#397: A Truly Jesuit Pope

After merely 100 days, the new pope is already quietly charting  a different course for the Church...

It seems like Pope Francis keeps catching my eye with an outlook unlike any pope since Blessed (soon Saint) John XXIII.  This time it was the remarks Francis made to a group of papal nuncios, who nominate bishops in each country whenever there is a vacancy.  Francis was talking about the kind of candidates he wanted them to look for, and he was characteristically blunt about what kind of candidate to avoid. According to Thomas Reese in the National Catholic Reporter:

Pope Francis described the kind of persons he wants them to put forward. He wants pastors who are "close to the people, fathers and brothers." They should be "gentle, patient and merciful; animated by inner poverty, the freedom of the Lord and also by outward simplicity and austerity of life." They should "not have the psychology of 'Princes.'"…The pope specifically warned them against ambitious prelates who want to be promoted from one diocese to a more prestigious one. He cited the ancient view that bishops "are married to a Church" and should not be "in constant search of another."

     And the Catholic News Service quoted Francis acknowledging that what he was asking for was not easy:

"It's a delicate task," the pope said. "Beware of those who are ambitious, who seek the episcopacy."

These remarks reminded me that Francis is a Jesuit, and confirmed my experience of the sharp difference between the Jesuits and some diocesan priests.  The difference is often between humility and ambition, and it is illustrated by two examples from my own life.

First came the example of Father Raymond Swords, SJ.  He was president of Holy Cross when I arrived there. He held degrees in theology and mathematics, taught mathematics at Holy Cross, and then found himself president in a time of great cultural upheaval.  While generally regarded as a low-key, uncharismatic figure, he nonetheless became the focal point of some dramatic events during my senior year (1969-1970).

President Swords (left) confers an honorary degree

 The fall term brought the Vietnam Moratorium, a mass movement of protest against the war that garnered huge crowds demonstrating in most major cities across the United States.  In Worcester, Massachusetts (the state’s second largest city and home of Holy Cross) a rally was held on city hall plaza.  Fr. Swords appeared on the podium and announced today he spoke, not for the college, but for himself as a Catholic, as a priest, and as a Jesuit.  He explained that he had reluctantly concluded that the war in Vietnam could no longer satisfy the requirements of the Church’s just war theory, and so he felt compelled to call for an end to the war--and to urge all Catholics to do the same.

Suddenly, Ray Swords was no longer just the chief administrator of our school.  Suddenly he became our leader.  The assembled protesters gave him a standing ovation.

In December a labor dispute led to the expulsion of some black students and the decision by all the blacks on campus to leave Holy Cross permanently (see CrossCurrents #346, A “Small” Crisis Recalled, for details).  After several days of pressure on the administration to restore order on campus, Fr. Swords arrived at a packed “town meeting” of students to announce an amnesty for the expelled students and the creation of an “open university” to reflect on the lessons of recent events and their implications for the college’s future.  That night he received his second standing ovation from the students.

That spring Nixon invaded Cambodia, the National Guard killed four students at Kent State University, and Holy Cross went on a general strike (as did hundreds of U.S. campuses).  It was a time when many college presidents were being hanged in effigy on their own campuses, but at Holy Cross the senior class voted to invite Raymond Swords--their own president--to be their commencement speaker.  In his address, he predicted that the future of the college would be secure if future classes followed our example of moral conviction and committed action:

What you young graduates are completing here today--your four years of living and learning at Holy Cross--has had no real parallel in the past history of this college.  But most of all it is different because what you are commencing here today is--I believe and I hope--something new in the history of Holy Cross.  That “something new” is the beginning of a life-long commitment to fundamental change--social and political, cultural and religious--a commencement grounded on a level of awareness and concern never before achieved by so many in so short a time.  In a profound and genuine sense the class of 1970 has been radicalized as no other class before it.

 When he finished, the entire class rose to its feet and to deliver his third standing ovation of the year.

This man left the mark of his indelible character that year on our class and on our school.

 One year later he finished his 10-year term as Holy Cross president and moved on--to become president of Cranwell Prep, the Jesuit high school In Lenox, Massachusetts. He later led Jesuit high schools in Manhattan and Portland, Maine.

