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CHAPTER SEVEN





BEYOND THE POLITICS OF RANCOR II



The Vagaries of Institutional Renovation





Because of Rosmini'a wider range of concerns than, say; Peter Damian, or the Council of Constance--both cited earlier in the history of "exceptions"--but mainly because of chronological proximity, the Founder of the Institute of Charity may provide a more useful program for reform, even as he certainly provides a better model for its advocacy.(127) His major concern was political freedom for the church and implicitly for the citizen; nevertheless the five wounds still bleed, and may be translated into today's terms as clericalism, ignorance, episcopal rivalry, secularism, and wealth. Though the curing of these sore could be achieved by the simple application of Blondel's healing compress: (128)

The worst of aberrations:

Catholicism without Christ,

Religion without soul,

Authority without heart

--nevertheless there is much value to examining Rosmini's diagnosis. Broadly speaking, and with some application to the English-speaking world, the clericalism takes the form of aloofness from the body of the faithful, symbolized by a non-vernacular liturgy; (129) the ignorance is of theology among the clergy and as a consequence among the laity as well; the rivalry is the kind that destroys episcopal unity; the secularism has to do with governmental interference in ecclesiastical matters; and the wealth is, more the sort that begot the image of bricks-and-mortar prelates in the American immigrant church and less the sort that is defined as simple greed-though in Rosmini's time he had mainly in mind government appointments to wealthy sees. Greed, I assume, is relatively rare in the contemporary church (130) as, of course, is also political interference in religious affairs. (Rosmini himself singles out the unique situation of bishops in the United States.) As for episcopal disunity, it would in these monolithic times be a welcome phenomenon; while the clericalism (or as Wills and Carroll would describe it the "priestly caste") is virtually non-existent, save as it may relate to the current papal ban on the ordination of women. Since that is clearly a moot issue, and one that will inevitably be resolved in time, the one remaining "wound" with present-day relevance has to do with theological education, whether of clergy or laity. Speaking of the theological manuals of his time (the manuals used in the schooling of Pio Nono), Rosmini rises to rare irony and anger: (131)

By these steps [downward]-Holy Scripture, the Fathers, Schoolmen, and theologians-we have come at last to those marvelous text-books now used in our seminaries which instil so much would-be wisdom, and so poor an opinion of our predecessors. These books, I believe, will, in the more hopeful future days of the imperishable Church, be considered to be the most meagre and the feeblest that have been written during the eighteen centuries of her history. They are books without life, without principles, without eloquence and without system... They are the product neither of feeling, nor talent, nor imagination; they are not episcopal nor priestly, but in every sense lay; they require only masters able to read mechanically, and pupils who can listen as mechanically..

If little books and little teachers go together, can a great school be formed out of such elements? Or can they aim at a dignified system of instruction? No. And this defect is the fourth and last cause of the Wound in the Church now under review. (132)



I

In a period of intense centralization in the church, and of friction between that centralizing impulse and the American theological community, it is still possible to take Newman's long view which, in this first instance, depicts the kinds of critics castigated in the previous chapters: (133)

...authoritative prohibitions may tease and irritate, but they have no bearing whatever upon the exercise of reason....I will go on to say further, that, in spite of all that the most hostile critic may urge about the encroachments or severities of high ecclesiastics, in times past, in the use of their power, I think that the event has shown after all, that they were mainly in the right, and that those whom they were hard upon were mainly in the wrong.... it is clearly the duty of authority to act vigorously in the case. Yet the act will go down to posterity as an instance of a tyrannical interference with private judgment, and of the silencing of a reformer, and of a base love of corruption or error.



Then comes the second instance, with a shift to the present and by implication to Newman's own



plight as a theologian. He begins by noting as a truism that, "It is individuals, and not



the Holy See, that have taken the initiative, and given the lead to the Catholic mind, in theological inquiry." He then describes an ideal type of scholar, one who is totally open to having his ideas debated. (134)

He is willing, or rather would be thankful, to give them up, if they can be proved to be erroneous or dangerous, and by means of controversy he obtains his end. He is answered, and he yields; or on the contrary he finds that he is considered safe. He would not dare to do this, if he knew an authority, which was supreme and final, was watching every word he said, and made signs of assent or dissent to each sentence, as he uttered it. Then indeed he would be fighting, as the Persian soldiers, under the lash, and the freedom of his intellect might truly be said to be beaten out of him.



That the reference to soldiers fighting under the lash is used by Newman in his correspondence to describe his own relations with the curia makes clear that this is not, as the context might suggest, a detached description of some hypothetical condition or some idealized persona. (135)

After prudently suggesting that "in the general run of things" the conditions he describes have "not been so," he moves on to a treatment of what may providentially keep them from becoming so in the future: the interdependence of the various national episcopates. "And here again is a further shelter for the legitimate exercise of the reason:--the multitude of nations which are within the fold of the Church" which act "for its protection against any narrowness... in the various authorities in Rome." He then illustrates this by discussing at length the influence of "the Greek tradition" (exemplified only in the church Fathers); this leads, shrewdly enough, to a treatment of how "such national influences" have a "providential effect in moderating the bias which the local influences of Italy may exert upon the see of Peter. It stands to reason [just as reasonable as that "Patristic tradition" equals "national influences"] that, as the Gallican (136) Church has in it a French element, so Rome must have an element of Italy"; then to drive home as simply obvious to any "reasonable" person the importance of the Fathers and the Gallican divines vis-a-vis Rome, he concludes with seeming deference, "and it is no prejudice to the zeal and devotion with which we submit ourselves to the Holy See to admit this plainly."

This is a rhetorical tour de force which will only get more incisively pre-emptive of the goals of the ultramontanists in its conclusion which, apart from his thanks to personal friends--a passage that deeply moved George Eliot (137)-ends the Apologia as far as the "position of my mind since 1845" goes. It is as much an apologia of his life as it is of the life of every subsequent Catholic intellectual. The following was his final swipe at the curialists:

It is a great idea [the near-colloquialism attunes the mild irony] to introduce Latin civilization into America, and to improve the Catholics there by the energy of French devotedness [for which he had great disdain]; but I trust that all European races will ever have a place in the Church, and assuredly I think that the loss of the English, not to say the German element, in its composition has been a most serious misfortune.



What would sound in Rome like an admirable call to convert Lutherans and Anglicans was equally if not more so, a defense of the freedom of scholars from the needless constraints of authority-of English scholars like Newman as well as Germans like Dr. Döllinger who at the Munich Congress the previous year had aroused the wrath of Pius himself by delivering a manifesto on the independence of the Catholic intellectual. The finale, aptly ingratiating but with a well-honed edge, thanks the pope: "And certainly, if there is one consideration more than another which should make us English grateful to Pius the Ninth, it is that, by giving us a church of our own, he has prepared the way for our own habits of mind, our own manner of reasoning, our own tastes, and our own virtues...." --as opposed to those of "Latin civilization," or "the local influences of Italy."

The issue for "civilization" in Catholic America today is whether the bishops will assert their own native heritage of independence, and thereby make a contribution to the church Catholic. It is ironic in the light of Newman's words to read the ending of Leo XIII's letter to Cardinal Gibbons on what has somewhat inaccurately been dismissed as a "phantom heresy":

"Americanism, in the bad sense of the word, leads one to conclude that there are some who seek a Church in America which will be different from the Church in the rest of the world." The irony is underlined when one reads such Americanists as Archbishop Ireland: (138)

The supernatural rests on the natural, which it purifies and ennobles, adding to it supernatural gifts of grace and glory. Where the natural is most carefully cultivated, there will be found the best results from the union of nature and grace. It is a time of novelties, and the religious action, to accord with the age, must take new forms and new directions.



And that irony is redoubled when one reads Blondel--since Americanism was merely a local variant of Modernism--on the new theological era: "Now that dogmatic precision, unity, and authority are surely obtained and maintained, there is room for an expansion and for a meeting with modern aspirations which come from another direction, but from the same invisible breath of the Spirit who brings all to the same sheepfold." (139)

Ireland and Blondel were simply engaged in what would later be called discerning the signs of the times. This discernment is needed now when the intellectual life, particularly of theologians, is under siege (a Sainte Siege?) by the heirs of the ultramontanists--which leads to a final irony: that the theologically best trained American prelates at Vatican I were on the side of the "inopportunists," the opponents of the decree on infallibility. The issue before the current episcopate is whether it will be true not only to its office as teacher but as successor to those bishops who up until the 1970's asserted their rightful place in the episcopal college as Americans and Catholics--and made some of the most significant contributions to the truly reformative decisions at Vatican II, decisions which helped shape an entire church.

The present episcopate has inherited a noble tradition that, under the pressure of increased conformity and centralization, now is in danger of being abandoned. (140) In the light of the possible enforcement of what has euphemistically been called "mandatum" (though certainly a new commandment)--and what might more accurately be called, after Blondel, esprit de guillotine théologique-Catholic theologians in any Catholic institution of higher education will be faced when broaching any controversial issue, exactly as Newman had put it- -"by an authority, which was supreme and final, was watching every word they said, and made signs of assent or dissent to each sentence...." Perhaps some American bishops will hearken to these words of Newman. Or if they don't, they too may be confronted by not only "the loss of the English and German element" but also the loss of "the American element" in the church. And they too may be forced to wait for some future pontiff to give "us a Church of our own,... for our own habits of mind, our own manner of reasoning, our own tastes, and our own virtues, finding a place and thereby a sanctification, in the Catholic Church."

II

Before considering that heavy burden borne by the episcopate--which constitutes the central element in any reform effort--let me briefly try to address what a consistent, calm, and ultimately effective reformer from another tradition, the Southern Baptist, Will Campbell--who can best be described as a "commonsense moralist"--might say about the problems besetting two of the authors of the books I have been discussing. That is, "Brother Garry's" and "Brother James's" besetting concerns: endemic deceit, and antisemitism. As to the latter, viewed by Carroll as "constituent," he may want to extend his reading list. In the Introduction to the Autumn, 1966, issue of Continuum, after Nostra Aetate had appeared, one may read:

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned" has been the indispensable prologue to the sacrament of Penance. Without the admission of sin and plea for forgiveness there could be no re-acceptance into the household of the faith. Notwithstanding, the Catholic Church in the confessional of history has yet to acknowledge its guilt, before the common Father of church and synagogue, for its systematic persecution of Jews.

The editors of this journal could not hope to imagine that what they offer here shall precipitate some vast collective metanoia. They merely seek to witness too their own concern at Christian complicity in the perennial resurgence of antisemitism. And, in analyzing its pathology, they write simply, as Robinson Jeffers said, "in dutiful hope of burning off at least the top crust of the time's uncleanness."



So be of good heart; you have predecessors, though not perhaps as autobiographically fixated;

and you will undoubtedly have successors--though one might hope, less self-revelatory ones.(141)

As for Wills' preoccupation with "papal sin and structural deceit," the emphasis should, by definition, be on the latter. No one can do anything about "sin" except perhaps to pray and to cast no stones--even at popes. But "structures" are, according to going postmodernist definitions, if not "invented," then "social" fabrications and as such subject to construction, reconstruction, deconstruction, etc.--depending of course on one's choice of prepositions, suppositions, compositions, or just plain, positions. (142) But the pursuit of sinners not only goes against Catholic training, it is the path of sterility. Sin itself is in the world where we live, and as Newman said in the quotation from Anglican Difficulties at the end of the previous chapter, it is manifest in the life of the church as of that world. It is not only in the Hebrew Bible but in all of history that the deity moves through time and achieves its ends through vehicles that are drawn by all "the cords of Adam" and subject to all the flaws of creaturehood. One might wish it otherwise, and strive to make it so, but those with any kind of "training" should hardly be surprised that, for example, the acts of the first Vatican Council are sometimes reminiscent of the reports in the Congressional Record, or that after the Council in order to force certain recalcitrant bishops(143) to make their public submission, the Roman authorities employed methods akin to those of a successful political machine. We live in time, and through temporal instruments, salvation comes. What else would redeeming the time mean?

But here a cautionary note might be appropriate. "Reformers" who recognize the human element in the church and rightly condemn its abuses, might also want to take into account when registering their complaints, grievances, accusations, denunciations--in that ascending order--the "human element" in their targets. To publicly deploy texts and interpretations that are clearly distorted, or to bring overcharged rhetoric to the arraignment before one's private bar of justice of bishops and popes, past and present--this, does not seem the most effective mode of making one's case; particularly if one is making it not to disinterested bystanders but to those very bishops and popes or about their predecessors. It smacks less of the creation of an informed public opinion than of playing to the gallery, less of calm conversion and regeneration than of mobocracy and religious "mccarthyism"--if not of mere self-aggrandizement. Fortiter in re; suaviter in modo is not a social or legal axiom. It is a dictate of common sense.

And it is also a sign of authentic reform, as the following from Bernard Häring's book makes clear. After several times praising the German Episcopal authors of a detailed statement on ministering to people from broken marriages, to people who are divorced, separated, or remarried, and noting that three times the bishops had been called to Rome for questioning, only in the end to have the "Sacred Rota" reject their arguments, Father Häring interjects on the last page of My Hope for the Church: "At this point, readers may perhaps ask me how, despite

everything, I still maintain that a turnaround for the better is in the offing. I have many reasons

for my prognosis. Above all, I would mention the dignified, upright, and absolutely nonviolent attitude of the three German bishops and the encouraging echoes of their action." An echo certainly unexpected by Father Häring resounded after his death. In the year 2001, one of the rebuffed bishops, Karl Lehmann of Mainz, was made a cardinal by John Paul II. (144)

In the above quotation one term stands out, particularly in the context of attitudes toward

curial decisions: "nonviolent." Certainly in response to such decisions one would not expect the kind of conduct that abortion protesters habitually engage in, and against which even Supreme Court decisions seem to provide only the thinnest of shields. What the term does suggest is the strategy of Martin Luther King which by its very mode of bearing witness won the support of the previously indifferent or even antagonistic. But with such curial decisions as the enforcement of contraception bans, as well of bans related to other aspects of purely personal comportment, one cannot expect marches and public demonstrations. (And it is quite certain that precisely to the degree written denunciations are condescending, strident, or hectoring--to that degree they will result in reinforcement of the original decisions, as well as further proliferation by "public relations" hacks of those loony rants about "contraception and the culture of death" already emanating from epigonal curialists.) The very private nature of the matters involved entails a different mode for registering public opinion in the church, that mode takes life in what is called "voting with one's feet." In this instance, simply ignoring the ban altogether--as is of course the case with the vast majority of faithful Catholics. At some point, as Father Häring intimated, the message will get across to the episcopate which will then convey it to the "legislators" at the center who often have no idea of what is going on at the periphery.(145) All of this is a twenty-first century response to an age-old problem of redressing imbalances.

In this context, it may be pointed out that while patristic and earlier models of the episcopate may provide inspiration for contemporary reforms, it is naive to try to eradicate nearly two millennia of evolution in the hope of returning to governmental and administrative styles vaguely evident among the primitive Christian communities. The goal is not to introduce a literalist and fundamentalist reading of the most ancient "texts," nor to emulate sectaries from time immemorial in constructing idyllic--and short lived--utopias, but to build on the kind of organic development Cardinal Newman envisaged. To decry in the name of a dubious fidelity to gospel data such foundational doctrines as the apostolic succession is not to engage in renewal but in reversal. Of course, no one thinks of the apostolic succession in the mechanistic terms of the medieval and post-tridentine church. It may rightly be regarded as an unbroken metaphoric chain, but it is defined as a continuum residing in the people of God and exercised among them by their chosen leaders in union with their chief bishop. (146) The primitive Christian communities are not a template or blueprint--they are at best an exemplary cause. Again, it is not a dictate of religion but of common sense that an institution is only the lengthened shadow of the original or founding group.

Wills even more enthusiastically than Carroll attacks "apostolic succession" and goes on at great length, and presumably to the mystification of his readers, about the primitive church not having bishops in any present sense of the word, not having any notion of such succession, not having ordination or consecration as currently understood--citing passim assorted New Testament scholars and historians. He concludes that "Ignatius of Antioch, writing in the first decade of the second century is the first author we know of to make a clear distinction between bishops and elders." Then follows a history of Ignatius's travails among Antiochenes, Smyrneans, Philippians, Magnesians, Tralians, etc.. It is an interesting excursion. Even more interesting is the absence of any reference to the views of Newman (one of Wills' "heroes") as an Anglican on Ignatius and on the episcopal office in chapter two of the Apologia: "My own Bishop was my Pope,... the successor of the Apostles, the Vicar of Christ." Nor is there any reference to the Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine which certainly assumes that everything wasn't crystallized and fixed before the "first decade of the second century." And as his mockery of liturgical practice, its gestures, language, and garb, was written precisely when several Protestant groups were taking up these same rites and ceremonials, so too his denigration of the episcopate comes within the very decade when a number of Protestant bodies have chosen to be administered by bishops--those empty vessels of Romish authority.

It should go without saying that we shall have institutions as long as we live in society, that is, in habitats of order, organization, distinction of roles, and separation of functions. The present advocacy of blurring everything into one indistinguishable, ungranulated mass, however flattering to the ambitious or the rootless, can only be regarded as signifying how transitional a stage we are in. Whether we call bishops or popes chief clerks, presiding officers, or chairpersons of the board, and whether we determine them by selection of a delegated few, by election of the many, or by acclamation--all that matters little. What matters is fidelity among those who inhabit this penumbral world-this lengthened shadow--to the Spirit who was sent to preserve it.

