Interview published in Télérama on February 12, 2009 —
A brilliant but dogmatic theologian, often poorly advised, Benedict XVI reaches out to fundamentalists – including Bishop Williamson, who has just made Holocaust-denying remarks – and the entire Catholic community is shaken. Frédéric Lenoir, director of “Le Monde des religions,” returns with us to this great malaise.
It's a fortnight that many within the Catholic Church could have done without. Two weeks during which we first saw Benedict XVI lift – unconditionally – the excommunication of a sectarian and schismatic Christian community that counted among its troops a bishop who was a Holocaust denier and proud of it. Rumbling from the bishops in France and Germany, protests from the faithful and Catholic intellectuals, and a request for clarification from Angela Merkel: the noise, not to say fury, finally reached the thick walls of the Vatican. The latter, via its Secretariat of State, finally imposed on the conspirators of the Priestly Society of Saint Pius X (1) two essential prerequisites for their reinstatement: "Full recognition of the Second Vatican Council" (which symbolizes the Church's openness to the modern world) and a repudiation by Bishop Williamson of his comments on the Holocaust. To submit to it would obviously be to resign, for Archbishop Lefebvre's children. At the time of publication, this decision is therefore uncertain. In the meantime, the damage is there.
at two chaotic and not always Catholic weeks with Frédéric Lenoir, director of Le Monde des religions and author of Christ the Philosopher.
Why is Benedict XVI now issuing conditions that he initially refused to impose?
The Pope, after the fact and under pressure, set the conditions he should have made before signing the decree. The collision between Bishop Williamson's Holocaust-denying remarks on January 21 and the lifting of the excommunication on the 24th proved disastrous—much more so than he had imagined. He may have believed for a moment that only progressive voices would emerge in the Church, and he discovered that Catholics—especially in France—were deeply shocked. In the end, he found himself with a serious crisis within the Church.
But why not have imposed these conditions from the start?
There are two reasons for this. Everyone knows that since Vatican II, Benedict XVI has expressed doubts about certain aspects of the application of this council, without, however, denying it: he considers that the Church has lost its sense of liturgy, that it has opened itself too much to the world. By reintegrating the traditionalists – a priority of his pontificate – he was betting that once the excommunication was lifted, he could make them "move" from within. The fundamentalists, for their part, were undoubtedly betting the opposite: once in the Church, they hoped to influence the Pope. Instead of bringing back the lost sheep, Benedict XVI therefore took the risk of letting the wolf into the fold.
And the second reason?
The Secretariat of State claims that Benedict XVI was unaware, when he signed his decree, that Bishop Williamson had made Holocaust-denying remarks. This is possible, because the Pope signed the decree three days before its publication, on January 21. But he had plenty of time to change his mind between signing and publication! He could very well have said: "In view of Bishop Williamson's recent statements, I am suspending my decision and waiting for him to reconsider his statements." What worries me is not the administrative burden—obviously—that is affecting the Vatican, but that these remarks on the Holocaust did not seem more serious to Benedict XVI!
The Pope is not, however, suspected of anti-Judaism...
Indeed, and this explains why the clash between the lifting of the excommunication and Bishop Williamson's remarks seemed so brutal. Imagine that a French bishop had made Holocaust-denying remarks a month ago. We would have expected Benedict XVI to immediately suspend him from his duties. Now an excommunicated bishop makes the same remarks and, two days later, the Pope... officially reinstates him!
What exactly does the lifting of excommunications mean?
The excommunication was pronounced in 1988 by John Paul II, when Archbishop Lefebvre ordained bishops without the Vatican's consent. It simply meant that Archbishop Lefebvre had placed himself outside the Church. The decree of January 21, 2009, lifted the disciplinary measure, but did not imply that the fundamentalists fully adhere to the Catholic Church that emerged from Vatican II. To avoid this ambiguity, Benedict XVI should have demanded from the outset full acceptance of Vatican II and the famous decree on religious freedom, which considers that man is free to choose his religion in conscience—or not to choose one—and affirms that there are truths in each of them, thus opening the door to interreligious dialogue.
A dialogue that Archbishop Lefebvre firmly opposed...
The schism dates back to 1988, but the final straw was the Interreligious Meeting for Peace in Assisi in 1986, during which John Paul II prayed with the heads of the major religions. The Dalai Lama holding the Pope's hand was an unbearable image for Archbishop Lefebvre. But it cannot be said that interreligious dialogue was one of Benedict XVI's priorities either. One of his first measures was to ask the Franciscans of Assisi to cease their Meetings...
The coincidence between the Pope's decree and Bishop Williamson's remarks is described as a "tragic ambiguity" by the Catholic intellectuals who signed the appeal published in La Vie. this "historical" ambiguity in the Church's view of the Jews not been removed by John Paul II's acts of repentance?
Indeed, the Church no longer has any problem with Judaism. The missal promoted by Paul VI in 1970 removed the references to the "treacherous people" found in Pius V's missal, and the vast majority of Catholics today say they are very close to the Jews. The fundamentalists, on the other hand, were not embarrassed to use this old text just three weeks ago. They will now have to do without it...
