have you, too
come to ask how he was poisoned?” There was a second
funeral sans crucifix, candle or flower, this time in pouring
rain, another conclave and another Pope John Paul.
Granted that much of the data on the life, work and
death of Pope Luciani was available only in Italian and
French and that journalists coming from abroad for the
papal funerals and elections were usually not proficient in
either language, it was still baffling how wide of the mark
most of them hit. The Pulitzer Prize winner and veteran
Washington Star correspondent, Mary McCrory, managed
to cram no less than seven glaring errors into a short report.
For the record:
(1) “One of Luciani’s virtues was his lack of Curia
connections.” Wrong. He himself had long been a member
of one of the most important Curial bodies, the Sacred
Congregation for the Sacraments and Divine Worship.
(2) “He was rarely seen in Rome.” Wrong. He worked
in Rome as peritus all during the Council and he was
constantly in and out of Rome during the three years he
acted as Vice President of the Italian Episcopal Conference.
141
(3) “During his student days at the ‘Greg’...” He never
attended the Gregorian University, having obtained
permission to pursue their courses in Belluno where he was
assisting the Bishop.
(4) “He succeeded Pope John as Patriarch of Venice.”
Wrong. Roncalli left Venice to become Pope in 1958 and
Luciani became Patriarch in 1971.
(5) “He is reported to have been open-minded about
the anti-conception pill until Humanae Vitae”. It was the
other way around. He conformed when the document
was published and afterward sent a plea to Pope Paul to
reconsider a legitimate use of the pill.
(6) “Luciani seems never to have traveled outside of
Italy.” As bishop he traveled a good deal within Europe,
being one of the few Italians invited to take part in
meetings with Germany’s avant-garde bishops and
theologians, as they worked on preparation for the
Council. He also traveled to Brazil several times and
once to South Africa.
(7) Finally, the article cites the Pope’s early “total
immersion” in poverty. This abject poverty theme (“dirt
poor”, as Rabbi Tannenbaum called it) stemmed from a few
words in the first biographical handout at the Vatican and it
was touched up from pen to pen. The Pope’s brother,
Eduardo, finally evinced impatience with it. “We were no
worse off than anyone else”, he told Il Tempo. Nobody
had it easy in the 1920’s in the northern region of Veneto,
which had been Austrian and which found no place in the
feeble Italian economy of the first years after the Great War.
Mussolini undertook a partial solution by draining the
Pontine marshes south of Rome and inviting Venetians to
settle there. To this day among old people you can hear the
singsong accent of the Veneto region. As for the Luciani
family dwelling where the Pope was born, a photograph
shows it to be a substantial three-story house. Brother Eduardo
has long been president of the local Chamber of Commerce.
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While foreign reporting of John Paul I’s life was laced
with fantasy, foreign reporting of his death was seemingly
devoid even of curiosity. It was remarkable how little the
eight hundred or so journalists milling around in the
Vatican press rooms at the time seemed to care how the
sudden death had occurred. Among ordinary Italians, the
market people, taxi drivers ad so on, there was plenty of
talk. There was also a publicity-seeking, unanswered plea
for an autopsy by a pseudo traditionalist group in Rome.
But for foreign journalists it was apparently enough that
the Vatican had spoken. The trouble was, the Vatican had
not spoken definitively. When Pope Paul died, a bulletin
was issued to the press which consisted of a simple
announcement of the event. Death had occurred at a certain
moment on a certain day and there followed a one
sentence explanation of the cause in generic terms. The
next day another brief bulletin was issued, detailing in
precise medical terms the cause of the death. A few hours
after the body of John Paul I was found, the press office
gave out the first type of bulletin, but the second, the
medical report, was never issued. To this reporter’s
question concerning the missing release, the press chief, Fr.
Romero Panciroli, replied that, since the news bulletin had
been given out, it had been deemed unnecessary to issue a
second bulletin. Italian law would have demanded an
autopsy, however since 1929 when Cardinal Gasparri and
Prime Minister Mussolini signed the Lateran Treaty,
Vatican City State has been another and sovereign country.
Albino Luciani was still in his sixties at the time of his
death and he was an Italian with friends and relatives
available for interviews. Local reporters lost no time. They sought
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out a sister who insisted that a recent routine medical check-up
had given her brother a perfectly normal cardiograph. She said
that not only had he never suffered from a weak heart, neither
had anyone in his family. A priest who had acted as
Luciani’s private secretary during his years as Patriarch in
Venice, attested to the fact that every Saturday noon, right up to
the papal election, the two men had gone off to the mountains to
spend hours in strenuous hiking. Cardinal Colombo of Milan
expressed bewilderment at his friend’s sudden death, testifying
that he had received a telephone call from the Pope only five
hours before the body was discovered and that he seemed to be
in the best of health and spirits, “He told me that the first weeks
of confusion were definitely over and that at last he felt he
was really getting on top of things.”
There were conflicting reports about who found the body.
Was it Fr. Magee or was it one of the housekeeper nuns? There
were conflicting reports about what the Pope was reading before
he died. These were not rumors but contrasting Vatican press
reports following one after the other. But the most telling fact
was the distressing swelling of the body as it lay in state at the
high altar in St. Peter’s, making enclosure, in the coffin
necessary much earlier than had been planned. Cardiologists
interviewed in the Roman press at the time agreed that such a
phenomenon does not occur in cases of ordinary heart failure.
If indeed all the evidence points to foul play, why did it
happen? How does such an event fit into the thesis of this
study? Surely Albino Luciani, once he had settled his “spiritual
crisis”, became an enthusiastic participant in the Vatican
revolution. His Venice residence and other ecclesiastical building
along the canals became the focus of Protestant-Catholic dialogue,
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of Jewish consultations, of far-out Jesuit speculations
on “Discerning of Spirits” and, above all, of the Vatican’s
and the Cardinal Willebrands efforts to bring together the
Catholic Charismatics and the Protestant Assembly of God.
Chairperson for many of the events was the energetic
Rosemary Goldie who had directed affairs at San Calisto
before the Council and who subsequently rose to Curial status.
Why would a Pope as faithful to the main thrusts of the
present Vatican be removed from the scene? Making up
reasons is still a favorite pastime of Left and Right. Even
the Vatican has gotten into the game by sponsoring the
version of the journalist John Cornwell in which Luciani
was virtually at the point of death when elected, a fiction.
running contrary to all available evidence at the time.
Cornwell goes on to bite the hand that fed him by accusing
the Vatican of letting the poor man die of neglect. Given what
Prof. Jean Meyer called the Vatican’s complex of self-persecution, the accusation must be gratifying.
Crazy theories were flying around in 1978: the new
Holy Father was going to restore the old Mass when every
Venetian knew he had worked to prevent that Mass being
said by Lefebvre priests at San Simeone Piccolo. The
Holy Father was going to clean up chicanery in the Vatican
Bank. The last fantasy, developed some years later by
writer David Yallop, made of his In God’s Name an
international best-seller. That this quiet, submissive priest
with no known history of interest in economics, startled at
being elected Pope would, in his very first uncertain weeks
in the post, resolve to take on a struggle against the whole
Vatican financial establishment is as patently absurd as the
Cornwell thesis is patently false.
The sudden death, apparently by poison, of Pope Luciani
may well remain a mystery. Some Vaticanisti have speculated that
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among the electors of 1978, certain insiders around the König
faction, dismayed at the weak choice, pushed through by the
Benelli faction, were determined to correct the situation and at
any cost.
As an epitaph for the essentially pathetic figure of John Paul
I there is a curious sentence at the end of one of the little essays
he was fond of writing for Il Gazzettino di Venezia. It can be
taken both as a tribute to his mentors, Roncalli and Willebrands,
and as an apology for the life he chose freely “if not without a
certain torment and hesitation”: “Better be the confident of
great ideas than the inventor of mediocre ones; he who has
risen on the shoulders of another sees further than the other
although he himself may be smaller”.
and John Paul II
The second Pope John Paul came on the scene with a
flourish and a heartening shout, “Laudatur Jesus Christus!”
Here was no functionary but a protagonist. It was not long
before the bouyancy and enthusiasm of the “foreign” Pope
was bringing unprecedented crowds to Rome and in
subsequent months uncountable throngs to the parks and plazas
of Poland, Ireland, the United States, Mexico and Brazil. Even
some traditional Catholics fell under his spell. Long deprived,
they saw mirages in words and deeds they deemed positive and
turned away from looking at the rest.
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As in the case of Albino Luciani, transformed by the
image-makers from a willing ecumenist and spiritual son of
liberal John XIII into a courageous fighter for financial
reform and liturgical tradition, the process of recycling the
biography of Karol Wojtyla began even before he left St.
Peter’s balcony on the night of his election. Once his name
was announced there was a frantic exodus of reporters from
the piazza into the adjacent press rooms to telephone and
telex the news while those who had no need to file that
night gathered around a closed-circuit television screen in
the press hall.
Almost before the new Pope had finished his initial
greeting to the crowd from high over the central portal of
the Basilica, the efficient press office of Fr. Panciroli had
produced a two-page mimeographed biography in Italian
and a few minutes later versions in four other languages
including Polish. Simultaneously a TV cameraman was
picking out a middle-aged journalist as he emerged from
the long line of telephone booths. It was Jerszy Turowitz,
editor of Poland’s government-related Catholic press group,
Znak. Even as we we r e r e a di ng i n t h e h an d -ou t t h at
Ka r o l Wojtyla’s father had been a worker, Turowitz was
saying on the TV screen, “No, not a worker, an army officer. Not a high-ranking one but, yes, an officer. How long
have I known the new Pope? Oh for many, many years, since
long before the Council.”
The hundred or so newsmen watching the screen caught
Turowitz’ words but scores more were already sending the
bulletin’s mistake out to the world.
What does it matter how the father of a pope earned
the family bread? To the Church nothing at all. The office
is elective, not hereditary. Cardinal Ottaviani, the
prelate, twice papabile who, in his long lifetime, became a
symbol of Right-wing conservatism, was the son of a
butcher in the poor Trastevere quarter of Rome. But that a
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mistake was made in the case of the present Pope, a never
corrected mistake, is indication of an attempt at political imagemaking.
Admittedly, biographical material is not easy to obtain
from a Communist country; however if one pieces
together what data has become available in an honest way
he can go far toward delineating the character of the man
chosen by his peers to carry on the transformation of the
Catholic Church.
As Turowitz indicated, Karol Wojtyla’s father was not a
workman nor yet a peasant, but a soldier. The little we can
learn about Josef Wojtyla throws a great deal of light on the
future orientation of his son. But for the particular strivings
and self discipline of the father, it is doubtful that Karol
would have gone half as far as he did.
Early in 1979 some enterprising Central European reporter
uncovered the registry of Lt. Wojtyla in the military
archives of Imperial Vienna. Galicia, the province of
Poland the family came from, was part of the Hapsburg
Empire between 1772 an 1918. The record shows that the
father of the future John Paul was born in the village of
Lipsik, the son of a tailor. From the fact that he entered the
army as a private in the infantry we must assume that he
had little schooling. That he did not become a soldier until
he was 21 indicates an adolescence in apprenticeship to his
father and that when he decided to enter on a military
career, although he would have to begin at rock bottom, it
was because it meant escape from a lifetime of cutting black
Sunday suits for the farmers around Lipsik.
Josef Wojtyla did well in the army, moving from corporal
to non-commissioned officer. He spoke, says the document,
both Polish and German fluently and he was a rapid typist.
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Described as five feet six with chestnut hair and blond
moustache, he is seen in photographs to have had narrow,
rather severe features in contrast to his second son, Karol,
born when he was already 41 years of age. Emilia KaczOrowsika, his wife, had the wide, friendly face of the
future Pope and his sturdy build.
By the end of 1914, Wojtyla had left the typewriter for
the battlefield. At that time Austrian forces were engaged in
containing a major Russian advance until Germans under
Von Mackenson could arrive to help them push through to
the East.
In 1916 Wojtyla received the Military Cross First Class at
the hands of Kaiser Franz Josef himself. Three years later the
post-war Polish Republic awarded him with the rank of
Lieutenant and by the spring of the following year when
Karol was born, the family was living in part of a pleasant
house in the larger town of Wadowice.
Lt. Wojtyla, who had left the village tailor shop by one
of the few paths open to a youth of little money or education
in the very settled society of the Empire, must have wanted
for his children the advantages he had lacked. His first son,
Edvard, born ten years earlier than Karol took a doctorate
in medicine at the University of Krakow where, only 24,
he died after taking part in a clinical experiment with
scarlet fever bacilli.
The 1930’s found the high school student, Karol, living
alone with his father after the death of his mother,
brother and little sister. An interview appearing in Rome’s
Il Tempo brings us into those days. Jerszy Kluger, an
engineer many years a resident of Rome, had been a
companion of Karol Wojtyla from early childhood through
high school and a constant visitor to the two-room ground
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floor apartment on Kalnin Street. He gives a telling
description of his friend’s father: “A man of great dignity
and wide culture. He retired early from the army in order to
dedicate himself to scholarship. As a matter of fact he was
writing a history of the Catholic Church in Poland.
Whether or not it was ever published, I don’t know. But I
remember there was a calmness about him, a serenity...”
As for Wadowice, Kluger says, the town counted around
ten thousand people, two thousand of whom were Jews.
His own father was head of the Jewish community, a
liberal, active in politics. “Life was not easy for us during
the between-wars period in the Polish Republic with
everybody ready to give offense to Jews and to strike at our
sensibilities. But the Wojtyla’s were not like the others.”
Kluger lent the Rome reporter his graduation picture, a
photograph taken in June 1938. Karol, seen standing in
the front row was, Kluger said, “always first in the class.
Not that he studied more; it was just that he was a genius.”
The lycée was not Catholic. There are no priests in the
row of professors, however the choice of putting his son in
a secular school was probably not deliberate, as in the case
of the father of Pius XII. There were probably no Catholic
schools anywhere near Wadowice. The Hapsburg Empire
had been so permeated with Catholicism that specifically
denominational schools were hardly necessary, either then
or after independence came. That the Wadowice school
drew boys of upper class families is evident from another
Kluger photograph, that of a class reunion ten years later.
