My Struggle for Freedom: Memoirs by Hans kng; Continuum; pages 544, 25.
"AN exciting book, this Structures of the Church. It can deprive one of sleep. But if you always choose the hot potatoes in theology, one day you'll get your fingers burned," Julius Cardinal Dpfner told the young Swiss theologian Hans kng on the eve of the Second Vatican Council in Rome in October 1962. kng's reply, true to form, was tart: "How do you imagine theology? Do you see a whole series of potatoes lying there, hot, lukewarm and cold, and me audaciously looking for the hot ones? After all, I've only taken up topics which are formally important for a theologian in view of the Council and the Church."
History proved the German Cardinal right - kng did get his "fingers burned". In December 1979, the Vatican, with Pope John Paul II at the helm of affairs, withdrew kng's licence to teach Catholic theology. However, kng's reflections on the "hot potatoes" - papal infallibility, priestly celibacy, ecclesiastical democracy, ecumenism, the doctrine of justification, and so on - paved the way for a "radical rethinking" of Catholic faith in the 20th century.
The book under review, the first of a projected two-volume autobiography, delves into the historical and personal contexts of kng's engagements with the "hot potatoes". It covers his life up to the late 1960s - as a child in Switzerland, a seminarian in Rome's elite Pontificium Collegium Germanicum et Hungaricum, a doctoral student in the Instut Catholique in Paris, a promising young professor of theology at the University of Tbingen in Germany and a peritus (theological expert) at the Second Vatican Council (1962-65). In the process, the volume offers valuable insights into two momentous decades of 20th century Church history, the 1950s and 1960s. The book bears testimony to kng's numerous struggles with the Roman ecclesiastical order, his commitment to ecumenism, his brilliance as a theologian and, above all, a remarkable human being committed to the values of freedom and justice.
By far the most important and substantial parts of the book deal with the run-up to and the goings on at the Second Vatican Council. Adopting the stance of what anthropologists call a "participant observer", kng narrates and analyses the most important religious event of the 20th century, which also happened to be the venue of a battle royal between the conservatives (mainly the Roman Curia, that is, the Vatican bureaucracy) and liberals (the majority in the Council, led largely by the German- and French-speaking prelates) in the Catholic Church.
Despite not being part of any of its preparatory commissions, kng played a leading role in setting the agenda of the Council from without. Hence, even as he was in his early 30s kng was in the company of theological stalwarts and Council pioneers such as the Jesuits Karl Rahner, Henri de Lubac and John Courtney Murray and the Dominicans Yves Congar and Marie-Dominique Chenu. As early as January 1959, when Pope John XXIII announced the decision to convene the Council, kng was lecturing at the University of Basle in Switzerland on Ecclesia semper reformanda ("The Church always in need of reform"). The lecture, delivered at the invitation of the eminent Protestant theologian Karl Barth, was later developed into a widely acclaimed book, The Council and Reunion.
The distinguished Notre Dame University theologian Richard McBrein notes: "[It] was undoubtedly the single most influential book in the Council's preparatory phase because it alerted so many people in the Catholic world to the possibilities for renewal and reform through the medium of Vatican II" (Catholicism; Geoffrey Chapman, London, 2000; page 663). kng put forward several suggestions in the book - reform and simplification of liturgy (the various forms of public worship in the Church, primarily the Mass or Eucharist), abolition of the Index of Forbidden Books, reform of the Roman Curia, and so on. Several of them found their way, though in a modified form, into conciliar or post-conciliar documents.
The Second Vatican Council, the 21st ecumenical council in a 2000-year-old Church, differed from the previous ones in an important respect: It was not convened to combat a heresy or define a new doctrine. It was the opening speech of John XXIII on October 11, 1962 that gave it a sense of direction. kng quotes the Pope: "[The Council is] a leap forward towards a doctrinal penetration and a formation of consciousness in faithfulness and conformity to the authentic doctrine, which, however, should be studied and expounded through the methods of research and the literary forms of modern thought." It was, in other words, a Council to reform, renew and modernise the Church, the sense conveyed by the Italian word that John XXIII used: aggiornamento (bring up to date). It was the Catholic Church's first paranoia-free tryst with the modern world.
