Thursday, July 11, 2013

Op-Ed : Saints and sinners

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According to Vatican sources, the canonisation of Pope John Paul II is expected in December and may be accompanied by the canonisation of Pope John XXIII. 

If so, it is a clever move by Pope Francis to balance the celebration of the life of two such different figures who, in their own way, affected the modern Catholic Church more than any others. 

The Pope who called the Second Vatican Council is esteemed in large parts of the Church as a reformist. 

Most of the rest would regard Pope John Paul II as nearer their ideal pope, a star player on the world stage who, while narrowing the definition of orthodoxy at home, challenged the might of the Soviet empire abroad and hastened its downfall.

If such a joint canonisation is what Francis is planning, it could serve another useful purpose. 


There are three other popes in the canonisation pipeline: Pius IX, Pius XII and Paul VI. Each of their causes is favoured by a particular faction, and those factions are not so different from the one that is enthusiastic about John Paul II. 

So Francis has an opportunity to put a stop to a practice – the canonisation of recent popes – that is doing the Catholic Church’s reputation no good. 

Having given something to each side by canonising the rival heroes, John XXIII and John Paul II, he could – and should – order the suspension of the canonisation causes of the other three for a century or two. Otherwise, they can look like an unedifying exercise in papal self-congratulation.

Canonisations are supposed to perform the public good of holding up a holy person’s life for admiration and imitation. They do not affect the basic question of whether that person’s soul is in heaven, though they add a degree of certainty to it. 


Pope St Pius X, who died in 1914 and was canonised 40 years later, was the first pontiff to be canonised since St Pius V, who was raised to the altars in 1712. He was famous for the disastrous excommunication of Elizabeth I of England in 1570, which, at a stroke, turned English Catholics into traitors. 

Pius X’s singular contribution to the Church was the persecution of the heresy of Modernism, which had a chilling effect in Catholic theological development for decades. 

Pius IX’s lasting legacy was his notorious Syllabus of Errors of 1864, which delayed the Church’s adjustment to the rise of secular democracy by 100 years; Pius XII’s was the continuing embarrassment to the Church caused by his extreme caution over condemning the Nazi persecution of the Jews.

None of these examples is particularly uplifting. But many other questions arise. Were there no other holy popes between Pius V’s death in 1572 and Pius IX’s accession in 1846? 


The Church traditionally prays that every pope should be holy: shouldn’t it just assume these prayers are answered and move on? 

And why is everybody on the list – with the exception of John XXIII – favoured by conservatives? 

Was Leo XIII, the father of Catholic Social Teaching, not saintly? 

Nor Benedict XV, who tried to stop the First World War; nor Pius XI, who did indeed take on the Nazis? 

These questions may well have occurred to Pope Francis. And another thought may also have occurred to him: “Enough already.”