Here we find one priest, Fr. Wojtyla, standing among a
group of prosperous-looking young men and their quite
fashionably dressed wives.
So much for the myth that began with the Vatican press
bulletin’s “son of a worker” going on to “an impoverished
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worker of peasant origin” to end up with Massachusetts Governor
King’s tribute to the visiting Pope who, he said, had “come
up from the coal mines of his beloved Poland.”
Accounts of the university years are as remarkable for
contradictions as the first stage and as overladen with
purposeful invention. Following the spring graduation,
father and son moved to the beautiful old university city of
Krakow, thirty miles away. By autumn Karol was attending
the letters faculty, specializing in languages and literature.
The next year, 1939, must have been one of the most
traumatic in his life. His father died and the Second World
War began, precisely in Poland. After the three-week
campaign and conquest Krakow became headquarters for
the German General Governorship and Karol, of military
age, became liable for a call-up to labor corps duty in Germany. To avoid having to leave Krakow and his studies, he
and a fellow student, Julius Kydrynski, with whom he
shared a room after his father’s death, managed to find parttime jobs in a local lime quarry. According to Kydrynski,
today a well known Polish writer, regular workers at the
quarry pampered the two gently-bred students, only
gradually letting them tackle the hard stone smashing
work and, he says, it was not many days before Karol had
managed to advance to an indoor job where the operation
was directed by a kind of primitive remote control system.
According to the pious panegyrics of the Vatican’s electionnight bulletin, Karol was at that time “dedicating himself
actively to the religious and cultural formation of the other
workers”. But the man closest to him at that time, his
room-mate, told the Australian reporter, James Oram,
“Karol was a practicing Catholic. By that I mean he went
to church on Sunday. But I would call his thinking liberal.
Religion was certainly not his main interest in those days.”
Several friends from the war years attest to the fact that
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his all-pervading passion was for the theater. He had met
Julius at a university poetry-reading session and out of
such encounters he and several other students, along with
an out-of-work professional actor or two, organized a
small semi-professional company which performed in the
larger salons of private houses, young Karol usually playing
the leading role. Seven plays made up the repertory of the
troupe and, contrary to many stories, the plays were not
chosen to promote religion, to glorify Poland nor yet to
condemn Germany. They were simply good, solid
contemporary dramas, theater for the sake of theater.
Typical was The Quail by a successful Polish dramatist of
the time in which Karol played a rough peasant whose
wife reciprocated the love of a finer, more sensitive man.
Subsequently, he and several actors in the group which
called itself Dramatic Studio 39, reorganized themselves
into a company to recite epic poetry from Polish literature,
both classic and nineteenth century. They performed on the
stark, bare stage that had been considered avant-garde in
Germany during the pre-Hitler days of the Weimar
Republic. Years later as Bishop, his keen interest in the
theater continuing, he would theorize on the advantage of
reducing theater to the spoken word in order to challenge
the imagination of the spectator. Perhaps this penchant for
Weimar starkness accounts for Pope John Paul’s preference
for the pared-down rituals of the Conciliar Church.
Of all the invented stories about the Wojtyla university
years, the one about his participation in underground
political activism is the most farfetched, when one
considers that he was leading a life which demanded a
public presence from early morning until midnight. He
began the day with classes, went on to the job, quarry or, later,
chemicals, then to theatrical rehearsals or late evening
performances.
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Fro m the fact that as Bishop and Cardinal, Wojtyla
would come to interpret Catholic doctrine in the light of the
German existentialists, it must be concluded that, rather than
attempting sabotage of the Occupation forces, he was
probably learning from them. Admitting that defeat for his
country must have gone hard with an officer’s son, his
unusual vigor and curiosity would have impelled him to
profit by whatever contacts the situation offered. At a time
of foreign military occupation a great deal more give and
take goes on, particularly at the youth level, than meets the
headlines. It is a matter of record that among the members
of the SS units stationed in France during World War II,
80% were not Germans but young Frenchmen. It is also
true that from the cultural interchange of those years —
symposia, lectures and so on — young Frenchmen of an
intellectual bent were absorbing from the occupying
Germans an enthusiasm for the misty philosophical
concepts of their mentor; Martin Heidegger, and that those
concepts would dominate not only France’s postwar
literature through Jean Paul Sartre and Albert Camus but
would come to pervert Catholic orthodoxy through the
influential writings of a whole group of theologians
headed by Karl Rahner, S.J., a pupil of Martin Heidegger.
Advanced centers of learning, even in peace-time, can be
centers of political agitation. Quite naturally Krakow
University would not settle down in wartime. Accordingly, it
was closed for the duration, along with other Polish
universities and seminaries. Study went on in private, but not
in secret.
Just when Karol Wojtyla decided to become a priest is
not clear. There are recurrent mentions in articles and books
of a small group of students meeting regularly with one
Jan Tyranowski. Like Karol’s grandfather, he was a
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tailor by profession. Says Malachi Martin, “this uneducated tailor was the single biggest influence in Wojtyla’s life.”
Some say the sessions consisted of Scripture reading but J.
Malinski in My Friend Karol Wojtyla insists their content was
not religious, at least not in the Catholic sense. Rather they
promoted a kind of theosophical “know-thyself”
philosophy, apparently along the lines of Rudolf
Steiner, the Jewish thinker who had so fascinated young
Angelo Roncalli.
In any case it was probably some time in 1943 that
Karol put himself under the tutelage of the Archbishop and
Metropolitan of Krakow, Prince Sapieha, who assigned him
to a Thomist specialist for private theological study to be
combined with periodic examinations.
As for the “clandestine seminary” story it must be put
down to one more romantic falsification. It was on August 7,
1944 that Archbishop Sapieha, alarmed at news of a
Russian breakthrough in the East and an imminent
withdrawal of the German Occupation forces, invited the
scattered candidates for the priesthood in his diocese to wait
out the Soviet advance in the relative security of the
Archepiscopal Palace, which he turned into a temporary
boarding school. Thus it was not the “persecution by the
Nazis” but rather their impending disappearance that was
responsible for an improvised seminary in Krakow.
As the Germans retreated to leave all Poland to the
mercy of the Soviet armies, whole populations were on
the move. The palace seminary was not invaded but
Krakow became the scene of grave disturbances six months
after the new Occupation was complete. Before the war,
Jews had accounted for 25% of the city’s population, not a
high figure for Poland where, according to the Jewish
Encyclopedia, the figure reached 30% in Warsaw and 44%
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in Lublin. In 1945 thousands of Krakow Jews who had fled
to the Russian Zone at the initial German invasion were returning, many of the men having become Soviet commissars
and police. Feeling was bitter among the Poles and it
exploded on August 11, in a major pogrom in which 353
Jews of the city of Krakow were killed by the populace.
On the night of his election to the papacy John Paul II
described himself as “a man from afar”. In reality he must
long have counted Rome as his second home, having
traveled there for prolonged visits beginning in 1946.
Metropolitan Sapieha that year was proving himself as
adroit in dealing with the Russians as he had been with the
Germans. In those terrible months, called “zero year” by
the defeated when, as a result of the pogrom, Krakow had
been put into a virtual police strait jacket and only Jews
were allowed to leave the country, Karol Wojtyla, just
ordained, was somehow permitted to leave for the West.
By perilously patched railways he arrived in the Eternal
City in time for the opening of the scholastic year.
Although shaken politically to its very roots, Rome
had come through the war undamaged except for streets
close to the Tiburtina railroad station where t h e A me r i c a n s
h a d d r o p p e d bo mb s . At t h e o l d “Angelicum”, the
Dominican University dedicated to the Order’s great St.
Thomas Aquinas, on the steep hill overlooking the Trajan
Market the young priest from Poland was to study for two
years. A half hour walk in those days would have taken
him down through crowded streets to the Tiber bridges
and on to the Piazza di San Pietro where he could hear the
words of Pope Pius XII.
To read the works of St. John of the Cross, the subject
of his thesis, he began the study of Spanish and we are
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told that it was to improve his French that he decided to live
at the Belgian College. While that is the possible reason it
must also be remembered that ever since the days of Cardinal
Mercier, Belgium with Louvain University and Lumen Vitae,
was the leading center for radical theological ferment. The
atmosphere at the Belgian College, with its frequent visitors
from the homeland, cannot but have had a strong influence
on the young Wojtyla. In summer he hitch-hiked to
Belgium and to reunions of the Young Christian Workers
International, the JCC. In Paris he frequented the Mission
de France, the center of the worker-priest movement. J.
Malinsky in describing those summers, refers to the
Mission as a center “for young priests witnessing Christ in
the service of men, eager to return the liturgy to its origins
and dedicated to creating new structures for community
prayer”. In 1947 Fr. Wojtyla acted as Polish delegate to
the Young Christian Workers Movement Congress in
Geneva.
In Poland in 1948, seven hundred priests and more than
that number of religious were imprisoned by Communist
authorities. Nevertheless Fr. Wojtyla, returning that year,
was assigned a parish in the village of Niegonic. The
following year he was transferred to Krakow where he
combined parish work with a government-approved
chaplaincy at his old University. Each summer, quite on his
own initiative, he organized weekend hiking trips among his
students. At about that time he offered his first poems for
publication under a pseudonym to the editor of Tydgonik
Powszchny, Jerszy Turowitz, the journalist interviewed on
Vatican TV the night of his election. This weekly was soon
to be absorbed by the Pax pro-government movement
under Boleslaw Piasaecki and Turowitz would go on to
collaborate with Jerszy Zablocki in a Pax-related Catholic
press network called Znak (Sign). Zablocki himself was
subsequently awarded a cabinet post by Communist boss
Gierek.
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That Karol Wojtyla remained a supporter of both Znak
and its editor, Turowitz, is attested by Dr. George Hunston
Williams of Harvard who explains that when even Paul VI
thought Znak articles were going too far regarding the
Ukrainian Church, Cardinal Wojtyla explained to the Pope
that Znak’s downplaying of the Ukrainian Church in favor
of the Soviet Orthodox Church was precisely the point of
Cardinal Casaroli’s Ostpolitik and something the Holy
Father ought to support.
Although the Angelicum appears to have accepted the
thesis on St. John of the Cross, there is no mention of a
preliminary academic degree. In order to teach in Poland it
was necessary for Fr. Wojtyla to spend two more years
preparing a second thesis on the man-centered philosophy of
Max Scheler, a German Jew who, after a few years as
Catholic, reverted to a rigid atheism. In 1953 he became
lecturer on moral theology at the University of Lublin and
the following year added a similar course in Krakow.
necessitating overnight travel between classes.
At the end of 1953 the Warsaw government abolished all
theological studies at Krakow, leaving Lublin the only
“Catholic” university behind the Iron Curtain. The
institution has a curious history. In a sense, it owed its
origin to Lenin. Eastern Poland had been Russian before
1918 and in the Orthodox State of the Tsars, Roman
Catholic seminaries were considered trouble spots,
particularly the school at Wilna which was finally ordered
to move to Petrograd where it was to merge with a small
theological academy already existing there. It was hoped
Catholic seminarians would thus become easier to
monitor. Immediately following the Russian Revolution the
Rector, Fr. Idzi Rasziszewski, was received by Lenin who
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welcomed the priest’s offer to take the whole operation off
his hands, by moving the combined school to Poland.
At that time the new Republic of Poland boasted a Papal
Nuncio who must certainly have been involved in the transfer
arrangements. He was none other than Msgr. Achille Ratti,
the future Pius XI. Considerable expense was involved in the
moving of a large library, furniture and equipment, to say
nothing of the purchase of spacious new quarters in the
Polish city of Lublin. In war-devastated Poland money was
forthcoming almost at once from two Polish
millionaires who, strangely enough, were well known to
be prominent Freemasons.
Another future Pope who had fleeting contact with
Lublin University was young Fr. Montini. Stationed in
Poland in 1922, he later told friends in Rome that he had felt
much more at home among the radical young intellectuals of
Lublin University than he did among the diplomats and
aristocrats of the capital.
As for the future John Paul’s work at Lublin, his classes
continued for over a decade, even into his years as Bishop.
Indeed he is known to have delivered several lectures there
after his election to the papacy. Already in 1953 his
teaching had begun to draw crowds at both Krakow and
Lublin in spite of the fact that those years were marked by
severe persecution of the Church in Poland. Cardinal
Wyszynski was under house arrest, religious teaching was
forbidden in the schools, priests were being arrested on
trumped up charges and hospitals and other charitable
institutions were being removed from Church hands.
Three years later when Gomulka came to power there
was a certain thaw. The Cardinal was freed and the Church
was given limited leeway. It was the year 1956 and Fr.
Wojtyla was consecrated a bishop. Two years later Pius XII
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made him Auxiliary at Krakow with right of succession.
A conclave and preparation for a Council were drawing
near. Two Wojtyla books were published, the Max Scheler
thesis and a book on marriage called Love and Responsibility.
The prompt appearance of these works in several
translations may have promoted the growing interest of
Rome in the young Polish Bishop with the result that he
was invited to take part in the preparatory work of, we
must assume, the Council’s “insiders” since the
invitation came from Bishop Garrone of Toulouse who
would one day become the chief inquisitor of Archbishop
Lefebvre.
That brief biographical resumé released by the press
section of the Vatican on election night in 1978 referred to
the Wojtyla contribution to the Council document
Gaudium et Spes, as “decisive”. Known in English as The
“Church in the Modern World”, Gaudium et Spes turned
out to be one long dissertation on how to undermine
tradition. Typical as well as startling, the “decisive”
contributions of Archbishop Wojtyla, among them, “It is not
the Church’s role to lecture unbelievers. We are engaged in
a search along with our fellow men... let us avoid
moralizing or the suggestion that we have a monopoly on
truth...”, words he would repeat in Ut Unam Sint years later.
