Why Are They Afraid of Pope Francis 14

Don't Look For This Any Time Soon

First of all, thanks Ann for your editing help.  I try to proof my entries, but sometimes I am in a hurry and things escape me.  I always welcome a chance to correct my mistakes.  

In my last post I wrote about Pius XII and I want to come back and write several more posts about him.  He was, in many ways and for many people, the defining pope of the modern age; certainly the arch-Pope of the Church as it was before  Vatican II, and many of those who want to restore that pre-Vatican II Church long for a Pius redivivus who will bring back the faded triumphalism of the papacy. Pius was Pope for nineteen years, seven months and seven days—the second longest reigning pope of the past one hundred years.  (John Paul II was Pope for 26 years, 5 months, and 18 days.)  He left an indelible mark on the Papacy and for some he was the last pope.  After Pius and his gloriously reigning style, they could just never adjust to the down-to-earth papacy of his successor, John XXIII or the subsequent papacies. 

As I mentioned in the posting, Pius was a genius, perhaps the pope with the highest I.Q. to sit on the papal throne in centuries.  I refrain from saying the most intelligent however as his extraordinary intellect got in the way of his practical aptitude on many occasions.   Pius’s  Achilles’ heel was that he was autocratic.    Confident in his intelligence and almost autistic in his personality, he was the sole decider and this led him into several disastrous decisions.  On the other hand, his remarkable theological breakthroughs accomplished in Encyclicals such as Divino Afflante Spiritu, Mediator Dei, Mystici Corporis, and even Humani Generis would never have passed the muster of a curial review and—ironically for those whose hero he is—without Pius’ contribution in these encyclicals, the theological developments of Vatican II would have lacked a foundation in the papal magisterium.  Vatican II is more the fruit of Pius’s mind than of that of his successor “Good Pope John.”  But Pius isn’t my topic today.  Francis is.  And in particular, Francis’s approach to authority and authoritarianism. 

In many ways, the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits) is the epitome of the authoritarian Catholicism of Pius XII.  Saint Ignatius broke the mold of religious life—abandoning all the relics of monasticism such as singing the Divine Office, religious habits, communal penances, living within a cloister—and created a new form of religious life modeled on soldiering.  Ignatius had been a soldier and he wanted religious storm-troopers to meet the challenges of the Church in Reformation Europe and in what his contemporaries perceived to be the societal chaos of the newly “discovered” lands of the Americas, Africa, and Asia.  In abandoning monastic models, Ignatius also abandoned the monastic authority structure in favor of strict military obedience.  There was no discussion with one’s superiors, no arguing, no calling for a chapter to come to group consensus.  Orders came from top down, pure and simple.  And the commander-in-chief was the Pope.  Jesuits were there to carry our his orders  This system worked for centuries.  Francis, as a Jesuit was part of it.  But listen to what he learned from his experience while he was provincial.   This is what he said in the interview in La Civilta Cattolica which was republished in America.

“In my experience as superior in the Society, to be honest, I have not always behaved in that way—that is, I did not always do the necessary consultation. And this was not a good thing. My style of government as a Jesuit at the beginning had many faults. That was a difficult time for the Society: an entire generation of Jesuits had disappeared. Because of this I found myself provincial when I was still very young. I was only 36 years old. That was crazy. I had to deal with difficult situations, and I made my decisions abruptly and by myself. Yes, but I must add one thing: when I entrust something to someone, I totally trust that person. He or she must make a really big mistake before I rebuke that person. But despite this, eventually people get tired of authoritarianism.“My authoritarian and quick manner of making decisions led me to have serious problems and to be accused of being ultraconservative. I lived a time of great interior crisis when I was in Cordova. To be sure, I have never been like Blessed Imelda [a goody-goody], but I have never been a right-winger. It was my authoritarian way of making decisions that created problems.

So for those who long for a day of Pius XII and a Pope who is, well, Pope, Francis ain’t your guy.  For the rest of us, we are glad he learned what he learned when he did.  This papacy is off to a great start, the morale is high, the energy is flowing down through the parishes as the window of Vatican II is open again and a fresh Breeze is blowing through the Church.  

More on the Papacy of John Paul II

the Cardinals file into Saint Peter's Basilica in the

procession bringing the body of Pope John Paul to the

Basilica for the lying in State.

