| "A BISHOP OPENS HIS HEART TO US." A LETTER FROM MGR BUTLER TO DAVID BOYCE At the end of the summer, the Abbé de Nantes had the joy and consolation of reading a letter recently sent by the auxiliary bishop of Westminster, Mgr Christopher Butler, to the secretary of the English CRC, Mr David Boyce, in reply to a fairly complete file he had sent him of the doctrine and works of the CRC. Converted from Anglicanism at the age of twenty-six, the former Abbot of Downside, Mgr Butler, was steeped in liberal ideas27". In England he was considered the heir of Cardinal Newman. Here is the letter he sent Mr Boyce.
As soon as the Abbé de Nantes received this letter, he published it with a commentary in the French edition of the Catholic Counter-Reformation, under the heading: "A bishop opens his heart to us". Nevertheless he did not indicate the name or the nationality of the prelate. "What a difference", he observed, "from so many of the other letters from bishops which I have to hand. All of them reveal a total absence of any concern, of reflection on the faith or of fraternal charity, simply contenting themselves with the same orders: "Obey, submit, trust in the Pope and in the Council " Like robots! "Here, we read over our friends shoulder the words of a bishop speaking with an open heart in answer to our studies, with reference to our writings, without forgetting for a moment that he is speaking as a Bishop, a successor of the Apostles and a member of the teaching Church, with faith, truth and sincerity. He does not imperiously close the dialogue or rather I should less formally say the conversation which is grave and implies an ardent quest for the good of the Church for the salvation of souls and the honour of God, as well as a contemplative attraction for supernatural Wisdom. "That is why I am taking it upon myself to prolong the conversation by answering the questions posed in this letter as well as those it leaves in suspense. "Since October 1962, I have constantly had to recall that between the infallible teachings of the extraordinary or ordinary Magisterium and the particular sayings of the Pope and the bishops, there is a considerable margin, an essential difference, which is, moreover, perfectly objective, allowing of a solution in a case of doctrinal division or of serious pastoral disagreement within the Church: that of obedience to the Infallible to the full extent of their divine authority and rights, and of opposition to their incredible opinions and desires as reformers. "Here we have a bishop, the head of a diocese, telling us that he himself has reached the same distinction, certainly as regards our present disagreements. What a novel basis for a common search for the truth! And even before we have rediscovered it, here contrary to the tyranny which first and foremost seeks to exclude us from the Church we have the beginnings of a charter of freedom, a major principle of Catholic reconciliation. "As a further proof of great intellectual courage, this bishop allows himself to consider the fact that I accuse the Pope of heresy. And it is easy for me to answer his questions. (a) The depths of Paul VIs soul are unfathomable to me; for them to be revealed, qualified persons would need to question him and press him with precise questions until firm and unequivocal answers were obtained from him. (b) But I base my judgement of him, as is everyones right and duty to do, on those of his words and deeds that are public, official, and authentic. I state and affirm and have so affirmed before the Church that Pope Paul VI is "heretical, schismatic and scandalous". That is the substance of my Liber Accusationis, which we took to Rome on 10 April 1973 and which was rejected by a Vatican armed against us. "I have made legal proof of my accusation. I wait for the Accused to refute my complaint in a similar form, expecting that he himself, as supreme and universal Judge, should pronounce the doctrinal sentence on his own case, in the definitive mode of an infallible teaching. "Further proof of a rare boldness of faith on the part of this bishop. He is certainly and I weigh my words carefully the only bishop to dare to admit what is, nevertheless, the common and certain teaching of the Church, that the Pope can be heretical and that, if he is, he should be deposed. As to the procedure to be followed in such a case, I have gone into that in great detail and invite my reader to refer to it31. ""No, the procedure is not laid down" But "to reach a solution, we insist that the Pope or a Council pass infallible judgements of faith.31 "Many people will doubtless find the fifth point of this letter rather too liberal and uncertain, but I for my part find it very important and very just, indeed truly "catholic". Such was St Thomas Mores holy line of conduct32 in a situation very like our own. In what does this prudence consist, which I have often referred to by the name of "supernatural wisdom"? In this. In the appalling confusion of ideas and morals, laws and rites, in which we are plunged through whose fault? each one of us must follow the best informed and most correct judgement that can be formulated, without claiming to reject his brother who thinks differently, and we must all pray together for the peace and the light of the Church. I agree. But I must add, in application of the above-mentioned principles, that this liberalism at the level of opinions which set the faithful at odds among themselves, and this mutual respect amidst our frightful divisions, do not dispense us from appealing to God, as this bishop opportunely recalls, nor from appealing to the teaching Church, Pope and bishops. For instead of waiting for a miracle or tempting God with their inertia and cowardice, the Pope and bishops must allay disagreements bearing on matters of faith and morals (not on the politics of men) by definitions and anathemas beyond legitimate contradiction. "The Holy Spirit, to whom we abandon ourselves, has chosen for His instruments these very men constituted as our Pastors, with the Sovereign Pontiff as their head. It is up to them, under His direction, to keep us in the unity of faith, hope and charity. May they be willing to hear our vehement appeals for them to do their duty. Failing which, the flock will be scattered, wolves will devour it, and our pastors will incur the malediction of the Almighty."But for this moment of truth, full of the clarity of divine light, bless you dear Bishop!33"