III

So rather than the imputation--or deputation, computation, reputation, etc.--of "sin and deceit," one has to look to the major structural reform envisioned by the opposition party at Vatican I, and recognized by the prelates and their periti at Vatican II: the still unfinished elaboration of the theology of the one group recognized from the earliest days of the church as possessing the "plenitude of the priesthood." Three times reference has been made to Cardinal Manning's regrets that the episcopate was being reduced to "the pope's vicariate," with the subsequent denigration of national bishops conferences as the most unfortunate result of this "reduction." (147) Well before Vatican I, Newman recognized what it would take Manning another thirty years to discover. (148)

...I view with equanimity the prospect of a thorough routing out of things at Rome; not till some great convulsions take place (which may go on for years and years, and when I can do neither good nor harm) and religion is felt to be in the midst of trials, red-tapism will go out of Rome, and a better spirit come in, and Cardinals and Archbishops will have some of the reality they had, amid many, abuses in the Middle Ages. At present, things are in appearance as effete, though in a different way, thank God, as they were in the tenth century.



As Newman recognized and as common sense, again, would suggest, if reform is to come it will not be by application of the counsel, physician heal thyself. A doctor with herself as patient like the lawyer with herself as client--folk wisdom rightly has it--will not be particularly well-served or well-advised. If the problem is with the Roman curia, the answer can only come from the universal episcopate, as it did in the consensual decrees of Vatican II.

That even Vatican I implicitly viewed the pope as a bishop "writ large," and did not view the local bishop as a lesser pope was generally lost sight of up to the period of Vatican II. The theological interdepedence of the local bishop and of national episcopates briefly came to the fore during the period around the second World War; however, as noted in chapter two that record is checkered. But the dark spots usually represented the final gasps of the theology of Vatican I, when some national hierarchies passively waited for word from Rome before acting. The only serious argument against this position was made by John Lukacs, writing with an obvious conservative bias. "Had there been more responsibility vested in the German national hierarchy, had the Mass been offered in German for a generation wouldn't the record of German Catholicism during the war have been even more pitiful?...Wasn't the problem precisely that the authority of the Holy Father was not sufficiently paternal, not sufficiently authoritative, not sufficiently universal?" (Continuum, Autumn, 1964) But had this responsibility and authority been vested in the episcopate from the turn of that century on--as the American bishops sought in trying to frustrate the creation of an apostolic delegate and to lay to rest the charge of "Americanism"--the German hierarchy might have had a sense of its collective mission and responded vigorously and without waiting for signals from Rome.

One highly respected German theologian sought to explain the indifference of many of the German bishops to the monstrousness of the Hitler regime by the laity's failure to inform them of it: "The laity looked to spiritual 'leaders' on whom they could lay all the burden of responsibility."(149) There may be an element of truth in this, but it is more reasonable to assume the failure was at best reciprocal. At worst, the burden fell more heavily on the episcopate, particularly given the fact that there were strong grounds in the tradition for the bishops to have acted on their own, even when there was only the most general guidance from Rome. On the other hand, there were virtually no clearly defined grounds during the war years for what would later be called a "theology of the laity," and after Vatican II, a "theology of the people of God." And this may be worth a brief examination in this context of witness bearing.

In the thirties and forties the category of "the lay" was subsumed in the narrow notion of "Catholic Action," and the extensive literature it engendered was written, first, with a view to practical programs for what were, in effect, compliant assistants to the clergy; and, second, with a view to guaranteeing that lay people did not encroach on the mission of ordained and consecrated authorities. Cardinal Congar's groundbreaking work, Jalons pour une Théologie du Laïcat, published by Editions du Cerf in 1952, was the first systematic theological treatment of the topic, apart from earlier sketches by the layman, Jacques Elllul, on the Protestant side and by the Jesuit, Otto von Nell-Breuning, on the Catholic--both of the latter informed by their authors' wartime experiences. Congar though of necessity devoting much discussion to an already obsolete "Catholic Action," defined as "participation of the laity in the work of the hierarchy," turned it all around through a positive and a negative critique: first, by defining the laity as "the pleroma of the hierarchy," and, second, by noting that "particularly in the western church the 'communal principle' [where the laity is centered] has not been unified with the 'hierarchic principle,' resulting in the isolated [solitaire] development of the latter" (pp. 642-644).

So, given the absence of this theological foundation for the role of the laity, and the extensive historically developed foundation (though shaken by Vatican I) for the office of the episcopate, the response to Professor Lukacs' assumption that the record of German Catholicism would have been less pitiful if the power of the pope had been more "authoritative," more "universal"--the response has to be the traditional one which affirms that ideally a monarchy may be the best form of government from the viewpoint of execution of laws, but from the viewpoint of their formulation, a democracy is preferable. One could accept Professor Lukacs' conclusions only if one were to so exaggerate the supernatural guidance of the Holy See as to view it as incapable of political error.

Since the whole of history contradicts this notion, one is compelled to repeat the truism that over the long run there is more wisdom in the collective judgment of many prudent persons than in the individual judgment of only one. If the papacy were some utterly trans-temporal, a-historical institution, if the pope were some utterly detached and objective observer without any national, racial, or personal prejudices--in other words, if he were not a being in history--then one might prefer his judgment to all the episcopates in the church universal.(150) But in fact the bishop of Rome--as was emphatically clear from Newman's texts earlier in this chapter--is as much the subject of social pressures, is as necessarily caught up in the experience of a given place and time, is as liable to succumb to cultural or other biases as any national hierarchy. (Witness below the treatment by Pius XII of Joseph Charbonneau, Archbishop of Montreal.) Given this parallel submission to historical conditions on the part of an episcopal synod and of the papacy, the only ground for preferring the judgment of the former to that of the latter in temporal affairs is the wider range of sentiment and information available to it.

Turning now from these practical considerations on the reform of the episcopal office, it is necessary to look at the fundamental theological doctrine that must inspire any such reform. According to one of the still most widely used commentaries in English on ecclesiastical law (Abbo and Hannan) the common opinion of canonists is that the bishop should be more skilled in canon law than learned in theology. This judgment may indicate special pleading on the part of canonists, but one suspects rather that its general acceptance is a result of that denigration of the episcopate which Newman and Manning decried. The bishop becomes in that misconception not a teacher in his own right, but merely the representative of the Pope. And through this distortion of traditional teaching, he becomes in our time the victim of those arrogant attacks launched by Foucauldian critics--the linear heirs of that celebrated postmodernist, Voltaire--on the Roman curia and its appointees as the power-hungry "Vatican foreign service": that latter definition having been proffered by another postmodern ecclesiologist, the late Paul Blanshard. But these attacks may be at least in part as much the result of the failure of theologians to explicate Catholic teaching as of contamination by the kind of francophonic faddism Acton denounced in his criticism of de Lamennais' Essay on Indifference. For Catholic teaching affirms that the bishop is not the pope's vicar, much less his ambassador; he is the one teacher of his ecclesia, and as a member of the episcopal college he is a teacher of the universal church in union with its chief bishop.

Might one not further suggest that it has been this notion of the bishop as an interpreter of the law rather than as a teacher of doctrine which accounts for the not infrequent silence of some bishops on pressing social and ethical issues? If the bishop is the chief teacher of Christian truth, he is also its chief witness; but if he is regarded as an interpreter of the law, his proper domain is jurisprudence, not testimony to truth. It is not desirable to discount any claims of prudence; but to make them an overriding consideration, and to define the episcopal office in terms of them, may tend to induce a silence that verges on the reprehensible--as some believe it did in Nostra Aetate, a well-intentioned document that needed the future corrigenda supplied by John Paul II. The "church of silence" was not only a reality in countries behind the iron curtain; it existed quite obviously in Hitler's Germany, and exists even with regard to some socio-political issues in this country today. Certainly the end of the cold war, while obscuring the great powers' continued reliance on a massive nuclear deterrent, has not done away with the central moral crux of that military posture: the effective nullification of the principle of noncombatant immunity, of which few bishops, except the bishop of Rome, Pius XII, spoke as often and as passionately.

That precisely during the period of adoption of an international nuclear strategy of "mutually assured destruction," it was the shadow of Humanae Vitae--a document that confronted only individuals--that persisted in hovering over the Catholic laity like an incurable case of Jansenist mumps: that precisely this could happen when the papacy was reiterating its insistence on the utter evil of total war must make one wonder about putting excessive trust in the witness of the laity or of some bishops. (One will recall the chauvinism of the Archbishops of New York and Seattle described earlier.) But then the question arises, as it did for many in the second World War, to whom shall we go? As always one goes to the internal forum of one's own conscience. Short of that, the arguments for the collective guidance of national episcopates, exercising their traditional rights as teachers of the church, remain as persuasive as human agents can expect.

This may call for more courageous bishops--like von Galen, von Preysing, and Saliège-- than we are accustomed to. There are probably--one occasionally hears--forty or so bishops in the American church who are quietly but effectively bearing witness even in these troubled times, and who recognize that an authentic witness is one who takes personal risks. This does not mean necessarily that they are suffragans. In fact, being "auxiliaries" may allow them more freedom. At Vatican II, one of the most significant interventions was that of Stephen Lefven during a heated debate: (151)

Why not put an end, once and for all, to the scandal of our mutual recriminations? Every day it becomes clearer that we have a real need of dialogue not merely with the Protestants but among ourselves assembled in the Council.... Some Fathers speak as though the only text in the whole Bible were, "Thou art Peter and upon this rock I will build my church." And they dare to preach at us as though we were against Peter and his successors, or as though we wished to weaken the faith of believers or to promote indifferentism.



Nor does the risk of forthright witnessing even remotely entail a murder in the cathedral (though it may entail what curial euphemists call "involuntary resignation"; or it may take the form of the antagonism of some of the bishop's brethren as it did with the effective exclusion of Archbishop T.D. Roberts from anything other than ceremonial affairs during the period leading up to Vatican II--and even at the council itself. It may take the form of rebuke by the pope, as it did with several prelates at the time of Vatican I, including as we have seen Archbishop Darboy, martyred in Paris; as it did with Archbishop Mignot under Pius X; as it did with Archbishop Charbonneau under Pius XII; (152) and finally as it did in this country with the scandalous treatment by John Paul II of that noble figure, Archbishop Hunthausen--while his brother bishops, excepting only Weakland and Bernardin, stood by as models of neutrality. But, one has to ask, may not all this be the price of accepting the plenitude of the priesthood, and of being the successor of the apostles? So to anyone's concern with structures, and particularly structures of governance--though by definition, not of deceit--one may say of course adjust them, update them, reform them. But do not reject the "headstone" which sustains by its very position the whole "structured" edifice, the apostolic succession--as defined above.

One final encouraging sign of the times which relates to the two poles which the episcopate, as it were, binds together: the papacy and the laity. John Lukacs whom I briefly criticized above is one of the most wide-ranging and learned historians of our time. In the aftermath of Hochhuth's drama, he made what today may seem like an extraordinary statement: (153)

...the thinking that his play manifests, represents an attitude toward the Catholic Church which is curiously recent, curiously contemporary. It is an attitude of high expectations.... It also reflects the great rise in Papal prestige after 1945 which is one of the most remarkable developments in the postwar history of the world. Amidst the godlessness, the plasticity, the materialism, the communism, and the neo-Marxist twaddle and patter of intellectuals about a "post-Christian" world, the prestige of the Papacy during the last decade of Pius XII's reign was higher than at any time since the Middle Ages.



It would be probably less astonishing but certainly as remarkable to prophesy that the prestige of the papacy during the last decade of John Paul II's reign may be recognized as higher than that of Pius XII. Certainly, "prestige" is an intangible concept, and in many ways, like "celebrity," a hollow one. But in a world which values "the power of public opinion," and which with Father Häring sees the latter as a hopeful indication of "the turnaround" which "looms on the horizon," papal prestige is a significant factor.

The irony regarding John Paul II, if not Pius XII, is that his prestige often seems greater among those outside the church than it is among those within it--as many of these books which I have discussed in detail clearly attest. Nor should this be entirely surprising; members of a family have arguments, often vigorous among themselves, while presenting to the outside world a facade of harmony. Nevertheless, papal prestige is a datum of current history. It is an incontestible phenomenon of the beginning of the twenty-first century, and as such must be viewed in the light of salvation history as significant for the church in the modern world. How that prestige is to be utilized, I will take up shortly regarding the ethical mission of the papacy; but first some words on an area crying out for reform, "Christian ethics," about which Maximos IV declared: "Our Christian morality must have a Christocentric character with the expression of love and of liberty. It must educate in each one a sense of communal and personal responsibility. As a consequence a profound revision of the values of present Church discipline--of its very nature changeable--is imposed obligatorily." (154)

IV

For decades in the middle of the last century there had been a debate among theologians as to whether there is such a thing as a uniquely Christian ethic. The pious and prevalent conclusion was that, yes, there is such an ethic based on the law of charity which imposes and privileges beyond the norms of a mere ethic of natural law--this was maintained even though in the practical application of that unique ethic (that is, "how to live a good life") the actions of Catholics differed little from those of their non-Catholic neighbors. Perhaps that original question was badly framed. Should it not have been: how does the church have an ethical mission, and if so primarily to whom?

Let it be postulated that the church does have a broadly conceived mission to guide individuals to follow their consciences according to the law of love. But for the most part, it must be admitted that in these times such individual guidance is rendered by parental, environmental, educational, and other social factors--including of course in the whole amalgam, religious--all of which shape and guide what we think of as the well-formed conscience of each person. This explains two paradoxes brought out earlier: first, natural law morality is commonsense morality; second, commonsense morality guides personal individual moral actions far more effectively, wisely, and prudently than does "official" Christian morality. (155) Hence the commendation earlier of Garry Wills' "pastoral" orientation in discussing almost exclusively (regardless of how rebarbatively) personal issues: abortion, contraception, gay and lesbian rights, gender parity, masturbation, divorce, celibacy--though that commendation carried with it the implicit criticism of ignoring collective socio-political issues. Even Father Häring in his moving testimonial, My Hope for the Church, devotes only one chapter out of eighteen (three pages in all) to such global matters as "ethic of peace," "worldwide justice," and "life on our planet." While recognizing that in many areas and if only by sheer numbers, individual and community morals overlap, is it not strange that for most Catholic ethicians individual and personal morality should trump socio-political morality, particularly when it is precisely personal morality that has proved most intractable to official ethical "guidance"? It may even be suggested that this emphasis on individual morality--with its attendant dependence on outside instruction and exhortation--is what has kept the Catholic community both in a permanent state of moral tutelage, and in a condition of relative indifference to the larger ethical issues confronting a global society. (156) (It was, after all, a celebrated "convert" to Catholicism, and the American representative to the Vatican who coined the term, "globaloney.")

But paradoxically there may be a religious significance to this emphasis, a significance which by reason of its deficient emphasis on socio-political morality opens up a unique opportunity for the only truly global religious institution in history. The conjunction of that historically grounded deficiency and opportunity, envisaged by Christian thought as salvation history, brings the "prestige" of the pope fully into play. Again, one must ask whether there is not a sign of the times in the manifest phenomenon that personal moral directives and counsel as dispensed by Rome are more and more ignored in precisely that era when the institutional authority of the papacy is at its highest? Certainly there is here at least a negative criterion for the direction of the future.

There is also the manifest and readily comprehensible phenomenon of the church being adamant and undeviating on issues of personal morality, while being entirely open to historical and geographical influences--those would be denounced as "relativistic" in sexual matters--on issues of social morality. Thus compared to certitude and rigidity in the ethics of the individual, we see openness to dialogue and to the recognition of ethnic, racial, and even "local" differences as factors affecting social ethics: manufacturing, trade, and labor relations; inter-area and inter-nation relations--precisely all the fields that only a world church has the "prestige" to address. In De Locis Theologicis, Melchior Cano lists what might well be called "sources Chrétiennes," most of which represent the rich but anticipated "fonts," the standard but occasionally static data of the past--scripture, tradition, the theological schools, the magisterium, etc.--on which theology nurtures itself. Only the tenth, history, is responsive to the present, to the realm of the contingent and temporal. But it is precisely this historical dimension of the exigent "now" which has emerged as the queen of the sciences--just as in fact it did in previous critical eras in the life of the Church. As Blondel wrote: (157)

Far from having to descend from the past to the present, it is by the present that we must return to the past; it is by the last link of the divine chain that we are able to grasp the whole. The first disciples saw Christ, and seeing the head they believed in the body, in the aborning Church. We see the body in the present and we believe in the head.

And it is also this historical dimension which is now central in social ethics as a true sign of the times whose proper reading will revolutionize how we look at global issues.



