What Is the Pope? VI

ONCE, DURING A solemn and symbolic ceremony in St. Peter’s Basilica, when knickered throne-bearers were carrying Pope Pius XII down the center aisle, a little Italian boy of about twelve cried out to the pontiff in a voice plain to hear, “Santo Padre, I want to be like you someday—I want to be pope!”

His Holiness smiled at the lad and, as the dais-bearing porters paused for a moment, made a sign of the Cross, bent forward in his ornamented chair, and was overheard to say in whispered tones, “My son, being a pope isn’t as great as you think.”

Still awed by the sight of the pontiff’s tall tiara and white-and-gold robe, the boy shrugged his shoulders in reverent resignation and said, “Then I don’t want to be the pope either.”

It might be appropriate here to examine the office of the papacy from a new angle. Theologians delve deeply into such questions as, Why is the Pope? and, Who is the Pope? Newspaper correspondents in Rome file thousands of words of copy each year on, Where is the Pope? and How is the Pope? Few writers, however, deal with what may be the most significant question of all, What is the Pope?

At first this may not seem like a proper question, and yet the answer provides insight into the workings of the least populated state in the world, whose leader rules over the largest number of organized people in the world— some 550 million Roman Catholics. Since the 322 million Mohammedans, the 309 million Hindus, the 300 million Confucians, and the 202 million Protestants have never been able to overtake the Catholics in terms of numbers, the Vatican chief executive is the spiritual leader of the largest religious group on our planet.

The papal office is not without its impressive array of titles, official and unofficial. Officially the Pope is the Bishop of Rome, Successor of the Prince of Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Servant of the Servants of God, Patriarch of the West, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, and Sovereign of the State of Vatican City. Unofficially he is often called Rector of the World upon Earth, Father of Princes and Kings, Supreme Pontiff, and Pontifex Maximus. This last name is usually seen in abbreviated form, as “Pont.Max.” (with no separation at the middle period). The Latin word pontifex means builder of bridges, and in ancient Rome the title Pontifex Maximus was given to the luminary who presided when a bridge was erected across the Tiber and the spirits of the river had to be conciliated. At the time of his murder, Julius Caesar was the Pontifex Maximus, but in the year 440 the title was transferred to Pope Leo I, and it has since unofficially remained with the papacy. Although no inscription on a fountain, building, or tomb in Rome seems complete unless a “Pont.Max.” is included, no pope has personally used the signature for centuries. From the time of Gregory the Great, who died in the year 604, the title employed on papal bulls has been Servus Servorum Dei, Servant of the Servants of God.

The Vatican Archives contain a copy of a papal letter, an answer to one from Queen Victoria, indicating what one pontiff thought of his various designations. Queen Victoria, who apparently did not want to give acknowledgment to any of the papal titles, began her letter (which is also in the Vatican Archives) with “Most Eminent Sir” instead of the usual “Your Holiness.” The pontiff was apparently offended. In his reply, he addressed Victoria as “The Most Serene and Powerful Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and Other Regions, Illustrious Empress of India.”

In Italy, the pope is generally called Il Papa, a title that comes from pater patrum, a Latin phrase meaning father of fathers. He is also referred to, most commonly in Rome, by the family name he gave up when elected. Thus the Romans call Pope Paul VI Papa Montini, just as they called Pope John XXIII Papa Roncalli, and Pius XII Papa Pacelli. To some people, the use of the last name may seem disrespectful or irreverent. It isn’t, however. For one thing, the Italians are accustomed to having the pope in their midst. He may be idolized, worshiped, and esteemed by pious Italians, but he is often taken for granted in Rome and is regarded in other parts of Italy more as a man than as a saintly being.

Without meaning any insult whatever, the Italians tell many jokes about the papacy. One especially good anecdote made the rounds when Clare Booth Luce was the United States ambassador to Italy (l’ambassatrice, the Italians called her).

Converts, say the Italians, are the most fervent of Catholics. The story is about the time Mrs. Luce, a convert, was received in private audience by Pope Pius XII. Neither she nor the Pope emerged from the reception chamber for a long, long time. Vatican aides began to fret. After several hours they peeked into the room. The Pope was backed up into a corner; Mrs. Luce, talking a blue streak, paused for breath. “But, Mrs. Luce,” the aides heard the Pope say in a gentle, yet quivering voice, “I already am a Roman Catholic!”

