DC | Damian Thompson | November 11,
2014,
(Note: This article appeared in the Deccan Chronicle of Nov.11.
It answers the question of Jesus:”What do people say…..” or what the secular world say about the Bark
of Peter, the Catholic Church. Jesus
himself was in deep sleep in the midst of the fury of winds and waves tossing
up the ship and driving the disciples crazy and white with fear of going down
to the bottom of the sea. What happened? Perfect calm when the Cool Son of Man
was awaked from his Siesta. What is happening is real tempest, but a tempest in a tea cup only.
James Kottoor)
At
this very critical moment, there is a strong sense that the Church is like a
ship without a rudder,” said a prominent Catholic conservative last week.
No
big deal, you might think. Opponents of Pope Francis have been casting doubt on
his leadership abilities for months and especially since October’s Vatican
Synod on the Family, at which liberal cardinals preemptively announced a
softening of the Church’s line on homosexuality and second marriages, only to
have their proposals torn up by their colleagues.
But
it is a big deal. The “rudderless” comment came not from a mischievous traditionalist
blogger but from Cardinal Raymond Burke, prefect of the Apostolic Signatura
that is, president of the Vatican’s supreme court.
As it
happens, Pope Francis intends to sack Burke, whose habit of dressing up like a
Christmas tree at Latin Masses infuriates him. But he hasn’t got round to it
yet.
And
thus we have the most senior American cardinal in Rome publicly questioning the
stewardship of the Holy Father possibly with the tacit approval of Pope
Emeritus Benedict XVI.
Nothing
like this has happened since the backstabbing behind the scenes at the Second
Vatican Council 50 years ago. It raises the question: Is the Catholic Church in
the early stages of a civil war between liberals and conservatives, fought not
over liturgical niceties (the source of relatively harmless squabbles under
John Paul II and Benedict XVI) but fundamental issues of sexual morality?
The
October synod was a disaster for Pope Francis. Before it started, he had
successfully tweaked the Catholic mood music relating to divorcees and gay
people.
The
line “Who am I to judge?”, delivered with an affable shrug on the papal plane,
generated friendly headlines without committing the Church to doctrinal change.
Conservatives were alarmed but had to acknowledge Francis’ cunning. “Remember
that he’s a Jesuit,” they said.
Then
Francis did something not very cunning. Opening the synod, which would normally
be a fairly routine affair, he encouraged cardinals and bishops to “speak
boldly”. Which they did, but not in the way he intended.
The
Pope’s first mistake was to invite Cardinal Walter Kasper, the Vatican’s
81-year-old retired head of ecumenism, to set the agenda for the synod by
addressing the world’s cardinals back in February. Kasper told them that the
Church should consider giving Holy Communion to remarried Catholics.
Even
if Francis supports this notion and nobody knows his choice of Kasper was a
blunder because the cardinal, in addition to being a genial and distinguished
scholar, is leader of a German-led faction that represents, in Catholic terms,
the far Left of the theological spectrum.
In
1993, Kasper, then Bishop of Rottenburg-Stuttgart, co-signed a letter by German
bishops demanding that Catholics living “in a canonically invalid union” should
be allowed to decide for themselves whether to receive the Eucharist.
The
German Church is a law unto itself: although its services are empty, it is
rich, thanks to the country’s Church tax, and arrogant. To cut a long story
short, this faction which had ruthlessly undermined Benedict XVI’s authority
when he was Pope tried to hijack the synod.
They
messed it up. The synod’s “special secretary”, the Italian archbishop Bruno
Forte, wrote a mid-synod report suggesting that the participants wanted to
recognise the virtuous aspects of gay unions.
In doing
so, Forte an even more radical figure overplayed his hand. Most synod fathers
wanted no such thing. Cardinal Gerhard Müller, prefect of the Congregation for
the Doctrine of the Faith, and Cardinal George Pell, head of the Vatican’s
finances, were horrified.
They
ensured that the final report kicked Communion for divorcees into the long
grass and did not even mention homosexual relationships. “Synod rebuffs Francis
on gays,” reported the media the last thing the Pope wanted to read.
To
make matters worse, Kasper gave an interview in which he said that anti-gay
African Catholics “should not tell us too much what we have to do”.
At
which point Cardinal Burke called him a racist. Kasper reacted furiously and is
telling anyone who will listen that the Church will soon drastically change its
rules on access to Communion. This is wishful thinking.
And
now another voice is being heard. The last Pope is neither dead nor senile nor
as silent as we thought he was going to be. In the last month Benedict XVI has
written to the ex-Anglicans of the Ordinariate expressing delight that they now
worship in the former Bavarian chapel in Warwick Street, London; to Rome’s
Pontifical Urban University about the dangers of relativism; and, most
significantly, to supporters of the old liturgy.
“I am
very glad that the usus antiquior (the traditional Latin Mass) now lives in
full peace within the Church, also among the young, supported and celebrated by
great cardinals,” he said.
In
fact, very few cardinals celebrate in the old rite. But one who does is Raymond
Burke. “Benedict is well aware of that,” says a Ratzinger loyalist. “He’s not
under the illusion that he’s still Pope, but he was appalled by the sight of
Kasper trashing his legacy and he is making his displeasure clear.”
Where
does this leave Francis? Looking a bit like “the Hamlet Pope”, Paul VI, whom he
has beatified. He supports some sort of reform, but uncertainty is breaking the
Church into factions reminiscent of the Anglican Communion.
Old
enemies of Benedict XVI reckon they can persuade Francis to stack the college
of cardinals in their favour. Meanwhile, Burke has emerged as leader of the
hardline traditionalists.
“He
did not want this role but perhaps he sees himself as a St. John Fisher
figure,” says one Vatican source, a comparison that casts the successor of
Peter in the role of Henry VIII.
What
should worry Francis is that moderate conservative Catholics are losing
confidence in him.
The
New York Times columnist Ross Douthat, who is no one’s idea of an extremist,
believes that “this Pope may be preserved from error only if the Church itself
resists him”.
Cristina
Odone, former editor of the Catholic Herald, says that “Francis achieved
miracles with his compassionate, off-the-cuff comments that detoxified the
Catholic brand. He personifies optimism but when he tries to turn this into
policy he isn’t in command of the procedures or the details. The result is
confusion.”
All
of which suggests a far closer analogy than with Henry VIII. There is another
world leader, elected amid huge excitement, who has surprised and disappointed
the faithful by appearing disengaged and even helpless in moments of crisis.
This is an awful thing to say, but we could be watching Jorge Bergoglio turn
into Barack Obama.
By arrangement with the Spectator
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