On 8 September 1977, the head of the Valence circle, Mr Jean Vieux, wrote to Cardinal Marty to tell him how indignant and hurt he was to read his letter of 27 June to the Abbé de Nantes. He went on to say:
Having received a reply from the Cardinal dated 17 September, which was evasive to say the least, Jean Vieux did not give up. He wrote to him again, six months later, on Good Friday, 24 March, to urge him to grant his request:
The Archbishop of Paris replied to him on 6 April 1978:
The Abbé de Nantes will not fail to respond to this offer. Having received "something of an inspiration" while celebrating the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass34, he will write the following letter to Cardinal Marty:
On that same 7 May, the Abbé de Nantes will also write to Mgr Etchegaray:
Having informed the Roman authorities of the Abbé de Nantes' request, Cardinal Marty will reply to him on 21 May:
As for Mgr Etchegaray, he will write to the Abbé de Nantes on 25 May:
The Abbé de Nantes will accept the invitation of the two archbishops. On 13 June at 6.15pm, he can be seen approaching Cardinal Marty and Mgr Etchegaray in the courtyard of the House of the Daughters of the Heart of Mary. He starts up a conversation with the Archbishop of Paris: “I present my respects to you, Eminence.” – “You have not changed”, replies the Cardinal, “you are still as young as ever.” “And you, Eminence, you seem to be brimming with life.” The two prelates are smiling. The welcome is simple, relaxed. They go into the religious house, then into the drawing room, and take their seats around a small square table made of white wood. “Have you come from Saint-Parres-lès-Vaudes?” asks Cardinal Marty. I have never been there. Is it far from Troyes?” – “It is twenty kilometres from Troyes, Eminence.” – “Are there many of you there?” – “At the moment there are eleven brothers and eleven sisters.” – “And some of them have taken their vows over the last few days? I read that in your Bulletin.” – “Yes, Eminence, we had a clothing ceremony”. “I would like”, continued the Abbé de Nantes, “to explain the object of my visit. I have prepared a note. May I read it to you?” The two bishops agreed, and our Father read them the following note:
After having listened to the reading of this note, nodding his head occasionally, Mgr Etchegaray asked the Abbé de Nantes if he might have a copy of it. “Certainly! I have brought three copies.” – “It is the last three paragraphs”, remarked the Archbishop of Marseilles, “which are the most important.” – “Yes”, replied the Abbé de Nantes, “because the first nine refer to things that are already known. They are well established.” No reaction from the two prelates. Our Father returned to the tenth paragraph, which refers to his rupture with the schismatic integrists in the years 1969-1970. “At that period, I was accused of weakness and treason by friends who turned away from me.” – “Yes, yes, we know”, said Cardinal Marty. “Naturally, we understand the sincerity of your appeal.” – “I laboured for the unity of the Church at the very moment when you were unworthily persecuting the traditionalists. By maltreating them, you have thrown them into revolt and schism.” – “Your views have been very clearly stated. The episcopate is aware of them. You yourself are not in any way outside of the Church.” – “That is true, Eminence, so much so that in my absence the brothers and sisters attend the parish Mass at Saint-Parres-lès-Vaudes. The parish priest gives them communion.” – “Yes, of course.” Then the Abbé de Nantes went on to comment on his eleventh paragraph: Since 1971, I have carefully restudied the content of the Vatican II Reform. Indeed I had been firmly opposed to this Reform because certain innovations seemed absolutely unacceptable to me. I had therefore rejected them. When my trial at the Holy Office ended, in 1968, my Roman judges ordered me to accept all the teachings of Vatican II and Pope Paul VI. For me that was not possible. Today, I am still ready to re-examine my standpoint. I do not systematically reject change out of hand. Since my seminary studies, I have always been interested in scientific exegesis, the renewal of theology, and liturgical reform.” Cardinal Marty acquiesced, very calmly and paternally: “Yes, yes.” “My wish”, our Father continued, “is that the Roman theologians would impose on me, not a total retraction, but a formula of submission that is precise and limited. I am not prepared to sign just anything. I will explain to my readers why I adhere to the proposed formula of submission, or why I reject it. I am concerned about the development and the gravity of the integrist schism. The traditionalists turn away from and abandon the hierarchy because they see that everything is going to pot in the Church.” The Cardinal interrupts: “No, Monsieur l'Abbé, it is not true that everything is going to pot. Some