Politically, his interventions during the Council were
notably defensive of the status quo in Eastern Europe,
particularly when they came to resist the pleas of
conservatives to insert a condemnation of Marxism or,
failing that, a condemnation of atheism. In their Letters from
Vatican City the team that called itself “Xavier Rynne”
reported, “Archbishop Wojtyla rebuffed the charge of
excited Czech Bishop Hnilica in the final debate on Gaudium et
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Spes that to say only what this schema says about atheism is
tantamont to saying nothing at all’ with the rejoinder that
atheism can be taken up by the Council only with great
difficulty because the question is so complex.”
For “Xavier Rynne” the Wojtyla objection was
reasonable and practical because “Russian Orthodox
observers were weighing every word carefully since their
presence at the Council had been conditioned on an
understanding that there would be no outward condemnation.”
Pope Paul VI rewarded Msgr. Wojtyla’s participation in
Vatican II with the rank of Cardinal in 1967, making him at
the same time a member of three Curial bodies and advisor
to Rosemary Goldie’s Council for the Laity. Thus for eleven
years before becoming Pope he was taking part in top level
conversations and decision-making in four major areas of the
changing Church, doing his considerable share in
speeding transformation. Hardly “a man from afar”.
A singular honor came to him in 1971 in the way of
election by the World Episcopal Synod, meeting that year
in Rome, to their newly constituted permanent twelve-man
central committee. Only three European bishops
participate in this elite body which projects for the Pope
theological initiatives and developments for the whole
Church through its control of the Episcopal conferences
throughout the world.
At the 1974 Synod, with its Alinsky-like call for an
“evangelization of love”, Cardinal Wojtyla acted as
official theologian, as he did the following year for the first
international conference of European bishops under the
notably liberal Archbishop (now Cardinal) Etchegaray of
Marseille. His introductory intervention, “Bishops as
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Servants of the Faith” breathed Maritain’s Integral
Humanism. At the next Synod, three years later, in line
with other speakers on the theme of “catechesis”, he harked back
to the Austrian Jesuit, Jungmann, who in 1929 was urging “a
rejection of the sterile transmission of theological knowledge,”
Still in his fifties Cardinal Wojtyla was now of the
Vatican inner circle. Spring 1977 found him conducting the
Lenten retreat for the papal household at the request of
Paul VI, as well as winding up a nine-year transformation
program in his own diocese of Krakow, a program which
he said was meant to bring the laity into full participation.
Then in 1978, on the evening of October 16, Karol
Wojtyla, Metropolitan of Krakow, thirty-five years a priest,
attained the summit, election to the Chair of Peter.
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IV
REALITY IN THE
NINETIES
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163
Control
Catholics of a traditionalist stamp are inclined to say that
without the intervention of Satan the revolution could not
have taken place. Less apocalyptically it could be said that
without the intervention of a miracle it was bound to
happen. All the cards were stacked that way. There was the
structural fact of absolute papal authority with its necessary
compliment of unquestioning obedience. There was the
unusual correlation of the lives of five men who exercised
that authority, and finally, there was the widespread alienation of believing Catholics from the societies in which
they lived. Thus, once undermining was decided upon, it turned
out to be a less than herculean task.
In view of the hierarchical structure of the Catholic
Church, the smooth exercise of authority, as in an army, is
essential. For better or for worse, it is the Pope of Rome who
rules the Church; thus it is only through the papacy that
doctrine or practice can be changed. In spite of the fuss
made over them by news-hungry journalists, theologians
remain on the sidelines. Following a pattern set by the socalled Modernists at the turn of the century, they debate
among themselves in cozy academic reunions year in and
year out. If, as happens now and then, one of their musings
strikes a responsive chord in the Vatican, the idea may
eventually be found filtering down from pope to bishops and
on down to parish priests and their flocks. Should the papacy
show no interest, the theory will at best make the rounds of
theological reviews until it peters out. The “integral
humanism” of Jacques Maritain made the grade, the
“omega point” of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin failed to do that.
164
increasing protest, but inside the organization he heads
his authority remains intact. His controlling hand is in
every Episcopal appointment, in the designation of every
member of the Roman Curia, of every cardinal, of the heads
of each Secretariat and of each of the major religious
orders, of members of the theological commissions as well
as in the naming of nuncios or apostolic delegates to the
over one hundred diplomatic posts throughout the world.
His hand can even be seen in the contestations, in as much
as it is a hand that refrains from dressing down.
In terms of impact on the Church as a whole, the papal
faculty to choose which priests are to rise to the episcopate
is undoubtedly the most decisive. Using the faculty the
way recent popes have used it, this power can guarantee
support for papal decisions throughout the whole
managerial network of the Church.
If has been said that modern bishop-making would do
credit to a secret society. The first impulse invariably stems
from the interest an incumbent bishop takes in a priest in his
diocese. The prelate goes on to spend a period of discreet
observation of the subject’s attitudes, tendencies and
preferences before taking soundings among both his clergy
and laity, hoping to verify his initial judgment. In a changing
Church it must be assumed that there has been a changing
criterion for assessing the suitability of candidates for the
episcopate. Administrative ability, formerly a prime consideration, has given way to a priest’s enthusiasm for
change and his willingness to comply with the decisions of
others. A young man of outstanding intellectual gifts, and a
tendency to use them, may eventually find his place on a Jesuit
review, but his chances of rising to the episcopate are virtually
nil.
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The Pope begins to take part in the process of
selection as soon as the Episcopal dossier is put into the
hands of his envoy, the nuncio or apostolic delegate
assigned to the country in question. A recognizably elegant
figure at diplomatic receptions around the world, the nuncio
is a nearly unknown personage to the average Catholic, who
would be astonished to learn how profoundly this man’s key
role in bishop-making can effect his own religious life.
It is the nuncio, on receiving the local bishop’s report
concerning one or more candidates, who undertakes the
second period of investigation, calling upon carefully
cultivated sources, always in an atmosphere of secrecy, in
order finally to submit a short list of prospective bishops to
the Vatican with his own additional recommendations. In the
end it is the Pope, on the basis of the material he receives,
who will decide who is to be raised to the episcopate.
The weight of the nuncio’s role in forming the Pope’s
governing corps is cited by Clifford Langley, correspondent
of London’s Times, “Bruno Heim, the Vatican envoy, can be
credited with effecting within the relatively short period of
1973 to 1985 a profound revolution within the Catholic
Church in Great Britain.” Readers will remember another
profound change the Swiss prelate helped to effect. As
private secretary to Nuncio Angelo Roncalli in Paris in
1944 he was partner in recycling the ideology of one
hundred French bishops accused by General de Gaulle of
having collaborated with the Germans during the Occupation.
In the United States every priest elevated to the
episcopate between the years 1933 and 1958 owed his mitre
to having passed muster with Msgr. Amleto Cicognani,
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the progressive-minded diplomat whom Pius XII had
entrusted with the delicate task of “reinterpreting” Pius
XI’s anti-Marxist encyclical Divini Redemptoris so that
American Catholics of 1940, still numb from reports of
Communist atrocities in the Spanish Civil War, could be
persuaded to go to war on the side of the Soviet Union.
Twenty years later, Cicognani, now Secretary of State
under John XXIII, was asked by an Italian journalist what
he thought of the Second Vatican Council, just then
underway. Exclaimed the octogenarian Secretary, “Great
things are happening!”
Although, thanks to a nearly foolproof system of
selection, bishops have become a submissive chorus of
approval for every papal initiative, the office was meant to
be one of great individual authority. It signified “the fullness
of priestly power”, a phrase which has been eliminated
from the new rite of Episcopal consecration. The Pope
himself is a bishop, the Bishop of Rome.
Fullness of power is, if course, the last thing the new
Church fosters unless it be fullness of papal power. A
bishop stepping out of line, as witness Marcel Lefebvre, can
be a serious obstacle in the path of change. Pius XII
envisioned this problem in the mid-1930’s when, although
still only Secretary of State, he began to experiment with
the idea of grouping bishops into national assemblies. He
worked at first with the Germans. All during the 1940’s
plans for what came to be called “Episcopal conferences”
continued to be carried forward, so that at the present time
virtually every country where there are bishops has its
Episcopal “club” and in certain extensive geographical
areas there are super-conferences such as the Latin American
CELAM.
When the top Curia member, Josef Cardinal
Ratzinger, gave his surprising interview to an Italian
167
journalist in August 1984, no part of his stringent commentary on what he called “the crisis in the Church” was
stronger than what he had to say about the Episcopal
conference system. Pronouncing it “devoid of any
theological basis” he went on to say that it” deprives the
individual bishop of his proper authority”. A student of the
undermining phenomenon can only assume that was
precisely what it was meant to do.
From ancient times a bishop was responsible only to the
Pope and he could count on being able to present his
problems and requests directly to the Holy See. Under the
conference system his every initiative must be submitted to
the consideration of his fellow bishops and its destiny is
dependent on their giving it, or not giving it, approval by vote.
“This bureaucratic structure”, says Ratzinger, “is
essentially a faceless one, as conference members make their
way through endless preparatory schemas until they finally
reach a flattened out decision. In this way Magisterium
becomes paralyzed by making it dependent on a maze of
organizers, easy to infiltrate and influence. Assembly
Magisterium can be manipulated to insinuate doubt into
every problem of the faith.”
The Prefect says that in many conferences the allpervading pressures of “group spirit” make bishops
reluctant to disturb the peace and “the resulting mood of
conformism induces the majority to move passively in the
direction determined by an enterprising minority.”
In the late 1940’s, on orders from Pius XII, Marcel
Lefebvre, then Bishop of Dakar and Apostolic Delegate in
Africa, was traveling in pith helmet and cass o c k f r o m t h e
C o n g o t o M a d a g a s c a r , f r o m t h e Cameroons to French
West Africa, to set up Episcopal conferences. Years later he
would come to realize how much harm this phase of his work
168
did to francophone Af ri c a . Lik e Ra t zi ng e r , h e r e fe r s to
“a s s e mb l yMagisterium” as taking away the real authority
of the bishop. “It makes him a prisoner of collegiality. Theoretically a bishop can in a number of cases, act against the
vote of the group, but this proves impossible in practice
since, as soon as the session ends the majority decisions
are published and circulated to priests and faithful. By
opposing the decisions, a dissenting bishop invokes the
authority of the assembly against himself.”
As for the “enterprising minority”, referred to by the
Cardinal, these are the men elected to chair each of the
conferences and who, with one other prelate from the same
country, meet in Rome every two years to take part in what is
called a World Episcopal Synod. For the space of one month
their daily deliberations are followed by hundreds of
members of the international press who are apt to remark
that they could have told it all without leaving their home
bases. After the 1971 meeting Time was already
complaining, “These Synods reveal only too clearly the
high cost of the bishops’ lack of power. The world has
begun to yawn. To this waiting world the immobility of the
hierarchy is inexplicable.”
Inexplicable to Time perhaps, but not to the student of
subversion in the Church. The importance to absolute papal
authority of the kind of Episcopal immobility that makes
the press yawn can be measured by a curious set of
statistics. Attending the First Vatican Council were some
550 bishops, nearly the world total in 1870. While the
number of Catholics increased during the next ninety years,
particularly in Africa, the increase was nowhere near one
hundred percent, yet the number of bishops was
increased nearly five hundred percent so that around 2500
prelates were available for the Second Vatican Council. In
the quarter of a century since that event the number of
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practicing Catholics has halved while the number of
bishops, over 4000, has virtually doubled.
In order to keep in line such a large group of men,
however carefully selected and however conformist by
nature and training, unusual steps were taken in the early
1970’s. Lest snowballing changes cause even the most
reliable among them to quail, bearers of pectoral cross,
ring, mitre and staff were sent back to school. Bishops
from every part of the world were pressured to spend a
summer month in Rome to undergo intensive courses in
theological updating. Nearly one hundred American
bishops could be found every year attending classes at the
North American College under the guidance of the far-out
Biblical critic, Raymond Brown, and the leader of
Rome’s English-speaking Charismatics, Francis Sullivan, S.J.
Only very occasionally does the smooth exercise of what
is referred to as Episcopal collegiality hit a snag. In 1980
in El Salvador Msgr. Riva y Damas, alone among the
tumultuous little country’s four bishops, attended the
funeral of the assassinated Bishop Oscar Romero. For the
others, Romero’s outspoken commitment to Marxism
seemed incompatible with his office. With an election to the
presidency of the local Episcopal conference in the offing.
Pope John Paul preempted the certain selection of a
conservative by appointing Riva y Damas as his Apostolic
Delegate, thus giving him precedence over the others.
The previous year the same Pope had intervened in an
opposite kind of Episcopal problem. Msgr. Johannes
Gijsen of Roermond, youngest of the nine bishops of the
Netherlands, had become impatient with the post-Conciliar
proliferation of what he considered to be time-wasting lay
organizations in his diocese. In addition to the usual dozen
or so parish, associations prevalent in most countries the
Dutch had come up with three or four of their own.
170
Persuading these last to disband locally, Bishop Gijsen set to
work on a more important problem. It had been decided in
Episcopal conference that, due to the appalling drop in
enrollment, all the seminaries in the country were to be
closed, leaving the handful of candidates to the priesthood
free to attend secular universities “with the added
advantage”, it was suggested, “that their outlook would be
broadened.” Dismayed, Msgr. Gijsen made a dramatic
move. He set up a little seminary of his own at Roermond.
Pope John Paul took immediate action. Summoning the
nine members of the Dutch hierarchy to Rome, he put them
through seventeen days of tightly closed d e l i b e r a t i o n s
u n d e r t h e t u t e l a g e o f L o u v a i n University’s most
advanced periti, sitting through every one of the sessions
himself, even intervening several times.
News of the Vatican-ordered Dutch Synod had made
for hopeful excitement in conservative circles in many
countries, At last the Holy Father was going to do
something about those radical Dutch bishops. The Left was
worried and as a consequence reporters and religious writers
from all over the world flocked to Rome, only to find
themselves confronted with an exercise in censorship that
was sheer torture. While news bulletins were issued by the
Vatican press office at regular intervals, they contained no
names at all. Reading that this or that had been said
without learning who it was that had said it made the
whole o p e r a t i o n s e n s e l e s s . Th u s i t w a s t h a t wo r r i e d
progressives and hopeful conservatives left Rome with
nothing more than they had started out with, namely the
supposition that the Pope had called the Dutch hierarchy
to the Vatican to reprove them for their radicalism.