Another story, told by Bill Pepper, Newsweek’s former resident correspondent in Rome, is perhaps closer to the truth. It concerns the first time Pope John’s relatives visited the Apostolic Palace after his coronation. An impressive experience for anyone, a papal audience can evoke in a devout person a tremendous sense of humility. On the occasion of the special audience for John’s family, the relatives walked timidly through the golden halls, past the omnipresent Swiss Guards. When they saw John, dressed in his pontifical white robes, they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.

“Lasciate perdere (Forget all that)!” said John. “Don’t be afraid. It’s only me!”

When a man is elected pope, he loses many things. He loses his family name. He loses most of the civil ties that bind him to the country of his birth. Moreover, a new pope finds that his daily life is regulated, often down to the most minute detail, by tradition. The men around him may change, but those who replace them have the same functions to carry out, according to the same well- imbedded customs.

The pope’s confessor, an ordinary priest, must be a Jesuit; he must visit the Vatican once a week at a fixed time, and he alone may absolve the pope of his sins. The master of the Apostolic Palace must be a Dominican; the sacristan an Augustinian. If a pope changed any of this, a whole religious order would regard the gesture as an affront.

Newly elected popes have reacted in many ways when they realized they had become the Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church. Pius X, a simple man, was at first terrified to find himself a monarch who is a slave to his mission. Pointing at the Swiss Guards standing sentry outside his apartment, he once whispered to an old friend, “There are my jailers!”

One of former New York Herald Tribune Rome correspondent Barrett McGurn’s favorite stories has to do with the time Pius XII was readying a speech for the occasion of an English Catholic centennial.

“How do you pronounce ‘centenary’?” he asked an American prelate. “SEN-tenerry,” answered the Yank, putting the accent on the first syllable. “But don’t the British say sin-TEE-nerry?” the pontiff asked. “Yes, Your Holiness—but four fifths of the English- speaking world speak in American style.” “But it’s the English language—the British started it. It’s for them to say how it should be used.”

“Sin-TEE-nerry,” with the accented second syllable, was the way the Pope pronounced it during his discourse a few days later. Nevertheless, when an English bishop paid a visit some time after that, Pius made haste to ask him, “How do you pronounce ‘centenary’?” For the rest of his life the polyglot Pope kept seeking opinions on that one word.

The pope, being one of the world’s few absolute rulers, is not easy to speak with—yet he is the easiest chief of state to see. Most popes hold frequent audiences in the Apostolic Palace (Paul VI’s audiences are often on Wednesdays at noon). On Sundays, usually at noon, popes customarily appear at the window of the top-floor papal apartment to bless the crowds standing in St. Peter’s Square. Pope John emerged many times from his sheltered quarters to make visits in Rome and in other parts of Italy. Paul VI has visited more countries (India, the Middle Eastern countries, the United States, Portugal, Turkey, Colombia) than any other pope in history— and each time his presence has attracted huge crowds of Catholics and non-Catholics alike.

There is no question of the pope’s charismatic appeal. Despite the fact that there are millions of people who owe the pope no spiritual allegiance, papal influence in world affairs has compelled nations and their leaders to extend the pope diplomatic courtesies normally reserved for civil rulers. No other religious leader in the world is afforded such treatment. No single state officer has been such a consistent drawing card, away from his immediate domain, as has the man who sits on Peter’s Chair in the Eternal City.

Avro Manhattan, a frequent commentator on Vatican affairs, attributes much of the papal lure to the dual nature of the Church. He once told me in a taped interview, “Although the most uniform of religious institutions, the Church is also the most diversified. While the most unchangeable, she has a genius for adaptability; and while constantly obsessed with things pertaining to a future life, she is vigorously active in controlling things pertaining to this world. Last but not least, she has the greatest centralization of power in the world.