things are going very well.” – “Hans Küng has just published his book On being a Christian and it is neither condemned nor sanctioned. I am the only one today to be supposedly condemned; I am ‘disqualified’.” – “You have done well to speak to us. That is the hierarchical way. I have spoken to Cardinal Villot35 about your appeal and I have handed him your letter for him to pass on to the Pope. You would like us to provide a favourable opinion about your request. We are going to send your note to Rome in the diplomatic bag, which leaves on Friday. But we will probably have to wait till autumn before we receive a reply. For the time being, it is best that this matter remains among ourselves, is it not?” – “Yes, Eminence.” – “Until this matter is concluded, we will remain discreet.” – “I am not in a hurry, Eminence. However, I would draw your attention to the last lines of the note. As a sign of good will, I would like to see my powers of jurisdiction returned to me.” – “Well, Monsieur l'Abbé, we will see Mgr Matagrin and Mgr Fauchet and do what we can regarding your celebret and your suspens.” – “Thank you, Eminence.” “Do you always get a large audience at your Mutualité conferences?” asked Cardinal Marty. – “Yes, several hundred, Eminence.” – “But don't many of them leave after the first conference?” – “There are some, it is true, who leave after the talk on current affairs. But, even so, my friends take a great interest in the mystical theology. What I teach them is difficult though.” – “Ah, yes, one feels today that people are searching for God.” The discussion ended there. The Abbé de Nantes had got what he wanted. His note would be passed to the Vatican in order that his file might be re-examined. Four months later, the Abbé de Nantes had the joy of learning that his request had been accepted by Rome and that it had even been considered in the offices of the Secretary of State. On Friday 20 October, Father Lucien Lefeuvre, who held a position there, confided in a member of the League staying in Rome at the time. “I would not be betraying a secret”, this ecclesiastic explained to him, “if I told you that the Abbé de Nantes' case is currently under study. A reconciliation would be desirable, for this priest does much good around him. But one must be patient. The agreement is not yet around the corner.” Meanwhile, on the evening of feast of the Transfiguration, Pope Paul VI died and, on 26 August, John Paul I succeeded him. This was not without consequences for the Vatican.
“It was during Sunday night”, recounts the Abbé de Nantes, “that I was woken out of my sleep to be told of the death of the Pope. With the brothers, I went down as though mechanically to the chapel to say the De profundis and that very beautiful prayer for a deceased Pontiff. ‘O God, who by Thy ineffable providence, didst will to set Thy servant Paul VI amongst the number of Thy Sovereign Pontiffs, grant, we beseech Thee, that he who was the Vicar on earth of Thy only Son may be received into the eternal company of Thy holy Pontiffs36…” I allowed my first feelings, my tentative reactions, to well up within me without trying to put them into any order, as we knelt at the foot of the altar in the night. What news! what a stage in our life, in the life of the Church! And what would tomorrow bring? “It was a consolation for us to have sung the antiphon Tu es pastor ovium and the prayer for the Pope a few hours earlier, during the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament with which we had closed the great and glorious feast of the Transfiguration that 6th August. I had been unaware that he was so close to the blow which would abruptly end his career, so close to the hour when he would have to appear before the Sovereign Judge. I remember that while singing the Latin liturgical prayer, I had hesitated over what was best to ask for him and, not knowing the answer to this, I had handed everything over to the Wisdom and Mercy of Jesus. “Then, from one hour to the next, the Office of the dead filled out this first day of great mourning. The divine liturgy cut short all empty chatter, any wandering of the imagination or ferment of the heart. Our foremost concern was for this Christian soul commended to our prayers, a soul who aroused our compassion and demanded our suffrage at this fearsome hour of God’s Judgement on the whole of his life and his work.37” Paul VI had passed away without making a public retraction. He had neither abjured his heresies nor repudiated his works through an explicit and public display of repentance. Having carefully studied the press releases announcing Paul VI's death, the Abbé de Nantes concluded that the truest account was probably that which was written by Georges-Albert Salvan and circulated by the press agency France-Presse. The author claimed his information came from “a reliable Vatican source”38. Here is his account:
