Selling a tiara,giving a ring

In a perceptive article before the beatification of Pope Paul VI, in October 2014, Alexander Lucie-Smith wrote:

But whatever people may feel in Italy in general and Brescia in particular, the beatification of Paul VI will not be enthusiastically received in the wider Catholic world. ¹

Lucie-Smith notes a variety of reasons for this, not least is the sheer passage of time passed since Paul’s pontificate. But he notes later:

His [Pope Paul VI] ‘annus horribilis’ was to follow in the aftermath of Humanae Vitae, published in July 1968. It is no secret that the Pope was deeply distressed by the widespread rejection of the encyclical, just as he was profoundly saddened by the way so many priests left the priesthood in the aftermath of the Council. People who knew him have spoken of the way these experiences, and the burden of the Papacy itself, more or less crushed him. If Pope Paul was a saint (and I for one believe he is) he was a martyr too, a martyr for the truth and a martyr to duty. ²

Lucie-Smith’s reflections touch the edge of an iceberg where, as ever, far more material is concealed – under the surface – here beneath the waters of passing years of theology and ecclesiastical politics. In a brilliantly concise article for this journal in May–June 2015, Paul Avis drew out the contrasting interpretations – conservative and liberal – of the Second Vatican Council. Avis notes:

In 1959 Pope John XXIII astonished the world, including his own bishops and cardinals, when he announced that he would call an Ecumenical Council the twenty-first according to the reckoning of the Roman Catholic Church (R.C.C.) But the first for nearly a century. ³

In his subsequent argument, Avis cites the attitudes of both popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI (formerly Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, the Vatican doctrinal enforcer) to the Council. Both are critical, although John Paul II’s criticism was more nuanced in its feel. There is a stark contrast between the larger than life pastoral pontiff, John XXIII, with his message of aggiornamento and the revisionism of these two later popes. Most remarkably, however, Avis makes no mention at all of the Pope who presided over and guided the vast majority of the Council. In the plethora of articles stimulated by the golden jubilee of the closing of the Council in 1965, this silence or virtual removal of Giovanni Battista Montini from the scene feels like a moratorium of silence on Paul VI’s role.

Of course, Angelo Roncalli, Pope John XXIII struck a very different pose to much that had gone before. His opening words to the Council in October 1962 set a completely new tone. His introduction breathed openness and liberality of spirit:

We feel we must disagree with those prophets of gloom, who are always forecasting disaster, as though the end of the world was at hand.

In the present order of things, Divine Providence is leading us to a new order of human relations, which, by men’s own efforts and even beyond their very expectations, are directed towards the fulfilment of God’s superior and inscrutable designs. And everything, even human differences, leads to a greater good of the Church. ⁴

The silence of many contemporary witnesses regarding Paul VI’s contribution is the more startling when one remembers that that first meeting of the Council in October 1962, convened by John XXIII lasted for only 15 minutes. There followed a series of sub-meetings establishing the commissions that prepared for the subsequent debate resulting in the final constitutions of the Council. Pope John XXIII died in June 1963, and so Paul VI set the atmosphere and guided the discussions that fashioned the comprehensive teaching which flowed from the Council. On many occasions this required great skill if a reversion to the pre-Conciliar world was to be avoided.

His address on 29 September 1963 set the mood and the agenda for the work of the Council. The principle concern of the second session was the ‘intimate’ nature of the Church. Giving thanks for his predecessor, Pope Paul addressed the 50-plus non-Catholic observers seated in a place of honour near the main altar of St Peter’s basilica. Speaking of his deep sadness for the prolonged separation he noted:

If we are in any way to blame for that separation, we humbly beg God’s forgiveness and ask pardon too of our brethren who feel they have been injured by us … for our part, we willingly forgive the injuries which the Catholic Church has suffered, and forget the grief enduring during the long series of dissensions and separations. May the heavenly Father deign to hear our prayers and grant us true brotherly peace. ⁵

So, the Council’s examination of the ‘intimate’ nature of the Church was conducted within this context. He set out clearly the key issues to be addressed. In his introduction, Paul noted that a new pope traditionally began his pontificate with an encyclical: instead this would be an encyclical ‘by word of mouth’. He enumerated four objectives in relation to the Church. They were:

… the awareness of the Church; its reform; the bringing together of all Christians in unity; the dialogue of the Church with the contemporary world. ⁶

This agenda, addressed not only in the Second Vatican Council led Peter Hebblethwaite to sub-title his biography of Montini: ‘The First Modern Pope’. ⁷ Paul set out these four key elements in more detail. The first crucial focus was the place of the bishops within the Church. This led into the concept of collegiality, fashioned to a significant degree by Montini’s personality: he was by nature a consultative leader. In moving to reform, it was a matter of stripping out that which is unworthy or defective. Liturgical reform was part of this. The third key focus was the Church’s unity. In an interesting phrase, he bid Catholics ‘look with reverence upon the true religious patrimony’ ⁸ shared with other Christians. Finally, came the relationship of the Church to the contemporary world. Paul appealed to the Fathers of the Council that they should be:

… unexpectedly determined to treat no longer of your own limited affairs but rather those of the world, no longer to conduct a dialogue among yourselves but rather to open one with the world. ⁹

This view of the Council worried those – Joseph Ratzinger among them – who later looked back to its work, deliberately emphasizing continuity rather than change. Concluding his address, Pope Paul spoke of ‘the window of the council, opened wide upon the world’. More recently commenting on Paul’s speech, Patrick Riley noted:

To many in Rome it seemed that his speech was not merely opening windows on to the world but breaking down walls between the Church and the world, between the Roman Church and other churches, between brother and brother. ¹⁰

Thus, in so many ways, in his address to the Council, Paul set out many of the priorities which would pervade his pontificate more widely. Ironically, it was to an issue of significance not just for the Roman Catholic Church but for the wider world – birth control – upon which his pontificate would founder. Remembering Montini’s enthusiasm for dialogue and consultation, this irony also touches on his personality. In the introduction to his biography, Peter Hebblethwaite reflects on Montini’s personality. Some wondered why Hebblethwaite embarked upon a comprehensive ‘life’ of Montini. He notes:

… Montini is a better subject for a biography than Roncalli (John XXIII) because he was a richer and deeper personality, had more worldly contacts, and because his pontificate – fifteen years compared with four and a half – was of more decisive importance for the long term future of the Church. ¹¹

Hebblethwaite presses this further:

He (Montini) was the most naturally talented man to become Pope in this century. That is obviously difficult to prove; but what can be shown is that the range of his reading and friendships extended far beyond the bounds of what an Italian cleric was expected to enjoy. An hour’s meeting and you could be a friend for life. He kept his friendships in good repair, never forgetting anniversaries or feast days. ¹²

From an Anglican point of view, this was a crucial ingredient in the mixture making his meeting with Archbishop Michael Ramsey so fecund an encounter. Montini had Anglican friends, admired the worship and style of English cathedrals, and had hosted a visit of Anglican priests while he was Archbishop of Milan. The background to this visit was a clear indicator of Montini’s warmth and affinity towards the Anglican tradition. Responding to the request into whether a visit might be possible, Montini replied with great generosity. ¹³

Montini, as with all human beings, had his limitations. ¹⁴ There was certainly anguish, provoked among other things, by the tendency of any institution to trap its leaders. The Vatican is a classic example of this. John Hands’s perceptive novel, Perestroika Christi, published at the high points of the careers of both Mikhail Gorbachev and John Paul II, captures it well. His novel explores the appointment of new private secretaries within the ‘curial’ labyrinths of each leader’s world. ¹⁵ The capacity of bureaucracies to imprison are all too clear. Placing these constraints alongside Montini’s subtle but sometimes tortured personality may explain how Humanae Vitae reached its rather depressing dénouement. In a generous and humorous piece, Eugene Kennedy, a Chicago psychologist, wrote of Montini:

Paul VI lived through fifteen difficult years, the heart of the Vatican transition, and may finally be perceived as the most extraordinary Pope of the century. He understood that transforming an institution like the Catholic Church was the most delicate of tasks. It demanded the exhausting pastoral art of encouraging change while holding it steady at the same time, something like giving a haircut to a drowsy lion. ¹⁶

* * * *

Paul VI’s leadership in the Second Vatican Council was mirrored more widely in his pontificate. Similar themes and style emerged. Paul’s focus on the Church, may be an appropriate point of departure: one of the key phrases issuing from Lumen Gentium, the ‘Dogmatic Constitution on the Church’ is the concept of the People of God. So, for example: ‘The holy People of God shares in Christ’s prophetic office.’ ¹⁷ Then elsewhere: ‘Basing itself on scripture and tradition, it teaches that the Church, a pilgrim now on earth, is necessary for salvation: the one Christ is mediator and the way of salvation: he is present to us in his body which is the Church.’ ¹⁸

This model of the Church is central to the teaching of Vatican II and was lived out by Paul VI in his journeys across the world: he was the first globetrotting pontiff. The role of the bishop also emerged with clarity in Lumen Gentium, and there remained no doubt about the hierarchical nature of the Church; the text is set out under that heading. Nonetheless, there is an equally important section on the laity. So, ‘The pastors, indeed should recognise and promote the dignity and responsibility of the laity in the Church … Indeed, they should give them the courage to undertake works on their own initiative.’ ¹⁹ Certainly this became part of the organic growth which followed the Council and marked the development of Paul’s pontificate. The so-called ‘base communities’ which developed – especially among the very poor in different South American countries – were one vivid manifestation of the ‘pilgrim people of God’, acting under their own initiative but alongside the sacramental priesthood.

