The cigar-maker would not be paid, although I tried hard, for the family and their room looked so very poor. So finally I went to a corner stall and bought a bag of chocolates, which I took back to his wife. We all shook hands, and then I got into my Hertz Nacionalizada Anglia and drove back to Havana.
Xavier Rynne
DECEMBER 25, 1965
“THE EVENT,” AS theologian Karl Barth has called Vatican Council II, reached its formal close here yesterday, though it may be said that its real work is just beginning. The idea of holding the Council came to Pope John XXIII on January 20, 1959. (“The first to be surprised by this proposal of mine was myself,” he wrote in his journal.) It was convened on October 11, 1962, and after Pope John’s death it was reconvened by Pope Paul VI. In its four annual sessions, the Council has promulgated sixteen decrees. According to the official record-keepers, some twenty-five hundred Council Fathers cast a total of a million two hundred thousand individual ballots on the various texts put to them, and they wrote some six thousand speeches, of which fourteen hundred were delivered on the Council floor. It was not the longest Council in the history of the Church—the Council of Trent holds the record, of eighteen years—but it was beyond question the most important religious event this century has yet seen. At the beginning, Pope John declared the Council’s twofold purpose to be aggiornamento, or the updating, of the Roman Catholic Church, and the promotion of Christian unity. The former purpose has been carried out to a considerable, though not complete, extent by the sixteen decrees, whose implementation represents the work that has only started. To symbolize the second purpose, Pope Paul in the closing days of the Council, despite protests from some Council Fathers, decided to hold a historic religious ceremony. On Saturday, December 4th, at the basilica of St. Paul’s Outside the Walls, the Pope joined in an interfaith prayer service with a group of Orthodox, Protestant, and other non-Catholic churchmen who have been attending the Council as observer delegates. Many Council Fathers attended (it was not open to the public), but it was the first time that any Pope had ever participated in an interdenominational religious service. It consisted of prayers, psalms, lessons from Scripture, and hymns. The lesson in English was read by Dr. Albert C. Outler, professor of theology at Southern Methodist University, in Dallas; the lesson in French was read by Father Pierre Michalon, a Catholic priest and a Council theologian; the lesson in Greek was read by the Archimandrite Maximos Aghiorgoussis, rector of the Greek Orthodox parish church in Rome. The hymn “Now Thank We All Our God,” in which all joined in English, was written by the seventeenth-century German Lutheran composer Johann Cruger. Later, Pope Paul received each of the observer delegates in the same room of the adjoining Benedictine monastery in which Pope John in 1959 first announced his idea of the Council to a group of cardinals, who greeted the news in total silence. In the course of a moving talk, delivered in French, Paul said, “We would like to have you with us always.” He said that the Council had shown that reunion would eventually be achieved “gradually, loyally, and generously.” In a passage that particularly impressed his hearers, he acknowledged that there had been “failures” on the part of Catholics in the past, referring to the now outmoded polemical approach to reunion and to insistence on matters of prestige. He assured them that henceforth the Roman Catholic Church would be guided by the spirit of charity proclaimed by the Apostle of the Gentiles, St. Paul. As a sign, he pointed to the fact that the Council had issued no “anathemas but only invitations.” He concluded with the hope that the Council would “cause us all to recognize the blessed door of Truth.” As one of the Protestant observers commented, “It was one of the most impressive moments of the whole Council.”…
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The Pope’s remarks to the Council on November 18th about the reform of the Curia and, more recently, his Motu Proprio reforming the Holy Office make it obvious that what he plans for this body is not a revolution but a gradual conversion. As he himself said, “The desired transformation will seem slow and partial, but it cannot be otherwise if due respect is to be had for persons and traditions. But this transformation will surely come.” As if to put teeth into these last words, on December 6th, two days before the Council ended, he published the long-awaited new statute for the Holy Office. Not only has that formidable office been given a new name—the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith—but it is henceforth to be oriented not so much toward the repression and condemnation of error as toward the fostering and positive study of “new questions and opinions.” It has been enjoined specifically to adopt a more positive attitude toward international theological congresses, and to establish closer ties with the Pontifical Biblical Commission—in other words, to abandon its obstructive attitude toward modern theology and theologians. The new office is also to make wider use of consultants throughout the world (no longer relying exclusively on theologians resident in Rome) and is to accord those who have been accused of error in matters of faith the opportunity of defending themselves. Two of the men who have suffered greatly at the hands of the Holy Office in recent years—Fathers John Courtney Murray, of the United States, and Henri de Lubac, of France, both of them Council periti and Jesuits—were pointedly invited by Pope Paul to concelebrate with him at a public session of the Council on November 18th, and the latter also dined with the Pope on the eve of the publication of the Holy Office decree. Although other details about the projected reform of the Curia have not yet been made public, it is known from interviews with Cardinal Roberti, president of the papal commission in charge of Curial reform, and from other officials that greater use will be made of laymen and that a separate congregation will probably be established staffed largely by them. There is also talk that an age limit may be set for the heads of certain offices, and that some key positions will no longer be for life. Finally, the cardinals and heads of various offices may be summoned to meet regularly with the Pope in a kind of ecclesiastical cabinet. Nothing of the kind exists at the present time. Instead, such coordination as there is has been in the hands of an unholy interlocking “directorate” of Holy Office men. It is understood that when Pope Paul invited the aged heads of Curial offices to resign last spring, several of them, including Cardinal Giuseppe Pizzardo, obstructionist head of the crucial Congregation of Seminaries and Universities, replied that they were prepared to serve him unto death. That is why the Pope is now seriously considering making all top positions temporary….