Analysing and commenting on this account40, the Abbé de Nantes will emphasise the following facts: On Saturday 5 August, despite his deteriorating health, Paul VI went on studying his files until late in the night, as he was used to doing. Then, on the following morning, given the seriousness of his condition, he remained in bed, but he nevertheless continued to work and to read. On that Sunday 6 August, he had not yet heard Mass when, “around 6 pm”, his private secretary, Mgr Pasquale Macchi, celebrated it in his presence. According to Georges-Albert Salvan, – and contrary to what the official press release will claim41 – , Paul VI was unable to receive Communion: “He was anxious to kneel on a prie-dieu to receive Holy Communion under both kinds. At that moment he fainted. They put him back in bed. He was gasping.” Assuredly, the proverb reads true: “One dies as one lived.” Paul VI had, certainly, a passion for reading; on the other hand, he had never distinguished himself for great piety. “Despite his flatterers”, the Abbé de Nantes had remarked on November 1970, “it does not appear that Paul VI had any real piety or else he concealed it well.42” The words of the Pope: “But is it night?” are very disturbing, frightening even. Moreover, the Pope did not manage to pronounce the first invocation of the Our Father in its entirety. He stopped at “in cœ…” and expired. He had not been able to say: “in Heaven”. The shrill ringing of his alarm clock, at the precise moment of his death, is a sinister sign. At the end of his analysis of Albert Salvan’s article, one fact stands out, indisputable and terrible: No, the Pope’s last day was not edifying, and several signs, particularly his final words, would seem to indicate that Paul VI died as a reprobate. The Abbé de Nantes saw in this a confirmation of the justice of his own assessment of the personality and works of this Pontiff. Concerning the hour of Paul VI’s death, the Abbé de Nantes formulated a hypothesis: According to Albert Salvan, Paul VI expired when his alarm clock “registered 9.40 pm”43. The Abbé de Nantes doubts this and presumes that the alarm clock went off at 6 o’clock in the evening, since it used to ring every morning at 6 o’clock. Paul VI would then have died, not at 9.40 pm, as announced by the press, but at 6 o’clock, before he had had the time to receive the Last Sacraments. If the Pope had in fact passed away at 6 o’clock, then it can only have been a few minutes or a few seconds before his death that his staff had realised the urgency of saying Mass in his bedroom. The intention was thus to avoid or disguise the scandal of a Pope dying on a Sunday, on the evening of the feast of the Transfiguration, without having celebrated the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass or even having assisted at it. Around the 10th August, even before he had been fully informed about the exact circumstances of his death, the Abbé de Nantes wrote and published Paul VI’s funeral oration in the Catholic Counter-Reformation. “The only feeling that wrings my heart, which I cannot control and which I know in advance will spoil the future for me, is that of an immense pity for this poor soul. As you know, in exchange for his salvation I went so far to offer my earthly life – which is not so much – and even my eternal life44. I shudder at the thought : to have shaken the Church to her very foundations, to have made a pact with the devil’s own children and to have given up Christian lands to barbarians, to have almost irreparably destroyed the ramparts of Christendom, to have profaned and devastated the Sanctuary, and without doubt to have caused the loss of thousands upon thousands of souls, for fifteen years of apparent glory… what does it all amount to? What does it mean in the perspective of the eternity where he has now entered? Vanitas vanitatum et omnia vanitas. How can a man entertain such vain projects to achieve a worldly glory which is nothing but a wisp of smoke dispersed in the wind, when the weight of things done and words spoken must needs have its exact sanction in eternal damnation? “And then I am seized by a cold, spiritual, interior fury against those who surrounded this unhappy Prophet inebriated by his own extravagant eloquence and beguiling chimeras. How is it that not a single Cardinal, not one Roman theologian, not one of his private advisers spoke to him about the formidable responsibility he was incurring? Was no one equal to the task of putting a stop to the ruinous extravagance of this heretical, schismatic and scandalous pontificate? For fifteen years they have been the dumb witnesses, the collaborators and the accomplices of this auto-demolition of Rome by Rome. Why did no one attempt to restrain the Pope by threatening to break with him or by throwing himself under the wheels of his triumphal carnival chariot? Why did nobody make any attempt to break the charm or, as I believe, the fearful blackmail45 and so save not only the soul of the Pontiff but the honour and life of the Church at the same time? “Therefore – and I know how out of place my words are – when the Cardinals in their crimson robes, a symbol of the blood they are meant to be ready to shed in any danger to the faith and to Christ, find themselves gathered in Conclave, we shall have under our eyes the great assembly of the guilty from whom God will demand an account for the soul of His servant Paul, who lost his way beneath their eyes without their lifting a finger or saying a single word right up to this late hour when at one stroke his life ended. Not one of them. Nobody, except a rebellion that came too late and did no more than aggravate the evil and justify the worst. “I searched, as one does in the great hours of our existence, for some sign in Heaven or on earth that might mysteriously unveil the meaning of this event for us. I could find none. Then a little later there arrived one of the brothers46 who, on his way through Paris, had attended Mass in English at the church of St Louis d’Antin. It was the Mass of Paul VI. In a few brief words the priest had referred to the Church’s grief, reassuringly stating that our Pope Paul VI, who had worked so much for peace in the world, had now entered into his rest. Then the celebration began. A smart young lady stepped up to the lectern to give a cursory reading from the Old Testament. Well! here is the prophecy read on that first morning of mourning for Paul VI, the prophet of peace.