Quite the opposite was true. The seventeen days ended
with young Bishop Gijsen thoroughly quashed while the
other eight bishops of the Netherlands, along with Pope John
171
Paul, declared in a final document that, happily, they had
achieved full communio.
Rome had spoken. The matter, along with the Gijsen
seminary, was closed.
Anathema
It was in the pleasant mountain town of Brixen, called
Bressanone by the Italians who received it along with the rest
of South Tyrol as war booty in 1919, that the Prefect of the
Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Josef
Cardinal Ratzinger, was taking his 1984 summer vacation in
the vast, now nearly empty baroque monastery when, in a
startling breach of Curial reserve and a head over heels
reversal of Holy Office procedure, he granted an
interview to Vittorio Messori, a journalist based in Milan.
It was no ordinary interview. For six hours a day over a period of three days the amiable Bavarian with the photogenic
shock of white hair answered questions, a Grand Inquisitor
in reverse.
The Second Vatican Council’ had come to a close twenty
years before and the Cardinal was ready to admit to his
interrogator that in the interim the Church had arrived at a
state of crisis. Did he, in his top Vatican position, Messori
asked, intend to do anything about it?
Ratzinger smiled, “You know in our so-called ex-Holy
Office we are only ten, rather too few to undertake a coup
d’etat. Even if we wanted to, we could hardly set up a
dictatorship.”
172
Not but what he was upset. What emerged from the long
sessions in Brixen was a kind of dirge for the passing of the
Church-as-Institution. From start to finish the mood was one
of mourning. The Cardinal even went so far as to use Paul
VI’s dramatic designation, “auto-destruction”. While Pope
Paul had gone on to indicate that some kind of occult force
was undermining the Church, Ratzinger was more matter
of fact. The blame, he said, lay with those he referred to
alternately as “certain theologians”, “some intellectuals”
and “more than one peritus”. He named no names.
The journalist knew perfectly well that Josef
Ratzinger at thirty-three, had himself been one of the most
prominent of the young theological periti of the Second
Vatican Council. His task had been to bring the seventyseven year-old Cardinal Frings of Cologne into line with the
new thinking. By relaying the speculations of his teacher,
Karl Rahner, a disciple in turn of the Austrian
existentialist, Martin Heidegger, the young priest was able
to make of the old cardinal a leader of the ultraprogressive company of Council fathers known as the
“Rhine Group”. In 1964, when the death of Pope John
caused an interval of several months between Council
sessions, Fr. Ratzinger along with other avant-garde
theologians took the time to create the radical review,
Consilium. Knowing all this, Messori was unable to resist the
question, “Eminence, do you look back now on Consilium as
a sin of your youth?”
“On the contrary”, came the affable reply.” From the
beginning I was insisting that Consilium keep within the
boundaries of the Council, never moving ahead of it.”
Indeed when the periodical moved shockingly ahead of it to
propose, among other things, that the Pope ride subway
trains like everybody else, Fr. Ratzinger moved away to
173
set up in the company of radical theologians Rahner,
Congar and Von Balthasar a slightly more sedate review they
called Communio.
Touching on the heart of the present crisis, the
Cardinal was surprisingly frank, “Catholics have lost
their conviction that there is one truth and that truth is
definable in a precise way.” He expressed regret that
this loss of conviction was bound to reflect tellingly
on the spreading of the Gospel of Christ. At one point in
the conversation he even envisioned the collapse of the
Church’s entire missionary effort. “Some theologians
are laying emphasis on the value of non-Catholic
religions, not as an extraordinary but as an ordinary path
to salvation, so that our missionaries say, ‘Why should
we disturb non-Christians by persuading them to accept
baptism and a faith in Christ, seeing that their own
religion constitutes the proper road to salvation within
their culture and in their part of the world?’”
Some theologians? Men as daring as the younger Josef
Ratzinger who wrote, “For modern consciences the
certainty that God’s mercy transcends the lawfully
constituted Church renders more questionable a
Church that for a millennium and a half not only tolerated
its own claim to be the unique way to salvation but
elevated that idea to an essential element of its selfunderstanding, a part of its very faith”?
Ho weve r questionabl e R atzinge r ma y h av e
thought the claim to be, it can be asked whether a faith with
a lesser claim could have spread from Palestine to Rome
and then all over the western world. How indeed could
Islam have swept across North Africa, Spain and the
Middle East without the unique salvation claim of the
Koran with its ominous lines, “those who insist that Allah
is one of three will try to get out of Hell but their
punishment will be lasting”? Had the Jews lost their
conviction that they were God’s “chosen people”, would
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Judaism have lasted to this day?
In view of the present chaos, Messori wonders what
went wrong. Was the beginning of the 1960’s the proper
time to have called a Council?
“Oh, it was! Just at that time there was a great
longing.” Longing? No doubt there was eagerness on the
part of the young intellectual priests who frequented the
offices of Miss Goldie at Piazza San Calisto to try out
their newly-learned theological expertise. However it is safe
to say that the last thing on earth the ordinary clergy, the
male and female religious and the men and women in the
parishes were longing for was an elite-induced
redefinition that would upset all the learned tenets of their
faith. One can even surmise that had many of them known
what was going on at Miss Goldie’s offices they would
have marched on the place in protest.
Longing, for the average Catholic in the 1960’s, focused
on security, on the steady support and protection the solid
old institution with all its beloved trimmings was able to
give them in the difficult task of believing. At that time
converts were still flocking in and one of them, the British
novelist, Muriel Spark, asked by reporters why she had
abandoned Judaism for Catholicism, replied briskly, “For
the certainty! One must have certainty.”
At that time few of the faithful had heard of the
experimental liturgies that were going on in several
European centers, however already they had begun to have
misgivings. There was the never-explained loosening of the
laws of fast and abstinence, changes in the liturgy, albeit
minor ones, along with the fact their children seemed no
longer to need their help in memorizing answers to questions
in the Catechism. Indeed, the Catechism had disappeared
and with its disappearance children had become quite vague as to
what their religion was all about.
175
It had been Pope John who admitted Fr. Ratzinger to the
inner circle of the Second Vatican Council, Pope Paul who
appointed him to the exclusive and openly radical
Pontifical Theological Commission and Pope John Paul II
who made him a cardinal and brought him into the Curia.
There can be no doubt but what he is a pope’s man,
dedicated to the papal revolution. How then could this
interview, circulated in book form in half a dozen
translations, have taken place?
From this vantage point in time the answer seems
obvious. Twenty years after the Council a general malaise
had indeed reached crisis proportions. It was natural that
the Pope and his top advisors would feel an urgency to clear
the air. In doing so they fell back on a ploy long considered
effective by seasoned politicians, that of provoking the
opposition to declare itself. Accordingly, the provocative
gesture was to be made and made from the top. No less a
personage than the Prefect for the Doctrine of the Faith
would give voice to the protest of the faithful, even if it
meant breaking millennia of curial reserve. After all,
Vatican Archives had been opened in defense of Pius XII.
What was one more daring precedent? Complaints must
come out to be examined critically, treated with dignity and
lamented. As the inevitable question of blame arose, it must
be treated with the utmost caution. No names could be
mentioned, least of all the name of a pope. Guilt must be
admitted, but it must be assigned to anonymous, forgotten or
deceased theologians.
The Ratzinger Report, as the Messori work was f i n a l l y
e n t i t l e d , a r o u s e d a s mu c h f e a r a mo n g progressives as
hope among conservatives and excitement was running
high when Pope John Paul summoned to Rome what he
called an Extraordinary Synod toward the end of 1985.
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The excitement was fair measure of the ignorance
prevalent among Catholics and non-Catholics alike as to
what the real power lines in the Church consist of. It ought
not to have needed a month of bland Synod sessions to
show that the bishops who came to Rome were not only the
carefully chosen, carefully trained, “yes men” of the papacy
but the very cream of those men. Prefect Ratzinger had
called them “the enterprising minority”, those who manage
to get elected to the presidency of each of the two hundred
or so Episcopal conferences in the world. The result was a
month long huzza for Vatican II. The Irish Primate,
O’Fiaich, called the Second Vatican Council “by grace of
God the most important event of the century”, while
Jugoslavian Cardinal Kouaric proclaimed unabashedly that it
was “a good tree bearing good fruit”. With unanimous
affirmation of the represented episcopate of the entire
world the matter of dissent was brought to a close. It had
been aired, given a fair hearing, put in its place and filed away.
No more need be said.
If, in all fairness to Cardinal Ratzinger, one wanted
to assume that his conception of interfaith relations really
underwent a change in recent years, one would only wonder
what he thought of Pope John Paul’s “Day of Peace” at
Assisi. The morning of October 27, 1986 came on cold with
blustery, half snowy showers. Except for the occasional
housewife on her way to market and three busloads of high
school students brought in for the event from towns near
the little hillside city of St. Francis, streets were deserted.
The Vatican press office in Rome, expecting a crush of
journalists as if for a Reagan-Gorbachev summit, gave out
passes to the various events on a pool basis. The relatively
few reporters who showed up, however, preferred to keep
warm inside the Cittadella, that complex of buildings,
lecture halls and publishing plant begun by Pius XII in
177
1939 as a kind of general headqu a rt e rs fo r ch an g e .
S t udi e s su ch as An ni ba l e Bugnini’s invention of the New
Mass had gone on here in preparation for the Assisi
Liturgical Conference of 1956. Newsmen attending the 1986
Day of Peace were treated to displays of the Cittadella’s
latest editorial efforts, book after book, written by
“liberation t h e o l o g i s t s ” , f r o m L e o n a r d o B o f f t o
G u s t a v o Gutierrez.
The scarcity of journalists may have dismayed the
organizers of the Day of Peace but not the lack of
onlookers. The laity had not been invited. Planned as a
television spectacular rather than as a public event, the
production did credit to the professionalism of the one-time
man of the theater who had prepared for his Day with a
strenuous series of dress rehearsals. There had been his
warm homage to the memory of Martin Luther in Germany;
in Morocco an apology to Islam for the Catholic
Reconquista of Spain; in Rome the Pope had read aloud the
Psalms of David to the Chief Rabbi in the Great
Synagogue, going on to participate in the Rites of the
Great Forest in Tongo and to submit the papal forehead to
ritual markings by a Hindu priestess in India.
As a theatrical production, Assisi can be said to have
been a resounding success. At the flick of a TV dial one
would have thought he had come in on the last act of
Verdi’s Aida, with the great dark arches of the Basilica of
St. Francis making a striking background for the pure white
vestments of the star, the man called “Holy Father” and
“Vicar of Christ-on-Earth” at the head of a circle of gorgeously
costumed supernumeraries, ranging from Buddhists whose
belief in God is optional, to Muslims and Jews whose God
has no son, to Shintoists whose God is a head of state, to
Animists whose gods are snakes.
Even the ever-cool New York Times was taken aback
178
when the “God-King”, the Dalai Lama, converted the
altar of Assisi’s Church of St. Peter to his cult by placing a
statue of the Buddha atop the tabernacle and setting incense
burners and scrolls around it. Protestant Fundamentalist,
Carl McIntyre called the Pope’s Day of Peace “the greatest
abomination in Church history”. For Archbishop Marcel
Lefebvre it was “the culminating insult to Our Lord.”
Such expressions of outrage are understandable only if
one is able to recall the profound sense of the sacred that
prevailed in Catholic houses of worship before the
undermining of the Church. In the old days every church and
chapel had as its core, a holy of holies, the tabernacle, a
box, silk lined, sometimes gold-plated, which was placed in
the center of the main altar. There under lock and key in
beautifully fashioned, often jewel-studded chalices,
consecrated hosts remaining after Mass were stored. It
must be remembered that for believing Catholics the hosts
are nothing less than the body and blood of Jesus Christ.
The Real Presence in the tabernacle of an altar was signaled by a sanctuary lamp hanging nearby which gave off a
small red glow. It was this Presence that caused men and
women to genuflect before entering a pew that decreed
kneelers between the benches. It was because of the
Presence that communicants fasted from midnight before
the Mass wherein they received the sacred host. Catholics
who were children during the 1940’s and’ 50’s can
remember making sure to brush their teeth before midnight
lest they inadvertantly swallow water in the process. Then
in 1953 Pius XII decided that a three hour fast before
communion would do. Four years later it occurred to him that
a one hour fast was enough. However, he was to be
outdone by his old assistant who became Paul VI, decreeing
a ridiculous fifteen minutes.
179
It was the Real Presence in the tabernacle that
accounted for the silence and the appearance in a darkened
church at any hour of the day of occasional kneeling figures
at prayer. Those people were “making a visit”, coming in
off the street for a few minutes of meditation in the
presence of God. For all of them it brought calm, for some
the taste, however slight, of what the mystics know. “Visits
to the Blessed Sacrament” were private devotions and in
the new collective Church immersed in communio, private
devotion is discouraged. Already in 1943, in his
encyclical Mystici Corporis, Pius XII dealt negatively with
the question of private devotions, while for advanced
theologians the sight of a person praying alone became
actually repugnant. Fr. Ratzinger was one of them.
In his. work Die Sacramentale Begründung Christliche
Existent he explains, “Eucharistic devotion such as is noted
in the silent visit by the devout in church must not be
thought of as a conversation with God. This would assume
that God was present there locally and in a confined way.
To justify such an assertion shows a lack of
understanding of the Christological mysteries of the very
concept of God. This is repugnant to the serious thinking of
the man who knows about the omnipresence of God. To go
to church on the ground that one can visit God who is
present there is a senseless act which modern man
rightfully rejects.”
Here Ratzinger strikes resoundingly at the very essence
of the Catholic Church, at its Holy of Holies, at that
Presence in the tabernacle that set it apart all through the
ages, not only from all non-Christian religions, but also
from the seven thousand or so sects that have retained the name
of Christian.