The struggle for reform was waged against heavy odds. The third day of the first session of the Council itself gave an idea of what lay in store. On October 13, without any discussion, Council general secretary Pericle Cardinal Felici asked the assembly to elect 16 members for each of the 10 all-important Council commissions. The Bishops were expected to re-nominate the 16 members of the preparatory commissions, mostly members of the Curia. At this point, Achille Cardinal Lienart of the presiding council rose to demand the postponement of the elections in order to give the Bishops more time to decide. His demand was seconded by Josef Cardinal Frings.
The proposal was accepted by the presiding council and was greeted with applause by the assembly. kng says that with this development the Council acquired "a personality of its own". Another peritus, Yves Congar, called the unexpected event "the first conciliar act" in his Council dairy, Mon journal du concile (quoted in The Tablet, October 26, 2002). But the Curia had its way. In addition to the 16 members elected by the Council fathers, the 10 commissions were to have eight more nominees of the Pope. Invariably, the "nominees" were either part of the Curia or fellow travellers.
The ensuing days witnessed more curial tactics to maintain control over the Council: the imposition of Latin as the official language of the Council and the manipulation of voting on the schema (draft decree). The mastery of Latin, though the official language of the Church, varied vastly among the Bishops. Repeated requests, made primarily by Franz Cardinal Knig and the Melkite Patriarch of Antioch Maximos IV, for authorisation to use other languages fell on deaf ears. Even the proposal to install a system for simultaneous translation from Latin was vetoed by the Curia. (It was set up only towards the end of the Council.)
The Popes of the Second Vatican Council: John XXIII and Paul VI.
Voting on the schema on "the sources of revelation" exemplified the Curia's tactics. The schema sought to reassert the Catholic position on a contentious theological issue: From where does one know about the Christian revelation (a historical event)? The Protestants affirm that it is from the Bible and it alone (sola scriptura). The Catholic Church, while accepting that the Bible is the norma normans non normata (the highest norm which is not subject to any another norm), points out the equal importance of tradition. (In a broad sense, tradition is the process of handing on the faith from generation to generation through preaching, doctrines, catechesis, and so on. Specifically, it means the content of the post-apostolic teaching.) kng observes that even the Counter-Reformation Council of Trent (1545-63) referred to the scripture as the one "source of all saving truth and moral order". Moreover, historical research had proved that the partim-partim approach (revelation is based partly on scripture and partly on tradition) was a post-Tridentine distortion.
The schema was put to vote on November 20, 1962. The Curia was alarmed because several leading and respected Cardinals had earlier spoken in favour of rejection. It worked a way out: instead of asking the Bishops to vote for or against the schema, they were asked to vote for or against the continuation of the discussion on it. It was a false dichotomy and foreclosed the real way in which the votes would have split - a majority against the schema but for continuing the discussion and a minority for the schema and for continuing the discussion. The Curia carried the day by this "perverse way of putting the question". However, following protests by the liberal majority, John XXIII intervened. The vote was annulled and the Pope returned the schema for revision by a new commission.
kng's primary contention is clear: the Council was hijacked by the Curia not when the Bishops went home during the long breaks between its four sessions; the battle for the Council was won by the Curia when it was in session. In fact, he traces the curial domination back to the failure of John XXIII and his successor Paul VI to reform it. According to Church law, when a Pope dies all the curial posts automatically fall vacant. It is for a new Pope to make the appointments. Both John XXIII and Paul VI, despite being committed to the renewal of the Church, failed to appoint liberal prelates to key curial bodies such as the Secretariat of State and the Holy Office (now known as the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith).
For instance, Paul VI summoned the whole of the Curia before the beginning of the second session of the Council in September 1963 and lectured them on the need for curial reform. But he entrusted the Curia with the responsibility of formulating the details of its own reform! The much-awaited curial reform did come - in December 1965, after the conclusion of the Council.
Moreover, Paul VI played, in the words of kng, a "highly personal" role in the infamous "black week" of the Council, the last days of the third session when the voting on the schema on religious freedom and ecumenism was delayed and postponed.
kng also blames the "disastrous compromises" made by the liberal conciliar majority, especially with regard to the schema on the Church. The original schema had met with widespread criticism when it was presented for discussion towards the end of the first session in December 1962. In fact, the Curia ensured that the schema would not be rejected by postponing the voting on it to the second session. According to kng, the primary defect of the original schema was its focus on the medieval hierarchical model of the Church, rather than the biblical and patristic understanding of it as a "community of believers" (communio fidelium). The medieval model was implemented as part of the 11th century Gregorian Reform (named after Pope Gregory VII who initiated it).