“Her administration,” Manhattan continued, “is unique. Although a church, she is at the same time a sovereign government. Although a mighty religious institution, she is also a mighty political presence and a major economic center. Although her officials are drawn from many nationalities, when acting as members of her government they have none; while speaking the major languages of the world, she issues her ordinances in one which only a few can understand. Although territorially the smallest state in existence, hers is the most significant in the world. And although neither an empire, a kingdom, nor a republic, it is a mixture of all three.

“The head of such government wears not one but three crowns. Although without an army, a navy, or hydrogen bombs, he has more power than if he had at his disposal the greatest arsenal on the globe. Spiritually and hierarchically, no one is above him except God, the source of his authority.”

Once again we come, then, to the question, What is the Pope? This can be answered or explained in part by reviewing the duties, responsibilities, powers, and operations of the papacy.

Lord paramount of the Holy See, the pope is first among his bishops, all of whom come under his direct jurisdiction; in theory he has full and absolute power over the Roman Catholic Church. Every decree requires his approval. He can obey or ignore precedent. He can set aside tradition; he can write (or rewrite) constitutions; he can change discipline without consultation; he can proclaim dogmas on his own. Although on important matters the pope is supposed to seek counsel and advice from the College of Cardinals, he is empowered to make up his own mind and take action. On theological questions, the pope invariably consults with his bishops and cardinals, but, on matters of high policy, he may evolve a course of action without any previous consultations, as did Pope John when, without calling in the Curia cardinals for their views, he decided to go ahead with the Ecumenical Council.

The pope has executive as well as legislative and judiciary powers. He can be judged by no man, and there is no appeal from his decisions. In this respect his position is tantamount to that of a sovereign who cannot be brought to court. Acting in his executive capacity, the pope may (1) approve or sanction or suppress religious orders, (2) grant indulgences, (3) beatify or canonize saints, (4) appoint bishops, (5) erect, administer, alter, or suppress bishoprics, (6) assign an auxiliary bishop to one who is incapacitated, (7) found and legislate for papal universities, (8) issue liturgical books, (9) administer the temporal goods of ecclesiastical foundations, (10) erect and govern missions dependent on the Holy See.

As a legislator, the pope may (1) call, preside over, and adjourn ecumenical councils, (2) regulate holy days and Catholic feasts, (3) introduce new rites and abrogate old ones, (4) issue ex cathedra decretals on belief, (5) introduce, alter, or suppress Church laws on any subject, (6) defend doctrine against heresies, (7) define fast days and periods of fasting. Also liberally defined are the pope’s judicial duties. He may (1) relax vows and oaths for members of the religious who want to return to secular life, (2) give matrimonial dispensations, (3) act as a court, (4) establish rules of judicial procedure, (5) establish censures or punishments, (6) organize courts for hearing cases, (7) organize courts or appoint synodal judges for the diocese of Rome.

Inasmuch as the men elected to the papacy tend to be advanced in years, there is always the question of whether a septuagenarian or an octogenarian could become mentally enfeebled while serving as pontiff. Rome correspondent Robert Neville once took this problem to a Vatican prelate and asked him what would happen if a pope were to lose his reason or become physically incapacitated. Neville pointed out that the fact that popes are elected for life, with no provisions either for their recall or for their abdication, and the further facts that there is no proviso in Church regulations for creating a regency and that the College of Cardinals cannot be legally convened to take over made the problem appear insoluble.

The Vatican officer said, “The Good Lord seems to protect the Church from such a catastrophe. Popes just apparently do not lose their mind or reason. But should the impossible happen, I believe the Vatican bureaucracy would act as an effective brake against rash or embarrassing acts.”

To better understand the question, What is the Pope? one must examine the structure of the Holy See, which is the government of the Vatican and of the Roman Catholic Church.

As the head of his church, the pope runs a vast business. He runs it as a corporate structure, working with twelve congregations (committees) of cardinals—a system that dates from the late sixteenth century—and with three apostolic tribunals and five departmental offices. Because he is the chief executive officer of the State of Vatican City, the pope is guaranteed independence of any civil power. No other religious leader in the world enjoys a comparable position.