Die Sacramentale Begründung is available on bookstands
in Germany today. Its theses have never been either
rejected or censored. However, although so long neglected
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as to be virtually forgotten, neither have the Decrees of the
Council of Trent been abrogated and Canon Four, written
in the mid-sixteenth century to refute attacks on the Real
Presence by Martin Luther and Jean Calvin, reads as
follows: “If anyone says that, after the consecration is
complete, the body and the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ
are not in the sacrament of the Eucharist... and in the
consecrated hosts or particles which are reserved (in the
tabernacle) the true body and blood of our Lord remain
not, let him be anathema.”
Anathema, a Greek word referring simply to “that which
is set apart.” Anathema directed at the Holy Office brings
the Vatican revolution full circle.
Diaspora
Like most of the Jews, all of the Catholics in the world
live in a condition of diaspora. While Jews can, if they are
so inclined, take up residence in Israel, Catholics have no
homeland. No one among the hundreds of countries in
which they live can be called “Catholic”.
A century ago England’s Cardinal Manning explained
what that meant, “For three hundred years the faithful have
been in contact with the corrupt civilization of the old, socalled Catholic countries and with the anti-Catholic civilization
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of countries in open schism. The intellectual tendencies of
the former have been departing steadily from the unity of the
faith and of the Church. With truth wasting away, the
Catholic instinct has become feeble and the minds of
Catholics have been much affected by the atmosphere in
which they live.”
Cardinal Manning dates the beginning of the malaise
from the breakup of medieval Christendom when in the
words of Milan Kundera, “God slowly departed from the
seat where he had controlled the universe and its order of
values, told good from evil and given sense to each thing.”
In Quas Primas Pius XI noted how several centuries of
denying the Church the right to make laws had led to “the
reduction of Catholicism to the level of false religions” and
he cited the subsequent domination of the secular states
wherein “religion has come to be tolerated more or less at the
whim of the rulers.”
It was with the French Revolution of two hundred
years ago that Catholicism, even in democratic countries,
became a subject of mere toleration. With the exception of
the Papal States in central Italy and the great sprawl of the
Hapsburg Empire in the middle of Europe, most of the
countries where Catholics lived were filled with tension
during the whole of the nineteenth century. Nowhere was
friction greater than in the two countries dealt with at
length earlier in this study, France and Mexico. Fast
changing governments boasting of dedication to “liberty,
equality and fraternity” made it a question of touch and go
whether convents, monasteries, seminaries and even
churches would remain open or be converted into post
offices or barracks. In both countries the Revolution’s
principle of separation of Church and State deprived nearly
the entire populations of both countries of any kind of
leverage as Catholics.
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Achille Ratti as Pius XI was the last to speak out against
separation. His Quas Primas echoed that even stronger
admonition of Pius X: “It is an absolutely false thesis and
an extremely dangerous one to think that Church and State
should be separated. Such a thesis is an obvious negation of the
supernatural order.”
In recent times authoritarianism on the Left has been no
less eager to reject the separation principle than orthodoxy
on the Right. Following the visit of Archbishop Casaroli
to Czechoslovakia in 1975 Pravda of Bratislava
editorialized, “A Socialist State cannot content itself with
simply granting freedom of worship to those who profess a
religious faith, nor simply give freedom of expression to
those who are atheists. It has the duty of forming the
consciousness of the people in order to bring them into
harmony with Socialism so that they are able to perceive
the world and themselves in the world as full, active
participants in the great historical undertaking which is the
formation of the Communist Society.”
Behind the early twentieth century struggles of both
l’Action Française and the Cristeros had been the attempt to
restore to the faithful the protection of a Catholic State.
Why, their leaders reasoned, in overwhelmingly Catholic
countries, should not the State be Catholic? Obviously
because the one thing the revolution cannot abide is a
Catholic State. The fact that the wielders of power within
the Vatican at the time of the French and Mexican crises
showed they could not abide one is indicative of where
Secretaries Gasparri and Pacelli stood. By championing
the side first, of Premier Poincaré and then of President
Calles, they left no doubt about where their interests lay.
Both the French and the Mexican movements had grown
out of decades of frustration engendered by so-called anticlerical, in reality anti-Christian governments. Without that
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long, exasperating trial it is doubtful that either Frenchmen
or Mexicans would have found the strength to defend the
faith when leadership appeared. On the other hand, had not
Rome vigorously suppressed both movements it is possible
that France and probable that Mexico would have eventually
recovered their Catholic identity.
By the 1920’s believers in both nations had come to look
on anti-clericalism as a familiar enemy. They had learned
to handle it so that, by the middle of the decade in France,
hope of success had risen sharply and by the end of the
decade in Mexico, victory was in sight. Then, with no
warning at all in both countries the scenario was suddenly
turned upside down. All at once it was not the old Masonic
governments opposing them but Rome, the Vatican, the
Holy Father himself, reaching out to put them down.
Ready to die for Rome, for the Holy Father (and thousands
of Mexicans had already died) all they got for their pains
was a resounding pontifical slap in the face.
It had been Pius XI’s Quas Primas with its command to
initiate a feast day in honor of “Christ the King”, that had
given the Mexican rebels their battle cry, “Viva Cristo
Rey!” That encyclical had told them that it was “the
timidity of good people reluctant to engage in conflict”
that made the enemies of the Church even bolder and it
bade the faithful to “fight courageously under the banner
of Christ the King”. Mexican university students devoured
every word of the papal message in order to pass it on to
the peasants in the battle field and by the end of 1928
several score of the country’s most promising young men
had faced government firing squads, while many more
would die from snipers’ bullets once the Vatican order to
lay down arms had been obeyed. With that order something
snapped in the minds of the most faithful of the faithful. As
Bishop Gonzalez Valencia explained in Rome to the new
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secretary of State, Eugenio Pacelli: “Gone, forever, the
traditional esteem the Mexican has always had for his
bishop. I see and I .tell you in great sorrow that the shock of
this scandal, with its obvious complicity on the part of the
Vatican, touches on the Holy See itself and it is so grave
that one can foresee a great loss of faith.”
Meanwhile, shock over the Vatican-induced scandal in
France had driven at least one champion of the Catholic
State into the opposite camp. Philosophy professor Jacques
Maritain, returning to Paris from Rome, set to work
developing his “integral humanism” which would advocate
an emasculated Church “asking no more than to bear
witness by putting itself at the service of mankind in the
New Society that is being born.”
Now six decades later, the New Society is upon us and
the witnessing Church, asking nothing, has received
nothing except the continued aggression of strongly
politicized secular States. While the Perfect Society let
itself be dissolved into the Church-as-Servant, the
atmosphere in which Catholics live reached a degree of
alienation in the West and repression in the East
undreamed of by Cardinal Manning. Meanwhile among the
clerical-sponsored guerrilla bands in Latin America the
Church-as-Servant became the Church-as-Underdog. On
the day Nicaragua’s Daniel Ortega was received in private
audience by John Paul II, Vatican Radio was blaring out the
Sandinista’s favorite “hymn”, something about “the Jesus
who sweats in the streets and picks up his pay like the rest of us.”
The devout old-fashioned Catholics who insist that the
breakdown could not have occurred without the
intervention of the Devil, take heart in the promise of Christ
that He will be with them “until the end of time”. While there
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is little doubt but what the old Faith will somehow survive,
whether it will return as a recognized body through
centuries of growth of the now diminutive traditionalist
movement or through a surprising flash of inspiration, a la
Gorbachev, from within the Vatican, is impossible to
predict. Should however, some future pope awaken to the
fact that the Church is facing extinction and should he want
to do something about it, he would do well to study the ways
of those veterans of survival, the leaders of the Jewish
people.
Bringing a faith through six millennia against fearful
odds was not accomplished through surrender,
compromise, casting shame on past history, diminishing
sacred rites and asking “only to bear witness”. Even as
the Jews never relinquished their claim to being God’s
“chosen people”, so Catholics bent on survival would
have to recover their identity as the Church Militant. Those
two words in themselves could encourage members to stand
tall, even though the phrase never referred to military
might but rather to the struggle the faithful on earth are
engaged in, as they make the challenging choice between
good and evil on their path to salvation.
Abhorrant as they are to followers of the MontiniAlinsky Church Loving, the designation “militant” and its
sequence “triumphant”, referring to those who have managed
to make it to Heaven, would have to be reinstated if only in
the interest of realism. Jewish advisors could hardly object;
does not the very name “Israel” translate as “God
fighteth”? Jews are not ashamed to fight for what they
take to be sacred, their homeland with its supportive laws,
their age-old Holy Scripture, their sacred liturgy and
tabernacles for their holy of holies. Catholics, on the other
hand, having lost Christendom which was their homeland,
have gone on in this century to let themselves be divested
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of their sacred liturgy, sacred language, sacred dogmatic
teaching and in hundreds of thousands of churches,
even of their tabernacles, their holy of holies.
Zionist leaders over half a century ago, expecting that
their forthcoming nation would attract settlers who spoke
a dozen different languages decided with wonderful
wisdom that the common and official language should be
Hebrew. It was a daring decision. Here was a tongue that
had gone out of use centuries before Christ was born. He
spoke Aramaic. Hebrew had survived only in the writings
of rabbinical scholars. Considering the fact that it was a
language altogether unrelated to the Yiddish, Spanish,
German, French, English, Polish, Russian or Hungarian
the immigrants would be speaking on arrival and the fact
that the script would appear to most of them as exotic as
Chinese pictographs, the successful installation of Hebrew
as the official language of Israel was one of the most
surprising achievements of the entire Zionist movement.
How much easier it would have been had they chosen
Esperanto, the international language invented by a Jewish
scholar and based on Latin, so long the language of all
Europe and found today in most of the words of the French,
Italian, Spanish and Portuguese languages, in half of the
English language and much of German. Zionist pioneers,
however, rejected the simple solution in favor of the sacred.
Both easy and sacred for Christians, Latin is a treasure
the papal revolution threw away. Granted that to insist on the
use of a common language and to supervise its
dissemination, there has to be an interested State. Jews
claiming their right to have their own State have been able to
do it. Catholics, surrendering that right, had no way to,
however that fact is no excuse for the centuries of neglect
of Latin by the Church.
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If the Vatican had seen to it that every Catholic child
learned at least to pronounce the easily pronounceable
Latin words of the Mass, Benediction, Baptism and three or
four common prayers, it would have given each one
throughout his life personal riches that would have stood
him in good stead when the revolution came on.
As it was, when the blow fell and the New Mass was
imposed in the mid-1960’s, the faithful were only vaguely
aware of what was being taken from them. Indeed, a
calculated provocation on the part of Rome gave many of
them a feeling of relief when Latin disappeared. It was
during the Council that congregations received an unexpected
order to make use of the long discarded Dialogue Mass, the
Missa Recitata, all of it still in Latin. The consequent
bewilderment of millions of the laity can only be imagined.
After that happily brief trauma, the New Mass said in the
vernacular was greeted as a kind of liberation.
For the Church, Latin meant stability. Being what is
called a dead language, it did not change through daily use;
thus the liturgy could be trusted to remain at all times and
in all places the same. Latin meant solidarity. A Scotsman
attending Mass in Bolivia or a Bolivian in Scotland could
feel at home in any church of the strange land. Perhaps of
most importance was the sacredness of its sound. The
Zionists knew well that a liturgy ought to sound holy.
They also know how important to a faith are its martyrs.
Not only do Jews honor their dead of the concentration
camps, they insist that the rest of the world honor them, too.
Global headquarters for this insistence is the Center for
Holocaust Studies of the Anti-Defamation League in New
York. Producing a continuous volume of persuasive
literature, the Center offers a catalogue of material
described as “suitable for use in churches, schools, civic
groups and libraries” with a preface written by the Nobel Prize
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winner, Eli Wiesel. There is a Guide to Unpublished Holocaust Material running to three volumes of four hundred
pages each, twenty-six audio-visual productions in color,
cleared for television, along with a series of hour-long
lecture tapes by leading Jewish intellectuals. There are
scores of books with such titles as Genocide and Anne Franck,
The Anatomy of Nazism, Ghetto in Flames, Crystal Night and Death
Train.
In devastating contrast to the homage to martyrdom
carried out by the Jewish Anti-Defamation League,
communication experts within the Vatican merit the title
“Auto-Defamation League”. Even as young Mexican
students were facing death by firing squad in the classic
way of Roman youth facing lions rather than abjure
Christianity, the Vatican was going to extraordinary pains
to hide that story from the world. Small wonder, a few
years ago, that a professor of a university in Texas when
asked how she looked on the Cristero Movement,
confessed that she had never heard of it. She was a
Catholic and a contributor to conservative religious
publications, yet she had never heard of a full scale civil war
raging on the border of her own state, if not in her lifetime,
then in the lifetime of her mother and father. That she had
heard that Hitler killed six million Jews must be taken for
granted.
In Distant Neighbors, 563 pages of otherwise comprehensive
analysis of Mexico, past and present, Alan Riding allows
himself just thirty-seven words to depict the Catholic
uprising: “Fanaticized peasants led by conservative priests
who launched a guerrilla war to the cry of ‘Viva Cristo
Rey!’ which gained them the name ‘Cristeros’ and in the
name of Christ they carried out murder, arson and sabotage.”
This nasty bit may well be all that Riding, the AngloBrazilian New York Times reporter, was able to find out about
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the Mexican “holocaust” during his many years in Mexico.
Incredible as it may seem, the Vatican has declared the
Cristero war to be top secret. It goes further. Even the
memory of the struggle must be erased from history. Jean
Meyer, a young professor from the University of Perpignan
in southern France, visiting Mexico one summer in the
1970’s and coming up against this astounding fact, went
on to spend six more summers researching the struggle to
come up with a three-volume work which he calls La
Christiade.
Total censorship prevailed even at the time of the
fighting. Francis McCullough, a British journalist, found
eager acceptance for his on-the-spot news stories on the
part of New York editors, only to have publishers give the
order, “Don’t touch it!”