This church has providentially evolved into a global institution--the only religious body to have done so--with a global mission; not of course in any neocolonialist sense of mere numerical "convert making," but in the sense of social responsibilities to the whole of world society. It can take the lead as only a world organization can in vigorously and wholeheartedly fighting for real disarmament of nuclear weapons, fostering environmental protections, defending human rights, helping the helpless and the hopeless; in short, for exercising its duty, and yes, "flexing" its muscle, as only a worldwide power can. Again, Newman said it better: "the church should be going out with the high spirits of the warrior, conquering and to conquer." (158)

The record has been excellent on some issues such as peace and war and nuclear deterrence, and we all need the kinds of reminders about these issues John Paul II has over and over reiterated. It is all well and good, as well as utterly non-controversial among any thinking people, to be a defender of environmental programs--even one-time ardently convinced marxists have now embraced that cause: making the Red one Green. But the absolutely fundamental environmental issue now almost lost sight of in the aftermath of the cold war remains the astronomical number of nuclear weapons still in place. Their overkill capability goes beyond any conceivable deterrent utility by a factor in the thousands. America alone could reduce its numbers from six thousand to six hundred and still be far outside any justifiable moral limit. This is an issue that ethicists-as trendy as other specialists or even other adolescents rioting over Nafta or rainforests--have given up on, even though in their blinkered way they know that nuclear weaponry still remains the greatest threat to the planet.(159) Nuclear "disarmament" is one of the farces of the twenty-first century. And only one figure of international stature, John Paul II, seems to recognize that fact.

The record has also been admirable on the kindred issue of noncombatant immunity as such; good on economic justice; less good on political justice, still threatened in residual Catholic

client states in Latin America and Africa; mixed on "environmental" and human rights issues; and dismal on such issues as are raised by overpopulation and pandemic AIDS. In short, the record is utterly deplorable when this church--now in the twenty-first century--lets its secondary mission regarding personal morality encroach on its primary mission regarding social morality. We need a new global ecclesiology for a new global church, a church that welcomes the struggle against the real forces of darkness: greed that throughout the developing world makes for petty tyrants supporting death squads, and ignorance that makes for overpopulation and disease.



V

And here we return to the bishops. If they remain what Newman called "lackeys," given to "toadyism," ambitious not to bear witness but to rise in the petty world of church politics, there is small hope. The picture at turn-of-the-millennium America is not yet as bleak as it was in mid-nineteenth-century Ireland: "The truth is that these bishops are so accustomed to be absolute that they usurp the rights of others and roughride over their wishes and their plans quite innocently without meaning it, and are astonished, not at finding out the fact, but at its being impossible to these others." (160) In developing countries, the issues are quite different. Unless these often newly created bishops can rise above their colonialist ethnic backgrounds or their tribal prejudices or the individualist moral proscriptions emanating from Roman authorities and speak as masters in their own house, there is less hope. Unless they have the courage to convey to those authorities, again and again (as did the three German bishops on marriage and divorce issues), the obvious need for safeguards against the AIDS epidemic, there is even less hope of being true to their people. The coinage, "culture of death" is truly a dysphemistic masterstroke; it makes the diabolic fetishizing of condoms almost something the gates of heaven can not prevail against. (161)

But the danger in this country is that an enervated episcopate will not only appear out of touch with the faithful, but in many instances appear hypocritical. Fifteen years ago it may have been accurate for the president of the bishops conference to maintain: "There is scarcely another group in the United States which couples a horror at abortion with a preferential option for the poor, a concern for a more generous immigration policy with a recognition of what easy divorce has done to the family, the resettlement of refugees from Southeast Asia with a condemnation of military aid to the Contras" (America, November 29, 1986). The impression such a recitation may leave in the twenty-first century is that public concern with social issues is merely a ploy that masks the real agenda, opposition to various matters of personal and individual morality. This, as the argument above seeks to adduce, would be to get the whole ethical issue precisely and disastrously exactly backwards. The phenomenon of the overriding importance of the "real" agenda becomes more apparent when, under pressure from Rome, the bishops abdicate their apostolic responsibility and display all the signs of group hysteria in denouncing this or that gender or sexually rooted individual practice. The quotation from the bishops conference above ends as follows: "The church in the United States has become something of a sign of contradiction." Though this is intended biblically, it will be soon read as a sign of contradictoriness, a sign of collective obsession leading to something of a case of schizophrenia.

Nevertheless, as this entire book attests, there remains cause for hope. Though, "at this point, readers may perhaps ask me how, despite everything, I still maintain that a turnaround for the better is in the offing." Father Häring's words are worth citing again. It is not some bromide or facile nostrum to say that faith remains in the historic "exceptions." It remains in communion with the totality, in the pilgrim church in its entirety--and not only in its entirety of members but in its entirety of past and present. When Newman was asked at a crucial juncture in his own life if he regretted having put his trust in the bishops, he replied that he had not done so, but had put his trust in the whole church. Morals no less than dogma reside in that totality. Hope resides in papacy, episcopate, people of God together, focusing not on individual behavior--which grace and what used to be called "synderesis" can take care of--but engaged in what Teilhard described as "constructing the earth"

I close with another parable, and one more recent in time than that with which I opened the previous chapter. One of Cardinal Congar's "conditions" for reform-without-schism is "to remain within the communion of the whole." It was the failure to live by that condition that led to the excommunication in 1951 of a small group of French Catholics led by one Abbé Jean Massin and calling themselves "The Community of Christian Hope." Their public program has a familiar ring: "...to live and think along the lines of a truly evangelical Christianity which shall respond to the needs and values of our epoch....to reject any moral doctrine which makes the idolatrous pretension of codifying an imitation of Jesus Christ.... Can I believe at once in Jesus and in Rome?"

After the condemnation Congar himself made an important statement on church reform--with which I shall end. The statement is significant because Congar at the time had himself been pilloried by clerical delators and censors for being in part responsible, through the influence of Vraie et fausse Réforme dans l'Eglise, for Abbe Massin's defection. The statement took on even greater weight when during the conciliar period Congar sketched in Chrétiens en dialogue the mistrust and even contempt shown during the fifties by Roman authorities towards himself and some of the most dedicated and saintly figures of the postwar French religious revival--la grande purge referred to earlier. That he and his confreres, though bending never broke under the lash of Rome made his testimony utterly probative and persuasive.(162) This is his statement with only the least possible commentary added. (163)

One is able to leave the church. But after that, what then? I have here before me a number of manifestoes: that of the liberal Catholic Church, of the Kingdom of God, of the Evangelical Catholic Church, of the French Evangelical Church, and of many others. Several of these groups which in their time have caused much suffering and trouble to souls no longer exist. What have they achieved in the final analysis but to break with the Faith and to render more difficult the work of the Gospel in the world? Does not history cry out with all its might at the vanity of trying to purify the church against itself? In forty or fifty years [precisely now], when others shall overtake us on the paths of our present cares, those who today destroy and rebuild in the flower of their twenty or thirty years shall be not only ignored but forgotten [save as object lessons]. Where shall they be? What shall they believe? Reading the manifesto of their youth, I fear that they find nothing great in the profound truths which the saints have lived in the church and for which at this very moment confessors [like Congar and other victims of the "great purge"] are offering without glory before the eyes of men, their health, their liberty, and the very life of the body.



Cardinal Congar had faith in history and faith in the power of spirit ultimately to reform the distortions and errors which he saw about him. That he did not react in violation of his own principles to the suppression of Vraie et fausse Réforme dans l'Eglise and of many other writings by friends and colleagues has resulted in his achievements bearing now in these more propitious times--completely unforeseeable five decades ago--the richest and most lasting fruit. Paul VI and John Paul II have stated publicly that the work of Congar had nurtured their own spirit and instructed them in the ways of religious renewal. It is no small thing to be a teacher of popes.

Lastly, and fundamentally, what Congar taught in Vraie et fausse Reforme dans l'Eglise is that "the church must safeguard above all its very being and the integrity of its principles. An adaptation to the needs of the world, an openness to the longings of the faithful, or real improvements in the order of theological science and pastoral effort--these are certainly desirable: but they have reference to the life of the church, to her bene esse. The primary concern of her responsible leaders is with reference to her constitutive principles, to her esse." That, however, is not an injunction to those in authority to "just let things be."

 

 

127. There is also a Newman connection. Rosmini's earliest co-worker in the Institute of Charity, Luigi Gentili, went on the "English Mission" and proved an exceptionally forceful preacher who converted one of Newman's disciples, William Lockhart, two years before Newman himself "conformed to the Church of Rome." The conversion, against Newman's explicit wishes, led to Newman's resignation from the curacy of St. Mary's church in Oxford because, as he wrote his bishop, Lockhart's conversion would be "laid at my door." There are several pages in the Apologia on the incident because the Anglican Newman was very intent on not appearing and not being a "Romanizing" influence on others.

128. Attente du Concile (Paris, 1964), a collection of aphorisms, p. 92.

129. "But if it pleased God to allow His Church to receive so deep a wound by the separation of the Christian people from their clergy in the solemn acts of worship, is this wound incurable? Can it be that the people, who by primitive rule not only witnessed but took part in the services of the Lord's House, will now be satisfied with little more than bare attendance there? Scarcely so, I think; for it is too much to expect of an intelligent and civilized people that they will come mechanically to attend rites in which they have no longer any share, and which they do not understand." Of the Five Wounds of the Holy Church (London, 1883), p. 24. The editor and introducer of the volume is Henry Parry Liddon, disciple and biographer of Pusey, and spiritual director of Hopkins during his Oxford years.

130. But as I noted in the first chapter, the virtue police are on the prowl seeking out such things as expensive stereos to prove a dangerous decline in sacerdotal asceticism.

131. Five Wounds, pp. 66-67.

132. Newman says it more elegantly in the third volume of Historical Sketches (London, 1894), short miscellaneous papers from his Dublin experience; here speaking of "religious teaching" under the heading "What Is a University?" "...its great instrument, or rather organ, has ever been that which nature prescribes in all education, the personal presence of a teacher or, in theological language, Oral Tradition. It is the living voice, the breathing form, the expressive countenance, which preaches, which catechises. Truth, a subtle, invisible manifold spirit, is poured into the mind of the scholar by his eyes and ears, through his affections, imagination, and reason."

133. Apologia pro Vita Sua (London, 1902), pp. 258-259.

134. Ibid., pp. 265-266

135. Ward, Life, I, p. 588.

136. The word in 1864, before Vatican I, could only evoke "the Gallican liberties" formulated, after two centuries of practice, by French ecclesiastics in 1682. Apart from political-religious issues, the liberties were conciliarist in orientation, maintaining that papal teaching must be confirmed by the universal church, and (like the English Cisalpanists a century later) that popes could not depose civil rulers. Even more striking is Newman's subtle balancing of the Gallican and the Roman church, as though Gallican views-not only abhorred by ultramontanists but generally viewed as at least incipiently unorthodox--were on a par with Roman views centered on papal primacy, papal infallibility, and papal authority. He comes close to leaving it to the reader to pick up on the implication that both are simply two national churches, reflecting their own geographical, linguistic, and cultural roots--not entirely unlike his earlier equation of the motive of Montalembert's liberalism with the fact of Newman's conservatism.

137. She wrote Sarah Hennell that "the Apologia breathed much life in me," and showing more discernment than would Geoffrey Faber said, "Pray mark that beautiful passage in which he thanks his friend Ambrose St. John. I know hardly anything that delights me more than such evidences of sweet brotherly love being a reality in the world." J.W. Cross, George Eliot's Life as Related in Her Letters and Journals (London and Edinburgh, n.d.), p. 378.

138. The Church and Modern Society (Chicago, 1896), p. 63.

139. Attente du Concile, p. 143...

140. Perhaps there is a need for fewer canonists and more students of the history of their own church like the long-lamented Paul Hallinan of Atlanta. Perhaps the bishops of those dioceses whose predecessors opposed Cardinal Spellman and spoke out against threats to the principle of noncombatant immunity during the Vietnam war will study that record and be inspired to speak out against erosion of the principle of what Newman called like a true Englishman, "elbowroom for the mind." As a gentle nudge, those dioceses were: Evansville, Dodge City, Stockton, Lafayette, Reno, Bridgeport, Wichita, Richmond, Pueblo.

141. Contributors to that issue included Oscar Cohen, Charles Y. Glock, Rodney Stark, Michael Marrus, Robert Major, Norbert Muhlen, Eliezer Berkovits, Arthur Hertzberg, Erich Isaac, Gavin I. Langmuir, Jacob Neusner, Howard Nemerov, Leon Poliakov, Steven S. Schwarzschild, Gregory Baum, Thomas Merton, and Rosemary Ruether. The last named is certainly one of the most creative and productive theologians of the last half century, but she has had difficulty in recognizing that the state of Israel, for all its unquestioned but inevitable faults, is the "compensatory" international response to the Holocaust. Given her political views and passion for justice, it is understandable--if nor forgivable--that she would "accuse the main authors of this symposium..., together with the editor of Continuum..., of being party to the ongoing ethnocide of the Palestinian people." The symposium in question appeared in the first number of the second series of the journal, "Anti-Semitism, Middle East, Feminism," (Autumn, 1990); its contributors were, John K. Roth, Mary C. Boys, Robert Everett, John Pawlikowski, Alice and A. Roy Eckardt, Emil Fackenheim, Franklin Littell, Paul van Buren. This is mentioned not to underline an editorial position or ideological orientation, but simply as récit of a history of treating these issues without pursuing scapegoats. Those unaware of such a history are presumably those who are referred to in Garry Wills' lead-off blurb for Constantine's Sword: "This searingly honest book is Augustinian in the way Carroll searches his own soul, going down through layer after layer of instilled Catholic attitudes that demean Jews. We who had the same Catholic training badly need this book, to cleanse our souls, to make us all ask for forgiveness." Admirable sentiments particularly for those whose Catholic training taught them not to play fast and loose with truth, and not to be seduced by what Adorno called "the jargon of authenticity." (Maybe the Sisters of Mercy responsible for that Catholic training came from the capital of Kentucky where they maintained the Frankfort school.)

142. The best short critique of social construction is by Paul A Boghossian, The Times Literary Supplement, February 23, 2001; the most devastating exemplification is Alan Sokal's well known "hoax"--garnering hundreds of entries on the internet-which Boghossian also treats in the TLS, December 13, 1996.

143. It happened to Kenrick of St. Louis, who with his brother was one of the few American episcopal theologians, and Hefele of Rottenburg, protégé of J. A. Möhler and conciliar historian: "Rome was bringing silent pressure to bear by withholding dispensations... in marriage cases." Cuthbert Butler, The Vatican Council (London, 1938), II, p. 187

144. It seems not excessively optimistic to anticipate that after the "turnaround" foreseen by Father Häring, at least one American theologian will be a candidate for the purple precisely because of "the dignified, upright, and absolutely nonviolent attitude" he has taken in pressing his reformist case and in responding to Roman censure. For one view of such "responding," cf., Charles E. Curran, Faithful Dissent (Kansas City, 1986), and The Catholic Moral Tradition Today (Washington, D.C., l999).

145. Father Häring has a revelatory tale of married priests about whose problems the pope didn't seem to have the slightest inkling: "I spoke with Pope Paul VI about the whole issue in the first year of his pontificate. He was full of consternation and asked me to draw up a detailed memorandum." (My Hope for the Church, p. 120.) This is obviously not a case of what the "priestly caste" and its aspirant, Garry Wills, would call ignorantia affectata, which is an intentionally willed act of nescience.

146. In chapter one I cited as the reason for "cautious optimism" about the future a sequence of historical reforms, each one affirming a kind of mechanism of equilibrium between center and periphery. James Carroll has a different view: "Again, if the long history we have seen demonstrates anything, it is that [the ideology of papal power] drives relentlessly along the unbroken shaft of apostolic succession [which he seems to believe relates only to the papacy], from Leo I...." Then follow Gregory VII, Urban II, Innocent III, Boniface VIII, Paul IV, Pius IX, Pius XII, and John Paul II. But Leo the Great, a Doctor of the Church, is remembered mainly for his confrontation with "the scourge of God," Attila, and his central role at Chalcedon in maintaining the two natures of Christ. Of the early and medieval popes Carroll "outs," Dante criticizes only Boniface VIII (not unworthily, but largely on personal political grounds) whose jubilee year (1300) is the date of the vision of the Commedia; Innocent III is mentioned in Paradiso as approving the "harsh rule" of St. Francis whose followers along with those of St. Dominic and the Seven Holy Founders represented the counterweight to Innocent's excesses. Other than on church-state issues, it is difficult to condemn Gregory VII whose reforms were manifold and lasting--but after a millennium understandably somewhat outworn. Paul IV reigned only four years, was founder with St. Cajetan of the Theatines, the first modern pope to express vehement antisemitism, but also an over-zealous reformer. The ideology Carroll has in mind is not "papal power" but "antisemitism," and to include Pius XII in his true bill is to base his case on mere repetition not investigation. What John Paul II is doing at this assize is incomprehensible. The lesson here is simply that nothing in this historical sequence has to do with apostolic succession as such, while much here, particularly the presence of the two twentieth-century popes, has to do with papaphobia.

147. It was recognized by Rosmini, who also cites Ignatius: "A Bishop's zeal was not confined to his own special charge among the Churches; it was yet greater for the Church Universal. He knew that he was a Bishop of the Church Catholic." And speaking of episcopal conferences, and the appointment of other bishops, he notes: "The Bishops of a province met twice a year, as so many brothers to discuss their common interests.... They decided cases; they appointed successors to deceased Bishops. These successors were not only known but acceptable to them, and they thus contributed to preserve the perfect harmony of the Episcopal body." Five Wounds, p. 85-86.

