Circling The Saintly Wagons

YOU don’t hear much about the “silence of Piux XII” any more. Not even the advent of the internet could do much to revive the KGB-authored calumny that the war-time pontiff had been indifferent to the fate of the Jewish people during the Holocaust. The online arena of brawling about anything and everything may even have killed off the historicity of the charges against Pius once and for all. In some ways, it was easier for haters to traduce him in a lasting way when the instruments at their disposal were slanted magazine essays and sensationalist books – almost all of which were written by post-war Marxists and secularists who were using the Shoah as a proxy to vent their hackneyed grievances with the Catholic Church. Their sort of Big Lie used to take time – conceivably, decades – to extradite from credulous minds. On the put-up or shut-up internet, however, the accusations against Pope Pius were exposed as meritless in short order.

I thought of Pius XII – died 1958 – and his constantly stalled canonisation cause when I read recently that a date had been set for the beatification of John Paul I (4 September, 2022). He held the job for only 33 days, his death making 1978 the Year of Three Popes. His two predecessors, Paul VI and John XXIII – the Popes of Vatican Council II – were canonised in 2018 and 2014 respectively. His successor, John Paul II, was canonised on the same day as John XXIII. This presto saint-making is itself extraordinary. Historically, the canonisation of popes is unusual but the canonisation of four in a row has no precedent later than the fifth century. Given that the many sainted Bishops of Rome in the first 400 years of the Church’s history were not exulted thus by a formal, centralised process – that wasn’t instituted until 1200 – it could be argued there is no precedent at all. Something odd and purposeful is happening here. But what? And why now?

To answer the first question, it is necessary to outline how a canonisation happens. There must be a genuine, appreciable cultus surrounding the candidate; he or she must be revered as a Christian of singular – even heroic – holiness, virtue and orthodoxy. The faithful are drawn to them, request their prayerful assistance and honour their relics. In most cases, this cultus will be a phenomenon occurring within a local or a national church. Beatification is the ritual by which the pope himself gives the Church’s approval for such veneration to be licit everywhere. There are quite exceptional figures whose cults are truly catholic from the start: Thérèse of Lisieux, Padre Pio and John Paul II are a few examples. Despite the sacredness of these formalities, they are overseen by human beings in a material world. Yes, having the prestige, resources, expertise and influence of Milan (Paul VI) or Venice (John XXIII and John Paul I) certainly doesn’t hurt. It would be a stretch to argue that Holy Fathers or not, these men showed greater heroism in virtue than Australia’s own Servant of God, Eileen O’Connor, whose cause is making its way through the requisites at a more traditional Roman pace: adagio. First in are not first served on the canonisation queue.

What is happening, arguably, is this: the ageing liberals who fear their domination of the Church is drawing to a close are hurriedly raising to the altars not only those who presided over the Council but also the harebrained, revolutionary idea that derailed its interpretation and reception (so far): ‘the spirit of Vatican II’ (invariably invoked to explain away its frequently inconvenient letter). The proofs are compelling: the snubbing of Pius XII – despite his colossal reputation – even as four of his successors were elevated; Pope Francis’ decision in 2013 to waive the unfinished protocols of John XXIII’s cause, thereby allowing the man who called the Council to be canonised on the same day as John Paul II, the man who sought to rein in its unauthorised excesses. The combination of ceremonies was a characteristically boorish Bergoglian touch: the hero of the ‘conservatives’ offset by the hero of the innovators.

As for why now, put it this way: it must have been easier for Francis to humiliate Benedict XVI by trashing the conciliatory Summorum Pontificum with the Cromwellian Traditionis Custodes when the predecessor who sanctioned the New Order Mass – Paul VI – was no longer just a baffled man who once likened himself to Hamlet but a saint for the ages. This doesn’t mean he was undeserving or that a conspiratorial plan is afoot. It does mean a battle for the meaning of history – specifically, continuity of authority in history – has been joined.

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15 Responses to Circling The Saintly Wagons

  1. rosie says:

    I see many statues of Padre Pio and Therese of Lisieux, and some of John Paul II in churches in France and Italy, the others, never.
    The political games of popes don’t wash with the faithful.

  2. C.L. says:

    I think Roncalli (John XXIII) had a real cultus. I understand why – he was a lovable man.

    Montini (Paul VI) had no real following that I’m aware of, nor Luciani (John Paul I). I don’t doubt that they were holy men but their canonisations are obviously part of a concerted push to sacralise the conciliar era.

    Enjoy your travels, Rosie! 🙂

  3. Ivan Denisovich says:

    What is happening, arguably, is this: the ageing liberals who fear their domination of the Church is drawing to a close are hurriedly raising to the altars not only those who presided over the Council but also the harebrained, revolutionary idea that derailed its interpretation and reception (so far): ‘the spirit of Vatican II’ (invariably invoked to explain away its frequently inconvenient letter).