To me, that move—from college president to high school work—typified the Jesuit commitment to service, a commitment rooted in the dedication to one’s work regardless of its status.  Loyola’s maxim “Age quod agis” (“Do what you are doing”) meant that ambition was out of place in Jesuit Life, that one’s mission was to contribute to the whole mission of the Jesuits and of the Church.  “Promotions” were not permanent, and “demotions” were not punishment.  The alternation of “higher” and “lower” positions made Jesuit Life humble by design.

That this is precisely what some commentators noted as a significant aspect of electing a Jesuit as pope. Here is Rev. Richard Ryscavage S.J., a professor of sociology at  Fairfield University:

“St. Ignatius Loyola never wanted us to become bishops. Some exceptions were made in the mission territories, where Jesuits were sometimes the most qualified candidates for becoming leader of a diocese. At times, the Pope himself would intervene and promote a Jesuit bishop to the College of Cardinals. These were exceptions to the rule. St. Ignatius wanted to prevent us from ‘climbing the Church ladder’ by ambitioning high offices.”

Fr. Ryscavage explained that St. Ignatius’ original objection to seeking higher office was in response to the clerical careerism so prevalent at the time. Thus Jesuits take an additional vow not to seek high office.

All of this contrasts sharply with my experience of a certain kind of diocesan priest. The truth is that clerical careerism never died out.  Over my 40 years in church work I’ve occasionally encountered priests who projected a certain ambition.  I cannot describe concrete symptoms of that ambition; it always was a kind of intangible aura such men carried with them like baggage.  But when I felt it, I would tell myself (and often tell others too): “That man wants to be a bishop.” As it turns out, every single one of those men did become bishops, their ambitions fulfilled. Many of them lead dioceses today far from their native local church.

I was seldom privy to the details of the clerical politics that produced such bishops, but I’ll never forget the remark of one pastor, a close family friend, who early in his priesthood had declined the tempting invitation to become a bishop’s secretary (often a step toward higher office).  He confessed to me that he was indeed tempted by that prospect of higher office, but even then he knew he was uncomfortable taking that path.  He described “climbing the church ladder” to me.

“There are only two ways to get ahead,” he told me.  “One is to climb over other guys.  The other is to push them out of the way.” He decided he wanted none of it, became a pastor instead, and stayed in his small, out-of-the-way parish for nearly 30 years until retirement. 
He and I both knew one exception to the rule, however.  One of his seminary classmates, Dan Hart, had left a high diocesan office

Fr. Dan Hart

to return to parish work, where he and I were colleagues.  This priest taught fourth grade CCD and worked with me on baptismal and confirmation programs.  One day, out of the blue, he was named an auxiliary bishop, and several years later became bishop of a New England diocese of his own.  

I always said the highest compliment I could pay him was this: he always remained “the same old Dan Hart” I had known in the parish.  And that was enough to make him a terrific bishop: caring, accessible, solicitous, an authentic shepherd.

Bishop Dan Hart

True, he had never been a great parish priest.  He was a tepid preacher, a dry teacher, an uninspiring liturgist. Yet his very ordinariness made him a good bishop.  “After all,” I would explain to others, “The standards for bishops are much lower than for parish priests!”

Sadly, the last 10 years have demonstrated that truth, and worse: those few priests who sunk below the usual standard and abused children with their power were the very priests that bishops worked hardest to protect.

Ironically, neither Ray Swords nor Dan Hart ever served as a pastor, but they had the qualities a pastor needs. What they proved was that, pastoral skills aside, the personal qualities of humility, simplicity, and authenticity are enough to make a bishop great.  That’s why, 43 years after my college commencement, I’m sure that Pope Francis is onto something.  If we could have more bishops with qualities like Ray Swords and Dan Hart--bishops who adopt a Jesuit spirit of avoiding ambition--the Church will be better for it.

And these are precisely the gifts Pope Francis has brought to his job as Bishop of Rome.  Here is hoping we now get more bishops in his mold. 

  © Bernard   F. Swain PhD 2013

#396: The Providential Summer of ‘63

Fifty summers ago, dramatic events brought one of those tectonic shifts that alters the landscape for generations...

This summer brings many significant 50^th anniversaries, since the summer of 1963 brought so many significant events. Civil rights leader Medgar Evers was assassinated; Alabama Governor George Wallace stood in a doorway to block access by blacks to the University of Alabama; President John Kennedy delivered three important speeches: on civil rights (to mark the centennial of the Battle of Gettysburg), on freedom for the Soviet bloc, and—on June 26—he stood before the Berlin wall and delivered the famous lines “Ich bin ein Berliner.”