148. Wilfrid Ward, Life, II, p. 127.

149. Werner Schoellgen, Moral Problems Today (New York, 1963), p. 141.

150. Cited earlier were the words of Pius XII on the church as an institution subject to the fluctuations of space and time. Equally relevant is the following from his address to a group of journalists: "Public opinion is the ornament of every society composed of people conscious of their personal conduct and closely involved in the community of which they are members..., since the church is a living body, something would be flawed in its life if public opinion were lacking, a flaw that can be blamed on pastors and the faithful." Congar, Jalons..., p. 360.

151. Cf. Peter Hebblethwaite, Paul VI: The First Modern Pope (New York, 1993), p. 361.

152. Pius figures in another drama fraught with political and religious significance, and again does not prove to be an attractive leader. John Thomas McDonough, a Dominican wrote a controversial play, Charbonneau & Le Chef (Toronto, 1968), in which the influence in Rome of the Premier of Quebec, Maurice Duplessis (le chef), led to the forced resignation of the Archbishop in 1950 because of his heroic support of striking asbestos workers. The drama is certainly more intense than anything of Hochhuth's, particularly the scenes in which Duplessis threatens Charbonneau, and the Apostolic Delegate, Antoniutti (later an ally of Franco, and opponent of Montini in the conclave), cites the canons justifying Pius's decision. The 1950 Official Catholic Directory under the entry for Victoria, B.C. (read: Vatican Gulag) states: "Institutes of Women, Sisters of St. Anne"; then in the following order (an early triumph for feminism?) names the Provincial Superior, then the Mistress of Novices, then "Most Rev. J. Charbonneau, D.D., Chaplain." No redemptive red hat here, but Charbonneau did outlive Duplessis--by four months. Father McDonough was censured by his superiors.

153. "The Roots of the Dilemma," (Continuum, Summer, 1964).

154. L'Eglise Melkite au Concile (Beirut, 1967), p. 243.

155. At the height of the contraception controversy in the sixties, Thomas Merton was asked if he wanted to discuss the issue in public. His response was simply that over time such matters work themselves out in practice--as in fact they have.

156. An important indicator of the necessary shift in perspective, and consequently in practice is the Religious Consultation on Population, Reproductive Health and Ethics. Here we have an agenda which goes beyond the approved environmental issues embraced by everyone except the troglodytic right. Here is an ethic that transcends petty moral concerns about the sinfulness of individual acts, and which focuses on a morality for humankind--and by that fact on a morality that uplifts the individual. Directed by ethician, Daniel C. Maguire, the Consultation has published three important and accessible books in its series Sacred Energies.

157. Attente du Concile, p. 228.

158. Ward, Life, II, p. 127.

159. It is now nearly two decades since the publication of the American bishops' pastoral on nuclear weapons, written largely by Cardinal Bernardin. In 1983 when the cold war was in regular danger of being reignited by conservative chauvinists, the pastoral was a reasonable document which could not be undercut by Michael Novak's Moral Clarity in the Nuclear Age (New York, 1983). Cf., Justus George Lawler, "Moral Confusion in the Nuclear Age" (The Christian Century, April 4, 1984). But now that political, and ethical, attention is focused elsewhere, the issue is treated as resolved--which it plainly is not. But the focus on "Nafta or rainforests"is important, if motivated constructively and not rancorously. "Adolescent" agitation has proved effective when related to strikes supporting living wages for school workers or for factory workers manufacturing products for young people.

160. Ward, Life, I, p. 323.

161. Another masterstroke has been the casual acceptance of "welfare reform" into the common vocabulary of North America. Persecution of the helpless is lost sight of while a battery of sociologists, social workers, statisticians parses this pleonasm which has nothing to do with either welfare or with reform. At the height of the "reformatory" crisis when the already helpless and homeless were being shed of their remnants, the newly appointed archbishop of a major see announced the official appointment of an exorcist. Thus did the possessed trump the dispossessed.

162. For the Community of Christian Hope and its aftermath, there are mimeographed materials privately circulated, and printed commentaries in Informations Catholiques (February 14, 1952); La Vie Intellectuelle (February, 1952); Life of the Spirit (March, 1952); and in Massin's book, Le Festin chez Levi (Paris, 1952).

163. Témoinage Chrétien (January 11, 1952).

1. Of course, context is everything. It is tolerable--when verifiable--for an Alfred Delp, S.J., murdered by the Nazis, to draw a comparison between himself and John the Baptist and Herod and Pius XII. Such rhetoric is acceptable from a martyr in a prison cell. It is less acceptable when voiced by an academician writing a polemic in a library.

2. This is a Protestant notion from the days of Calvin and Knox, and is in line with such other reformative acts as stripping the altars, whitewashing the walls, and smashing stained glass windows and statues. It is interesting that after Vatican II when Catholics were literally divesting themselves of priestly robes rich in religious significance through design and color, Protestant ministers were seeking a sense of ritual and solemnity by adopting the dress and colors of academic gowns. What was driven out of the churches in the name of evangelical simplicity was welcomed back in the name of university or seminary loyalties--with ornate vestments that had little symbolic significance. (At academic convocations, one assumes that this Catholic author/professor at a Methodist institution democratically wears street attire.)

3. For this writer everything emanating from Rome--whether reform or reversal, whether post-Trent or post-Vatican II--entails a self-protective conspiracy. Thus: "Vatican officials feared change in the liturgy for a very real and practical reason. If you take away the magical aura from the Mass, the existence of a priestly caste with ritual purity is hard to justify."

4. It is a British Catholic, undoubtedly at some time or other observer of the ostentatious grandiosity of parliamentary openings and other regal pageants in London, who manages to make of such spectacles in Rome a sign of sin and delusion: "...the wearing of robes and the use of outmoded titles--Excellency, Eminence, Grace, Lord--tokens of a mental split.... In such a 'hidden' state of mind, it is easy to fool oneself into believing one is holy, to disguise evil for good."

5. This is hardly to suggest that the post-Vatican II liturgy represented some ideal in worship. In its reaction to the Tridentine service, it often went to extremes of vulgarization and faddishness that were in their way as impairing as what they replaced. But in no fashion could they be described as having about them "a magical aura." Cf. Thomas Day, Why Catholics Can't Sing: The Culture of Catholicism and the Triumph of Bad Taste (New York, 1992).

6. In The Decay of Lying Oscar Wilde speaks of an author who "had once the makings of a perfectly magnificent liar... [but who now] when he does tell us anything marvelous, feels bound to invent a personal reminiscence and put it in a footnote as a kind of cowardly corroboration."-- a prophetic judgment about many of this author's "inventions," several of which as we shall see are in footnotes; but not this one: it is bare faced in the text--though not bold faced.

7. This verbal flood, the result of too facile an access to word processing, results as we shall see in what is almost a silly con game with the innocent reader.

8. According to the dictum, judge a person by his enemies as well as by his friends, one might look at the internet links: "Religion > Christianity > Catholics > Not in Communion with Rome." The last entry will lead to scores of organizations in varying degrees of opposition to John Paul II. These may appear to be negligible fringe groups, but their numbers are not insignificant, particularly the Society of St. Pius X, though the latter is but a shadow of the Sodalitium Pianum, the Society of St. Pius V, a pan-European secret society which during the Modernist crisis denounced archbishops, theologians, intellectuals in general for not being "integral" Catholics--which meant for the most part not being sympathetic to heresy hunts and monarchists. The present admirers of St. Pius X (whose canonization was delayed while the secret society which flourished during his reign was investigated) attack John Paul II himself as being a heretic, a philosemite, an ecumenist, and above all, a defender of Vatican II. It is noteworthy also that whereas formerly, discontented Catholics looked for redress from a future council, in the twenty-first century they look for redress in the past, by calling up as models the heritage of Pius X and Pius V.

9. The clearest statement is the concluding chapter of Newman's Apologia where he speaks of "Authority and Private Judgment": ...it is the vast Catholic body itself, and it only, which affords an arena for both combatants in that awful, never-dying duel. It is necessary for the very life of religion, viewed in its large operations and its history, that the warfare should be incessantly carried on. Every exercise of Infallibility is brought out in act by an intense and varied operation of Reason, both as its ally and as its opponent, and provokes again, when it has done its work, a re-action of Reason against it; and, as in a civil polity the State exists and endures by means of the rivalry and collision, the encroachments and defeats of its constituent parts, so in like manner Catholic Christendom is no simple exhibition of religious absolutism, but presents a continuous picture of Authority and Private Judgment alternately advancing and retreating as the ebb and flow of the tide;--it is a vast assemblage of human beings with wilful intellects and wild passions, brought together into one by the beauty and the Majesty of a Superhuman Power...."

10. Another indication of the fluctuating changes that can be effected by the election of a new pope is that Rosmini's writings--theological, philosophical, political, and pastoral--were the object of much criticism by the Roman curia with two titles briefly on the Index during the reign of Pius IX. But during the reign of Leo XIII, again after curial condemnation, they were subject to only the mildest form of censure--as was also true of Leo with regard to Loisy. In the reign of John Paul II, Rosmini, along with the equally suspect Cardinal Newman, was completely rehabilitated. An axiom of the latter, which will also recur in the treatment that follows is "What one pope can do, another can undo."

11. One author of what may be called a heartbreaking work of staggering length describes as occurring throughout the Christian era various religious hoaxes, aberrations, perversions, superstitions, fakes, etc.. Yet he concludes his long historical account--it is indeed the climax of the whole book--with a mawkish and superstition-ridden scene in Hitler's bunker, "a chamber of hell," where he disrupts his offspring's gamboling: "'No!' I screamed....swooping down on them, grabbing each one by an elbow and dragging them back.... My children looked up at me mystified... 'This was Hitler's place!' And I led them away." Thus disproving the dictum, "other times, other mores," and confirming Wilde's response to the maudlin expiration of Little Nell.

12. If one took all of the "reformist" doctrinal and devotional demands in the aggregate one would end up with a "church" with no unique revelation of deity; no Nicene creed, no resurrection, no liturgy, no episcopate and priesthood: a church which was neither one, nor apostolic, nor catholic--as to "holy," there is no reference anywhere I can recall to what is called "prayer life." In short, a church that would look very much like a unitarian assembly--and which would have about as much impact on the larger culture..

13. Again, Newman in the Apologia recognized the difficulty of defining the grounds of embracing Catholicism--with a significant reservation: "To that large class of minds, who believe in Christianity after our manner,--in the particular temper, spirit, and light (whatever word is used) in which Catholics believe it..." And here he introduces the anchor of those large vaguenesses. He is talking about dogma, here about the Immaculate Conception which two of the most cited "reformers," whom I will discuss explicitly, describe as a screen for papal deceit or as a subtle piece of antisemimtism.

14. One critic, occupant of the moral high ground in admiring Dorothy Day, and certainly in light of the following remarks even emulating her poverty, observes: "Priests may today be celibate; but--with some honorable exceptions--they usually maintain a comfortable life style, especially as compared with the poor they profess to be serving. We all know priests with refined tastes in food and drink, nice cars, expensive stereos" (like those comfortable archbishops with their Bösendorfers). This author then tells his readers that when the Jesuit general commanded "all Jesuits to stop smoking," he was disobeyed. "It was felt to be asking too much" of these men with vows of poverty. Then speaking of smoking bishops at the Council (white smoke over the Vatican? an auto da fé in the piazza?), he concludes: "They may be estimable men, but they are not convincing as desert fathers." The only commentary this deserves is another of Newman's responses to Kingsley: "So we confessedly have come round to this, preaching without practising; the common theme of satirists from Juvenal to Walter Scott." Newman then quotes from Scott's The Fortunes of Nigel: "O Geordie, jingling Geordie, it was grand to hear Baby Charles laying down the guilt of dissimulation, and Steenie lecturing on the turpitude of incontinence." --a biting piece of personal polemic on Newman's part who was told by a friend that "the prophet of muscular Christianity" (Charles Kingsley) was being referred to "by no other name than Baby Charles." And "it was grand to hear" our author luxuriating in his academic quarters "laying down the guilt of" stereos and smoking.

15. The overall issue was the power of the papacy over civil rulers. It was Paul V who canonized Gregory VII, five centuries after the latter's death, as a symbolic gesture of homage to the medieval pope who had consolidated papal over imperial power. In the event, the Doge of Venice, no more than Henry IV ("Paris is worth a Mass") of France, or even James I of England--all of whom Paul crossed--proved willing "to go to Canossa."

16. The irony is that Shakespeare's alleged violation of dramatic verisimilitude was, in the case of Sarpi, provedly "true to life." Johnson wrote: "Whatever be the dignity or profundity of his disquisition..., let but a quibble spring up before him, and he leaves his work unfinished.... A quibble was to him the fatal Cleopatra for which he lost the world, and was content to lose it."

17. This plays out in McInerney and fellow first-thingers' embrace of Hans Urs von Balthasar and the Communio faction vis-à-vis Wills and fellow last enders' embrace of James Carroll and the Concilium contingent. One can even imagine McInerney greeting Neuhaus with

"Oh! you're the imitation me." As that nineteenth-century observer I alluded to in the first sentence of this chapter approximately commented: "The first time as farce, and the second time

-....as farce again."

18. Cardinal Newman did not define "what he meant by the liberalism he opposed in an appendix to his Apologia." He defined in the Apologia, "what I meant as a Protestant by Liberalism"; his definition as a Catholic (most of his adult life) was his speech in Rome on accepting the red hat. The treatment of Maurras is contradictory; moreover the attraction of Maritain to Action Française had less to do with "the tradition of French Catholicism" than with the influence of Père Clérissac. Nor should Professor McInerny, the director of the Jacques Maritain Institute at the University of Notre Dame, assert that Maritain opposed the Falangists because he was "bewitched by propaganda about Guernica and the atrocities of Franco." He opposed them because they and their clerical allies appeared to the common people as representing "nothing but imposture" (The Martyrdom of Spain, Introduction, [1938]). When France fell, "Marshall Pétain took counsel with the representative of the Holy See about the anti-Semitic laws." One assumes, and this appears to be what McInerny believes, that such a representative was attached to the nunciature. But in fact it is the exact opposite: Pétain consulted the French ambassador to the Vatican. His report is important, as will be clarified in the discussion of Zuccotti's book below. Again: "Occupied Holland was to show a nobility and courage that contrasts dramatically with what that land has since become." This non sequitur may be based on Holland's present-day policy toward euthanasia, indicating its endorsement of "the culture of death"--now reified as a sociological category. --just a minor correction of our self-described "author to nearly 100 books": after Holland, one doesn't expect another gratuitous ethnic slur, now cum solecism. "Totalitarianism might have the look of opéra bouffe in Italy." Not quite: it might have that look in France; but "in Italy," opera buffa.

19. Through an anomalous lapse Peter Hebblethwaite in Paul VI: The First Modern Pope also uses the term "mental reservatiion," and speaks as though it could relate to some future occasion. He does, however, emphasize the disturbing impact of the encyclical's provisions on the fascists.

20. Cf. "'Everyone Has to Tell the Truth': Heidegger and the Jews," by Thomas Sheehan, Continuum, Autumn, 1990.

21. James Carroll in Constantine's Sword (p. 542) introduces the Bérard hoax into a discussion of Edith Stein: "Because of the world into which she was thrust, she was forced out of the supersessionist mold. That said, it is also important to acknowledge that many of Sister Benedicta's earlier assumptions about the guilt of her 'unbelieving people' reflected Christian religious antisemitism." The footnote between the first and second sentences reads: "An example of the prevailing attitude is the report from Vichy's Vatican ambassador, Léon Bérard, referred to above." But there is no "reference above" or anywhere else in Carroll's book to Bérard, and his appearance here is entirely arbitrary. Since I treat Carroll only as a subordinate participant in these discussions of the papacy, this may be the place to mention briefly his methodology which is, quite simply, to assemble quotations from books in the general area being treated, and then insert references to them wherever more or less relevant--here less since there is no connection with Stein and Holland, and Bérard and Vichy, except of course the ubiquitous theme of Catholics and antisemitism. Occasionally his file cards get mixed up, as in this instance, but what never are mixed up are the self-inflating autobiographical extravagations and the fulsome praise for every academic he has ever chatted with--the latter generous adulation presumably redeeming the former self-serving egotism and also providing a stable of supporters and endorsers--three of whom appear on the jacket of the book. A non-tendentious treatment of the "report," though before de Lubac's memoir, is Vichy France and the Jews by Michael R. Marrus and Robert O. Paxton, (New York, 1981).

22. In fact, she seems to go beyond neutral objectivity to explain why the Holocaust information was not credible. The Riegner report of August 11, 1942 was accepted in London, Rome, and Washington, but a month later when Cordell Hull denounced to the French ambassador the extermination process, she says: "But again, this was information from opponents of the Third Reich, and thus dismissable as enemy propaganda. Furthermore, Hull's warning, like the earlier Radio Moscow and BBC reports, formed part of a wealth of rumors and assertions, many of which turned out to be as false as the allegations of German atrocities against civilians during the First World War had been. We cannot assume that information proven with hindsight to be correct should have been recognized as such at the time."

23. For a large bureaucracy this would seem gratifyingly expeditious; for Zuccotti this short period is riddled with dilatoriness and suspicious delays. "Despite the recent reports [actually only one] from Malvezzi" [September 30], another "via the Polish government in exile [October 3], and Scavizzi [October 7], Vatican officials declined Taylor's request for confirmation of reported atrocities. [no date is given for this "decline" nor is there any footnote reference]. Nine days after Tittman asked for an answer to Taylor's request, and three days after receiving the Scavizzi report, Maglione [Cardinal Secretary of State] replied." --in all less than two weeks to assemble "information to confirm reports" of massacres.