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Few Council documents have aroused as much controversy or been followed with such close interest as the famous declaration on the Jews, now incorporated in a broader declaration on relations with non-Christians, including Hindus, Buddhists, and Moslems. Although the broader declaration is destined to become the Magna Carta of the newly formed Secretariat for Relations with Non-Christian Religions, under Cardinal Marella, it is the original declaration that public attention has been almost exclusively fixed on. Its history has been stormy. It originated as an idea of Pope John XXIII, who created the Secretariat for Christian Unity, presided over by Cardinal Bea. A suitable text was written early in 1961 and was presented that May to the Central Commission, which was empowered to decide what texts were to be discussed at the opening session of the Council. Bowing to pressure not only from Arab states but from reactionary forces in the Church, the Commission refused to accept the draft. So nothing was done about it during the first session. In December, 1962, after Pope John had recovered from his illness, he had Cardinal Bea revise the document, and gave the revision his approval. To avoid objections from a new reviewing body, it was decided to annex the document to the schema “On Ecumenism.” When this came up for discussion at the second session, under Pope Paul, it was suddenly announced, just as Cardinal Bea was preparing to introduce the text, that the discussion would have to be postponed until the next session because of “lack of time.” Pressure had again been exerted from the usual quarters. When the text actually reached the floor of the Council, at the third session, it was
so altered that Archbishop Heenan, of Westminster, one of the members of the Secretariat for Christian Unity, declared it to be virtually unrecognizable. The approval of this bastardized text—to the extent that he did approve it—was probably Pope Paul’s greatest tactical mistake. After two days of debate, it became clear that the previous text would have to be restored. The final version represents a compromise with the restored version, which was approved for submission to the Council on November 20, 1964. The passage rejecting the charge of “deicide” was strengthened, though the word itself was omitted. While the restored version both “deplored and condemned” hatred and persecution of Jews, the final version merely “deplores” them, but it does inveigh against “displays of anti-Semitism directed against Jews,” this time mentioning the word “anti-Semitism” explicitly. While the old version warned Christians not to teach anything that could give rise to hatred and persecution of Jews, the final text urges them not to teach “anything inconsistent with the truth of the Gospel and with the spirit of Christ.”
It was a foregone conclusion that the document would win a majority when it was put to a vote on October 14th and 15th, the only question being whether three groups—those disappointed by the omission of the word “deicide”; Bishop Carli’s followers, who opposed the declaration on theological grounds; and those who felt that there were still political objections—would be able to register enough non-placet votes to impair the unanimity with which Council texts are supposed to be approved. As usual, the Fathers were deluged with literature beforehand. Bishop Carli’s group urged non-placet votes on the grounds that the declaration favored indifferentism by tending to regard all religions as being on the same level, that it would retard the “conversion of the Gentiles,” and that it would put an end to missionary work. One of the most violent pamphlets was a four-page affair signed by thirty-one so-called Catholic organizations, most of which promptly disavowed any connection with it; it turned out to be a hoax, concocted by a Latin-American crank. So much tension had been generated, however, that the authorities naturally took seriously an anonymous letter received by Cardinal Marella from a person threatening—half in French and half in German—to blow up St. Peter’s and the whole Council if the Jewish document was voted. Extra police were detailed to guard the building. Except for a resounding crash when some workmen’s scaffolding collapsed, the voting proceeded smoothly, and the result—1,763 placet and 250 non-placet—insured that the document would be promulgated. Many bishops who disliked the omission of the word “deicide” nevertheless voted for the text, because they feared that too large a negative vote would cause the Pope to withdraw the document. They considered that the present document was better than no document at all. As one of the periti involved in the drafting of the various versions put the matter, “If it had not been for the publicity surrounding the previous versions, the present text would probably be regarded as excellent.”
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Apart from religious liberty, the subject that caused the biggest stir during the final session of the Council was Schema 13, “On the Church in the World Today.” Covering seventy-four pages in the English version, it purports to speak the Council’s mind on a number of weighty problems not fully or adequately dealt with in other Council texts. The subjects include the role of man in the world today, the role of the Church, the dignity of marriage, economic and social inequalities, the advancement of culture, and international peace. Dorothy Day, an inveterate pacifist and campaigner for social justice, has well described its contents as “bits and pieces of ideas gathered from everywhere,” adding, “I’m not sure that the bishops realize that the text takes in all points of view. At times, it seems contradictory. That explains why there are such varied reactions.” As another commentator put it, the Church had explained its raison d’être in the schema “De Ecclesia,” and Schema 13 was intended to define its agir, or mode of action.