To understand the foundations of papal authority is to understand who, why, and what a pope is. His primacy of jurisdiction, not only over the clerics but also over the hundreds of millions of the faithful, extends to matters affecting his religion, but it also extends to all other matters in which the Roman Catholic Church is interested throughout the world. Using his wide religious authority, the pope plays a distinctive role in the affairs of the world, exercising a power that is independent of his temporal position as head of Vatican City. The 550 million people who are Roman Catholics are but a modest number of the hundreds of millions who recognize the juridical sovereignty of the Holy See as a moral authority while not agreeing in substance with Catholicism’s theological basis.

Various countries of the world therefore maintain diplomatic relations with the Vatican. Papal ambassadors are to be found not only in Catholic nations but also in Protestant, Islamic, Buddhist, and atheist countries. An ambassador of the pope is called a nuncio, and he has the same status as the ambassador of any great power. At this writing, while Pope Paul is still reigning, the Vatican maintains official ambassadors in the following countries: Argentina, Austria, Belgium, Bolivia, Brazil, Burundi, Cameroon, Chile, China (Taiwan), Colombia, the Congo (Leopoldville), Costa Rica, Cuba, Czechoslovakia, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Egypt, El Salvador, Estonia, Ethiopia, Finland, France, Germany, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, Hungary, India, Indonesia, Iran, Iraq, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Kenya, Korea (Seoul), Latvia, Lebanon, Liberia, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Malawi, Malta, the Netherlands, Nicaragua, Pakistan, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, the Philippines, Poland, Portugal, Rumania, Rwanda, Senegal, Spain, Switzerland, Syria, Turkey, Uruguay, Venezuela, Yugoslavia, Zambia.

If a country does not have a nuncio, the Vatican bypasses the problem by nominating a representative without the official status of an ambassador; such representatives are called apostolic delegates. Officially an envoy of the pope, the apostolic delegate is unofficially an ambassador in the guise of an ecclesiastical official of the Catholic Church. He is not accredited by the government of the country in which he stays, but in practice he is usually given many of the courtesies and privileges extended to fully recognized ambassadors. At present, the following countries give hospitality to apostolic delegates: Albania, Australia, Bulgaria, Cambodia, Canada, Great Britain, Greece, Laos, Mexico, New Zealand, Tanzania, Thailand, the United States, and Vietnam (Saigon). Apostolic delegates are also maintained in Copenhagen for the Scandinavian countries, in Algiers for North Africa, in Nairobi for East Africa, in Dakar for West Africa, in Pretoria for South Africa, in Lagos for Central West Africa, and in Yaounde for Central Africa.

Adjudged by the bar of world opinion and international law, the pope enjoys immunity from the territorial jurisdiction of any human authority. Consider what happened when Hitler’s occupation troops in Rome completely surrounded the pope’s tiny state. German soldiers never crossed the frontier. Had they decided to invade Vatican City, the blitzkrieg would have taken all of a half hour, and the man who was then pope would have been conquered—but not defeated. In his own way, Hitler provided a dramatic confirmation of the real, if intangible, moral authority of the pope, however diminutive his territory. The pontiff’s unique position in the world was aptly expressed by one writer, who said, “The pope is not sovereign because he is the ruler of the Vatican state; he is the ruler of the Vatican because he is a sovereign.”

The papal case is, of course, unique in contemporary international law and diplomatic practice. It is said that Winston Churchill, during a visit with Joseph Stalin, attempted to convince the Soviet dictator of the advisability of having the Vatican as an ally. Stalin, the story goes, asked derisively, “How many divisions does the Pope have?”

According to one reporter, the episode was related to Pope Pius, who commented, “Mr. Stalin will meet my legions in the other world!”