“Why?” McCullough asked in 1929. “Why was there
always such excitement about Jewish pogroms in Tsarist
Russia and why is there no mention made of a Christian
pogrom in Mexico where, since August 1926. 4047 people
have been executed, among them sixteen women?”
From Jean Meyer’s preface to La Christiade;
“Since 1929 Rome has forbidden all writing, talking,
even thinking about the Cristeros, prohibiting Catholic seminaries, colleges and schools to take up the subject. Worse still, after 1968 when the Church was
seized with complexes of self-persecution, should a
teacher or preacher be forced to mention the Cristeros,
he must refer to them as fanatics or revolutionaries.”
Assuming the duties of Secretary of State shortly
after the so-called “arrangements” were signed, Cardinal Pacelli ordered all Mexican bishops to forbid
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access to files and archives dealing with the Cristero
period under the gravest sanctions. In obedience,
ecclesiastical authorities in Guadalajara burnt all the
papers relevant to the uprising in that diocese, those in
Mexico City, all records of the Joan of Arc Brigades and
of the student organizations. Fortunately, says Meyer, the
weighty documentation collected by t h e bishop mo st
s ymp a thetic to the move me nt , Gonzalez Valencia, is (or
at this time of writing, was) safe in the Cathedral of
Durango under the proverbial seven locks and keys.
As inexplicable to Meyer as the Church’s ban was what
turned out to be similar censorship imposed by the
Mexican State. Even in the 1970’s he found the
government as reluctant as the Vatican to divulge information concerning its repression of the rebellion. That
such perfect accord should exist between two bodies well
known to be antipathetic, spurred him on to try to find the
truth about what he took to be a closet full of skeletons.
Returning to Mexico year after year, Prof. Meyer
eventually made contact with owners of private collections of documents, writings and memorabilia, as well
as valuable material in several Jesuit libraries. In
Washington he was able to see military intelligence papers
which had run their fifty years of closure to the public.
Yale and Amhurst were helpful; however the most
fascinating experience in all the absorbing years of work
was the tracking down of the old and scattered veterans of
the war and listening to enough of their stories to fill over
one hundred hours of registration.
For Jean Meyer, the Vatican’s command of secrecy is
strange beyond belief and altogether unnatural. With Latin
Americans expected to make up half of the Catholics in
the world by the end of this century, for them not to know
of these warriors and martyrs of their own flesh and blood
is an enormous deprivation. Meyer offers a weak
explanation by suggesting that the Vatican may feel acute
embarassment for having deliberately delivered devout and
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courageous Catholics into the hands of an openly hostile
government.
That the “arrangements” were pleasing to that
government goes without saying. The President at the time,
Emilio Portes Gil, celebrated the Vatican-contrived
surrender in a speech to fellow Lodge members gathered
for the annual banquet to mark the summer solstice: “Dear
Brothers, we can now confirm the fact that the clergy has
come to a full recognition of the law. In Mexico for many
years now the State and Freemasonry have been the same
thing, entities marching step in step. The struggle is not
new. It began twenty centuries ago and it will go on until
the end of time.”
New Catholic, Old Catholic
Revolution in the Catholic Church, like revolution in
Tsarist Russia, in Weimar Germany and even in Somosa’s
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Nicaragua, first sparked in the minds of a few bright men
sitting at desks, pen in hand. These men were the
dreamers, schemers, planners of what they were sure
was a better way to do things. Their projects would have
remained inside their bright minds and on paper except for
the fact that absolute power was either at hand or would become
so shortly.
In the case of the Church, absolute power was present,
however, since it was psychological and spiritual rather than
political or military power, it would need half a century to
become effective in the lives of hundreds of millions of
believers. The new way to be Catholic would come into
being only after the faithful had been dispossessed of
beliefs, traditions and practices ingrained over a stretch of
two millennia. That an undermining process covering a
mere five or six decades could have accomplished such a
task is one of the most astounding facts of our astounding
century.
Could the process have been prevented? Given the
circumstances already referred to as “stacked cards” in
favor of change, the question can nearly be discounted. To
hinder, even postpone, the transformation would have taken
remarkable awareness on the part of Catholics everywhere
of the sacredness of what they had been given. Had that been
present, had not, as Cardinal Manning testified, “the
Catholic instinct become feeble”, then clear teaching and
warm devotion could have fostered the kind of alertness
Rafael Merry del Val had urged, alertness brusquely
discouraged by the Vatican. As it was, however, hardly any
layman, priest or even bishop realized there was anything to
be alert about. Only in 1963, when the Second Vatican
Council came into the full glare of the international media,
was the world permitted to find out what had been going
on for so long behind the scenes. By that time it was too late.
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And it was only after Episcopal signatures had been
put to Council documents by a docile world hierarchy that
consequences, inevitable and jolting, began to occur one
after the other. The point is, they were consequences,
results, not causes. Whatever happened since Vatican II can
be traced to things set in motion years, even decades,
before. Pope John Paul’s astonishing Day of Peace at
Assisi harked back to Cardinal Mercier’s Malines
Conversations. Latin America’s gullible opening to
“liberation theology” could hardly have occurred had
Mexico’s Cristeros been allowed to claim their hard-won
victory, while permission to hold a five thousand-strong
rock and marihuana fiesta in the Cathedral where kings
of France had been crowned, followed logically the
Ratzinger premise that the idea of God present in the
confined space of a tabernacle was nonsense. Each of these
phenomena was a consequence, not a cause.
Since such consequences meet with little if any
resistance, they are bound to continue. Against the progressing downtrend, resisters are few. They might have been
many. There was a time, in retrospect a seemingly magic
moment, when a sudden consciousness seemed to come
over the faithful in widely scattered parts of the world that
they themselves, the men and women in the pew — as in
the case of the Cristeros very few priests were involved —
that they themselves could undertake a counter-revolution. It
began shortly after the imposition of the Bugnini Mass.
Stunned, a considerable number of Catholics began to strike
out. There were protests, articles, books, open-letters and
there were three international pilgrimages to the Piazza of
St. Peter’s in Rome. The early 1970’s saw a brief period
of excitement, of questioning and of anticipation. However,
it was not until late in 1.
974 that one of the few bishops
who had stood up for orthodoxy in the Council, Marcel
Lefebvre, emerged to give the spreading insurgence some kind
of cohesion.
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A native of the far northeastern corner of France and
thirty years a missionary in Black Africa, Archbishop
Lefebvre, unable to obtain entry into any diocese of his
fellow French bishops with his project to found a seminary
devoted to traditional teaching, had by 1970 been granted
acceptance in French Switzerland. Msgr. Nestor Adam,
Bishop of Sion, gave approval for classes to take place in an
old country lodge called Ecône, up to then a retirement
home for keepers of the nearby St. Bernard Pass.
Eventually the Vatican became curious and in 1974
Pope Paul sent visitors to Ecône, two top theologians of the
ever-advanced University of Louvain, to report back to
Rome. It was this tour of inspection which triggered the
reluctant move of Msgr. Lefebvre into a leadership
position. As the two Belgians entered lecture halls the
seminary they proceeded to try to undo concepts that had
been accepted dogma throughout the Christian ages.
Confiding to the youths that a married Catholic priesthood
was a future inevitability, they declared that the physical
resurrection of Christ was not a certainty and that truth
is not “something you can put away in a drawer at night and
expect to find the same when you open the drawer in the
morning”.
The students were amazed and the Archbishop
outraged. Forthwith he addressed what he called a
“declaration of faith” in the form of an open-letter to the
Vatican. It began, “We adhere wholeheartedly and with all
our soul to Catholic Rome, Mistress of Wisdom and of
Truth. On the other hand we refuse and we have always
refused to follow the Rome of neo-Modernist and neoProtestant tendencies which clearly manifested themselves in
the Second Vatican Council and after the Council in all the
reforms which issued from it.” The declaration was soon
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circulating wherever there were Catholics. Counterrevolution was underway.
The visitors, really Inspectors, sent by the Vatican to
Ecône, were theologians from the University of Louvain.
The name of that Belgian school appears so often in this
study and in connection with such crucial events as to
give the impression that it has become the theological
Vatican, leaving Rome to carry on Church administration.
In his comprehensive study of the Order to which he once
belonged, Malachi Martin asserts that the Company of
Jesus and the Vatican are, or at least were, in 1987 when his
book came out, in a state of war. I suggest that it is a
phony war, deliberately set up to allow the Jesuits to plunge
ahead with the revolution, while the Vatican assures the
faithful that everything is under control. A division of labor but
hardly a war.
Consider the fact that Vatican Radio, worldwide
apologist for every act of the papacy, is a Jesuit organization, as are the three Pontifical Institutes in Rome, the
Gregorian, the Oriental and the Biblicum: Down in
membership from an all-time high of 36,000 members at the
end of the Council to an estimated 19,000 now, the
Company still runs hundreds of schools and there are Jesuit
“reflection centers” in Paris, Madrid, Milan, all over Latin
America, in Washington, New Delhi, Chicago, St. Louis
and Manila, while Jesuit theologians act as planners and
advisors for every major grouping such as international
synods and Episcopal conferences.
In 1975, when the 32nd Jesuit Congregation or world
assembly met in Rome, we Vaticanisti were offered two
press conferences a day during a whole month. There it
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was that we heard Father General Arrupe, like Ignatius
Loyola a Basque, take the words of the Founder, “fight
under the banner of the Cross to save each and every man”
and change it to, “fight under the banner of the Cross to
make a more human and divine world” because, he insisted,
“it is the world that will become the kingdom of God!” One
wonders what it is that gives earthbound utopianists like
Fr. Arrupe (now deceased) confidence that they will be
around to enjoy such a kingdom.
Malachi Martin points to the beginning of subversion
in the Company at the turn of the century, when a small
group of young priests formed themselves around the
Anglo-Irish convert, George Tyrell, S.J. in a more or less
clandestine way. The following generation of dissidents,
thrilling to the inventions of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin,
S.J., came into the open, albeit cautiously, while their
successors acclaimed freely the existentialism of Karl
Rahner, S.J., whom Martin calls “a lacerator of the Faith at
its very roots” Paul VI appointed Fr. Rahner to the
Pontifical Theological Commission.
Louvain was the birthplace of the aberration known
as “liberation theology”. It was from there that Roger
Weckemann and several fellow Jesuits set off for Chile,
where they can be credited with bringing Marxist Salvador
Allende to power and his peaceful country to chaos.
Rejecting Louvain-induced Leftism, Guatemalans turned to
Protestantism, Nicaragua to civil war.
Writing in the Italian review 30 Giorni, Michel Algrin
of the University of Paris uncovered the Louvain
office, CIDSE, which urges Sunday Mass collections in
France and Germany “for the poor of the Third World”.
With funds amounting to more than the annual budget of
UNESCO, CIDSE sends the francs to support subversion in the
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former French colonies in Africa, the marks to Latin America,
mainly to Mexico where the “red” Bishop Samuel Ruiz in
the far-south state of Chiapas, provides the guerrillas
(calling themselves “Zapatistas”) with expensive
weaponry. Unwilling to join the terrorists, some 50,000
Indians and peasant farmers have been forced from their
private or collective farms, sheltered and fed by the Army
and the Red Cross, they left their crops to rot and their cattle
to run wild.
The government has allowed the situation to continue for
four years, apparently intimidated by the news that nearly
every city in Europe has its little cluster of pro-Zapatista
“non-governmental organizations”. The Socialist International
lives on!
A few days after those Louvain visitors of Holy Year
1975 handed in their report on Ecône, Paul VI ordered
Archbishop Lefebvre to Rome to face three Cardinal
Inquisitors, Garrone, Tabera and Wright.
From that moment the international media followed the
story step by step. Ecône prospered and the awakened
faithful rented one gigantic sports stadium after another to
cheer the “rebel bishop” in gratitude, as he said Mass for
them in the old way. Geneva was followed by Besangon,
Lille, Friedrichshafen, the crowds mounting each time
while international television was carrying the Lefebvre
message around the world.
Then, at the end of summer 1976, instead of topping
Friedrichshafen with a still greater assembly, Lefebvre
changed course and accepted the invitation of Cardinal
Benelli as Secretary of State, to go to Castel Gandolfo to
be received in private audience by Paul VI. Only Benelli was
present during the long talk and no media coverage was
permitted. As a result, imaginary accounts of the audience,
even faked photographs, appeared in the press. Whatever
was said, confrontation ceased. There were no more
198
“rally Masses”, the Pope scolded no more, the media lost
interest and Lefebvre followers became sorely confused.
The Archbishop continued to train seminarians and to
ordain them to the priesthood, although forbidden to do so
by the Vatican. Like the recalcitrant Abbé de Nantes and
Coache, he was suspended a divinis. Nevertheless, within
the next decade his Priestly Society of St. Pius was able to
boast priories, convents, seminaries and chapels in twenty
countries and a body of over two hundred newly
ordained priests. During those years the ageing Lefebvre
traveled to the five continents and Australia, watching over
his many houses and conferring the Sacrament of Confirmation on thousands of young people. Finally in 1988 at
the age of 82 he took the major step of consecrating four
bishops so that the ordaining of priests in the old Faith could
continue after his death.
Thus within clerical bounds, the “Lefebvre movement”
can be said to have achieved its purpose. As for the lay
followers, the men and women who had come to be called
“traditionalists”, Lefebvre’s hesitation at the precise
moment when it looked as though their ranks could swell to
encompass a fourth or even a third of the then eight
hundred million Catholics, was to leave them bewildered.
After Friedrichshafen there was some falling off and there
has been relatively little growth since. Nonetheless, in
many countries, the rebels set to work with energy and
devotion to organize Mass centers in hotel ballrooms,
deserted barns, abandoned Protestant churches. In Paris
they o c c u p i e d a n d c o n t i nu e t o h o l d S t . Ni c o l a s - d u -
Chardonnet, a major church on the Left Bank. Today in
France there are around a thousand altars where the traditional
Mass is offered and perhaps half that many in the United States
199
where, at great sacrifice, little schools have been set up as
well. A traveler today can find the old Mass in Tokyo, all
over Latin America, among the Pacific Islands of New
Caledonia and among the Zulus of South Africa. Not all
the priests are Lefebvre priests and because the Archbishop
limited his authority to his own Society, there is dissention, not over doctrine or practice, but over nearly
everything else. Without the leadership he could have given
it, the counter-revolution is fragmented.