24. In her Introduction she informs the reader: "The purpose of this book is to separate fact from fiction, reality from myth, about what the two popes and their principal officials at the Secretariat of State actually did [her italics] to help Jews in Italy, the country where they enjoyed the greatest opportunity to be useful. For that purpose, the Actes et Documents du Saint Siège are more than adequate. Although much that is unfavorable may have been omitted, it is reasonable to assume that all that is favorable was included." That last sentence is known, acceptably and neutrally, as the expression of a Ricoeurian hermeneutic of suspicion, a valuable corrective particularly for issues relating to minority status. That hermeneutic, particularly among feminists of the second generation, has generally been supplanted by a hermeneutic of empathy.

25. Phayer's facile assumption that "collective guilt" (a notion Pius criticized in Nessuno Certamente, his 1944 Christmas address) is a self-evident basis for censure or condemnation can be put in a less geographically and chronologically remote context by consideration of such ever more serious issues as reparations for indigenous peoples and for African-Americans. But who specifically is to pay the unquestionably justifiable compensation; to whom is it to be paid; and who determines the answers to both questions? But certainly no "collective guilt" devolves on, say, citizens of the West coast for the internment--Roosevelt once slipped and said "concentration"--camps where over 100,000 Japanese-Americans were held? But that leaves unanswered the question whether a payment by the government of twenty thousand dollars forty years later to the survivors, along with a presidential apology, was just or even adequate recompense? As Pius implied in his Christmas address, "collective guilt" is elusive, elastic, and in the end unjust; like capital punishment it offers only a sham sense of that fictive entity, "closure."

26. To further taint the dramatis personae of this Bishop of Rome-Bishop of Münster axis, Phayer says that von Galen "made the outrageous claim that the prisons of the [British] occupational authority were worse than the Nazi concentration camps...." To which Phayer in a note adds: "To provide an 'out' for this assertion, Galen referred to an anonymous English newspaper writer who had made the comparison." Anonymous he apparently was not, since article, newspaper, date, and author are supplied--along with a more benign interpretation-- by Suzanne Leschinski's "Kardinal von Galen in der Nachkriegzeit," in Joachim Kuropka, ed., Clemens August Graf von Galen: Neue Forschungen [but not so new as to be unavailable to Phayer], 1992.

27. All quotations and those that follow are from Gulie Ne'eman Arad's America, Its Jews, and the Rise of Nazism (Bloomington, 2000). She is a student of Saul Friedländer, and is now associated loosely with the Israeli New Historians whom we shall encounter in chapter four.

28. Arad., p. 109.

29. It does, and it is. Cf. p. 45 supra and her discussion of events surrounding communications beginning September 27, 1942 by the State Department to the Vatican.

30. In an earlier version of one of the chapters of this book (U.S. Catholic Historian, Summer, 2000), I wrote: "Garry Wills has over the last twenty-five years or so proved himself to be the Edmund Wilson of American Studies." I cited eight titles by Wilson that illustrated his cosmopolitan interests, and a comparable number by Wills relating to American history. It was a sincere tribute, though it noted another parallel: that between such acerbic and crotchety polemics by Wilson as The Cold War and the Income Tax and Fruits of the MLA, and by Wills as Bare Ruined Choirs and Politics and Catholic Freedom. The clear inference was that these "eccentric" works seemed to touch some raw nerve, and that in the case of Wills this might at least partially explain the multitude of dissimulations, not to say errors and distortions, that scar Papal Sin. It will be helpful to see whether his book on Venice--announced as this present book is going to press--also a cosmopolitan and broad-gauge study, well beyond the relatively parochial ambit of his American interests, will also be an idiosyncratic entry in his broader oeuvre.

31. James Carroll is less deceptive but, typically, more dramaturgical: "Indiscretions, intrigues, near-eastern misunderstandings and fears [Edward Said's "orientalism"?], especially of a political nature, all became entangled. In addition to this, there was what could be called 'Christian obstinacy,' a certain inability to understand, found among some Christians at the Council. They were mentally unprepared for the topic." Both the numerical distortion and the descriptive spin are intended to illustrate the endemic antisemitism of Catholics even into the early l960's--though as I shall point out it would be another thirty years before Carroll and Wills would treat the issue in any detail.

32. "That view is still powerful, despite the assurance in We Remember that the church has denied its legitimacy."

33. It is worth noting here that was also the occasion for Maritain's writing Primauté du spirituel (E.T., The Things that Are Not Caesar's) in which he makes the observation concerning members of the organization that "nothing is so unreasonable [for those] called upon to obey, as to go and ransack history for a collection of precedents of mistakes made by authority"--or for "non-precedents," as with more recent ransackers. Apart from its present-day relevance, there is little doubt that Maritain had in mind among others Georges Bernanos who, though he had broken with Charles Maurras, was vehement in his attacks on the Holy See for inserting itself in French "political" affairs. A royalist in politics (and a Port Royalist in spirituality) and thus a Gallicanist in religion, Bernanos was like Léon Bloy passionately anti-clerical-as few can fail to note in de Torcy, the central figure in The Diary of a Country Priest. The year of the condemnation of the Action Française was also the year of Bernanos' Sous le Soleil de Satan, a title which mockingly echoes what is for many the Commedia of the twentieth century, Claudel's Le Soulier de satin-that latter in its baroque exuberance being the antithesis of Bernanos' intensely Augustinian severities.

34. Both ideologues of the right and the left see these issues not as common points of disagreement and conflict in all advanced nations, and derived from a host of causes, but simply as the result of a conspiracy. On the right, McInerny writes of "hot items on the secular liberal agenda--contraception (and sexual liberation, in general), the supposed plight of women, and clerical celibacy.... The subversive role of the theological caste was essential in misleading priests and subsequently the faithful.... The treachery of dissenting theologians is behind the confusion that has come over the faithful in matters sexual." One begins to wonder if this is a debate between Hindu sects when Carroll writes of the "sacerdotal caste" as a medieval remnant, and Wills titles an entire chapter, "the priestly caste." (In the latter two instances, one knows that the juggernaut of Rome is shortly to put in another appearance.) Treatments whether from the left of the right lead into discussions of celibacy, of bishops out of touch with their diocesans, shortage of vocations, gay priests, divorce and remarriage, pederasty, ordination of women, etc..

35. There is even an index entry for "binary thinking": right between Bible and Birkenau.

36. The recent book, Denying History (2000), by Michael Shermer and Alex Grobman, analyzes the influence of such relativism on those German historians who maintain that the extermination of the Jews was an ad hoc improvisation. The resulting disagreement led to what is known as the Historikerstreit which these two authors treat in the broader context of Holocaust deniers and their academic supporters. (I shall look at the "conflict of historians" more closely in the next chapter.) Interestingly, in the present context Shermer and Grobman, along with most historians, would endorse a notion of "objectivity" akin to that of Bishop Butler as revised by Cardinal Newman: "an assemblage of concurring and converging probabilities" sufficient for belief. Newman goes on to say in a sentence the first clause of which may be applied to Pius XII, and the second unquestionably to the Holocaust: "...it might be quite as much a matter of duty in given cases and to given persons to have about a fact an opinion of a definite strength and consistency, as in the case of greater or of more numerous probabilities it was a duty to have a certitude."

37. A hermeneutic of compassion allows only the briefest citations: "Note that Josephus's report of activities in the time of Jesus involves a time lag roughly equivalent to that between the Easter Rising of 1916 and my first visit to Ireland in 1969" (p. 635). There is the elaborate correlation of Cardinal Spellman and St. Ambrose with Carroll's mother and St. Monica--all leading ineluctably to the equation of Carroll with St. Augustine: "sons who follow their mothers into piety" (p. 209). Concerning "the Vatican's" connection of "the image of Pius XII as a saint" with its efforts to fabricate Catholic opposition to Nazism, Carroll writes: "As a boy, I saw how this worked. In a letter to the bishops of Bavaria, in August 1945, Pius XII praised 'those millions of Catholics' who had resisted Nazism..." (p. 531). Earlier (p. 27) he informs the reader: "I was born in 1943, the year before the jurist Raphael Lemkin coined the word 'genocide'." So this diapered infant, eclipsing Jesus in the Temple, saw through the ruses of priestcraft at age two.

38. For Pius XII there is the analysis of his immense corpus of writings in René Coste, Le Problème du droite de guerre dans la pensée de Pie XII (1962); for John XXIII, there is the encyclical Pacem in terris (much derided by the mandarins of The National Review); for his successor, the unprecedented address validating the mission of the United Nations, and denouncing weapons of mass destruction; and for his successor there have been so many such denunciations as to be literally uncountable.

39. This ignores the theological truism that every canonization "in modern times" is marked by the charism of infallibility when exercised by any pontiff, including the "patron" of saint-making, John Paul II.

40. One brief instance of Wills' scattershot approach. Waxing learned, he writes that "a kind of competitive chivalry, as in courtly love, made men [women apparently had no such devotion--news to Hildegard, and several Mechtilds and Gertrudes] pay escalating compliments. She was not only the highest of humans, according to Peter Damian, she was greater than the angels--taking her even further out of reach as a model for other women"[like Mary Gordon]. Yet how explain that St. Peter Damian, this marian maximalist (and like the equally criticized Anselm, a Doctor of the Church) attacked in The Gomorrah Book precisely the kind of clerical vices Wills enumerates above and, moreover, on theological grounds opposed the "escalation" from "Queen of the Angels" (in the words of the litany of Loreto) to "Immaculate Conception"? Wills can't explain it because Jaroslav Pelikan, the scholar from whom Wills here derives his data, doesn't tell him. Such "courtly love" effusions are part of the prodigal eloquence of the marian tradition, as in, Ad Matrem Virginum: "O rose in your spring; O branch in your flower; O fleece in your dew; O ark in your law; O throne in your king; O moon in your light; O star in your rays; O mother in your child," and so on for several verses. This type of ardent enthusiasm is not only misunderstood by Wills, who ought to know better, but is exploited for post-whateverist ends (one is tempted to invoke,"Mother of Good Counsel, ora pro nobis") by authors like Julia Saville in A Queer Chivalry: The Homoerotic Asceticism of Gerard Manley Hopkins (Charlottesville, 2000). Hopkins is the author of Ad Matrem Virginum, another member of the "sacerdotal caste" corrupted by medieval practices. For a somewhat different reading of Hopkins, cf. Justus George Lawler, Hopkins Re-constructed: Art, Poetry; and the Tradition (New York, 1998).

41. Wills' conspiracy theory that marian devotion masks papal sin and deceit is simply annihilated by a passage near the end of the Apologia treating of the Immaculate Conception. "So far from the definition in 1854 being a tyrannical infliction on the Catholic world, it was received every where on its promulgation with the greatest enthusiasm. It was in consequence of the unanimous petition, presented from all parts of the Church to the Holy See, in behalf of an ex cathedra declaration that the doctrine was Apostolic, that it was declared so to be. I never heard of one Catholic having difficulties in receiving the doctrine, whose faith on other grounds was not already suspicious." This passage leads into Newman's treatment of what is now called free speech in the church--much of which Wills cites, though without indicating that his citations relate to Pius's definition of the Immaculate Conception. Acton who--in a not atypical overstatement--viewed Newman as "ultramontane and fanatic" would subscribe to the notion that Immaculate Conception was a tactic to prepare the way for Infallibility sixteen years later. If so, Pio Nono was almost supernaturally prescient. Newman, understandably embittered in the aftermath of Vatican I, recollected old rumors about such a tactic, but there is not even the faintest suggestion in the Apologia of giving them credence in 1864 some ten years after the marian definition.

42. The language though florid is utterly traditional. Thus Paul III's Sublimis Dei of 1537 on the rights of indigenous peoples in the New World: "We who though unworthy exercise on earth the power of our Lord, and seek with all our might to bring those sheep of His flock who are outside into the fold committed to Our charge....define and declare by these Our letters.... Similarly, Gregory XVI's In Supremo Apostolatus of 1839 on the abolition of the slave trade: "Placed at the summit of the Apostolic power and, though lacking in merits, holding the place of Jesus Christ the Son of God... We have judged that it belonged to Our Pastoral solicitude to exert Ourselves...."

43. Thus the mere word "abortion" itself--ironically like the seventeenth-century coinage "hocus pocus, allegedly derived from the words of consecration at mass--conjures up a necromantic power to which even our most sophisticated technology is subject. On many computers the code "ab" originally was defined as meaning "abort"--to end a process; it is now defined as meaning "abandon." Perhaps, even in what popular culture views as the most recondite knowledge, "rocket science," the once not uncommon exclamation, "abort mission," has become "abandon project." Thus is avoided double trouble among linguistic exorcists. "Abandon" replaces "abort," while "project" replaces "mission"--the latter switch, lest that wizard word evoke emission.

44. The time of such infusion is a matter for possibly future scientific determination. But what is to be determined by common sense is the defectiveness of arguments that imply the absolute sacredness of embryonic life or that oppose such things as blastocyte research or even therapeutic cloning because it might lead to everything from "euthanasia" to experiments on mentally or physically impaired human beings. The "slippery slope" argument here, like the "camel's nose" argument in church-state issues, like the "domino" theory in geopolitics--all lead to disastrous conclusions. It is not even ethically debatable that when a purely speculative, indeed imaginary, hypothetical collides with a verifiably real and certain good, the latter takes precedent. If governmental advocates of "faith based" social programs (certainly a "thin edge of the wedge"--to cite another argumentative cliché) affirm they can prevent those abuses that would violate the Separation Clause, why can't they prevent abuses in embryonic research that might lead to, e.g., experiments on human beings? It is more than disconcerting to read under the letterhead of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops that "Modern debates on abortion and euthanasia are a symptom and leading edge [our fourth talismanic maxim] of something more profound and insidious," i.e., "the Culture of Death."

Moreover, though the tradition of forbidding baptism of the fetus is well known; another and perhaps more significant tradition--since it relates to holy orders--seems to be less well known. For over seven hundred years from Innocent III to Benedict XV, that is from roughly the thirteenth to the second decade of the twentieth century, penitential practice was based on the tradition of what was varyingly called the "ensoulment," "animation," "quickening" of the fetus as subsequent to embryonic life. A candidate for the priesthood who concurred in--not instigated or performed--an abortion could still be ordained if his involvement took place before "ensoulment," the latter defined by some canonists as one hundred and sixteen days after bodily conception (again, conceptio seminis carnis), by others forty days for a male and sixty for a female--already so slow-witted she could never be ordained anyway. This was law and practice until 1917, and even a possible interpretation until the revision of canon law under John Paul II.

45. There was an alternative tradition--adopted mainly by civil law--based on primitive science, on customs of clan or tribe (abortion among the Visigoths led to death for the mother) which gave way to atrocious sanctions, as in sixteenth century Spain (the guilty woman was buried alive); on superstitions about childbirth (requiring ritual "purification") and midwifery (often equated with witchcraft). In short, a tradition founded on male fears of woman in general and of her control of life in particular. This tradition was mainly reinforced up to the nineteenth century not by the clergy, but by the other two "learned professions," medicine and law. Subsequently, the clergy moved in to the vanguard, resulting in a causal connection between back woods preachers and back alley abortionists.

46. The word "commonly" is the waffling term in this paragraph. Does it mean "widely,"

"generally," among Catholics whether educated or uneducated. Presumably it includes the educated ones and, therefore, the theologians since this is a complex and even subtle argument. Why therefore in a book freighted with lengthy footnotes is there no reference to who were these people who "commonly" believed all this? If "commonly" means among "the common people" there is the similar problem of where they derived these widespread notions from. Until further clarification from a source which is not anti-marian is provided, it is reasonable to assume this is another authorial fabrication; in short, a hoax.

47. Conversely the Lutheran doctrine of "imputation" is founded on the rhetorical trope, simile. (Cf. Justus George Lawler, Celestial Pantomime: Poetic Structures of Transcendence, 2nd ed., 1994, pp. 92-99.)

48. As a marian maximalist, and admirer of Maximus the Confessor, I am here being rigidly anti-monothelitist regarding both the will and the Wills.

49. To mention only two: Alan T. Davies, Anti-Semitism and the Christian Mind: The Crisis of Conscience after Auschwitz (1969), and Carl Amery, Capitulation: The Lesson of German Catholicism (1967). For the latter the descriptive text read: "...the institutional Church cravenly subjected itself to the powers of this world"; the text then went on to consider its relevance to American Catholicism in the late sixties: "...in danger of abdicating its principles.... The witness of its bishops has been blurred by chauvinistic utterances, by the failure to speak out against such indiscriminate weapons as napalm, by indifference to the struggle for civil rights, by active opposition to the legitimate organizing efforts of underprivileged farm workers, and by a massive identification of institutional religious health with the grossest material achievements."

50. There is almost an infinite calculus of factors. Religious groups like the French Protestants were more sympathetic to the plight of Jews than were Catholics, since the former two shared a common minority status. Bretons though a minority were less sympathetic because they hoped the Germans would support their nationalistic aspirations. No single definite element explains why French Jewish survivors far outnumbered survivors from most other western European nations. There was an active resistance movement, porous borders, and the relatively lenient Italian occupation in the south originally beyond the purview of Paris or Vichy. So too with other countries: Holland with a population equally divided between Catholics and Protestants lost almost 75% of its Jews, while Belgium predominantly Catholic lost only about 30%. Why Denmark suffered relatively few losses and Norway so many may be due mainly to discrepancies in official zealousness. This is simply to underline the obvious fact that not just religious elements must be weighed, but also geographic, temporal, cultural, administrative, etc..