“That was the Oracle of the Mass of Paul VI which was read, on that first morning after his death, in all the Catholic churches of the world where the new liturgy was celebrated, a liturgy which he – the prophet of Peace for all nations, races and religions – had ordered. There is the sign. And there in itself is the apologue of our fourteen long years of debate. I believe in the Word of God proclaimed in the liturgical assembly, and I believe that the choice of this oracle for that morning was right and good, since Paul VI himself had prescribed it. Being High Priest that year, he had without knowing it prophesied his own death and the chastisement of all his people. “And when they lower into the grave the heavy coffin of John-Baptist Montini, the Pope between the years 1963 and l978, they should also bury his other mortal remains: his many tiresome and vain chimeras, the heresies they drew on, the schisms they produced and the scandals they multiplied. Let all this stench of Satan be buried with him, I mean with his body. “Let the Princes of the Church gathered in Conclave, let the Successor of Saint Peter whom they will elect remember that there is no better saving work for the soul of the dead Pontiff than to restore to the Church her tranquility after the storm, her faith after so much questioning and her fraternal charity in place of suspicion and bitter contestation. From where he is at present, Pope Paul VI implores nothing other for this Church which was also his, for his misfortune as well as ours.47”
Three weeks after he wrote and published this impressive funeral oration, the Abbé de Nantes was filled with gratitude. He was jubilant, exultant, for the cardinals gathered in conclave had elected a Pontiff “according to God's Heart”48! The Church had at last been “delivered”. She had been given a good Catholic Pope in the person of Cardinal Albino Luciani who had taken the name of John Paul I. It is true that for many years the Abbé de Nantes had hoped for and even predicted that, after the death of Paul VI, the members of the conclave would choose a Pope from amongst the traditionalist or conservative cardinals. If he had foreseen and even predicted this with confidence, this was largely because of his firm faith in the indefectibility of the Church which is a divine work whose perfections are visible. This is what the First Vatican Council taught:
Since the Church is certainly a divine work, capable by herself alone of establishing our faith in Jesus Christ and our adherence to this same Church as the sacrament of our salvation, her perfections and especially her holiness and her infallibility could not continue to be obscured for long. Such a hope, entirely supernatural, of seeing a holy Pontiff ascend the throne of Peter, was confirmed by one of the greatest lessons in the Church's history: “On every occasion”, he remarked in June 1972, “that the Church suffered from a bad Pope, the damage was immense, truly immense. But each time God, remembering His promises, took pity on His Church and came to her aid. The college of cardinals, uniquely sensible of Rome’s real ills, chose a good Pope who undid what the bad one had done and restored what the other had destroyed.49” This supernatural hope was in perfect harmony with his analysis and his empirical forecasts. The theologian of the Catholic Counter-Reformation was convinced that the conclave would elect a good Catholic Pope, “in their desire for a firm authority that would restore order in the Church. This would come about through the all-powerful goodness of God for whom certain things in His Church cannot be tolerated for long, but also through the visible workings of the institution and the sense of responsibility that the death of Paul VI would instil in those cardinals who were weary and disturbed by the frightful decadence of the Church.50” The Abbé de Nantes presumed that, paradoxically, the internationalisation and enlargement of the college of cardinals would ensure the success in the conclave of the Roman conservatives against the European progressivists who had been discredited, notably by their contestation of ecclesiastical celibacy during the 1971 synod51. It was after this synod that his forecasts became more and more precise. For it is noticeable that in 1970 when he was publicly asked, at the dinner-debate on 30 January, “Can you see a cardinal whose accession to the sovereign pontificate one might hope for?” he replied, “No, I cannot see one. But for the good reason that the best popes were by and large quite unexpected. It is the office that makes the man and not the man who makes the office. We will be saved by the divine institutions of the Church and not by the men of the Church. The greatest evil that can befall the Church, or any State for that matter, is for her to become besotted with a man and to throw herself blindly and passionately behind him, hoping that his sublime genius will achieve all. He will not stop until he has destroyed everything and recreated it according to his own ideas and for his own glory. What we are seeing today is proof enough of this. But remember, on the other hand, that Saint Pius X was elected quite by chance, when the