For Catholics, June 1963 and the weeks that followed were particularly dramatic.  And 50 years later, with the benefit of hindsight, we can say that the drama unfolding that summer was no doubt of divine inspiration.

It all began with the death of Pope John XXIII (Angelo Roncalli), who will soon become Saint John XXIII.  

John XXIII lying in state, June 1963

 John had opened Vatican Council II in October 1962, had publicly intervened to help resolve the Cuban missile crisis that same month, and was made Time Magazine’s man of the year in January 1963.  But even then, he knew he was dying.  At his death

on June 3, the world mourned the loss of the most beloved pope in memory.  Because of his achievements, Catholics do not observe his feast day on his death date (as is standard for saints and venerated people of the Church) but on October 11, the opening date of Vatican II.

But June 3 brought crisis, for John’s death created an immediate vacuum that threatened chaos.

When Vatican II began as the largest meeting in history and the first general council since 1871, the conservatives hoped (and many more expected) that it would adjourn quickly after rubber-stamping Catholicism’s status quo.

Instead, the world’s bishops rejected the boilerplate drafts offered by Vatican officials and committed the Council to a full-scale reflection on the nature of Catholicism in its place in the modern world.  This commitment would transform Vatican II into the most important religious event of the 20th century--and one of the three or four most important watersheds in Catholic history.  But it also meant that, by the end of the Council’s first session in December 1962, almost nothing had been finished yet. 

John’s death suspended all plans for a second session, expected in fall 1963.  The next pope’s name was unknown until an election could be held.  Whoever he was, he would be under no obligation to reconvene the council, or--if he did--to continue with John’s (and now the bishops’) agenda. 

So questions abounded: Who will be pope?  Will he continue the Council?  What will he have the Council do?  In a word, all bets were off.

It all ended well.  The next pope, Paul VI (G.B. Montini),

Pope Paul VI

decided to reconvene the Council, and in his opening address he quoted John’s 1962 opening address to confirm that Vatican II was to be nothing less than a “new Pentecost”—a rebirth—of the Catholic Church. Thus the summer of ’63 included serious preparations of the new, more substantive drafts that would ultimately become known as “The Documents of Vatican II.”

But hindsight tells us that none of this happy outcome, none of this surprisingly smooth transition from pope to pope (and from first Council session to second session) was really an accident, or a matter of good fortune.  Looking back upon facts that have emerged over the last 50 years, we can now say that the events of summer 1963 appear to be the result of a plan--a plan not of human design.  In other words, summer 1963 witnessed an act of divine Providence.

The providential pattern leading to the successful continuation of Vatican II was composed of three main elements:

The young Roncalli

A Long Friendship.  As far back as the 1920s, Angelo Roncalli (later John XXIII) and Giovanni Montini (later Paul VI) were friends.  In 1925 Pope Pius XI appointed Roncalli apostolic visitor to Bulgaria.  Roncalli was devastated to be sent out of Italy. But Montini (who worked at the Vatican’s Secretariat of State) encouraged him, saying he would now have opportunities to encounter the Orthodox churches of the east and the Muslim tradition.  This mattered to both men, since both wanted to promote a reconciliation with other faiths.

The young Montini

When, after later serving as Vatican apostolic delegate to Turkey and Greece, Roncalli was made papal nuncio to France in 1945, it was Montini who signed the letter of his appointment. 

Roncalli in France

 Later, it was Montini who also asked him if he were willing to become patriarch of Venice. They corresponded frequently over the years, well beyond the demands of protocol, and one biographer says that Montini became Roncalli’s “Roman confidant.”

When John XXIII observed his 80^th birthday in 1961, it was Montini who celebrated the Mass.  And when John lay dying in June 1963, it was Montini who arranged to fly in his family from Milan to be at his old friend’s bedside.

A Close Partnership. When Pope Pius XII died in 1958,

Pius XII

Montini (now Archbishop of Milan) was a favorite to succeed him--but he was not yet a cardinal and was thought a bit young. Since Pius had ruled for 19 years, the College of Cardinals preferred a shorter interim papacy, and thus an older man.  So they elected 76-year-old Roncalli to be a caretaker of the papal seat.  They expected a brief, uneventful papacy.