I have been thinking about John Paul and his papacy since I wrote the last entry. While I had seen Paul VI during my first visit to Rome several months before he died, and I have seen Pope Benedict  numerous times both as Cardinal Ratzinger and after his election as pope, John Paul was the only pope I have ever actually met.   He was a charismatic man and even though I was long critical of his papacy, I always found it tremendous—in the classic sense of that word—to be in his presence, sort of a mysterium tremendum et fascinans in his own right.  But as a historian I am troubled by his papacy.  I can’t say that he left the Church better than he found it. Of course, to make such an evaluation one has to first select the criteria by which the papacy should be evaluated and one simply cannot find a consensus on that subject these days. But that is precisely the problem.  I think in 1978 when John Paul acceded to the Chair of Peter it would have been possible for scholars—historians, theologians, sociologists,--to reach a consensus, at least sufficient consensus for a worthwhile discussion, on the qualities of a beneficial papacy.  (I want to avoid words like “good” that are too value weighted.  Good is balanced by bad.  There is no room for nuance. Between beneficial and detrimental there is a considerable middle ground.)   I think even the folks in the pews, or at least the more thoughtful and well read of them, could have had intelligent and worthwhile discussions on the pros and cons of a particular papacy.  Today I think the Church, like the larger society, is far too polarized for there to be significant communication among the various factions that call themselves “Catholics.”  That polarization may not be John Paul’s fault—in its entirety.  It certainly isn’t his fault—in its entirety.  But did he contribute to it?  Did he make dialogue obsolete by insisting on a one-way chain of communication?   He showed a remarkable friendliness to the larger world, but did he show an openness to other sources of insight?   I think—and the 20^th century papacy is not my field of historical expertise—but I think that even Pius XII showed a respect for the opinions of the bishops of the world in making his pronouncements.  In fact, re-reading his encyclical letters such as Divino Afflante Spiritu, Mediator Dei, and Mystici Corporis I sense a tone of proposing doctrine to the Church rather than imposing it.  I should probably check the Latin text for subjunctives and not just rely on the English translations but I think John Paul actually envisioned a papal autocracy far stronger than pre-Vatican II Catholicism.  And I think he picked bishops, at least for here in the United States, that would fall like wheat before the wind to his authority rather than speak to him their thoughts and the faith of their flock.  The model seems to have been three hundred little gilt chairs in the Clementine Hall and John Paul would come in and tell the bishops what he had to say.  And then those bishops would come back to the States and come into a parish hall with three hundred aluminum chairs and tell their priests what he, the bishop, had to say.  And then the priest would get up in the pulpit and tell the people what he, the priest, had to say.  But this was where the wrinkle came into the process—on their way out of Church, or by a drop (or increase) in the weekly offering, or by dwindling attendance the people did talk back.  They had a voice to send their agreement or their disagreement.  But there was (is) no channel for the priest to bring the message back to the bishop, nor the bishop to the pope.  And so the voice goes nowhere.  The frustration of not being heard eventually disheartens, the sense of belonging fades.  What is worse is that one of the sources of revelation—the consensus fidelium—is bottled up with a stopper.  The system is broken and over the last forty years or so the “system” has gradually lost its force.  And all the Raymond Burkes and George Pells with their trailings of scarlet silk won’t bring it back.  And all the screaming harangues and pulpit pyrotechnics of the birettaed neo-con priests won’t put the toothpaste of moral authority back in the Catholic tube.   Don’t get me wrong—I am a historian, the Church will survive.  The papacy will survive—and flourish.  But the particular institutional model with which we have been familiar won’t.  It is already dead,  a hollow shell.  

The crowd was diverse but young

     One of the most interesting things about the papacy of John Paul II was the phenomenon of his funeral.   I was living in Rome at the time—and had been for several years.  The street I lived on was closed to traffic because the lines to enter the basilica to pay respects snaked past my door.  (I had a pass that enabled me to enter the Basilica through the sacristy and so I didn’t have to wait.)  The night he collapsed in his apartment I had been getting ready for bed—around eleven thirty in the evening—and one last check of the internet revealed that he had suffered a serious medical crisis.  I immediately got dressed and walked over to Saint Peter’s Square.  There were about a hundred people there at the time—and lots of police starting to set up barricades and get ready for the crowds that they knew would begin to gather at dawn when the word began to spread.  As I stood at the railing looking up at the windows of his apartment the man next to me pulled out a microphone/recorder and asked if he could interview me.  He did and then asked for my card.   The next morning I had a call from the BBC radio asking for a meeting and they brought me on as a commentator.  Before I knew it I was on all the major networks, radio and television, in the UK the US and Ireland.  One of the funniest stories was my sister-in-law was fixing dinner and said to my brother—“who’s your brother talking to in the family room?”  She heard the voice from the television and thought that I had come home unexpectedly and was in the next room talking with one of my nephews.  It was only when she started listening to what I was saying she realized I wasn’t there but on the television.  All this is prelude to sharing my impressions of the crowds.  It was a young crowd—I am sure that 70% of those lined up were under 30.  “Why did you come?”  I would ask and the people would say how much John Paul meant to them.  They would say how much they loved him.  They told me how much they admired him.   Now these were almost all Europeans—French, Germans, Italians, Poles, English, Irish, Scots—Canadians, and Americans.  They were there in their jeans and their halter tops or their t-shirts and they were chatting away and exchanging emails and phone numbers and taking each other’s pictures.  And I am sure that they did love John Paul and admired him.  Despite their very casual dress and buoyant attitude there was nothing disrespectful.  They had, most of them I am sure, interrupted trips to various parts of Europe to converge on Rome for this massive event.  They were orderly, if not well dressed.  They would break into prayer or religious songs as well as chatter and picture-taking.  “But,” I asked myself, “while they have come out of admiration for this man like an old uncle or grandfather—do you think they take him seriously about birth-control? Or homosexuality?  Or pre-marital sex?  Or even about the legal status of abortion?” 
     John Paul left a very different Church than he found.  The brief pontificate of John Paul I aside—it is only a blip in history—the Church itself had seemed old and discouraged with the final years of Paul VI.  John Paul was just as old by the time he died and yet he left a Church that cherished him as an old man.  But while the Church cherished him personally, did he have the same moral authority as had his predecessors?   For all his efforts to strengthen the papacy, I think it lost ground—and with it authority of the Church itself lost ground—in his pontificate.  I think his pontificate will be a significant marker in the historical evolution of the papacy.