Sacred College wanted the sinister Rampolla!52” But in the following year, in 1971, the Abbé de Nantes remarked on the far from negligible work of defending Catholic faith and law undertaken by Cardinal Pericles Felici in preparing the “Fundamental Law” which was to be submitted to the Synod. The former Secretary General of the Council wished to save the monarchical authority of the Pope, without nonetheless explicitly denying the teaching of Vatican II. He sought to subsume it and situate it in a direct line with the teaching of Vatican I. “His plan”, our Father will explain, “was to restore, along with pontifical monarchy, the episcopal and sacerdotal hierarchy, order and discipline. But it was fallaciously proposed in the name of Vatican II, through a series of manipulated conciliar texts that would satisfy neither the partisans of the conciliar mayhem nor the canonists concerned with the precision of the texts.53” So the attempt by Cardinal Felici was in vain. Left in the lurch by Paul VI, the eminent prelate of the Curia was foiled. He was unable to prevail against Cardinal Suenens and the modernist lobby. Drawing the lesson from these events, the Abbé de Nantes will write: “As for Cardinal Felici, who wanted a Counter-Reformation on the cheap and who I hope, for the Church's sake, will soon ascend Saint Peter's throne, this painful affair should teach him that one does not negotiate with contestation.54” One year later, in September 1972, our Father headed the editorial of the Catholic Counter-Reformation: “After Paul VI, Felici”55. From then on, he was not content simply to desire the election of Cardinal Felici to the sovereign pontificate, he actually forecast it. “In their insurmountable pessimism, certain perceptive but anguished people repeat that the pope's successor will inevitably make us look back with regret to his predecessor. But the whole history of the papacy belies this maxim. We must on the contrary look to the future with confidence and hope. Freed from the strange fascination that Paul VI exercised over every one of them and having at last recovered from the collective enthusiasms and fanciful dreams of the Conciliar Reform, the cardinals of the next conclave will elect a man of strength, and there is such a one. The institution of the conclave is excellent. Like all human things, it sometimes experiences a breakdown but, like all truly living beings, it remembers itself and repairs the evil when its consequences make themselves felt. “The Cardinals were compromised almost to a man in the failed adventure that was Vatican II and all of them are anxious about their future as well as ours. So they will give serious thought to their choice in the next Conclave. They will go for a sure pair of hands, having experienced the deadly consequences of taking a gamble before. They will avoid the extremes and vote neither for a reactionary like Siri, nor for a demagogic adventurer like Suenens. At such a moment of peril, they will not wish to attempt anything unprecedented, and so they will look for a Roman from Rome. Certainly not a Frenchman from that loathsome clique to which Villot and Garrone belong. “Their choice will be a man who was among the moderates at the last Council, a man of great learning and devoid of party spirit, who has been directly involved in all the difficult debates of the last ten years. But, above all, he must be someone strong, into whose hands they can lay the complete file of the Church’s bankruptcy, the whole weight of her shame and anarchy. Tired of the burdensome ineptitude of their collegiality, they will want to hand everything over to one single man and they will say to him: Be Pope, and govern! “Cardinal Felici? There exist several men like him among the Roman cardinals. One of them will attract the attention of those who will swing the election, the cardinals from the countries of the East and from the third world. Europe will have nothing to say. Because all this is inscribed in the nature of things, I can speak about it with fear of compromising anyone. I foresee the election of Cardinal Felici and already I am praying for him.56” In 1975, although the first period of Paul VI's papacy, a period of brilliant dreams and easy popularity, was long past and his reign had been darkened by contestation and by his own personal disillusionment, the Abbé de Nantes predicted that the Catholic renaissance would only come after the inevitable and necessary chastisement, under the leadership of another Saint Pius X. Let us read what he said: “Expiation is going to come, whether in this world or in the next, God knows. But when that hour sounds, Saint Pius X will return through his intercession, his example and his doctrine, and the Church will blossom again.57” In his current affairs conferences during the last month's of Paul VI's pontificate, particularly those of October and December 1977, the Abbé de Nantes spoke on several occasions of his succession: “I venture to believe that on Paul VI's death, God will not abandon us and that He will then give us a Pope who will defend the faith and condemn heresy. I forecast the election of Cardinal Felici. He is not our candidate. But this prelate