51. A hiatus of a couple of decades would at least mean the entry of a new generation of researchers, a cooling of understandable but perhaps narrowly focused ardor, and an opportunity for archival examination free of the urgency of deadlines, as well as of Q and A insistencies.

52. The immediate context was the intifida, but the larger setting was a revaluation by a new generation of Israelis of the Zionists foundations of the state, of the role of victimization, of the Ashkenazi political and cultural dominance-all important issues, but for purposes of this analysis, issues of intermural Jewish concern. But for James Carroll who makes the basic relation of Judaism and Christianity the antisemitism culminating in the Holocaust, the words of Elkana may be worth reflecting upon: "For Israel to base its understanding of human existence on the Holocaust is disastrous.... Without overlooking the historical importance of collective memory, it is more important to take a stand on the side of life, to build a future...." A Christian voice has no place in this debate, except to strengthen whatever remedies it can offer. But no one should make the essential link between two religious visions--whose goal is to see human life sub specie aeternitatis--the Christian evils perpetrated during what is in the light of eternity a relatively brief segment of human intercourse. Catholics must remember, but not to the point where the past simply negates the future, particularly the future of relations with the faith of their elder sibling.

53. It is enlightening to read the balanced account of the popes and the Reich by the premier "Vaticanologist" and one of the papacy's severest critics of our era, Peter Hebblethwaite in Paul VI: The First Modern Pope. In spite of the journalistic title, this is a remarkably objective and thoroughly researched account. There are no gratuitous editorializing or slanted interpretations, nor is there any sniffing out of conspiracies and deceptions. It is a major history of the papacy covering seven decades as reflected in the life or as seen through the eyes of Paul VI. No where in the treatment of Pius XII does Wills refer to Hebblethwaite's work.

54. Diplomatic protocol as well perhaps as political prudence dictated--at least before the Allied powers' declaration of a policy of unconditional surrender--a lack of specificity

that might allow the pontiff to mediate between both warring parties. Relatively rare in the early years of the war was his mention of "the blood-stained soil of Poland and Finland" (though without naming Germany or Russia) in his Christmas message of 1939, and of his "paternal love for all our sons and daughters, whether of the Germanic peoples...or of the Allied states" on June 2, 1940. Nor is there any doubt that Pius was aware of the experience of another pontiff when, in the words of a passionate opponent of fascism, "Benedict XV was reproached during the last war for not having denounced the arrogance of German nationalism"--reproached by French nationalists. Cf. Julien Benda, The Treason of the Intellectuals (New York, 1928).

55. On February 18, 2000 (in the Roman calendar, feast of St. Simeon, cousin of Jesus and successor to James the Less as bishop of Jerusalem and crucified in 107) the reigning Archbishop of Canterbury delivered a sermon around various texts of the Nobel prize awardee, referred to "as one of our greatest poets."

56. There is an unfortunate replication of the Wannsee Conference of a year before, also held in a resort area, where as a passing sop to any latent flicker of remorse among the conferees the notion was floated of Madagascar as a possible destination for soon to be dispossessed Jews-- though it was a foregone conclusion by the organizers and by Heydrich, the Chairman, that the "Final Solution," could only mean extermination.

57. Morley provides the original text with translation (Appendix H) of a communique-- from the Berlin Nunciature to the Vatican two weeks before Pius's Christmas message--which observed that "churchmen and laity have noted with amazement that until now the German episcopate has not made any collective manifestation on the question of the grave mistreatment inflicted on the Jews, while the French episcopate immediately took a position against racial legislation...; also voices of protest were raised in other nations."

58. It is simplistic and uninformed for Carroll to say: "If Pius XII had done what his critics, in hindsight, wish him to have done--excommunication of Hitler, revocation of the concordat, 'a flaming protest against the massacre of the Jews,' in Lewy's phrase-it would have been only a version of what Pius IX did in 1875 against Bismarck, and in 1871 against Garibaldi when he excommunicated all Italians who cooperated with the new Italian state." Constantine's Sword, (p. 534). First, in neither instance were the lives of millions hanging in the balance; second, neither nineteenth-century figure had anything in common with Hitler apart from being a leader of a political group; third, there were no consequences whatever to the alleged nineteenth-century excommunications. Five times in his book Carroll complains that Hitler was not excommunicated, as though this were a notion to be memorized, but not to be questioned and then analyzed--anymore than we are expected to analyze what appears from the above to be the excommunication of Bismarck (which never happened--he was a Lutheran by birth). The disconnect in the above quotation is incomprehensible. Pius IX--hitherto in all these accounts a fool and a villain-here becomes a model and a hero to be emulated by his successor; and this, because Pio Nono engaged in some papal gestures--then and now recognizably otiose.

59. The Israeli historian, Yehuda Bauer, while sharply differing with one functionalist historian, Goetz Aly, who argues in Endlösung (Frankfurt, 1955) that not racist ideology motivated Holocaust perpetrators, but primarily the geopolitical ambition to transfer all ethnic Germans from the Baltic states, the Balkans, and ultimately the Soviet Union to "the Eastern marches of Germany," that is, to conquered Poland. This would mean the "displacement of non-German populations--mainly Polish, but also Jewish and Roma." Bauer of course rejects the argument that the Holocaust was merely a "but also" item in plans for Germandom, but he

recognizes the fact "that there was nowhere to push these hundreds of thousands of Poles, Jews, and Roma." We know what happened to the Jews and Roma. What provocation, added to such Lebensraum concerns would it have taken to seek the Endlösung to the Polish problem?

(Cf. Yehuda Bauer, Rethinking the Holocaust, New Haven, 2001.)

60. Some authors seem to envisage with complaisant acceptability a Murder-in-the-Cathedral (or rather -Basilica) scenario, as indicated by their frequent references to the apparently regrettable fact that "only one Catholic bishop died in the war"--actually there were three, but only the ghoulish would be counting.

61. One explanation may be found in the following bit of anonymous pseudo-Victorian doggerel:

Wills the journalistic sleuth

Discovers popes don't tell the truth.

In Constanatine Carroll cries

Theology's a pack of lies.



Such statements how can we combine?

This perhaps explains the mystery:

Wills thinks Carroll a divine,

And Carroll looks to Wills for history.

62. The two illustrations are described in Hadassah magazine (February, 1998); the historians' conflict has been widely discussed in the United States, in Commentary, Tikkun, and even Lingua Franca.

63. During the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, the Augustinian canon regular, Pedro Arbués-who had been appointed chief inquisitor of Aragon by Torquemada, the grand inquisitor of Castile-was murdered a year after his appointment while at prayer in the cathedral of Saragossa. His supporters believed he was martyred by what were variously called marranos, conversos, new Christians, i.e., Jews, who over two centuries in order to save themselves from extermination by mobs had accepted baptism. In folk memory, Arbués is recalled as a master of excruciating torture, but that memory is verifiably uncertain. All of these events were prelude to the final solution of their Catholic Majesties' Jewish problem when after the conquest of Granada, all Jews were expelled, and the inquisition continued to persecute the marranos/ conversos, throughout the Spanish and Brazilian colonies.

64. For the same reason that a majority of ecclesiastics would not be regarded favorably in an investigation of popes and the inquisition, few would look favorably upon the presence of conventional Lincoln scholars on such a truth and justice commission which would be concerned with first, findings of fact, and second, compensatory redress if called for. Moreover, since there have been so many congressional hearings resulting in legislation relating to such things as civil rights, equal opportunity, even quotas, and since there are partisan and regional issues involved, such a commission would ideally be made up predominantly of social philosophers formed in the tradition of John Rawls' A Theory of Justice.

65. The motif here is from Bernard Häring--in what is his spiritual testament to the church--writing of experiences at Vatican II: "When there was absolutely no progress being made, no movement at all, I held on. I had a natural instinct, and a grace too, no doubt: I always saw, first and foremost, the encouraging signs of the time.... Anyone who experiences a historical epoch, where the dynamic of thesis and antithesis clearly manifests itself, can dare to hope, after close inspection of the whole picture, for a new synthesis. And that is the case right now" (My Hope for the Church,1999)...

66. What resurrection is for Wills is not brought forth--except that it is apparently dispensable. For James Carroll the resurrection is not a dogma but a consolatory myth recorded for a primitive community by a scribe dispensing comfortable bromides about togetherness. "Immediately after Jesus' death, the circle of his friends began to gather. Their love for him, instead of fading in his absence, quickened, opening into a potent love they felt for one another...and a repeated intuition that there was 'one more member' than could be counted. That intuition is what we call the Resurrection.... To imagine Jesus as risen was to expect that soon all would be.... His love survived his death--which is what Resurrection means" (Constantine's Sword, pp. 124-25).

67. At the end of this chapter I shall discuss in detail the nature of these putative "structures" that engender sin and deceit Here it is merely necessary to observe that the sociological nomenclature is itself deceptive since, as so often with technical jargon, it obfuscates more than it clarifies: one may think of those who would describe the Holocaust as a "functionalist" phenomenon. Possibly, the most magnificent passages in the Apologia occurs in the climactic final chapter--a peroration to the tedious historical reckonings that precede it-- which can only be described as a personal statement and a defense of Catholicity almost overwhelming in its grandeur, and its truth. I will cite only its conclusion which gets to the core of what culture theorists want to call structures of deceit: "And so I argue about the world;--if there be a God, since there is a God, the human race is implicated in some terrible aboriginal calamity. It is out of joint with the purposes of its Creator. This is a fact, a fact as true as the fact of its existence; and thus the doctrine of what is theologically called original sin becomes to me almost as certain as that the world exists, and as the existence of God." Sin or evil does not become a structure or "structured" by repetition whether over the centuries or over numerical increases, however dramatic, in the human race. Did brutally punishing or lynching black people become evil only in 1865 after the passage of the thirteenth amendment?

What Peter Damian condemned at the dawn of the medieval period in The Gomorrah Book, what was condemned a century before the Reformation in De squaloribus Romanae Curiae, what was condemned in the nineteenth-century by Antonio Rosmini in The Five Wounds of Holy Church, what Protestant Kingsley condemned in his statement that "truth, for its own sake has never been a virtue with the Roman clergy," what protesting Wills condemns in Papal Sin--none of these is due to some new cultural insight resulting in a sociological categorization that blurs the nature of perennially recurring vices and of attendant individual responsibility.

68. There seems to be something about Pius IX in particular that discombobulates Wills. A scholarly detective of the sort I have defined in chapter two might find here a useful clue or, what less inquisitorial scholars would call, "a heuristic device"; since mention of that Pius is always linked to inexcusable gaffes of interpretation and of dating. As to the latter, on Pius's watch, Wills' own chronology goes awry: concerning Pio Nono's Syllabus of Errors delivered in 1864, Wills discusses "the first draft of January 1869." Again, Wills describes how Pius "could almost be said to have wept himself into power," so that "to criticize him became a way of joining his persecutors, who drove him from Rome in 1858." I don't want to keep introducing Macaulay's mythic schoolboy, but the fact is Pius fled from the Italian nationalists ten years earlier. Finally, he adds ten years on to Pius's reign. All this may hint at some deeply rooted animosity which might be helpful in explaining the kinds of distortions we saw regarding the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, and which we will see again regarding the Syllabus and papal infallibility.

69. Wills often writes like a latter-day physiognomist gifted with the uncanny power of interpreting facial features. There is the memorably nasty instance of his comparing a mere youth courting his bride at the White House--who grew up to become a major military historian, David Eisenhower--to the puppet character, Howdy Doody. Less vicious, since it relates to a nineteenth-century figure, whom Wills professes to admire, is what can only be described as eighteenth-century psychology applied to Cardinal Newman. Our Lavatery analyst describes him as a man "whose personality seemed to elude men behind his great hawk beak of a nose, his effeminate manner, his softly seducing voice." In this case, Wills eclipses Geoffrey Faber's fabricated Freudian assay, Oxford Apostles (who were implicitly being compared to the even more gay Cambridge ones), proving Wills to be indeed il miglior fabro. Moreover, most portraits before Newman's later years show no such deformity which, to the degree it may exist outside of Wills' imagination is attributable to the onset of old age, perhaps like Wills' own unanalyzed menton triplé. Or perhaps he is merely again confused among these personae dramatis; here identifying Newman with W.G. Ward who boasted: "I have the mind of an archangel in the body of a rhinoceros." From Newman we have a more modest, and profound, estimation: "I am an old man; my hair white, my eyes sunk in, but when I shut my eyes and merely think, I can't believe I am more than 25 years old, and smile to think how differently strangers must think of me from my own internal feelings." This was written two years before the Apologia where there is an undeniable playfulness (evident particularly in the retorts to Kingsley) and an energy in writing that any twenty-five year old would envy. The portrait that it is generally agreed best represents Newman in his old age is Lady Coleridge's done sixteen years before his death.

70. It is true that during the period of debate over contraception some broader "social" issues were discussed. There is most notably the intervention of Cardinal Spellman and Archbishop Hannan a few days before the close of the final session of Vatican II which asserted that the conciliar text on the avoidance of war contained "errors," and that unless they were corrected the entire schema should receive a non-placet vote. The two prelates asserted: "We deny that 'recent popes' have condemned total war as categorically as it is condemned in this section...," of what would be article 80 of Gaudium et Spes. Bishop Schroeffer and Archbishop Garrone, on behalf of the redactors of the schema, charitably suggested that the Americans had simply failed to read carefully the text in question, and went on to cite Pius XII, concluding with the observation: "As to indiscriminate destruction, as here understood, no Catholic theologian admits or is able to admit that it is morally licit." A year later this same Archbishop of New York affirmed that his nation in Vietnam was fighting "a war for civilization." Emboldened perhaps by this Weltgeschichtlich apercu from the East Coast, Archbishop Thomas Connolly of Seattle in June of 1969 publicly advocated that Hanoi and Haiphong be bombed and mined, citing in support of this position the precedents of Dresden, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki--all in illustration that not the entire episcopate was preoccupied merely with issues of personal morality.

71. James Carroll, Kliegl lights in focus, writes with habitual hiererotic verve: "When I described myself early on as a child of Vatican II, I thought that the greatest significance of the reforming council was its concern with various aspects of Church renewal, but after this exploration [pp. 1-546 of the memoir] of connections between theology and politics, I see its significance for an entire society beyond the Church. Even among non-Catholics, for example, the figure of Pope John XXIII is linked in memory with that of John Kennedy, and for good reason. Pope John's aggiornamento...." So self-absorbing is the auto-manipulating that the "good reason" is never supplied and John Kennedy is never mentioned again. Wills, on the other hand, hits the parallel bars, equally without any sense of irony: "Catholics had the Pope, their own John, to balance against 'secular John' in the White House. But for a while they [Catholics] had no Jackie." But providentially out of the cosmic matrix of history emerges one Sister Jacqueline Grennan, nun (such) president of a college near St. Louis as "our own" Jackie--though never memorialized quite as fulsomely as either of the Johns.

72. Cf. Justus George Lawler, Nuclear War: The Ethic, the Rhetoric, the Reality (Westminster, Md., 1965); "the Reality" in the title refers to the Cuban missile crisis.

73. In Chrétiens en dialogue, he wrote: "The starved messenger who came to us in Silesia gave us no details on the extent, the exact nature, nor above all, on the motives of the blow. And even today [1964] after questioning, searching, and studying closely these details, I am so stunned by the contradictions and the incomprehensible nature of it all that I can see in it only as an error or a malicious act."

74. In the background of Newman's observation is the Council of Constance, now remembered more for its dissolute ambience and unfortunate condemnation of Hus-a condemnation regretted by the original John XXIII, a legitimate pontiff but deposed after opening the Council--than for its distinctly reformist agenda. But its historical significance--as Gallicanists of every national origin recognized--was its convocation by what would be defined today as laity (regardless of titles or place in society), and its endorsement of conciliar over papal authority, an endorsement condemned four decades later by Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini, who became Pius II not out of devotion to his predecessor but to the poet of two centuries earlier who wrote "sum pius Aeneas." Never was there a period in which Newman's "do/undo" dictum was more exercised. The future Pius had for years supported the cause of antipopes, but on becoming reconciled with Eugene IV, he was ordained, consecrated, and ultimately elected. Following the lead of the Council of Constance, he appointed a commission to reform the curia, canonized Catherine of Siena, sought to restore monastic regularity, and like Nicholas of Cusa (whom he had presciently referred to as a "Hercules"), reversed his earlier conciliarist stance; he also--now like Augustine--authored a palinode repudiating his youthful writings and personal indiscretions ("forget Aeneas, remember Pius"), and died en route to a crusade against the Sultan whom he had earlier sought to convert. In sum, a life of remarkable reversals that illustrate historically and personally the principle of homeostatic equilibrium discussed in chapter one.

