The
Williamson Affair
Part IV
7 June 2009
Back to: (Part I) (Part II)
(Part III)
When I began
investigating the post conciliar changes in the Church, I was still
attending the new mass on Sundays. There was no Tridentine rite
being said locally, and despite growing concerns, I could not quite
make the break. Then on Good Friday of 1978 an ice storm hit our
area, causing power outages and severe flooding, and providing an
excuse to stay home on Easter. This would prove a milestone in my
quest for orthodoxy, since I never returned as a communicant to the
Novus Ordo. I did attend a wedding or two, but the jocular manner
of the priest conducting the one I attended that summer, plus the
music, which was introduced by an organ medley from Fiddler on the Roof,
only served to reinforce my decision. While sympathizing with the
bride and groom, it was all I could do not to stomp out in protest.
Not being married with
children in a parochial school, or other such local ties, made it
easier for me to leave, and also to travel hundreds of miles to an
independent chapel for the old Mass; and to a convention held in
Chicago by the Orthodox Roman Catholic Movement (ORCM), a group of
priests headed by Father Francis Fenton who said the traditional
Mass in locations throughout the country.
Early in 1979 I spoke at
length after Mass with one of these, Fr. Victor Mroz, who had
trained for the priesthood in Poland during the Nazi occupation,
when his order was severely restricted. As a seminarian, he had
literally had to go underground, i.e. to the basement, after dark in
order to study. The spiritual director who had encouraged him was
none other than the saintly Maximilian Kolbe, who would later give
his life for a fellow prisoner at Auschwitz. When, having trouble
with Latin, the young Mroz had wondered about his vocation, Fr.
Kolbe said emphatically, pointing a finger, “You be a priest!”
I was impressed.
Having escaped to this
country after the war, Fr. Mroz later found himself fleeing the
post-conciliar establishment. Without notifying his superiors, he
moved into a cousin’s apartment one night, never to return to the
Novus Ordo. He had acted surreptitiously so as not to be targeted
by hostile clerics and spirited off in a medicated state to some old
folks’ home. So he told me. Apparently he had profited from his
wartime experience. At the same time, he retained a deep respect
for his fellow Poles and said he had at first regarded Karol
Wojtyla's election with optimism which had, however, dissipated by
the time of our conversation.
August of 1979 saw me
journeying to Kansas for a “pilgrimage” hosted by the SSPX at the
site of the former Jesuit college of St. Mary’s. There I was most
pleased to meet, among others, Michael Davies (pronounced
“Day-vis”), British convert and author of Cranmer’s Godly Order,
and to show him my newspaper story, which he liked. Hearing the
talks and conversing with a variety of clergy and laity gave me new
insights into the challenges facing Catholics like us and the many
options open to us. Generally speaking, an air of optimism seemed
to pervade, along with rumors that Archbishop Lefebvre or
like-minded clerics would be meeting soon with Vatican officials in
order to make the case for tradition and thereby set things aright.
A man who sat across from me at a dinner said he hoped the pope
would establish a separate rite for Tridentine Catholics that could
co-exist with the current regime.
While that wasn’t about
to happen very soon, other things did. Within a few weeks I found
myself on the teaching staff of a brand new grade and high school
opening at the former college site. Heading the operation, which
included the renovation of old buildings with names like “Canisius”
and “Suarez,” was Fr. Hector Bolduc, an SSPX priest in his 40s. The
influx of burgeoning families to populate the school, and to help
staff it, plus a wealth of single young adults to assist in the
project, was somewhat chaotic, but invigorating. The ensuing year
brought a host of challenges, personal and social, logistic and
administrative, and, last but not least, religious and theological.