In between the sessions, the schema was revised. But the revised schema was a "tremendous disappointment". The new schema began with two new chapters on "The Mystery of the Church" and "The People of God"; but the portion on "The Church is Hierarchical" was retained as the third chapter. kng alleges that much of the post-conciliar confusion and conflict in the Church can be attributed to these contradictory ecclesiologies.
Is kng's account of the Council, generally acknowledged as a path-breaking event in Church history, too bleak? Does he not see, to quote from John XXIII's opening speech, it rising "in the Church like day-break, a forerunner of most splendid light"? Here it ought to be remembered that kng's aim is not merely to retell the story of the Council.
It is, in his words, an "`alternative' history of the Council `depicted from within'"; and it is a personal account. Hence at various places in the narrative, he criticises official and semi-official histories of the Council, especially the five-volume History of Vatican II edited by the Italian layman Giuseppe Alberigo, which gloss over or suppress uncomfortable facts.
Nevertheless, the Catholic in kng identifies with the conciliar spirit: "A new, more hopeful, age has begun for it [the Church]: an age of constructive renewal in all spheres of Church life, of an understanding encounter and collaboration with the rest of Christianity, the Jews and other religions, with the modern world generally."
NEWSWORTHY are kng's views on some important personalities of the Church. A slice of unknown history from the late 1940s when kng was a student in Rome: a Polish priest, Karol Wojtyla, was denied admission to the prestigious Jesuit-run Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome because "he has not completed his studies in Poland satisfactorily"; he joins the Dominican-run Pontifical Angelicum University instead. Wojtyla was elected Pope in October 1978 and took the name John Paul II. kng comments: "[I]t is more important for the Church that while this Polish student learned some philosophy, he evidently has a very thin theological foundation - not to mention a lack of knowledge of modern exegesis, the history of dogmas and the Church."
Interestingly, Yves Congar recorded in his Council diary on October 11, 1963: "Bishop Wojtyla submitted some of his texts to me. They are rather confused, full of imprecisions and even errors" (quoted in The Tablet, October 26, 2002).
Trying to explain the transformation of Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, from a peritus at the Council allied with the liberal majority to the chief heresy-hunter and doctrinal czar of John Paul II, has been a difficult task for many an observer of the contemporary Catholic Church. John L. Allen Jr., the Rome correspondent of the National Catholic Reporter, made a commendable attempt in the well-researched biography Cardinal Ratzinger: The Vatican's Enforcer of the Faith (Continuum, 2000). But Allen's work was criticised for failing to do justice to Ratzinger the gifted theologian and prolific writer.
kng, a former colleague of the Cardinal at the University of Tbingen, offers his view: "Certainly, even in Tbingen my colleague, who for all his friendliness always seems somewhat distanced and cool, had kept something like an unenlightened `devotional corner' in his Bavarian heart and shown himself to be all too stamped by Augustine's pessimistic view of the world and Bonaventura's Platonising neglect of the visible and empirical (in contrast to Thomas Aquinas)."
Ratzinger's suspicion of all liberal, not to say Left-leaning, trends in the Church may be traced back to his experience of the 1968 student revolts at the University of Tbingen. kng says that it had a "permanent shock effect" on the arch-conservative Cardinal, who is the Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith since 1981 and the Dean of the College of Cardinals since 2002. "To the present day Ratzinger has shown phobias about all movements `from below', whether these are student chaplaincies, groups of priests, movements of Church people, the Iglesia popular or liberation theology."
Lest it be misconstrued, kng does not claim the mantle of a prophet. Neither is he anti-Catholic. His relations with the Church, 50 years after his ordination and 25 years after the Vatican banned him from teaching Catholic theology, are strained, but not broken. In 2002, back at his alma mater Germanicum after several decades, he still felt "at home". In the not very distant future, one may hope, that the Holy See too might not hesitate to welcome back into the flock of believers its most famous enfant terrible of the past half a century.