from the Curia seems to me to be the most serious-minded and the most competent of the Roman cardinals. President for several years of the Pontifical Commission for the revision of the Code of Canon Law, he has recently been appointed Prefect of the supreme tribunal of the Apostolic Signatura.58” Furthermore, in the course of one of his conferences during that winter of 1977-1978, our Father added: “Felici, or another Italian cardinal, unknown to us, who will appear at the conclave like another Pius X, for example his successor in Venice, Cardinal Luciani. The choice will be good.59” After the death of Paul VI, the man elected by the conclave was not Cardinal Felici, but was in fact the Archbishop of Venice. On 26 August 1978 the cardinals designated this prelate, little known in France, as the one to mount the throne of Saint Peter. He chose the name of John Paul I. In the days following the election of Don Luciani, the Abbé de Nantes carefully studied his life. He discovered his virtues with amazement, he marvelled at his apostolic activities and was convinced, on the strength of his past, that the new Pope, “a personal friend of Cardinal Felici”60, would be – o great marvel and joy! – “another Saint Pius X”61. “We found ourselves”, he will write, “drawn to him and changed. We admit that. In the first place because we had never imagined that a man of such quality and holiness could still exist amongst the Princes of the Church. I wrote that in my Funeral Oration for Paul VI and I regret it. I held all the cardinals of this conclave responsible, either through active complicity or else through cowardice, for the Church's degradation under the reign of Paul VI, the most destructive, indeed self-destructive, reign of our entire history. How could it be otherwise since they had accepted everything and said nothing? “But the elevation of Cardinal Luciani to the pontificate – with a very large majority (not unanimity) as is known – showed us that both he and others, many others, had adopted an extreme filial obedience as their supreme rule and had disregarded everything else, considering it to be outside their competence. So there was this silent majority who perhaps struggled in secret, who suffered, prayed and waited patiently, but who would one day elect from among themselves the best and the most holy Pontiff.62” In our next volume we will present the Abbé de Nantes' account of Don Luciani's life and his enthusiastic eulogy of him, which were published very speedily, only one week after his election. But before learning of the solid reasons that led him to think that a great pontificate was just commencing – one of combat against the immanent apostasy, and that for the joy of the humble, in the Catholic light and splendour of an evangelical reign – we may read the first few paragraphs of his page entitled “The League”, dated 3 September 1978. We will thus learn what lessons he drew from the election of such a Pastor, and we will better understand the joy that was his during the reign of John Paul I: “My dear friends, I have always told you, even at the most trying moments: ‘It is not we who will save the Church. It is the Church herself who will save us.’ And again: ‘Nothing holy, stable or decisive happens in the Church without Rome, outside of Rome, or against Rome. When Rome wishes it, the Catholic renaissance will come.’ And then: ‘God, who tries His Church, can within the space of a day change and renew everything, dry our tears and give us joy, as though effortlessly, using the hidden resources He holds in reserve.’ And often: ‘We must not take up the kind of positions that, on the day of grace when the Pope changes and gently restores order to the Church as in the 16th century, would drive us into schism, revolt or insubordination through vexation or narrowness of mind. Let our requirements not be excessive.’ And constantly: ‘What joy there will be when God gives us a pious Pope, one who is just and good and happy to listen to us!’ “‘Where do you see him?’ I have been asked. ‘It is because I cannot see him that I believe in him’, was the reply of faith. And now I am just beginning to believe what I do see, what we are all going to see, something we have believed in and so greatly desired.63” As we continue the history of Forty years of Catholic Counter-Reformation, we will note the extent to which John Paul I's election clearly showed that the Church had remained, despite the Conciliar Reform, a permanent miracle, a “sign lifted up among the nations.” Certainly, his luminous pontificate, a source of so many graces, was tragically interrupted after a reign of only thirty-three days, but during the 80's and 90's the pure heritage of John Paul I will remain like a brilliant star in the persistent night, and he will revive our hope in a speedy Catholic Renaissance, at the hour appointed by God, when a Pontiff according to His Heart will once more be called to take his seat on the throne of Peter. PERSEVERARE DIABOLICUM Thirteen years after the debate at Annecy64, our Father sent Brother Bruno to the hôpital des Invalides where Father Congar was finishing his days under the good care of the Army, on account of the years he had spent