Take the matter of the
Mass, which had prompted so many dedicated Catholics to pull up
stakes and move to Kansas. While we all agreed the old rite was
superior to the new, was the latter invalid? Was its claim to
effect the Eucharistic sacrifice a fiction? Apparently Michael
Davies thought not. Once at the pilgrimage I had seen him standing
alone at the back of a hall, seemingly deep in thought. When I
approached, he looked up and voiced to me his concerns over the fact
that the current controversy had split Catholics into factions. Was
there no way to reconcile them? Could so many friends and relatives
attending the Novus Ordo be all wrong? Could we honestly say the
new rite was of no value whatsoever? Why not, he proposed, admit
that, if said reverently by a priest, the new liturgy could still be
valid?
What did I think?
Taken aback, I said
nothing. As yet I had not considered the matter in those terms,
though the question would lie dormant in my mind and resurface
later. During the school year at St. Mary’s we would confront still
another problem in the person of a young French priest, one Father
Philippe Guépin, who stayed at the college awhile, ostensibly
because he needed a rest. Speaking little English, he stayed quiet
at first, though his expertise at singing Gregorian chant thrilled
us at High Mass on Easter. Soon, though, he began communicating
more, often with an interpreter, and even gave us teachers a glimpse
into French history. During the revolution, he said, his ancestors
had had to hide in the woods just to baptize a child, since
practicing their faith was illegal. Never having heard this sort of
thing in all my years of Catholic or public schooling, I was
intrigued. We had learned about aristocrats being persecuted by
revolutionaries, but not Catholics, not solely for their faith.
Dickens didn’t show this in A Tale of Two Cities, did he?
Once at a gathering of
teachers and staff, Father Guépin produced a picture of Montini, and
indicated with words and gestures that the late so-called pope had
publicly espoused heresy. Of course I took mental notes. The
incident tended to support rumors we had heard that Père Guépin was
in trouble with the SSPX because he had refused to accept the recent
occupants of the papacy as valid, that he was on leave in order to
ponder his plight.
As it turned out, the
story was true. Moreover, despite the American sojourn, the
disagreements with his superiors did not resolve, and he left the
Society.
Meanwhile, at St. Mary’s
nothing so controversial was discussed overtly, certainly not in the
presence of students. When one of the mothers started spreading the
word about the last days, the coming Anti-Christ, divine
chastisement, and the “three days of darkness”, much of which was
new to me, she was told by those in charge to keep it to herself.
None of this was deemed fit for student ears, and I for one
understood, given the scary nature of such prophecies. Even scarier
was the notion that they might refer to our times. How could any
child or teenager look forward to preparing for such a bleak future?
I had to wonder.
In contrast, our outlook
at the school tended to be optimistic, indeed jubilant, as we
prepared that spring for a visit to our campus by Archbishop
Lebebvre himself. Having a musical background, I was chosen to
direct the student body in the singing of two French hymns in his
honor. This proved a challenging, though not insurmountable task,
and in the end we prevailed. For the performance a chorus of young
voices rose with a triumphant refrain: “Au ciel, au ciel, au
ciel! In heaven, heaven, heaven!”
With another pilgrimage
in August, however, a new round of visitors to St. Mary’s brought
still other considerations. In a discussion with Fr. Robert McKenna
of the ORCM, for instance, he pointed out something I had not
previously contemplated. It should become increasingly clear, he
said, that the problems facing us ultimately involved the papacy.
Given the hierarchical nature of the Church, all questions of
validity, of legitimacy, lead to Rome, the pope being the ultimate
source of authority for the Church here on earth.
This posed problems for
those who objected to the New Mass, since Paul VI, a supposed pope,
had promulgated it. Any criticism could be construed as a challenge
to his authority –– and that of John Paul II as well. In their
defense, traditionalists would cite Quo Primum, the bull by
Pius V which establishes the Tridentine rite as the “Mass of the
ages,” i.e., for all time. According to Pius V, no priest could be
censored for saying it — not ever. The question remained,
nevertheless, of whether the Novus Ordo itself was truly valid or a
not-so-pious fraud, –– and how the truth regarding it might in turn
color our view of the conciliar popes.