    Peter Kwasniewski:

    This is why, as many observers have pointed out, Traditionis Custodes is a monumental and embarrassing admission of defeat. As Gregory DiPippo said on the first of August in a rousing article called “The Revolution is Over”:

    In the wake of this failure [of the promised “new Pentecost”], the post-Conciliar Catholic Church finds itself a post-revolutionary society, no less than France was in 1794, or Russia was in 1925. And when a revolution fails, when “freedom, equality and brotherhood” lie buried under a pyramid of severed heads, when the worker’s paradise consists of millions of square miles of rust and cadavers, its paladins can go forward on one of two paths. The hard path is to recognize that the revolution has not achieved its goals, and work to rebuild their society in the light of that recognition. The easy path is to find some “reactionaries” and “counter-revolutionaries,” and blame the revolution’s failure on them.

    The surest sign that a revolution has failed, and chosen to take the easy path, is its fear of the past, its fear of the memory of what life was really like before the revolution. And this is why, in the midst of a tidal wave of crises within the Church, a hammer has been dropped where it has been dropped: not on the German Synodal Way, or the various Catholic institutions that have to all intents and purposes walked away from the Faith. The problem so grave that it must be met with the same furious scribbled-on-the-back-of-a-napkin haste that we remember from Fr Bouyer’s memoirs is not the long-standing persistence of grave liturgical abuses, the de facto absence of catechetical formation in once-Catholic nations, or widespread moral, doctrinal and financial corruption. The hammer has been dropped, rather, on the father and mother who were born at least 20 years after the last time a cleric used the word “aggiornamento” unironically, and on their children who are too young to remember the papacy of Benedict XVI.

    There can be no clearer sign that the post-Conciliar revolution is totally uninteresting to the rising generations, and knowing this, [it] grows deathly afraid, and resorts to doing by force what it cannot do by persuasion…. A dying revolution is not a dead revolution; it can still strike out and cause pain, and will likely do so. But in the very act of doing so, it confesses that it has failed and is dying. Do not be afraid. The revolution is over.

    https://onepeterfive.com/desperate-defenders-of-novelty-and-the-eventual-triumph-of-tradition/

  4. cuckoo says:

    But in other news, we now have a ‘historic sex abuse scandal’ to drum up against Pope Benedict. No word yet on mass graves under St. Peter’s square.

  5. Tel says:

    The political games of popes don’t wash with the faithful.

    Them’s Protestant words.

    Next you’ll be sitting all on your own, reading the Bible and thinking for yourself about what the words mean.

  6. Boambee John says:

    CL

    The 1983 made for TV movie The Scarlet and the Black (Gregory Peck and Christopher Plummer as the Catholic and Nazi protagonists) gives a much more sympathetic angle on Pius XII vs the Nazis than the various KGB sponsored calumnies.

  7. C.L. says:

    One of my favourite movies.
    John Gielgud was great as Pius. The imperious manner and accent were, of necessity, English but Pacelli was indeed of a fairly noble bearing and background.

  8. C.L. says:

    Peter Kwasniewski

    That is brilliant, Ivan.

  9. C.L. says:

    Next you’ll be sitting all on your own, reading the Bible and thinking for yourself about what the words mean.

    Would it be impolite to point out at this juncture that Martin Luther is said to have written his 99 theses on the toilet?

  10. Boambee John says:

    CL

    Luther is said to have suffered simultaneously from piles and constipation. Probably painful, and not conducive to deep thought while on the toilet?

  11. Bruce of Newcastle says:

    This isn’t my area at all, but I’ve always thought Pius XII had a really tough gig. Maintaining the Church in Italy during the fascism insanity, when so easily the fascists could go the full fascist ten yards on Christianity in Italy and Germany, being Marxist atheists as they were.

    On the issue of liberal churches, it’s been happening nearly since David’s time. The arc is the same: the liberals suborn the doctrines with variations on “did God really mean you should not eat the fruit of that tree?” Then the diocese decays and declines because there’s nothing to separate the fruity result from paganism. Rod Bower in Gosford comes to mind. Dispense with God and His Word and He tends to dispense with you.

  12. Tel says:

    It is never impolite to mention the sanctity of the Contemplation Room.

    Saint Thomas Crapper and his brotherhood of fellow plumbers have done more for human health and wellbeing than the entire modern medical industry and they deserve a bit of recognition. As for religion, I might not be an expert … but seems to me that any time a man full of shit becomes a man carrying a slightly lighter worldly load, the great Lord gives a nod of approval. Whether you want call that process “enlightenment” or simply “getting it through your system” is not worth arguing over.

  13. C.L. says:

    Very true, Bruce.
    The Nazis made it very clear in word and terrible deed that noisy denunciations from Pius would result in massacres.

    ——————-

    Saint Thomas Crapper and his brotherhood of fellow plumbers have done more for human health and wellbeing than the entire modern medical industry and they deserve a bit of recognition.

    Fact check: True.

  14. rosie says:

    I’m just saying that most faithful Catholics don’t concern themselves with the politics of the Vatican, tel, and that is evidenced by which saints get particular veneration in churches.
    Nothing protestant about it.
    I had a very good book, very well documented, which I’ve given away on the quiet work done by Pius XII to protect the Jews of Rome, and many other places.

  15. rosie says:

    Nor just massacres, but the shutting down of the Pope, which would render him unable to do anything for anyone.

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