When John XXIII shattered expectations by calling for the first council of bishops in a century, even Montini was surprised.  “This holy old boy,” he said, “doesn’t seem to realize what a hornet’s nest he is stirring up.”

Nonetheless Montini began advising John as early as 1961 on the best approach to a successful Council.  And he offered public support in a pastoral letter to the people of Milan in which he said “It is the whole Church that expresses itself in the Council…And we are the Church.”

Montini as Archbishop of Milan

In June 1962, only weeks before the opening of the council, John sent Montini to the final meeting of the central committee preparing for the Council.  Montini delivered the pope’s message: the Council was not to concentrate on condemnations and anathemas (like many previous councils), but was to emphasize mercy and love.  Cardinal Ottaviani, the Grand Inquisitor, spoke for many of the “intransigenti” (church officials opposed to reform) when he said, “I pray God that I may die before the Council’s end.  That way I can die a Catholic”!

We now know that that during Vatican II’s first session in the fall of 1962, John invited his friend Montini (and no one else) to reside in the papal apartments.  John did not attend council meetings himself, so he relied on Montini to keep him abreast of the mood among the bishops.  We also know that Montini led the progressive bishops in overcoming the resistance of the intransigenti.  This ensured that the council would not be brief and unproductive, but would last four years and transform Catholicism.

When John was made pope, the first man he chose to become a new cardinal was Montini.  And after the dying John receive the last rites on June 1, 1963, he told those around him that he guessed Montini would be his successor.  Three weeks later, his prediction came true, and his close partner and old friend) took over the reins of Vatican Council II.

Thus, when the College of Cardinals elected Montini himself as John’s successor 50 years ago on June 21, 1963, the cardinals were uniting two friends in one office.

A Shared Vision.  As preparations for the second session of the Council proceeded during the summer of 1963, the partnership these two friends had forged began to bear fruit in an inspired vision of how the Council could renew the Church and its mission in the world

Both men were francophiles influenced by the “new theology” of Jesuits Henri de Lubac and Jean Daniélou and Dominicans like Yves Congar and Marie-Dominique Chenu.  Both shared an optimistic view of modern life and a critical view of clerical church customs and structures.  Both believed that the wisdom of Catholicism was a key to steering the power of modern technology, science, and culture toward good rather than the evil--and they were both convinced that only a transformed Church could accomplish this. Both saw this transformation as the Council’s purpose and agenda.

When John addressed the Council’s opening session on October 11 1962 he called for a “New Pentecost.”  And when Montini became Pope Paul VI in the summer of 1963, he made that rebirth his own top priority.  As summer ended and the Council reconvened, Paul repeated John’s call for a “new Pentecost” and made it clear that John’s vision of a renewed and updated Church was now in the capable hands of his former friend and partner.

Two years later Paul addressed the United Nations just as the Council was finishing its work.  Here is how he described himself and the Church he represented:

Like a messenger who, after a long journey, finally succeeds in delivering the letter which has been entrusted to him, so we appreciate the good fortune of this moment, however brief, which fulfills a desire nourished in the heart for nearly twenty centuries. For, as you well remember, we are very ancient; we here represent a long history; we here celebrate the epilogue of a weary pilgrimage in search of a conversation with the entire world, ever since the command was given to us: Go and bring the good news to all peoples.

Paul VI addressing the UN General Assembly

And here is how he described the historic, even heroic vision that had inspired both him and John:

The hour has struck for our "conversion," for personal transformation, for interior renewal. We must get used to thinking of humanity in a new way...With a new manner, too, of conceiving the paths of history and the destiny of the world...The edifice of modern civilization must be built upon spiritual principles which alone can, not only support it, but even illuminate and animate it.

Looking back, we can only marvel.  The troubling questions that were provoked by John’s death in June 1963 were answered by summer’s end--but only later have we realized that the answers were engraved by the wisdom of divine Providence in the hearts of two men whose paths had converged 40 years earlier and whose shared accomplishment still touches us deeply, 50 summers later.

  © Bernard   F. Swain PhD 2013

#395: The Burden of Proof--Part 2

How the new burden of proof challenges the Catholic Church to honor its own teachings.