The debate on Part I of the document soon narrowed down to an intense discussion of just one short paragraph, on the problem of atheism, which had been inserted to satisfy the demands of numerous bishops who wanted a clear statement condemning both atheism and Communism. The new text was carefully drafted in such a way as to avoid excessive condemnation while putting emphasis on what was lacking in atheism. No mention was made of Communism at all. The position of moderation taken by the subcommission that drafted the text was naturally supported by those who felt, like Patriarch Maximos IV and Cardinal Koenig, of Vienna, that “Christians have had a large responsibility for the rise and spread of atheism.” The Patriarch said, “Condemning Marxism cannot save humanity from atheism. Rather, we must denounce the causes of atheistic Communism….Many who call themselves atheists are not necessarily against the Church. In their own minds, they are only seeking for a clear idea of God….They are scandalized by a Christianity that often proves itself to be so egotistical. We, too, should be opposed to the exploitation of man by man.” Although some prelates from Italy and Latin America came out strongly in favor of a resounding condemnation of Communism, those from behind the Iron Curtain were generally content to endorse Cardinal Alfrink’s judgment: “Since the Church has often condemned Communism, why repeat what has already been done?” A petition claiming to have four hundred and fifty signatures and asking for a declaration expressly condemning Communism, circulated by the indomitable Bishop Carli, plagued the final days of the Council. While it was true, as the Bishop argued, that previous councils had generally condemned something, the expressed intention of Vatican II was to be a pastoral, rather than a doctrinal, Council. In the end, the petition was rejected as incompatible with this aim.
A final burst of energy was generated by the debate on the morality of nuclear warfare and of conscientious objection. The wording of this section of Schema 13 was less explicit in this regard than the simple words of Pope Paul at the United Nations: “No more war! War never again.” It tried to satisfy both those who feel strongly that all war should be banned and those who believe that under present circumstances an unconditional appeal of this kind would be unrealistic. To help the Council reach a right decision, twenty women, including Dorothy Day, fasted in a Roman house on the Via dell’Anima throughout the debate. The group included Catholics (the majority), Protestants, and one Christian Scientist. The attempt of Archbishop Roberts, of England, to plead on the floor for a stronger section on conscientious objection had no more success this year than last. Although he had submitted his speech to the Secretariat well in advance, in August, he was again denied the right to speak. The mood of the assembly was decidedly favorable to a strong pronouncement on peace, however, even if it was not prepared to endorse everything that the Archbishop proposed. When the aged, nearly blind Cardinal Ottaviani, of the Holy Office, rose to deliver a memorized speech in Latin pleading for the banning of war, he got a ready hearing. He wanted to ban not only all forms of violence but ideological warfare as well, “because it can so easily lead to real war.” His fervently delivered peroration brought down the house: “In the spirit of a United Europe and the United States of North America as well as Brazil, I wish that there would be one world republic made up of all nations.” (Significantly, this visionary speech came from one of those whom Pope John labelled “prophets of doom” at the original session of Vatican Council II.)
In the closing days, a group of American bishops attempted to change Chapter V of Schema 13, which condemned nuclear stockpiling, on the ground that it discriminated against Western nations whose possession of nuclear arms guaranteed the political freedom of large areas of the world. Archbishop Philip Hannan, of New Orleans, together with Cardinal Spellman and others, circulated a letter urging the Fathers to vote non placet on Chapter V, or, if their objections to it were not met, non placet on the schema as a whole. There were four ballots on this question. In the first, on December 4th, Chapter V received 483 negative votes, but the bishops’ efforts collapsed completely in the final vote, on December 7th, when Schema 13 was approved unchange
d by a vote of 2,309 to 75.
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It was over birth control that the Council nearly came to grief during its closing weeks. On November 24th, two weeks before its scheduled close, it received a letter from Cardinal Cicognani, Secretary of State, containing a last-minute amendment for Schema 13: Pope Paul, it appeared, wanted a clearer reference to the present doctrine of the Church banning artificial contraception. Since the Pope had previously withdrawn the birth-control question from the jurisdiction of the Council, reserving it to himself, and had appointed a special commission of experts to advise him in making a final pronouncement on the matter, many Council Fathers felt they were now being asked to approve legislation without adequate discussion. Tempers began to soar, and for a while it looked as if the dark days that marked the close of the third session were about to be repeated. Fortunately, as a result of protests by leading commission members, such as Cardinal Léger, of Montreal, and a discreet but firm move on the part of the lay auditors, two days later another letter came from Cardinal Cicognani stating that the Pope was only offering suggestions and not ordering an amendment. The commission adroitly turned the issue by adding Pope Paul’s more liberal statement of June, 1964, to the two other papal statements, and the Pope expressed himself satisfied with their work. As expected, the Council has ended with no resolution of the birth-control problem.
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