In his remarks to me at
the pilgrimage, Michael Davies had seemed to circumvent the issue,
but in his new book Pope Paul’s New Mass, published later
that year, he is more direct, exposing the new liturgy for what it
really is: part of a revolutionary agenda with devastating impact:
empty pews, deserted parishes; priests and nuns leaving in droves.
Within the space of a decade, the banal new rite, with its attendant
abuses, clownish or otherwise, had taken its toll. No Attila the
Hun could have done more. Without a doubt the cult of man had
replaced that of God, especially in the English form of the
liturgy. To illustrate, Davies cites a liturgical “expert”, Father
Joseph Gelineau, S. J., who writes:
If
the formulae change the rite is changed. . . Let those who
like myself have known and sung a Latin-Gregorian High Mass
remember it if they can. Let them compare it with the Mass
that we now have. Not only the words, the melodies, and
some of the gestures are different. To tell the truth, it
is a different liturgy of the Mass. . . . This needs to be
said without ambiguity: the Roman Rite as we knew it no
longer exists. . . It has been destroyed.
Davies’ strongest jabs at
the Novus Ordo are aimed at its English translation, particularly
for the consecration of the wine. Despite what apologists for the
new rite claim, he notes, “pro multis” simply does not
translate into “for all.” Furthermore, if we examine closely the
Addendum to Chapter XV of Pope Paul’s New Mass, which shows
in print Cranmer’s rite of consecration side by side with the
English version of Paul VI’s, we find that the 16th
century reviser used the words “for many”! In this respect, his
Protestant version is more true to the traditional form than is the
Novus Ordo!
Significantly, while
providing the evidence, Davies does not flaunt it. By not actually
discussing the matter in detail, he makes it easy for the reader to
miss the appropriate words in the Addendum, as I myself did at
first. Indeed, I caught the discrepancy in translation only last
year, while attending a musical event in an Episcopal Church.
Examining a hymnal found there in my pew, I noticed their older
Communion service, unlike those in the Novus Ordo, incorporates the
phrase “for many” as opposed to “for all.” Had it always been like
this? A subsequent trip to the public library led to the discovery
that yes, Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer uses “for many” in
its Communion service. Turning finally to Davies’ book, I found it
there as well.
Why does our author not
discuss this key phrase? Why is it stuck in the Addendum with no
comment? Is he afraid of calling attention to the fact, and in the
process making Paul VI and his henchmen look worse than Cranmer and
crew? Indeed, too often at such a crucial point Davies seems to
waver in his attack on the Novus Ordo. Is it because he is confused
in his loyalties, and thereby unduly influenced by the clerical
“experts” he cites? To be sure, we must not discount them.
Professor J.P.M. van der Ploeg, O.P., a theologian and authority on
Semitic languages, for instance, considers the English
“mistranslation” to be “deplorable,” but will still not concede that
it casts “doubt upon the validity of the consecration.” Needless to
say, he also considers the Novus Ordo in Latin to be a true mass.
Davies agrees with him to
a point, insisting it is “absolutely certain” that the Latin version
of the consecration for both bread and wine, in the new rite is
valid. Moreover, where “for all men” is used in the English form he
is “virtually certain there is a valid consecration, particularly in
view of the assurance given by a theologian of Father van der
Ploeg’s eminence.” So are we to conclude then that he agrees with
van der Ploeg that the English rite is valid? No, not totally. He
explains: were he a priest, he would “not feel able” to use the new
formula, “as I would consider myself guilty of probabilism ––
virtual certainty is not absolute certainty.”
(Whew! No wonder we lay
folk get confused, watching him twist and turn like that. Wouldn’t
it be a lot simpler not to plug van der Ploeg at all?)
Another reason to reject
“for all” in the consecration of the wine comes from no less an
authority than the Catechism of the Council of Trent,
published under the aegis of Pope St. Pius V. In Pope Paul’s New
Mass, Davies alludes to the source in but a single sentence
which circumvents the issue. The reader who wants to know more is
referred to a page in Cranmer’s Godly Order, where the
Catechism is quoted briefly. How it all relates to the new rite,
however, is not discussed. The reader is left hanging — but why?