Fundamentalism was founded by a Frenchman – Archbishop Lefebvre – and half of its followers live in France. How can this French specificity be explained?
We must go back to the Revolution. It advocated freedom of conscience and the separation of politics and religion, which Rome, at the time, rejected en masse. Little by little, a split was made between a majority of faithful rallied to the Republic (and accepting the principles of the Revolution) and a minority who remained close to the Vatican... as long as the latter rejected modernity. But Vatican II - and the Pope's recognition of human rights and freedom of conscience - caused this relationship with the "intransigents" to explode, hence the schism: on the one hand, fundamentalism, which sanctifies the pre-revolutionary period and freezes it in the nostalgia for "Christendom", on the other, an open Rome. A distinction still sensitive in the Church of France, where, alongside a massively liberal clergy (and vigilant in the face of fundamentalist temptation), a community of faithful attached to "eternal and Catholic France" continues to exist, often monarchist, sometimes Le Penist.
Is Holocaust denial strong in these fundamentalist circles?
For them, things are clear: the Jewish people must convert. There is no salvation outside the Church, anyone who does not convert rejects God and the truth, therefore they are in error. And in lies. We thus fall back on the idea of the perfidious Jew… It is easier, obviously, to lean towards negationism when one has such a negative vision of the Jewish people. While the "classic" Catholics, rather right-wing, are one of the populations that vote the least for Le Pen: their dialogue with Judaism is also very nourished and in the parishes there are numerous Judeo-Christian associations.
After the Regensburg speech in September 2006, in which Benedict XVI distinguished between Christianity and Islam on the links between faith and violence, does this fuss not reveal certain dysfunctions in the governance and communication of the Vatican?
It confirms what we have felt since the beginning of the pontificate, namely that Benedict XVI is a man of dogma, certainly not a diplomat. The Pope has no political skills, he is poorly advised and poorly supported. It is difficult to understand, for example, why this reinstatement was not the subject of more concerted management with the bishops of France.
Is the Vatican cut off from the world?
A comparison with the pontificate of John Paul II helps explain many of the hiccups. For Benedict XVI, the Church's time is not the same as the media's. The former is a long time—one can criticize a decision today, but its truth will be recognized later. As for the latter, he despises it. Yet, the Vatican expends colossal energy correcting its mistakes, with declarations about "what the Pope really meant, etc." This communication problem is undoubtedly linked to Benedict XVI's solitude. The Pope takes his meals alone, while John Paul II shared them with five or ten people. But it must also be remembered that while John Paul II was, like Benedict XVI, a man of conviction rooted in his certainties, he had to grapple with communism. He was therefore well-versed in politics. Whereas Benedict XVI is a dogmatic theologian cut off from the world. The former was able to understand non-believers and followers of other religions without losing his identity. The latter retained his predecessor's sense of tradition without his open-mindedness. The consequences of this are evident today.
If it is really about bringing together the great family of the Church, why not make a gesture towards those who have been marginalized for years – Eugen Drewermann or Hans Küng, who are trying to reconcile the doctrine of the Catholic Church with new knowledge and the evolution of society?
Clearly, Benedict XVI feels closer to the fundamentalist bishops than to Küng and Drewermann. Or to put it another way: his natural inclination draws him more to the right than to the left. This is all the more destabilizing for French Catholics, given their liberal views on religious matters. Many Catholics do not understand why the Pope reaches out to fundamentalists without making a gesture toward the divorced and remarried (who still do not have the right to receive communion, even though many of them are devout Catholics), why he continues to condemn the use of the pill, and why he marginalizes liberation theologians.
What do you think of the liveliness of their reactions?
It is reassuring to see that French Catholics know how to stand out on certain fundamental issues. From the grassroots to the top of the hierarchy, including Catholic intellectuals, they have said: no, we do not agree, and thus confirmed their deep attachment both to the developments of the Second Vatican Council and to their freedom of conscience.
The French bishops, too, reacted unambiguously to Williamson's remarks, without, however, challenging the Pope's authority. One sometimes gets the feeling that schizophrenia is lurking...
The motu proprio promulgated a few months ago by the Vatican, which authorized the Mass of Saint Pius V, did not please the French bishops. But they had accepted it as a sign of openness and diversity within the Church. This time they are very uncomfortable, torn between their loyalty to the Pope—real, even if I think Benedict XVI was not really the candidate of their hearts—and revolt against what happened. Never has an affair put the French Church so at odds with the Vatican.
Comments collected by Olivier Pascal-Moussellard
Télérama of February 12, 2009, no. 3083
(1) Founded on November 1, 1970 by Archbishop Lefebvre, this society of Catholic priests has set itself the objective of "orienting and realizing the life of the priest towards what is essentially his reason for being: the holy sacrifice of the Mass," while "carefully avoiding modern errors." It has approximately 500 priests and 150,000 faithful worldwide.
Read “The Philosopher Christ”, Plon ed., 306 p., €19.