Similar themes are resonant in Paul’s acclaimed Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Nuntiandi which issued from the Third Ordinary General Assembly (Synod) of Bishops in 1974. So we read:

The recent synod devoted a great deal of attention to small groups, or basic communities, as they are called … In some regions they arise and develop, with a few exceptions, within the church. They participate in her life, are nourished by her teaching and are loyal to their pastors. When they are of this kind they arise because men want to live the life of the church with greater fervour or because they desire and seek a more human way of life which the larger ecclesial communities cannot provide. ²⁰

Paul encourages the growth of the ‘pilgrim people of God’ in this manner as long as they are not opposed to the institutional Church.

A second key area is the focus of Christus Dominus, the Decree on the Pastoral Office of Bishops in the Church. Space is devoted to the theology of episcopacy and the role of bishops; but perhaps the seminal section is Chapter III, titled ‘Concerning the Cooperation of Bishops for the Common Good of Many Churches’. Here is the essence of synodality and of Paul’s own commitment to dialogue and consultation among the bishops and with the Pope. The Pope, then, is not simply ‘islanded’. The structure of episcopal conferences is outlined, and all is prefaced with a section on the theology of collegiality: ‘This sacred Ecumenical Synod expresses its earnest hope that these admirable institutions – synods and councils – may flourish with renewed vigour …’ ²¹ This process gave birth to a variety of ‘episcopal conferences’. The Conference of European Episcopal Conferences (CCEE) would play a key role (alongside the non-Roman Catholic Conference of European Churches) both before and after the collapse of Communism in Eastern Europe. This internal synodality within the Roman Catholic Church allowed for far more effective ecumenical cooperation and is but one part of Paul VI’s inheritance to the Church of God within and beyond the Roman Catholic Church itself.

Alongside this, and with the work of Cardinal Giovanni Benelli, the reform of the Curia would proceed. Montini had spent a significant proportion of his ministry in curial work and understood it well enough to preside, at one remove, over diplomatic and intelligent reform. Benelli and the Pope together, using the document Regimini Ecclesiae Universae, took forward the reshaping of the Roman Curia. Crucial was the breaking up of power blocs within the Curia under the direction of one autocratic cardinal. Even the issue of one ecclesial language mattered. ²² Much reform of the Curia was achieved during Paul’s pontificate, and the advent of Pope Francis is already witnessing a return to curial reform.

There were two other key focuses during Montini’s time as Pope. Alongside Benelli’s brief to reform the Curia went Augustino Casaroli’s work in developing the Vatican’s Ostpolitik. Casaroli had been involved in such work following his attendance at a conference in Vienna on this in 1963. Montini’s Ostpolitik aimed to improve conditions for Catholics living under Communism but also encourage peace-making and détente more widely internationally. He commented in 1967, ‘With you (Catholics living under Communism) the Holy See is convinced that along this path lies the chance of a rapprochement that would be both loyal and deep.’ ²³ So the martyrs of Communism were honoured alongside a committed and realistic aim to unfreeze relations with the Eastern bloc.

At the same time, and notably in South America, politics and theology had begun to converge with the birth of liberation theology. Paul himself attended the Eucharistic Conference in Bogota in 1968 in Colombia and there focused on the plight of the poor. A decisive meeting of the Latin American bishops took place in the same year in Medellin, also in Colombia. Again base communities were encouraged, and the bishops aimed to liberate the people from the ‘institutionalized violence’ of poverty. Paul was thus encouraging of this new ‘bias to the poor’ without aligning himself with liberation theology formally or unstructured changes in the Church’s polity. ²⁴ His contribution to Medellin affirmed visionary leaders including Archbishop Helder Camara of Recife. ²⁵

In all these matters, Montini’s instinct had been to support and encourage a quite different organic model for the Church. Both the Council’s constitution and the Pope’s own ministry had a radical impact on the Church’s self-understanding and its relationship with other churches. The new language was of the Church ‘subsisting in’ the Roman Catholic Church, a phrase that avoided the earlier identification of ‘the Church of God’ with the Roman Catholic Church. Ultimately, attitudes towards other religions would also be transformed, opening the way to dialogue without that dialogue leading to an uncritical syncretism.

How is it, then that it has been so easy to leap from the heady days of John XXIII’s call for aggiornamento and to land directly in the arms of the first non-Italian pope for centuries? First we might look to the personalities of all three popes (the pontificate of John Paul I was too brief to allow proper judgement) within this period. Both John XXIII and John Paul II were, in quite different ways extroverted personalities. John XXIII communicated an immediacy, warmth and sense of hope, repeated in a very different manner throughout the pontificate of Pope John Paul II. Paul VI was a more subtle, reflective and inner-directed figure who even frequently questioned himself:

What is my state of mind? Am I Hamlet? Am I Don Quixote? On the left? On the right? I don’t feel I have been properly understood. I have two dominant feelings: I am filled with comfort. Within all our affliction I am overjoyed (II Corinthians, 7. 4). ²⁶

Certainly there was a clear element of the introspective Hamlet-like personality within Montini. However, all who encountered him testified to his personal warmth, pastoral heart, intelligence of mind and transparent holiness. None of these attributes, however, is easily transmitted within a culture shaped so powerfully and increasingly by mass media.