Does Davis consider the implications too obvious, too
uncompromising, too hard-hitting?
Let’s examine the source
ourselves. In reference to the liturgical use of “for you and for
many” in the consecration of the wine, the Catechism notes
how the words are taken from the gospels of Matthew and Luke,
“joined together by the Catholic Church under the guidance of the
Spirit of God.” It says further:
They
serve to declare the fruit and advantage of His Passion.
For if we look to its value, we must confess that the
Redeemer shed His blood for the salvation of all; but if we
look to the fruit which mankind have received from it, we
shall easily find that it pertains not unto all, but to many
of the human race. When therefore (our Lord) said: For
you, He meant either those who were present, or those
chosen from among the Jewish people, such as were, with the
exception of Judas, the disciples with whom He was
speaking. When He added, And for many, he wished to
be understood to mean the remainder of the elect from among
the Jews or Gentiles.
With reason, therefore, were the words
for all not
used, as in this
place the fruits of the Passion are alone spoken of, and to
the elect only did His Passion bring the fruit of salvation.
. .
Note that the words ”for
many” did not materialize out of thin air, but come, rather,
straight from the gospels of Mark and Luke. Nowhere in the
pertinent passages is “for all” to be found. Wow! Do you suppose
that is why Archbishop Cranmer kept “for many” in his Communion
Service? Protestant that he was, he had to be biblical, even if it
meant using part of the old form. Here, at least, he didn’t alter
key words from scripture. How ironic! In this regard, the Novus
Ordo is less Catholic than his version, and most modern Catholics
don’t even know it!
Moreover, the Catechism
states clearly why “for all” is not, and should not be, used. Yet
Paul VI, by endorsing the new rite violated the provision, indeed,
reversed it. The excuse generally given to us moderns is that
Aramaic, the language spoken by Jews in Christ’s day, did not have a
word for “many,” but according to Davies that is simply not true.
Though what should we
expect, with a Freemason in charge?
That’s right, Davies
cites evidence that Annibale Bugnini, the so-called “Great Architect
of the Revolution,” belonged to the powerful brotherhood that is
known to oppose the Catholic Church. By April of 1976 Tito Casini,
prominent Italian writer, was saying so publicly. Davies also tells
about a “Roman priest of the very highest reputation” who had in his
possession “evidence which he considered proved Msgr. Bugnini to be
a Freemason.” Paul VI was given this “with the warning that if
action were not taken at once” the writer would be bound in
conscience to make the matter public. Msgr. Bugnini was then ousted
—packed off to Iran, in fact –– and his entire congregation
dissolved.
Through a common friend,
Davies asked this same priest if he could publish details of the
evidence, but received a reply saying no, the evidence would have to
remain “top secret”. The fact that Bugnini had been immediately
dismissed from his post told the priest that the “arguments” he had
forwarded to the pope were “more than convincing.”
Davies concludes that
while he does not have proof Bugnini was in fact a Freemason, he has
established that “documentation purporting to prove that he was a
Mason was placed into the hands of the Pope, who then dismissed the
Archbishop and banished him to Iran.” While it is “theoretically
possible” that “this was pure coincidence,” and Pope Paul had
already decided to dismiss the Archbishop and dissolve his
congregation for some other reason, Davies thinks “this is
stretching coincidence a little too far.”
Agreed. The problem is
however, that Bugnini’s ousting did not occur until January, 1976,
by which time he and his underlings had already done their job. For
Bugnini had headed the Consilium that formulated the new rites for
the Mass and for ordination, both of which, not surprisingly, are
fraught with similar problems. Davies addressed that of the
ordinations with The Order of Melchisedech, published in
1979. And guess who wrote the Forward. Yep, Father van der Ploeg,
whose assessment of this rite, promulgated in June of 1968, echoes
his conclusion about the New Mass. Where possible, he even uses
identical words. Thus he “deplores” certain features of the new
rite, but insists there can be no doubt about its validity.