in captivity. Our brother's mission was to remind the “father of the Fathers of Vatican II” that he would have to answer for all his lies before the tribunal of God, and to invite him to repent of them while there was yet time...! Plucking up all his courage, our brother made an appointment and the meeting took place on 10 October 1990, at 4 pm. The discussion lasted an hour and a half. Here is his account: I went to the chapel, calling upon the Holy Spirit. There I met a seminarian from Créteil who was completing his military service as the chaplain's assistant. It was he who used to take Communion to Father Congar, whom he familiarly referred to as “the wild boar of the Ardennes”, he confided to me, on account of his difficult character. He led me to the bedroom of the Reverend Father, who already had a visitor in the person of his superior, Father Koph. I waited for a while in the waiting room, and when I was shown in, Father Congar said to me, “I have not received Communion for two whole days.” “How are you?” I asked him. He was suffering from multiple sclerosis. He had been placed in a wheelchair which he could move around in by pressing the electric buttons controlling a small motor, within easy reach of his fingers. “What I am suffering is nothing”, he answered me, “compared to...” so and so whom he named, men who were being nursed by the medical service. “There is so much faith, so much charity in the Church today”, he concluded in a tone which was intended to be persuasive. The conversation then turned on Mgr Lefebvre: “I knew him well”, he told me. “We have taken lunch together. His opposition was juridical. Whereas de Nantes said, ‘If one fights on this terrain, one is done for’.” I followed this up: “Yes, because our Father thinks that the Council fell into error through your fault, Reverend Father! The Abbé de Nantes says that you are the one who has shipwrecked the Church... “Me? But I have always sought the truth. God gives and God takes away again... Look! I am no longer anything. They have taken my books and my files away from me.” After a digression on “truth” and “poverty”, the foundations of the spiritual life, he went on: “I marched in order that the Church might advance”, he declared with a certain solemnity. “Advance where?” I asked him. “Towards the world.” I returned to the question of doctrinal error at the Council: “According to the Abbé de Nantes, Vatican II is a doctrinal Council.” Congar acquiesced: “Yes, two Constitutions are dogmatic, and to reject them on the pretext that this Council is pastoral, no, that is not possible!” He immediately took as an example the question of the sacramentality of the episcopate, citing as proof a certain archdeacon who had been consecrated bishop directly, without first becoming a simple priest. I remarked to the the Reverend Father that the Abbé de Nantes' objections did not turn on this point. “On what do they turn then?” “Principally on Religious Liberty, as you know very well!” “You have failed to understand. The Church has always said that no one may be forced to believe. That is all there is to it.” “Excuse me! The Second Vatican Council proclaimed that no one may be prevented from practising whatever religion or irreligion he likes. That is quite different! And it is that which is heretical, according to us. We were very disappointed that you did not intervene in order that the Abbé de Nantes might be given a hearing by the highest authorities.” “But any member of the Church may raise an objection with the Pope!” “Yes. But to us, however, he does not reply. What have you done to encourage him?” “I have not done anything. But I am nothing...” “Liar! The Abbé de Nantes says that you are a liar. And you will have to answer for it before God.” “I have always sought the truth.” “The Abbé de Nantes affirms the same thing. One of you is a liar... I will not hide the fact that we do not think it is him. In conscience, we cannot accept your innovation on the matter of Religious Liberty.” “One must follow one's conscience, even though it is erroneous”, he said to me gently. “But one may be at fault for not having informed one's conscience.” “Certainly, Reverend Father. Are you ready to apply this principle to yourself?” “Yes!” “Then, who will decide between you and the Abbé de Nantes? The tribunal of God, since no one down here wishes to know about it.” Father Congar agreed. The remainder of the conversation turned on the Holy Shroud, Medjugorje, Paul VI, “a saint! He received me in a very informal way. I spoke to him just as I am speaking to you. On the last occasion, he said to me: ‘I would like us to end this conversation with a prayer.’ We shall do likewise shortly, if this is agreeable to you.” I indicated my approval. Congar continued: “At the end of his life, Paul VI confided to me: ‘I am afraid that I may have been too generous and have dispensed too many priests from their vow of celibacy’.” The “prayer” at the end was... silent! Before taking my leave, I asked him for his blessing: “I am like Joan of Arc. I refuse to give out blessings.” A polite way of refusing me his priestly benediction, very indicative of his interior exasperation. End of conversation65. |