75. Relative to Newman's "consulting" and to the apparent indifference of the American episcopate to issues of social morality discussed in footnote 6, an exception should be noted, again regarding the Vietnam war. In July, 1965, ten diocesan ordinaries signed a declaration which had been proposed by Continuum in response to warnings by the State Department. The bishops affirmed that "the possibility that either side may bomb any purely civilian center would entail a clear and direct violation of Christian ethics and must be denounced as an immoral action." The background and history of the declaration appeared in the Summer, 1965, issue under the heading: "On Consulting the Episcopate in Matters of Practice." Cf. U.S. Catholic Historian (Spring, 1984), "The Continuum Generation."

76. The original "cisalpinists" were a group of Catholic laymen who in 1789 rejected the "deposing power" of the British monarch first invoked by St. Pius V, abandoned the dreams of a restoration of the Catholic Stuarts, and rejected the detailed regulations and religious practices they believed had been dictated by the Roman curia. Newman as a Protestant and as a Catholic would have joined them. Four decades after their founding, he wrote in Lectures on the Prophetical Office of the Church: "When religion is reduced in all its parts to a system, there is hazard of something earthly being made the chief object of our contemplation instead of our Maker. Now Rome classifies our duties and their reward, the things to believe, the things to do, the modes of pleasing God, the penalties and the remedies of sin, with such exactness that an individual knows (so to speak) just where he is upon his journey heavenward, how far he has got, how much he has to pass; and his duties become a matter of calculation."

77. Two aspects here are relevant. The play was published in 19l6 when Benedict XV, whose reign began at the time of the first World War, was consistently rebuffed in his peace efforts by both the Central and the Allied powers-to a degree that could be called a public humiliation. Second, Claudel though briefly maligned as a Vichyite, was the first major writer-among many others who remained silent throughout the occupation-to express in a public letter to the Grand Rabbi of France "the disgust, horror, and indignation which all good Frenchmen and especially Catholics feel at the iniquities and ill treatment inflicted"on the Jews. This was three months before the first trains left for Auschwitz (Cf. Marrus and Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews). Readers who have read Auden's metrically interesting but sermonically tedious poem on the death of Yeats should be mystified by the Hyperion/Satyr conjoining of Claudel and Kipling, and the pointless puzzle of for what exactly Claudel should be "pardoned." Jeffrey Hart thought the names were tossed out like a couple of poker chips, but George Steiner, polymath pre-eminent, though maybe still suffering the disaster of his Hitler novel, cites Yeats' other platitude about poetry "makes nothing happen" and goes on in all sincerity about people writing poetry, performing music, and "then proceeding to bestiality the next day." ("Festival Lecture," Edinburgh, 2000) This is a rare lapse for so awe-inspiring a mind since he illustrates the condition by noting "that it was under the occupation that French drama-Claudel, Sartre, Montherlant-reached new heights": omitting Camus, and failing to note that Claudel refused to allow production of Protée unless the music of Darius Milhaud, a Jew, were included (Cf. Julian Jackson, France the Dark Years [New York, 2001]) As to Auden he was just saddled with the problem of finding a rhyme--though Sacheverell could have been made to sit well enough.

78. I am quoting this from the essay; "Antisemitism and Theological Arrogance," in The Range of Commitment (1970). It is instructive to compare the tone and content with that of the works discussed above.

79. Among the most eloquent and persuasive chapters in Daniel Jonah Goldhagen's creative synthesis, Hitler's Willing Executioners, are those dedicated to the exterminationist goal of programs ostensibly created to increase worker productivity, and to the "perplexing phenomenon" of the death marches in the waning month, weeks, and days of the war when "the fidelity of the Germans to their genocidal enterprise was so great as seeming to defy comprehension. Their world was disintegrating around them, yet they persisted...."

80. It is worth noting that it was the evils of the Inquisition not so much as a judicial tribunal but as an instrument of the most horrendous torture that Simone Weil singled out in her communication with Father Perrin, a Dominican, as a major factor in her refusal to embrace Catholicism.

81. It would be lacking in politesse, or just exercising political incorrectness, to point out that intrinsic to slaveholding was not just the frequent breaking up of slave families, but even more the almost inevitable profiting (a bonus of capitalist stewardship) from the sale of offspring: thus a fertilized egg represented literally "seed money." This may explain the paradox of an obsession with "family values" and a total opposition to embryo research and to all abortion--even in cases of rape, incest or threatened maternal life--among the present-day legatees of this social system. No slave woman, under that "structure" of society, could ever suffer forced impregnation; nor do there seem to be any records of any legal redress for such rape.

82. The next sentence contains a curious slip. After the mention of "my senator," he adds immediately: "If addressing the needs of the faithful were the real concern, access to them [bishops] would be more readily achieved by, for instance, having women priests in whom other women could confide more easily." Unless women priests are viewed as episcopal amanuenses, it is not clear how the "real concern" with access would relate to them--regardless of how much they confide in other women. Wills, always the logic-chopping literalist, seems to be taking at face value Chesterton's masculinized whimsy at the beginnings of the feminist rebellion against domestic servitude: "Thousands of women rose up and said, 'we refuse to be dictated to,' and went out and got jobs as secretaries."

83. Though it should be noted that a basic hermeneutical principle is that, first, a garbled text such as this one, and, second, confusion evidenced by a mistranslation (particularly on the part of a manifest polyglot) key the reader into anticipating confusion or obfuscation. The parallel is with the multiplicity of flaws, linguistical, historical, grammatical, surrounding the mere mention of the name "Pius IX." This latter seemed to set off the most preposterous assertions and chronological errors--all cumulatively providing clues to the possible presence of uncontrollable authorial obsessiveness or some other personal intellectual disability.

84. Every experienced academic has harrowing tales of administrators, allegedly suffering from budgetary restrictions--and which one is not?--pursuing with a fury tenured faculty in the hope of de-commissioning them by scheduling classes at impossible hours, by shifting offices to dreaded locations, by enforcing ad literam long-forgotten regulations, by canceling student assistants, etc.. Of course no record exists, nor is the institutional head visibly involved. Once the need is conveyed to deans and other fonctionnaires, the presidential hand is invisible, and the satraps go to work. One university excised eight senior professors on the (academic, naturally) grounds that, first, the student body was youthful, and, second, becoming more female. The professors it was maintained being white male elders "couldn't adequately communicate with these students." A law suit followed, but an immortal institution has no concern with the passage of time, so as that time passed, the professors just abandoned the effort, went elsewhere (under a cloud of sorts)-or cultivated their gardens. The scenario evokes Nabokov's Pnin, Jarrell's Pictures from an Institution, Amis's Lucky Jim--an entire genre of administrative follies well symbolized by E.M. Forster's Mr. Pembroke with his "exhortations to be patriotic, learned, and religious that flowed like a three-part fugue from his mouth." Transpose to a higher level: with Cardinal Newman being shelved, Archbishop Hunthausen being humiliated, Archbishop Charbonneau being exiled--concerning the latter two, more in the next chapter. These result not from structures of deceit but, on the part of the perpetrators, from individual ignorance or greed or ambition relative to institutional success. All of those traits in varying degree may become "customary" by repetition, but are no less evil for that.

85. The identity of the "beast" is controverted because west of the British Isles would suggest America, and so the allusion is alleged to be to everything from "suffragism" to the poetry of Walt Whitman--both rather unlikely candidates. Given Hopkins' penchant for obscure origins and the fact that the legendary site of Andromeda's enchainment was the coast of Ethiopia, anything west of that would qualify. Hopkins was, however, much concerned with governmental discrimination against the Catholics of France and Germany. Cf. Justus George Lawler, Hopkins Re-Constructed (New York, 1998), p. 69

86. Benjamin Jowett, that utterly worldly figure--and liberal heir to Newman's mantle as dominant personality at Oxford--said curtly when he realized the Old Catholic movement could exercise no effective power over events: "It has come to nothing." Letters of Benjamin Jowett, edited by Evelyn Abbott and Lewis Campbell (New York, 1899), p. 76.

87. Nevertheless--and adding to the mix of history and fable--it must be said that a church of patient griseldas is preferable to a potemkin church of papaloters (made up of anathematizing orthodox radicals) or a kronos church of papaphobists (made up of sappers cannibalizing the ranks in the name of "honesty").

88. Collection (New York, 1967), p. 267

89. But even here, Bernard Häring's "encouraging signs of the times" can be discerned. A few years after the condemnation of de Lamennais, Gregory XVI approved the Institute of Charity whose founder was another republican reformer, Antonio Rosmini, who would also be offered the cardinalate by Pius IX in the early "liberal" years of his reign. Cf. Charles Sylvain, Gregoire XVI (Paris, 1899), p. 193; Life and Letters of John Lingard, edited by Martin Haile and Edward Bonney (St. Louis, 1913), p. 226; Maisie Ward, The Wilfrid Wards and the Transition (New York, 1934), p. 317

90. John Henry Cardinal Newman, Essays Critical and Historical (London, 1891), p. 157; Wilfrid Ward, Life of John Henry Cardinal Newman (London, 1912), I, p. 484.

91. Erneuerung und Reaktion: Die Restauration in Frankreich 1800-1830 (Munich, 1966), p.134.

92. Letters of Lord Acton to Mary Gladstone (London, 1913), p. 164.

93. Lord Beaconsfield's Correspondence with His Sister (London, 1886), p. 208.

94. It is this nineteenth-century Mennasian error that Garry Wills appears to succumb to in expanding the ecclesiastical ban on the ordination of women to the all-encompassing factor that "keeps the whole ideological substructure" of anti-feminism alive. I say "appears" because Wills' ideological intent is to make Christianity, the church, and the papacy part of a grand conspiracy that is responsible for virtually every ill in society. He thus has less in common with de Lamennais than with fundamentalist preachers fulminating on late-night weekend television.

95. In Henry Parry Liddon, Life of Edward Bouverie Pusey (London, 1897), IV, pp. 106-107.

96. It is noteworthy that the year of de Lamennais' condemnation by the encyclical Mirari Vos (though he was not explicitly mentioned) is the year that Rosmini wrote The Five Wounds of Holy Church. He published it in 1846, the first year of the reign of Pius IX who he hoped would be the nominal head of a federation of Italian states, and who appeared to Rosmini so sympathetic to libertarian principles that he published two years later his Constitution according to Social Justice. After Pius' return from exile and his disenchantment with republicanism, both books were placed on the index; but after a lengthy investigation of his complete works, concluded in 1854, all censures were removed.

97. The office represents the worst form of that "priestly caste" and "medieval pageantry" which is decried by protesting "levelers"and which-as the saying goes-"drives them up the wall": but if it is the wall of the upper church at Assisi they will see there depicted by Giotto a tonsured St. Francis accompanied by friars preaching to a crowned and attentive Honorius III with his attendant cardinals: the scene representing that homeostatic balance between center and periphery which has been the leitmotiv of this book-and a "periphery" notably absent in another depiction in St. Paul's-Outside-the-Walls where this pope (albeit miniaturized) communicates directly with Christ.

98. We have, once again, more of that contemned human ambition publicly scorned (but privately sought) by purists: the "Dr." was Rome's chary compensation for Newman's Irish years, which he had expected would result in a miter.

99. Wilfrid Ward, Life, I, p. 588.

100. The Roman Journals of Ferdinand Gregorovius (London, 1911), p. 339.

101. Wilfrid Ward, Life, I, p. 493.

102. "In general one is not able to deny that the School of La Chênaie, not only by its example and its exhortations, but by the very questions that it raised, has been one of the factors, and perhaps the most effective at this time, of a renewal in theological speculation." Edgar Hocédez, Histoire de la Théologie au XIXe Siècle (Brussels, 1948), I, p. 123.

103. Oeuvres complètes de F. de La Mennais (Paris, 1836-1837), XII, pp. 201-202.

104. The reference in earlier chapters and again here is: Shane Leslie, Henry Edward Manning (New York, 1921), p. 295.

105. Those who might have thought Foucault as theorist of master narratives had gone the way of le grand bricoleur, Lévi-Strauss, into the dusty bin of history (much as Diamat went the way of Tiamat) may be surprised that among postmodernists of a "retro" orientation Foucault is still invoked, as two citations from a diligent researcher, Gary Lease, in the field of "religious studies" illustrate. The first relates--rather monitorially--to "theory," the second to its application to historical phenomena. "Religions thus become the most finely tuned examples of power structures [original italics], patterns of force and power which control human lives and dictate how they are to be conducted. Make no mistake about it--religions are about power, about the power to be given you and about the power which controls you" ("Odd Fellows"in the Politics of Religion, Hawthorne, N.Y., 1994, pp. 50-51). During the period of the Modernist crisis, and speaking of the reaction of Pius X and his Secretary of State "to the collapse of a Church State and the resultant decline in the political power and role of the Vatican," Lease observes that they decided "...to refocus the church's attention and energies upon the so-called inner forum.... If one cannot control the actions and policies of other countries and their governments, then one can at least control what their populations believe." (Catholicism Contending with Modernity, edited by Darrell Jodock, Cambridge, 2000, p. 48.) I have noted frequently in this and earlier chapters the vulnerability of specialists in "religious studies" to transient fads or mercurial cultural trends. It stems from the discipline itself having traditionally at least a tertiary focus on a deus ineffabilis, that is, a focus on a "topic" about which whatever is said is by definition merely analogous. (It was not Karl Barth, but Stéphane Mallarmé who wrote "Le Démon de l'analogie.") Add to this the trendiness to which the "soft" humanistic disciplines are subject and one has all the components of a field day for the harebrained--who, unfortunately, never seem to seek out postmodern neurologists or pathologists, much less trepanners. I redeem my earlier criticism of George Steiner by citing that same Edinburgh lecture on "the voluminous triviality of so much that is produced in humane letters, art history, musicology.... the jugglers' ingenuities of deconstruction and post-modernism. I have seen scientists stare, as at lunacy, at the central deconstructive axiom that 'there is nothing outside the text'."

106. It is worth noting the varying views these models had of one another. William George Ward, rhino-skinned ultramontanist, and friend of Tennyson who attended Maisie's christening, described Newman as "a powerful influence, perhaps unknown, to disloyalty to the Vicar of Christ, and to worldliness." Maisie Ward, The Wilfrid Wards and the Transition (New York, 1934), p. 11. Acton described Newman as "an ultramontane fanatic and genius." Ibid., p. 240; whereas Döllinger in a letter to The Times wrote of Newman: "...the most brilliant, and the most precious acquisition the Church of Rome has made since the Reformation" (Birmingham Oratory Collection, uncatalogued). Newman on Wiseman: "The only thing of course, which it is worth producing, is fruit--but with the Cardinal, immediate show is fruit, and conversions the sole fruit.... And further still, they must be splendid conversions of great men, noble men, learned men, not simply of the poor" (Ward, Life, I, p. 584). Manning of Newman: "Do you know what ruined that man? Temper! Temper!" Shane Leslie, Henry Edward Manning (New York, 1921), p. 273. Von Hügel on Newman: "I used to wonder in my intercourse with John Henry Newman, how one so good, and who had made so many sacrifices to God, could be so

depressing." Michael de la Bedoyere (The Life of Baron von Hügel, (London, 1952), p. 32.

107. Unpublished Letters of Matthew Arnold (New Haven, 1923), p. 60.

108. Apologia pro Vita Sua (London, 1902), p. 286.

109. It is difficult to determine whether McInerny is himself sympathetic to Maurras. There is his expression of admiration for Franco's fascists who were supported by Maurras, and the only previous reference to the leader of Action Française is a curiously neutral statement regarding Benedict XV's peace overtures in World War I: "Léon Bloy...called him Judas XV, while Charles Maurras of Action Française supported the papal peacemaking efforts." (The Defamation of Pius XII, p. 12) The definitive critique of Maurras is not Maritain's politically genteel Primauté du spirituel, but Julien Benda's contemporaneous all-out assault on Catholic clerical fascism, Trahison des clercs. A decade later, Maritain's "humanisme intégral" would represent his genuine response to Maurras' "réalisme intégral."

110. The Mystery of the Church (New York, 1937), p. 95.

111. (New York, 1938), p. 211.

112. Ward, Life, II, p. 127.

113. (New York, 1931), p. 30.

114. Ibid., p. 146 It should be noted, however, that even so conscientious a Catholic as Bernanos--though rejecting Maurras before the papal condemnation--only cleansed himself of the last vestiges of the Action Française when witnessing the thuggery of Franco's troops on Majorca during the Spanish civil war. While still a monarchist, his humanism and his passionate Christianity confronted Catholic terrorism, sanctioned by bishops and clergy, and left him bitter at the complicity of the church in the atrocities perpetrated by what he recognized would be a totalitarian regime. It is said that his memoir, Les Grands Cimitières sous la lune, in which he described these atrocities escaped the Index only at the insistence of Pius XI--whose successor as noted earlier would lift the sanctions on the Action Française. Another instance of Newman's "do/undo" dictum.

115. In Transformation in Christ one can see exemplified in actu exercito-as one cannot in Scheler on resentment or empathy, or Stein on sympathy, or Husserl himself on the key notion of "Lebenswelt"-what is of value in that latter notion particularly as it devolves into a "method" of analysis that successively and progressively reveals the home ground or concrete experience of virtuous life. Von Hildebrand's book does for spirituality what Merleau-Ponty's Phenomenology of Perception does for corporeality: articulates a new and fresh experience of what one had hitherto vaguely glimpsed or sensed about one's "inner" life (with von Hildebrand) or one's embodiedness (with Merleau-Ponty). There are those who believe Transformation in Christ is the most significant "pure" work of spirituality of the last century-- "pure" here meaning not trammeled by historical, philosophical, or even formal theological data.