Why did Marcel Lefebvre wait until nearly ten years
after the Council to take a public position? Why did he
retreat from that position at the height of demand for what
the position signified? Probably for the same reasons that
drove Eugenio Pacelli and Giovanni Battista Montini to
dedicate their lives to changing the Church, namely, the
pressures of family background, early training and
subsequent powerful persuasion by associates. An early
collaborator of the Archbishop named Jean Madiran as
the great persuader, however, it would seem that being a
Lefebvre was what really stopped him. The family, during
the nineteenth century, had given to the Church in France a
cardinal, a bishop, a score of priests, monks and nuns.
The Church-as-Institution was the family’s whole life,
something which worked for Marcel in contradictory ways.
Watching the revolution tear down the edifice drove him to
rebell in its defense, whereas breaking a lifelong pledge of
obedience to ecclesiastical authority was unthinkable. By
the time he had allowed the first consideration to
overcome the second, the magic time of a great spontaneous
worldwide return to orthodoxy had passed. The revolution
stayed in place.
In the years before his death, Pope Paul is known to have
wept when he looked on the results of the changes he,
200
Gasparri, Benedict, Pius and John had spent their lives to
bring about. As he contemplated the defection of nuns,
priests and laity, he called what had been achieved “autodestruction”. Non-Catholics, on the other hand, may find it
hard to realize to what extent the half century of
undermining was successful. They see crowds on television
applauding the aged Pope and they know that thousands still
attend church on Sunday. Indeed, if something like a million
Catholics persist in the beliefs, rites and practices the Church
held for two thousand years, the number of traditionalists is
poor compared to that of the several hundred million who
still attend parish churches to hear the Novus Ordo Missae,
popularly known as “the Mass of Paul VI”.
What the outsider sees, however, is a shell, a
framework propped up with a proliferating system of
dioceses, manned by Vatican-submissive bishops who offer
their flocks a variety of earthly commitments couched in
the comforting jargon of the sociologist. Typical, the goals
expressed by the Episcopal Conference of Chile for their
New Evangelization-1990: “Solidarity with the poor all over
Latin America, insistence on human rights” and dedication
to the promotion of what they call a “New Culture” which
they describe as “a new way to see, to feel, to reason and to
love on a planetary scale, eminently technical and scientific
and rich in signs of hope.” The program leaves out religion.
If, as has been estimated, Latin Americans will make up
fifty percent of Roman Catholics early in the new century,
the number left to divide in half may be few indeed. Latin
Americans, whether of European, Indian or mixed descent
are realists, aware of the fact that they are mortal. While
intellectual ecclesiastics of undermined faith may take comfort in
201
rich hope on a planetary scale, the average Latin American
goes to religion to ask how to cope with his own mortality
and, if the bishops of Chile and all the other bishops of
CELAM have forgotten the answers, he will go to the
Protestants, even though that means giving up his Holy
Mass, his beloved sacraments and his devotion to the
Virgin Mary. In Brazil today there are more Evangelical
pastors than Catholic priests and 33% of Guatemalans have
joined Fundamentalist sects. Replacing visions of a
hypothetical better world with heaven, hell, sin and
salvation, any Four Square Gospel preacher south of the
border can boast charts on future expansion as optimistic
as that of a car salesman in newly united Germany.
Outside Latin America, however, the New Catholic, like
the bishops of Chile, have come to terms with the brave new
Church that dares to bypass the tough old verities. Bereft
of doctrine and most of the practice that marked the Faith,
the New Catholic imagines himself willy-nilly on his way
to a state of happiness. He cannot help going and he cannot
help getting there, if only he loves and stays with the
crowd. The trip is taken collectively. The path is called
“history” and time is called “change”. Both history and
change are inevitable. They happen to man. Pope Paul used
to say, “The great hope for the human advancement we are
seeking lies in the successive changes inherent in history”
and for the former Father General of the Jesuits, Pedro
Arrupe, the important thing was, “ongoing change, that
dizzy process of transformation to which everything is
subjected”.
Thus subjected, the New Catholic evolves according to
what he is told is “God’s plan”, becoming as he does, “ever
more human”. He is convinced that difficulties, even the
chaos of inner cities, can be dissolved in love. As for his coming
202
state of happiness, signals are confusing. It could be that better
world which John Paul II calls “a civilization of love”. It
could be the classic Jewish “coming of the Messiah”, a
favorite with many advanced theologians, or it could even
be old-fashioned Heaven. The New Catholic is characterized by a strenuous optimism and remarkable tractability.
Not so the devotees of tradition. As if part of another
world, they consider themselves members of the Church
Militant. For them life is real, life is earnest and each life is
a separate thing. Involved is not Mankind but Everyman and
the medieval drama sets the pace. Each man is a
protagonist, free to do right and free to do wrong. He causes
change, he molds history and he knows he will be called to
account for everything he does.
The two concepts are diametrically opposed, so that the
New and the Old Catholic have become virtual strangers to
each other. The rift is big and the present polemics about
rites, language, priestly training and even papal authority
are the results, not the causes of a difference which is
about something intrinsic and much more grave. Six
decades of dedicated undermining have given way to four
decades of crisis, but the story goes back much further. It
was with a striking flash of historical intuition that the
Mexican President, Emilio Portes Gil, told his companions
at that banquet in the summer of 1929: “The struggle is not
new. It has been going on for twenty centuries and it will
continue until the end of time.”
203
This page blank
in the 4th edition of book
204
Postscript
Though this was written for the 3rd Edition of this
book, it pertains equally as well to the 4th Edition
This third and definitive edition of a book that appeared seven
years ago comes as a supplement rather than a bringing up to date.
Nothing has really changed, only gone on. All of the second edition is
here and the thousands of new words support the original thesis.
As researcher, author, designer and publisher, I sent the English
version to readers in twenty-six countries. The Anton Schmid
Verlag in Bavaria came out with a handsome German edition,
while the major Mexican publisher, Edamex, sponsored a gala
presentation of the Spanish translation, complete with TV, a bevy
of reporters, champagne and caviar, only to have their product
suppressed by the 120-man Mexican episcopate. Still pending, an
Italian and a French edition, the latter all set up in Paris in
1992 with a Sorbonne professor whose project was quashed by
the Pius X Society, brave occupiers of St. Nicolas-du-Chardonnet,
apparently because Msgr. Lefebvre does not emerge from these pages
as the completely successful rescuer of the Church.
While I hear little from the German publishers, the hard work
of self-publishing brings the great reward of direct reader contact.
From the many hundreds of letters and notes received, it is clear that
nobody takes the book calmly. Comments range from Malachi
Martin’s “in comparison, the rest being published today is far off
the mark” to Michael Davies: “it’s mainly malicious gossip”.
However, nearly all who have written express gratitude for
clarification of a tragedy that has baffled them for years.
As for protest, it has usually come from a layman in some kind
of leader position who is known for his or her publicly stated
analysis based on information available a quarter of a century ago.
Rather than welcome further research, they see this book as a
challenge to their thesis, usually the Pope-John’s-Council myth which,
over the years, has cemented into a kind of dogma. At a loss for
205
arguments against facts they never knew, they take refuge in the cry,
“no footnotes!”
Quite true. No editor of hundreds of newspaper and magazine
articles ever asked me for a footnote. I’m not sure I would know
how to write one. Colleague Davies does, but then he was raised to
be a school teacher and I was trained as a pianist. When I began
to write, I found that a reporter has to be more careful than a
scholar about his facts, because an editor who is hurt by a
misstatement will fire the reporter.
Some twenty years ago in Rome I confronted the valiant
founder of Si, Si, No, No, Fr. Francesco Putti, with the objection,
“But Father, you don’t say where you get your information. You
don’t give your sources.” And I remember his forthright reply,
“No, I don’t. But I will tell you that everything I print is
documented. Take the case of Cardinal Garrone whom I consider to
be the greatest destroyer of the Church today. He has ruined the
whole field of Catholic education, abolished the Catechism, emptied
the seminaries. I write these things but I do not call him a Mason. If
tomorrow you bring me proof that he is a Mason, I will print it, but
not before.”
In numbered small print at the bottom of a page an author admits
that he took information from another writer. In a long article
published recently in Milan, my son cites a reference after nearly
every sentence. The subject? Jerusalem. Michael has never been in
Jerusalem.
But I lived this book! Unforgettable, those pilgrimages to St.
Peter’s, the hundreds of press conferences, once sitting next to
Henri Fesquet of Paris’ Le Monde who told me the man who brought
Karol Wojtyla to the attention of Rome and sponsored his rise to
the papacy was Cardinal Garrone. In 15 years there were synods,
symposia, conclaves and papal funerals. There were daily
bulletins from the Vatican press office and from Vatican Radio
with such tragic gems as Paul VI’s “think of it, 271 Christian
Churches!” There were the vivid, very Church-conscious Italian
dailies and by telephone I could contact Traditionalists all over
Europe.
206
Being in Rome the morning John Paul I was found dead gives
this book authenticity beyond that of the best-sellers of Yallop and
Caldwell who wrote six and ten years after the event. Alerted by a
call from Gary Giuffré in Texas only an hour after the body was
found, I rushed down to the Vatican press rooms where scores of
reporters had already gathered. Day after day I stayed close to the
scene for press conferences, press releases, the funeral in the rain,
those interviews in the local papers, and, already ten years a resident
of Rome, 1 was in touch by telephone with important contacts. If
prize-winner Mary McCrory had asked a few perceptive questions
as we walked the length of Via dells Conciliazone that afternoon,
she could have avoided the awful mistakes I accuse her of on pages
140 and 141.
“Smacking of gossip” somebody wrote, concerning the lines
about Nuncio Roncalli on page 125. Not gossip but truth received
from Major René Rouchette, one-time Presidential Guard, now
editor of the excellent review, Sous la Banniere. He met my Rome
train at the Lyon station and, as we drove to Raveau for the
consecration of Fr. Robert McKenna to the episcopate, he told me
of the shock felt by the young officers as they followed the Nuncio’s
course on those Thursday evenings.
Smacking even more of gossip, but just as factual as the Rouchette
experience, three items not mentioned in the book but worth relating:
(1) Cardinal Ottaviani had nothing to do with the writing of his
so-called “intervention”; the author was a beautiful Italian
woman. (2) Fr Kolbe was no Pole but what the Nazis called a
Reichsdeutscher (100% German) and he was arrested for
underground political activity in Poland. (3) John Wright was an
orphan, adopted, educated and moved into the hierarchy by a
certain Pennsylvania Lodge of Freemasons. “Footnotes” by
telephone only! (52 5 535.4941)
207
Several readers ask why, if I am a “sedevacantist”, I use the title
“pope” with the names of recent pontiffs. My answer is, the idea
that the See of Peter is vacant is a theological concept and, as an
historian, 1 am obliged to call the man firmly planted in the Vatican
the way the world calls him. In any case it should be quite clear that
for many decades I have known the Church to be under Enemy (that
is, under Judeo-Masonic) Occupation. It was in 1940 that our
Classics professor and family dinner guest, just back from a summer
among the Roman ruins,, reported dismay on the part of Italian
authorities at the recent election of Eugenio Pacelli, the only
papabile whose family was of Jewish origin.
How far the judaizing of Catholicism had been accepted at top
level by the end of the 1970’s, I was to learn quite unexpectedly
one afternoon in Rome. Scanning the list of new books at the
library of SIDIC, an information center sponsored jointly by the
American Jewish Committee and the Vatican Secretariat for
Christian Unity, I overheard a lecture going on in an adjacent
hall. Slipping through an open door, I sat down among a group of
some forty young men, seminarians of the Pontifical Gregorian
University. This class, I was to learn, was a part of their regular
curriculum. I had already met the speaker, Cornelius Rijk, a
Dutch Jew turned Catholic priest and head of SIDIC. I took down his
slow, heavily accented English words:
“Some Jews accepted Jesus as the Messiah. Most Jews did not,
could not”, (the emphasis, his). “Those who could not remained
the People of God. Christians are the New People of God. Jesus
is the fulfillment of the Prophesies, the Church is not. Therefore
we are still living in a time of unfulfillment.
“Jews and Christians (he never used the word “Catholic” nor
the word “Christ”) have a common past and a common future, but
just now they have a certain tension because, while the Jews know
the Messiah is not yet, Christians say the Messiah has come.”
Incredibly, under this barrage of blasphemy, not one of the
elite candidates for priesthood, and probably for hierarchy, even
murmured. Onward, the ungodly lesson:
“But are we Christians not too narrow in our interpretation of
208
the word “Messiah”? After all, what does it mean? An anointed
one, a king then, like King David. The Jewish idea of the word
Messiah is much more realistic. Like the idea of Redemption. Don’t
we spiritualize it too much? Liberation is Redemption; the Jews
liberated from the Nazis, that is Redemption. We Christians need
more dialogue with the Jews so that they can help us to more realism...”
While the Jesuit Gregorian produces Christo-Jews and Jesuit
Louvain, Christo-Marxists, in India it’s Christo-Hindus. A reader
writes from New Delhi: “At the Jesuit seminary here, students are
asked to sit and meditate in front of a large painting of the manyheaded snake called Ananthasyanam on which the god Vishnu
reclines”.
Enemy Occupation. Otherwise how could Rome, as Anno
Domini 2000 approaches, pile false charge on false charge
against twenty centuries of Catholicism? What but the deeprooted antagonism of an enemy could ask us to beg forgiveness of
Islam for the Crusades and the Reconquest of Spain, of Protestants
for the Counter-Reformation, of the Socialist International for
rescuing Spain from Bolschevism, of the Jews for the Shoah and
of women for who knows what? Fittingly, the Occupiers are
setting up an Old Testament Jubilee - that “trumpet call to
repentence!”