Of the pontiff’s celestial consociates little can be said here. In the practical day-to-day world of the twentieth century, His Holiness often depends on terrestrial colleagues to help him carry out his complex operations. The pope has under him the Roman Curia—the body of congregations, tribunals, and departmental offices. The congregations, corresponding somewhat to the ministries of other countries, include the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (which before the recent Curia reforms was the Holy Office), the Congregation for Bishops (formerly the Consistorial Congregation), the Congregation for the Oriental Churches, the Congregation for the Discipline of Sacraments, the Congregation for the Clergy (formerly the Congregation of the Council), the Congregation for the Religious and for Secular Institutes (formerly the Congregation for the Religious), the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith (which is now also called the Congregation for the Evangelization of the Nations), the Congregation of Rites, and the Congregation for Catholic Education (formerly the Congregation of Seminaries and Universities). Though these overlap a bit, the cardinals who serve in the Curia are formed into one of two “parties,” which comprise the conservative and the progressive elements. These “parties” can exercise pressure on given papal decisions— such as the bitter pill Paul was made to swallow with the recent encyclical against birth control.

Next to the pope himself, the single most important individual in the Vatican hierarchy is his immediate aide, the secretary of state—whose duties correspond to those of the prime minister in other government organizations. For most of his tenure in office (1939-1958), Pope Pius kept the post in his own hands. But this is not usually the case. Most popes have leaned heavily on the secretary of state—Pope John once described a secretary of state as “my closest collaborator”—because the secretary’s office has a variety of major functions. The secretary recommends to the pontiff the names of men to represent the Vatican abroad, has jurisdiction over all such appointees, gives instructions to Catholic lay organizations all over the world (thus often exerting pressure on the internal affairs of foreign countries), prepares the texts of agreements with foreign countries, participates in the appointment of bishops, confers Vatican honors and titles, and deals with such ecclesiastical questions as divorce and contraception. Often the secretary of state represents His Holiness at official ceremonies. The secretary sits on the pontifical committee for the government of Vatican City, and he serves as the Vatican’s chief negotiator. One of his most important duties is that of overseeing the cardinals’ committee on the finances of the Vatican.

Veritably the most active officer now in the Vatican, the present secretary of state is the only person who sees Pope Paul on matters of business at least once a day; often he communicates with his immediate superior over the phone as many as a dozen times in one morning. One of his duties is to prepare a daily summary of world press reports for the papal desk. Vatican authorities are inclined to believe the Pope is one of the best-informed chiefs of state in the world—better, they assert, than the President of the United States.

News of all kinds—ecclesiastical, political, economic —comes to the Vatican through a gigantic machine that extends to the remotest corners of the earth. Nuncios and apostolic delegates, who have access to the same information ambassadors and representatives of other governments do, send frequent reports to the secretary of state. But by far the most elaborate reports come from the bishops. Nearly fifteen hundred bishops, scattered all over the globe, send in periodic accounts on matters of interest to the Holy See. Consequently, an enormous amount of correspondence reaches the Vatican every day, including up-to-the-minute stock market analyses and incisive views of current economic trends.

In addition to this “espionage” service, the Vatican requires that each bishop come to Rome to see the Pope personally at least once every five years if he is stationed in Europe, and once every ten years if he is stationed elsewhere. On his arrival, the visitor must submit a report on his diocese; the report must answer a specific set of questions, which covers spiritual, ecclesiastical, social, physical, and economic conditions among the clergy and the parishioners. Considered extraordinarily accurate, these reports go deeply into the sentiments and feelings of the populace of the countries or regions concerned. Any bishop—or for that matter, any clergyman of any rank— who has a report of an urgent nature can communicate in code with the Vatican’s secretary of state by cable or by radio. The secretary of state will quickly pass the message to His Holiness if he considers the dispatch of top priority.

One of the most efficient secretaries of state in recent years was Pope John’s first secretary, Domenico Cardinal Tardini. The two men had excellent rapport with each other, but the Cardinal also had his differences with John —a fact that was often bandied about in inner Vatican circles. A stubborn Roman who could not fathom John’s desire to “open up” the Church to the outside world, Cardinal Tardini was bothered by his superior’s “new ways.” Tardini, whose office was one floor below the Pope’s, had a habit, especially when miffed, of referring to John as “the one up there.” Since news tidbits and gossip travel quickly inside the Vatican, it wasn’t long before word got to John, who summoned Tardini forthwith.

“I’d like to clear up a matter,” the Pope said. ” ‘The one up there’ is the Lord, the Eternal Father in Heaven. I’m just ‘the one on the fourth floor.’ So I beg of you, don’t throw confusion into the ranks.”