116. The phrase evokes not the searching Demeter image of a Dorothy Day but the contradictory Persephone figure of a Simone Weil who seems to have been both a winsome seeker of the absolute and an erratically gnostic infatuate of the darkest fatalism. (Hence her unusual style of Jewish antisemitism.) It was Weil's disenchantment with the Spanish civil war that led her to turn from the totalitarian left as it had led Bernanos to turn from the totalitarian right. By an almost miraculous conjunction, she read Bernanos' memoir, embraced it as the work of a fellow idealist, and wrote him of what she viewed as their common bond in a letter which he preserved--but at her request never apparently answered. She went on to her "martyrdom"; Bernanos went into exile in South America where he continued to nurse his royalist sentiments ("totalitarianism is the offspring of democracy"), and after the war returned to France from Algeria where he had written Les Dialogues des Carmélites. He died in 1948-like Cardinal von Galen, a man of the right to the end.

117. It may not appear very "ecumenical" (and indeed it may stem from restricted knowledge or experience) to note that this quality is what seems to distinguish the Modernists from most other fin-de-siècle non-Catholic reformers. One might even venture to say that it is what distinguishes the great Catholic theologians of the twentieth century from most of their non-Catholic counterparts. Neither may it appear very "fraternal" to note, that in all the enormous output of the critics whom I am analyzing, there is virtually nothing whatever on the life of prayer, on meditation, contemplation, whatever. It is as though that long and splendid tradition of oraison had been replaced either by research, e.g., that nada is the différance between apophasis and negativa, or by exercises in assorted new age yogisms. This is true oddly enough even of those who had "Catholic training"--a significant phrase that will emerge later--in seminaries or other houses of religious formation.

118. Op. cit., p. 134.

119. De la Bedoyere, Life, p. 60.

120. The Vatican Council (Dublin, 1951), p. 49.

121. Typical would be the Irish bishop, MacHale, "recollecting" a meeting with de Lamennais in 1832: "Fortunately for M. De La Mennais he was then accompanied by two young friends who loved him much, but who loved truth and religion more." Ulrick J. Canon Bourke, The Life and Times of Most Rev. John MacHale (New York, 1883), p. 96. Similarly, "Laberthonniere never lost his faith and remained faithful to the Church, while Loisy was an apostate who often minimized, contaminated and defamed the subject of his criticism." Jean-Paul Gelinas, The Revival of Thomism under Leo XIII and the New Philosophies (Washington, 1959), p. 67. With reference to de Lamennais and Döllinger among others the Introduction speaks of, "The pride and sufficiency of certain minds had reached, in the middle of the past century, an extreme degree of blindness." And on Loisy from a more respectable historian: "A scholar and intellectual, proud and persistent, he had always found it very hard to bow his spirit to the daily devotional exercises required of a priest." E.E.Y. Hales, The Catholic Church in the Modern World (New York, 1958), p. 180.

122. Malcolm MacColl, Memoirs and Correspondence, ed., George W.E. Russell (London,

1914), p. 310. J.G. Snead-Cox, The Life of Cardinal Vaughan (St. Louis, 1911), I, p.64.

123. De La Bedoyere, Life, p. 202.

124. Alec R. Vidler, The Modernist Movement in the Roman Catholic Church (Cambridge,

1934), p. 139.

125. René Marlé, Au Coeur de la Crise Moderniste (Paris, 1960), p. 29.

126. Pope John Paul I wrote his thesis at the Gregorian University on Rosmini's doctrine of the origin of the human soul. There must be a literature on this, since it would be particularly useful to know whether the issue of origin relates to the rumor that as Bishop, Albino Luciani suggested to Paul VI that approval should be given for the use of anovulants.

127. There is also a Newman connection. Rosmini's earliest co-worker in the Institute of Charity, Luigi Gentili, went on the "English Mission" and proved an exceptionally forceful preacher who converted one of Newman's disciples, William Lockhart, two years before Newman himself "conformed to the Church of Rome." The conversion, against Newman's explicit wishes, led to Newman's resignation from the curacy of St. Mary's church in Oxford because, as he wrote his bishop, Lockhart's conversion would be "laid at my door." There are several pages in the Apologia on the incident because the Anglican Newman was very intent on not appearing and not being a "Romanizing" influence on others.

128. Attente du Concile (Paris, 1964), a collection of aphorisms, p. 92.

129. "But if it pleased God to allow His Church to receive so deep a wound by the separation of the Christian people from their clergy in the solemn acts of worship, is this wound incurable? Can it be that the people, who by primitive rule not only witnessed but took part in the services of the Lord's House, will now be satisfied with little more than bare attendance there? Scarcely so, I think; for it is too much to expect of an intelligent and civilized people that they will come mechanically to attend rites in which they have no longer any share, and which they do not understand." Of the Five Wounds of the Holy Church (London, 1883), p. 24. The editor and introducer of the volume is Henry Parry Liddon, disciple and biographer of Pusey, and spiritual director of Hopkins during his Oxford years.

130. But as I noted in the first chapter, the virtue police are on the prowl seeking out such things as expensive stereos to prove a dangerous decline in sacerdotal asceticism.

131. Five Wounds, pp. 66-67.

132. Newman says it more elegantly in the third volume of Historical Sketches (London, 1894), short miscellaneous papers from his Dublin experience; here speaking of "religious teaching" under the heading "What Is a University?" "...its great instrument, or rather organ, has ever been that which nature prescribes in all education, the personal presence of a teacher or, in theological language, Oral Tradition. It is the living voice, the breathing form, the expressive countenance, which preaches, which catechises. Truth, a subtle, invisible manifold spirit, is poured into the mind of the scholar by his eyes and ears, through his affections, imagination, and reason."

133. Apologia pro Vita Sua (London, 1902), pp. 258-259.

134. Ibid., pp. 265-266

135. Ward, Life, I, p. 588.

136. The word in 1864, before Vatican I, could only evoke "the Gallican liberties" formulated, after two centuries of practice, by French ecclesiastics in 1682. Apart from political-religious issues, the liberties were conciliarist in orientation, maintaining that papal teaching must be confirmed by the universal church, and (like the English Cisalpanists a century later) that popes could not depose civil rulers. Even more striking is Newman's subtle balancing of the Gallican and the Roman church, as though Gallican views-not only abhorred by ultramontanists but generally viewed as at least incipiently unorthodox--were on a par with Roman views centered on papal primacy, papal infallibility, and papal authority. He comes close to leaving it to the reader to pick up on the implication that both are simply two national churches, reflecting their own geographical, linguistic, and cultural roots--not entirely unlike his earlier equation of the motive of Montalembert's liberalism with the fact of Newman's conservatism.

137. She wrote Sarah Hennell that "the Apologia breathed much life in me," and showing more discernment than would Geoffrey Faber said, "Pray mark that beautiful passage in which he thanks his friend Ambrose St. John. I know hardly anything that delights me more than such evidences of sweet brotherly love being a reality in the world." J.W. Cross, George Eliot's Life as Related in Her Letters and Journals (London and Edinburgh, n.d.), p. 378.

138. The Church and Modern Society (Chicago, 1896), p. 63.

139. Attente du Concile, p. 143...

140. Perhaps there is a need for fewer canonists and more students of the history of their own church like the long-lamented Paul Hallinan of Atlanta. Perhaps the bishops of those dioceses whose predecessors opposed Cardinal Spellman and spoke out against threats to the principle of noncombatant immunity during the Vietnam war will study that record and be inspired to speak out against erosion of the principle of what Newman called like a true Englishman, "elbowroom for the mind." As a gentle nudge, those dioceses were: Evansville, Dodge City, Stockton, Lafayette, Reno, Bridgeport, Wichita, Richmond, Pueblo.

141. Contributors to that issue included Oscar Cohen, Charles Y. Glock, Rodney Stark, Michael Marrus, Robert Major, Norbert Muhlen, Eliezer Berkovits, Arthur Hertzberg, Erich Isaac, Gavin I. Langmuir, Jacob Neusner, Howard Nemerov, Leon Poliakov, Steven S. Schwarzschild, Gregory Baum, Thomas Merton, and Rosemary Ruether. The last named is certainly one of the most creative and productive theologians of the last half century, but she has had difficulty in recognizing that the state of Israel, for all its unquestioned but inevitable faults, is the "compensatory" international response to the Holocaust. Given her political views and passion for justice, it is understandable--if nor forgivable--that she would "accuse the main authors of this symposium..., together with the editor of Continuum..., of being party to the ongoing ethnocide of the Palestinian people." The symposium in question appeared in the first number of the second series of the journal, "Anti-Semitism, Middle East, Feminism," (Autumn, 1990); its contributors were, John K. Roth, Mary C. Boys, Robert Everett, John Pawlikowski, Alice and A. Roy Eckardt, Emil Fackenheim, Franklin Littell, Paul van Buren. This is mentioned not to underline an editorial position or ideological orientation, but simply as récit of a history of treating these issues without pursuing scapegoats. Those unaware of such a history are presumably those who are referred to in Garry Wills' lead-off blurb for Constantine's Sword: "This searingly honest book is Augustinian in the way Carroll searches his own soul, going down through layer after layer of instilled Catholic attitudes that demean Jews. We who had the same Catholic training badly need this book, to cleanse our souls, to make us all ask for forgiveness." Admirable sentiments particularly for those whose Catholic training taught them not to play fast and loose with truth, and not to be seduced by what Adorno called "the jargon of authenticity." (Maybe the Sisters of Mercy responsible for that Catholic training came from the capital of Kentucky where they maintained the Frankfort school.)

142. The best short critique of social construction is by Paul A Boghossian, The Times Literary Supplement, February 23, 2001; the most devastating exemplification is Alan Sokal's well known "hoax"--garnering hundreds of entries on the internet-which Boghossian also treats in the TLS, December 13, 1996.

143. It happened to Kenrick of St. Louis, who with his brother was one of the few American episcopal theologians, and Hefele of Rottenburg, protégé of J. A. Möhler and conciliar historian: "Rome was bringing silent pressure to bear by withholding dispensations... in marriage cases." Cuthbert Butler, The Vatican Council (London, 1938), II, p. 187

144. It seems not excessively optimistic to anticipate that after the "turnaround" foreseen by Father Häring, at least one American theologian will be a candidate for the purple precisely because of "the dignified, upright, and absolutely nonviolent attitude" he has taken in pressing his reformist case and in responding to Roman censure. For one view of such "responding," cf., Charles E. Curran, Faithful Dissent (Kansas City, 1986), and The Catholic Moral Tradition Today (Washington, D.C., l999).

145. Father Häring has a revelatory tale of married priests about whose problems the pope didn't seem to have the slightest inkling: "I spoke with Pope Paul VI about the whole issue in the first year of his pontificate. He was full of consternation and asked me to draw up a detailed memorandum." (My Hope for the Church, p. 120.) This is obviously not a case of what the "priestly caste" and its aspirant, Garry Wills, would call ignorantia affectata, which is an intentionally willed act of nescience.

146. In chapter one I cited as the reason for "cautious optimism" about the future a sequence of historical reforms, each one affirming a kind of mechanism of equilibrium between center and periphery. James Carroll has a different view: "Again, if the long history we have seen demonstrates anything, it is that [the ideology of papal power] drives relentlessly along the unbroken shaft of apostolic succession [which he seems to believe relates only to the papacy], from Leo I...." Then follow Gregory VII, Urban II, Innocent III, Boniface VIII, Paul IV, Pius IX, Pius XII, and John Paul II. But Leo the Great, a Doctor of the Church, is remembered mainly for his confrontation with "the scourge of God," Attila, and his central role at Chalcedon in maintaining the two natures of Christ. Of the early and medieval popes Carroll "outs," Dante criticizes only Boniface VIII (not unworthily, but largely on personal political grounds) whose jubilee year (1300) is the date of the vision of the Commedia; Innocent III is mentioned in Paradiso as approving the "harsh rule" of St. Francis whose followers along with those of St. Dominic and the Seven Holy Founders represented the counterweight to Innocent's excesses. Other than on church-state issues, it is difficult to condemn Gregory VII whose reforms were manifold and lasting--but after a millennium understandably somewhat outworn. Paul IV reigned only four years, was founder with St. Cajetan of the Theatines, the first modern pope to express vehement antisemitism, but also an over-zealous reformer. The ideology Carroll has in mind is not "papal power" but "antisemitism," and to include Pius XII in his true bill is to base his case on mere repetition not investigation. What John Paul II is doing at this assize is incomprehensible. The lesson here is simply that nothing in this historical sequence has to do with apostolic succession as such, while much here, particularly the presence of the two twentieth-century popes, has to do with papaphobia.

147. It was recognized by Rosmini, who also cites Ignatius: "A Bishop's zeal was not confined to his own special charge among the Churches; it was yet greater for the Church Universal. He knew that he was a Bishop of the Church Catholic." And speaking of episcopal conferences, and the appointment of other bishops, he notes: "The Bishops of a province met twice a year, as so many brothers to discuss their common interests.... They decided cases; they appointed successors to deceased Bishops. These successors were not only known but acceptable to them, and they thus contributed to preserve the perfect harmony of the Episcopal body." Five Wounds, p. 85-86.

148. Wilfrid Ward, Life, II, p. 127.

149. Werner Schoellgen, Moral Problems Today (New York, 1963), p. 141.

150. Cited earlier were the words of Pius XII on the church as an institution subject to the fluctuations of space and time. Equally relevant is the following from his address to a group of journalists: "Public opinion is the ornament of every society composed of people conscious of their personal conduct and closely involved in the community of which they are members..., since the church is a living body, something would be flawed in its life if public opinion were lacking, a flaw that can be blamed on pastors and the faithful." Congar, Jalons..., p. 360.

151. Cf. Peter Hebblethwaite, Paul VI: The First Modern Pope (New York, 1993), p. 361.

152. Pius figures in another drama fraught with political and religious significance, and again does not prove to be an attractive leader. John Thomas McDonough, a Dominican wrote a controversial play, Charbonneau & Le Chef (Toronto, 1968), in which the influence in Rome of the Premier of Quebec, Maurice Duplessis (le chef), led to the forced resignation of the Archbishop in 1950 because of his heroic support of striking asbestos workers. The drama is certainly more intense than anything of Hochhuth's, particularly the scenes in which Duplessis threatens Charbonneau, and the Apostolic Delegate, Antoniutti (later an ally of Franco, and opponent of Montini in the conclave), cites the canons justifying Pius's decision. The 1950 Official Catholic Directory under the entry for Victoria, B.C. (read: Vatican Gulag) states: "Institutes of Women, Sisters of St. Anne"; then in the following order (an early triumph for feminism?) names the Provincial Superior, then the Mistress of Novices, then "Most Rev. J. Charbonneau, D.D., Chaplain." No redemptive red hat here, but Charbonneau did outlive Duplessis--by four months. Father McDonough was censured by his superiors.

153. "The Roots of the Dilemma," (Continuum, Summer, 1964).

154. L'Eglise Melkite au Concile (Beirut, 1967), p. 243.

155. At the height of the contraception controversy in the sixties, Thomas Merton was asked if he wanted to discuss the issue in public. His response was simply that over time such matters work themselves out in practice--as in fact they have.

156. An important indicator of the necessary shift in perspective, and consequently in practice is the Religious Consultation on Population, Reproductive Health and Ethics. Here we have an agenda which goes beyond the approved environmental issues embraced by everyone except the troglodytic right. Here is an ethic that transcends petty moral concerns about the sinfulness of individual acts, and which focuses on a morality for humankind--and by that fact on a morality that uplifts the individual. Directed by ethician, Daniel C. Maguire, the Consultation has published three important and accessible books in its series Sacred Energies.

157. Attente du Concile, p. 228.

158. Ward, Life, II, p. 127.

159. It is now nearly two decades since the publication of the American bishops' pastoral on nuclear weapons, written largely by Cardinal Bernardin. In 1983 when the cold war was in regular danger of being reignited by conservative chauvinists, the pastoral was a reasonable document which could not be undercut by Michael Novak's Moral Clarity in the Nuclear Age (New York, 1983). Cf., Justus George Lawler, "Moral Confusion in the Nuclear Age" (The Christian Century, April 4, 1984). But now that political, and ethical, attention is focused elsewhere, the issue is treated as resolved--which it plainly is not. But the focus on "Nafta or rainforests"is important, if motivated constructively and not rancorously. "Adolescent" agitation has proved effective when related to strikes supporting living wages for school workers or for factory workers manufacturing products for young people.

160. Ward, Life, I, p. 323.

161. Another masterstroke has been the casual acceptance of "welfare reform" into the common vocabulary of North America. Persecution of the helpless is lost sight of while a battery of sociologists, social workers, statisticians parses this pleonasm which has nothing to do with either welfare or with reform. At the height of the "reformatory" crisis when the already helpless and homeless were being shed of their remnants, the newly appointed archbishop of a major see announced the official appointment of an exorcist. Thus did the possessed trump the dispossessed.

162. For the Community of Christian Hope and its aftermath, there are mimeographed materials privately circulated, and printed commentaries in Informations Catholiques (February 14, 1952); La Vie Intellectuelle (February, 1952); Life of the Spirit (March, 1952); and in Massin's book, Le Festin chez Levi (Paris, 1952).

163. Témoinage Chrétien (January 11, 1952).