Repent, yes, each of our sins. However, this collective plea for
pardon has nothing to do with our sins. Rather, it fabricates an unCatholic historical agenda, then proceeds to bash the Church for
not having observed it.
There is another translation of the root-word jubilare and that
is, “to shout for joy”. Let us who hold to the Faith shout praise,
honor and thanks as we look back to what was Christian Civilization.
Let us shout our homage to its saints, its martyrs, its legions of holy
priests, monks and nuns, to its missionaries, good popes, kings and
queens, its teachers, warriors, explorers, artists and builders. In
the turmoil and deprivation of our time, to remember a world
permeated with the sanctify
ing grace of the true Mass and
Sacraments must move us to counter incrimination with celebration!
209
Ahead now? While years of close observation give no authority,
they give perspective and on that basis I make the plea that
Traditional Catholics change course. Let us leave to God the
choice of a true pope. The several pathetic attempts to hold
conclaves have come to nothing. There is, however, a task of
tremendous urgency before us as One World-New Age darkness
closes in and that is to understand and to hold fast to the Doctrine.
Once all of us who experienced the Faith before the changes are
gone (to the delight of the Occupiers!) while the enemy-controlled
communications media increases in effectiveness day by day, what
Pius X called “the assent of the intellect to the truth as received”
can become intensely challenging and so far from the global norm
as to be dangerous. But that will be the burden of true Catholics.
That will be the battle ahead.
Mary Ball Martínez
Mexico City, August 1998
210
SOURCES
Press Conferences
Pope John Paul I; Cardinals: Wojtyla, Casaroli, K6nig, Bea,
Benelli, Hume, Kral, Tomko, Bernardin, Wright, Suenens,
H6ffner, Pignedoli, Etchegaray, Willebrands; Fathers: Arrupe,
Greely, Gutierrez, etc.
Where the author was present
Rome pilgrimages 1971, 1972, Holy Year... ordinations at
Econe 1976, 1978, 1981... the “Charismatics” in St. Peter’s...
the papal funerals... Assisi’s Day of Peace... CELAM at Puebla,
Mexico... World Episcopal Synods (five between 1974 and 1985)
... the Jesuit Congregation, etc.
Interviews, private conversations
Msgr. Lefebvre (six long interviews)Bishops: S. Ruiz, R.
Williamson, G. des Couriers; Fathers: J. Saenz y Arriago, G. Putti,
M. Adler, R. Graham, K. Baker, P. Arrupe, G. de Nantes, J.
Ducaud-Bourget, D. Bonneterre, V. Miceli, F. Sullivan, N.
Barbara, R. Tucci, G. Caprile, A. Caruso, and laymen: H. Frazer,
J. Navarro-Vats, E. Gerstner, W. Siebel, M. de Corte, J. Madiran,
A. Gomez Robledo, R. Anderson, G. Thibon, A. Rius Facius,
M. Davies, D. James, G. Rospigliosi, R. Goldie, J. Meyer, R.
Coomaraswamy, M. Tedeschi, S. Borrego, H. Stehle, etc.
Special information
Vatican daily press bulletins, 1973-1987.
Vatican Radio daily bulletins.
Italian dailies: Il Messagero, Il Tempo, L’Osservatore
Romano, Corriere dells Sera.
Return trips to Rome in 1992, 1996 for consultation.
211
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214
INDEX OF NAMES *
Adam, N., 194
Albfight, M., 84
Alfrink, J., 117
A l g t i n , M . , 1 9 6
Alinsky, S., 108
Andreotti, G., 66,67,68
A n d r i e u , M . , 5 4
Arrupe, P., 88,196,201
Askanazy, V., 12
Baggiani, G., 63
Baker, K., 93
Barth, K., 21
Baum, G., 117
Bea, A., 78,90,95,97,110,127
B e a u d o i n , L . , 5 0
Benelli, G., 144.197
Benigni, U., 46
Bergman, E., 92
Bernardini, G., 80
Bittlinger, A., 134
Blavatsky, E..38
Boff. L., 177
Bonlibffer, D., 21
Bormeterre, D.. 77,95
Bony, M., 53
Borges, J.L., 12
B o ud rillat, C., 7 9
B o y e r , C . , 7 4
B r a d y , N . , 6 0
B r i a n d , A . , 5 9
B r o w n , R . , 9 4
Buckley, W.F.. 60
Bugnini, A., 84,96,103
Bufluel, L., 92
C a m a r a , H . , 1 0 1
C a m u s , A . , 1 5 2
Capistran Garza, R., 59
Caprile, G., 1 13
Carpi, P., 125
Casaroli, A., 70,101,156,182
Casini, T., I I
Ceccheri ni, T.,129
Charest, J., 54
Christie, A., 12
Churchill, W.,80,100
C i a n o , G . , 1 0 1
Cicerin, G.V., 107
Cicognam, A., 104,117,166
C l e m e n t , M . , 1 1 2
C l i n t o n , F , 9 0
C o a c h e , L . , 1 3
Colombo, C., 143
Confaloniefi, G., 55
Congar, Y., 20,103,110
Cooper, Gary, 128
Cornwell, J., 144
Coughlin, C., 132
Coulson, W., 114
Cox, H., 21
Cretineau-Joli, 34
Crowley, A., 38
Dalai Lama, 177
DaniMou, J., 75.110
D'Arcy Osborne, F., 85
Daudet, L., 52
De Corte, M., 13
De Gaulle, C., 75
De Lubac, H., 21
De Nantes, G., 12,103,128
De Quarto, A., 53,55
Dezza, P., 131
Diaz Barreto, 61
Dior, C., 74
D o p f n e r , J . , 1 1 5
Dreyer, L., 92
Dubois-Dum6e, F., 110
Ducaud-Bourget, F., 13
Dulles, A., 16,21,45
Du Plessis, D., 134
Elias Calles, P., 60
Eppstein, J., 104
Etchegaray, R., 159
Felon, M., 98
Franz Josef, Kaiser, 31,36,45,148
F r a n z o n i , G . , 3 6
Frazer, H., 133
Friedlander, S., 81
Frings, J., 172
215
Garrrone, G., 91,94,157
Gasparri, P., 26,38,47,50,57,60,124
Gierick, E., 155
Gerstner, E., 109,110,114
Gibbons, J., 38,40
Gijsen, J.. 169,171
Gilson, E., 12
Glorieux, A., 110
Goldie, R., 109,114,144,174
G o r n u l k a , W . , 1 5 7
Gonzalez Valencia, 58,183
G r a h a m, R . , 8 1 ,8 3
Graves, R., 12
Gr6ber, K., 77
Gunton, J., 15
Gutierrez, G., 177
Halifax, E., 50
Haring, B., I 10, 116
Hamack, A.. 37.94
Harper. M.. 134
Hartmann, F., 37
Heenan. J.. H 5.123
Heidegger. M., 152.172
Heim. B.. 115,165
Hitler, A.. 68,81.85.128
Hnilica, F., 158
Hochhuth, F. 81.83
Holmes, D.. 83
Illich, I., 36
Innitzer, T., 158
Jouin, R., 37
Jungmann, A., 90
Kallay, F., 81
Kluger, J., 148
Kdnig, F. 116,144
Kouaric, K., 176
Krol, J., 65
Kundara, M., 81
Küng, J., 84,113,116,119
Kydrynski, J., 150
Landazurri, Rickets, J., 117
L a n g l e y , C . , 1 6 5
Larraona, A., I I I
Le Caron, H., 71
Lefebvre, M., 11,56,117,167,197,199
Legorreta, 61
Lehnart, Pasqualina, 83
Leiber, R., 83
Lenin, V., 31,156
Lercaro, G., 11
Lienart, A., 98
Loisy, A., 77
Longo, L., 101
Lorenzi, D., 140
Lovatelli, C., 74
Lowell, R., 12
Luce, C.B., 128
Luciani, E., 141
Madiran, J., 12,87,198
Maglione, L., 80,82
Malinski, J., 152.155
Manning
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Maritain, J., 70,73.103.133.184
Martin. M.. 72.110.127.152,195
M a u g h a m , S . , 3 8
Maunac, C., 75
Mauriac, F., 12
Maurras, C., 52,56
Maynard, C., 114
McCrory, M., 134
McCullough, F., 183
McGee, J., 140
McIntyre, J., 178
Menuhin, Y., 12
Mercier, D., 50,53
Merry Del Val, R., 41,43,64
Mersch, E., 17
Messori, V., 171,174
Meyer, J., 144,189,191
Molinari, P., 112
M o n t e u i l , J . , 7 5
Montini, Giorgio, 39,40
Montini, Giuditta, 40
Morgenthau, H., 77
M o r o , A . , 1 3 7
M o r r o w , D . , 6 1
M u e l l e r , J . , 8 5
M u r d o c h , 1 . , 1 2
Mussolini, B., 65
Mussolini, R., 49,64,142
Nenni, P., 84
216
Nikodim, M., 118
Niehaus, P., 129
O'Connell, W., 60
O'Fiaich, M., 176
Oram, J., 150
Ortega, D., 47,184
Ottaviani, A:, 146
Paccini, G., 82
Pacelli. C., 76
P acelli, F., 1 24
Pacelli, M.A., 33
Pallenberg, C., 128
Panciroli, R., 142.146
Pdtain, H., 75
Piasecki, B., 155
Po incare, R., 54
Pones Gil, E., 191.202
Potter, P., 139
Purdy, W., 73
Radini-Tedeschi, G., 39,43,124
Radzinszewski, I., 156
Raffalt, R., 12,92
Rahner, K., 152,196
Rampolla del
Tindaro, M., 35,40,136
Ratzinger, J.,
19,110,166,171,175,179, 193
Ready, M., 86
Rcuss, T., 37
Riding, A., 88
Riva y Damas, J., 169
R o c h e , G . 6 3 , 8 7
R o d i n g , J . , 1 0 7
R o g e r s , C . , 1 1 4
R o m e r o , O . , 1 6 3
Roosevelt, F. 69,79,97, 100
Rosenberg, J., 101
Rotondi, V., 128
Ruiz, S., 197
Salleron, L., 12
Samord, A., 101
Sanders, M., 108
Sangnier, M., 47
Sapieha, A., 153
Sartre, J., 152
Scheler, M., 156
Segovia, A., 12
Silva Henriquez, R., 117
Siri, G., 67
S mi t h , R . H . , 8 8
Spark, M., 174
Spellman, F., 69,80;95
Stalin, J., 86,128
Stehle, H., 107
Steiner, R., 38,124,153
Steppalone, A., 139
Suenens, L., 51,110,114
Suhard, E., 98
Sullivan, F., 63,169
Tabera, C., 197
Tannenbaum, M., 141
Tardini, B., 128
Taylor, M., 68,86
Teilhard du Chardin, P., 69,74,102
Thibon, G., 12
Tisserant, E., 84,118,128
T o g l i a t t i , P . , 8 7
T o m k o , J . , 1 1 3
T o r r e s , C . , 1 0 1
Trethowan, L, 105
Tucci, R., 110
Turowitz, J., 146,155
Tyranowsky, J., 152
Tyrell, G., 16,74,196
Waugh, E., 105
Wiesel, E., 187
Wiesenthal, S., 37
Willebrands, J., 134,139,143,145
W i l l i a m s , G . , 1 5 5
W i l l i a m s , R . , 1 3 4
W i l t g e n , R . , I 1 0
W o j t y l a , E . , 1 4 8
Wojtyla, J., 147
Wright, J., 105,197
Wyszinski, S., 157
Vannoni, G., 37
Victoria Queen., 39
Von Balthasar, 173
Yallop, D., 144
Zablocki, 1., 155
217
* Since the names of seven popes appear on nearly
every page of this book, listing all the page numbers in
the Index seemed impractical. Their names and years of
elections are as follows:
Gregory XVI .....Bartolomeo Cappellari ...........1831
Pius IX ................Giovanni Mastai-Ferreti ..........1846
Leo XIII..............Giocchino Pecci .......................1878
Pius X..................Giuseppe Sarto .........................1903
Benedict XV.......Giacomo Della Chiesa............. 1914
Pius XI ................Achille Ratti...............................1922
Pius XII...............Eugenio Pacelli .........................1939
John XIII............Angelo Roncalli ........................1958
Paul VI................Giovanni Battista Montini.......1963
John Paul I.........Albino Luciani .......................... 1978
John Paul II .......Karol Wojtyla............................ 1978
218
COMMENTS ABOUT THIS BOOK
“Like a single flash of lightning with a thunderclap. The
Undermining crystallizes my 30-year struggle out of the liberal
miasma. My deep regret is not finding this knowledge and
assessment earlier. In comparison, the rest being published today
is far off the mark.” Fr. Malachi Martin
“The forcible lucidity of this work moves me to offer to do the French
translation.”
Prof. Michel Lucazeau
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Sorbonne, University,OF Paris
“Masterful! The only satisfactory account of people and events
leading to secularization of Catholic doctrine and autodestruction of the Church.”
Prof. Urban Linenan
“A work of genius that goes unflinchingly to the root of the problem.”
Fr. James Wilson
“This investigation corroborates the fact that Pius XII's
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of Vatican II heresies. It should come out in France.”
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“The Martínez book is beginning to separate the men from the boys
– who imagine it all began with the Council.”
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“The finest historical writing since Hilaire Belloc!”
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< < continued on back cover > >
(ot Page 221)
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221
COMMENTS ON THIS BOOK As continued on back cover
“A solid reference work and a must read for all the faidifull.”
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The Michael Fund
“I consider this the most important and accurate study of its kind.”
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“Praised and blessed be God for the work that went into the writing of this book by Mary
Martinez.” Abbé Jacques Guillamaot
“This,
compelling story of subversion will help the. clergy “in those who still want to remain
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Fr. William Jenkins
Editor, The Roman Catholic
“Quoting with approval 56 lines fromThe Undermining in this comprehensive study,
“Who Shall Ascend....”
Fr. James Wathen,, OST
“A great, great book!” John Cotter
Barrie Books, Canada
This enlarged print edition
& updated Table of Contents done in 2009