Unquestionably the key hinge point within his pontificate was the publication of Humanae Vitae in 1968. Against the background already painted, with an openness to the contemporary world and a clearly compassionate personality, Humanae Vitae ran against all these assumptions. As ever, Paul had consulted widely. Ultimately, a traditional line issued from the encyclical, and undoubtedly with his endorsement. Paul was clear that breaking the links between the procreative and unitive goals of marriage would open wide new understandings of sexual intercourse which could justify homosexual acts and indeed other sexual practices which would not stand the test on any Catholic moral theological spectrum. Paul, however, softened the final text, removing references to ‘mortal sin’ and including a passage on compassion for sinners. He always declared that the encyclical could not be understood as infallible.

Paul’s sensitivity meant that he took his critics seriously, and he was permanently wounded by the negative reactions to the encyclical. The encyclical was more than enough to convince those who believed that Montini’s subtlety was merely a mask for conservatism. This caricature remains in the minds and hearts still of many who remember his pontificate. Somehow it obliterated for them the extraordinary shifts seen not only in Vatican II, but so much more broadly throughout Paul’s 15 years as Pope. Conversely, it was sufficient to convince real conservatives then and now of the basic liberal thrust of Montini’s pontificate.

However, more positively, there are other pointers to where Montini’s heart truly lay. Two of his most celebrated speeches give clear indications of the depth of his intelligence, compassion and commitment to the spiritual life. First, while still in Milan, he spoke to the Second World Congress of the Lay Apostolate in Rome in 1957. The climax of his speech makes abundantly clear his priorities both within the Council and throughout his pontificate. It also explains his agony following the reception of Humanae Vitae. He urged his listeners:

Let us love those nearby and those afar; love your country and those of others; love our friends and our enemies; love Catholics, schismatics, Protestants, Anglicans, the indifferent; love Muslims, pagans, atheists; love members of all social classes, particularly those most in need of help and support; love children; love the old, the poor and the sick; love those who deride or despise us, obstruct or persecute us; love those who deserve love and those who do not; love our adversaries – we want no man as our enemy; love our own times, our modern civilization, technologies, art, sport, our world. Let us love and try to understand, esteem, appreciate, serve it and suffer for it. Let us love it with the heart of Christ. ²⁷

Montini’s words capture the heart of Christ encountered in the life, teaching and passion of Jesus in the Gospels. His conviction here resonates entirely with his reaching out to the Communist east, his forbearance in response to liberation theology and his more general option for the poor. He embraced the world, and hence conservatives continue to view him with suspicion.

The speech of Montini’s life came in 1965 when he addressed the United Nation’s General Assembly in New York. The key section addressed the equality of all nations within the Assembly, setting the pre-eminence of the superpowers in context:

For several among you, this may require an act of high virtue. Let me say this to you as the representative of a religion that believes salvation is achieved through the humility of its divine Founder. Men cannot be brothers if they are not humble. It is pride, no matter how legitimate it may seem, that provokes tension and struggles, for prestige, domination, colonialism, egoism. Pride disrupts brotherhood.

Montini’s appeal for humility was not directed to a purely personal piety, nor was it confined to the limits of the broadest Christian community. He appealed to humanity as a whole. Furthermore, this was not an isolated appeal from a world figure whose other interests lay elsewhere. Any number of different actions and gestures throughout Montini’s life show that the United Nations speech encapsulated something which he believed to be seminal and essential to the gospel. Two symbolic acts capture this spirit perfectly. Montini’s continuity within the Papacy had been emphasized by the traditional crowning with the papal tiara. As pope he abandoned use of the tiara, symbolically placing it upon the altar of St Peter’s basilica and donating its value to the poor. Then, towards the end of Archbishop Michael Ramsey’s visit in 1966, Paul took the episcopal ring from his finger and gave it to the Archbishop. The resonances were powerful and bespoke a subtle humility, both personal and institutional. Every archiepiscopal visit from Canterbury since then has included the wearing of that ring by the Archbishop.

One need not overwork the resonances and symbolism, nor indeed point to continuities of thought, speech and action to see the profound similarities of theological and ecclesiological approach in the pontificate of Pope Francis I. Coming from a different continent in a succeeding century with a very different background and personality, the spirit of both the Second Vatican Council and of Paul VI’s teaching and example are alive and well in the modest apartment which Paul’s successor but three inhabits.