Following suit, Davies, in his “Author’s Introduction” to the book,
says that the new rite, while not invalid, does lend itself to an
“ambiguous interpretation.”
Aha! Let us take note
that “ambiguity” was also the key to the wily Cranmer’s method of
transforming the Catholic liturgy in England. As Davies’ book
Cranmer’s Godly Order explains so well, the archbishop
introduced new rites for the Eucharist and Holy Orders that could be
interpreted one way by Catholics, another by Protestants. Change
came incrementally, over a period of years, in the 16th century as
it would in the 20th. One of the transitional forms instituted by
Cranmer was in fact called “An Ingenious Essay in Ambiguity,” a
label which doubles as a chapter heading in Davies’ book.
Significantly, in The
Order of Melchisedech Davies also alludes to “certain parallels
between the new Catholic rite of ordination and that of Cranmer” as
described in Cranmer’s Godly Order. He says the “new
Catholic rite of ordination can only be understood if the passages
omitted” from the old rite are compared with those Cranmer
eliminated in order to replace “sacrificing priests” with mere
ministers. Hint, hint. Paul VI’s new rite eliminated every prayer
“which stated specifically the essential role of a priest as a man
ordained to offer propitiatory sacrifice for the living and dead,”
Davies notes. In most cases these were “the precise prayers removed
by the Protestant Reformers.” The parallels are only too obvious.
Back in 1896, however, in Apostolicae Curae, Leo XIII
pronounced Anglican orders to be “absolutely null and utterly
void.” So what should we conclude about Paul VI’s new rite?
Isn’t there a problem
here?
Yes, Davies admits that
“Anglican apologists will have no difficulty in pointing out that
the arguments used by Pope Leo XIII against the Anglican rite can
now be applied to the new Catholic rite.” He does not mention here
the “for many” vs. “for all” controversy, but surely they could
bring that up too — in their favor. So what do we conclude? If
those Anglicans have a point should we simply ignore them? Or
should we not be honest and consistent in evaluating the various
changes, painful as this might prove to be? No, Davies will not go
that far. Despite evidence to the contrary, he, echoing as usual
his mentor van der Ploeg, insists that, no matter what, the Catholic
rite, while ambiguous, is still valid. Period.
Why oh why won’t he wise
up and pull the plug on van der Ploeg?
Unfortunately, in coming
to this conclusion Davies seems to contradict not only the
historical evidence from the 16th century, but also the
Apostolic Constitution Sacramentium Ordinis promulgated by
Pope Pius XII in 1947! Hey, that ain’t so long ago! In this the
pre-Conciliar pope specified what precisely was essential for Holy
Orders, taking into consideration not just the forms used by the
Roman Church but also those for the various Eastern rites. But did
Paul VI appreciate this scholarly effort? Did he abide by it? No,
he proceeded to challenge its authority by promulgating his own new
rite, one which did not satisfy the requirements for validity set by
Pius. Why Paul did so he did not bother to say.
So whom should we trust,
Pius XII or Paul VI? Isn’t there an inconsistency here — a
contradiction? If so, how does Davis resolve the problem? The
answer is he doesn’t. To be sure, elsewhere in his Introduction he
does provide a hint or two, but no real solution. Thus he writes:
The
new rite for ordaining a priest does indeed include the
matter and form specified by Pope Pius XII but this is not
the case in the new rite of Episcopal ordination. The form
specified by Pope Pius XII has been discarded and a new one
introduced. In their official Liturgical Newsletter
for November 1977, the American Bishops note with
satisfaction that this new form corresponds with that in the
proposed new Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopalian
Church. A coincidence?
Hardly. But, knowing
this, how can he dismiss such deceit so blithely, especially
considering the radical changes made to the form for Episcopal
consecration? Apparently Archbishop Lefebvre, whom Davies elsewhere
praises to the hilt, did not. In his essay Absolutely Null and
Utterly Void, Father Anthony Cekada, a former priest with the
SSPX, tells how he approached the archbishop about the matter while
he was a seminarian at Econe in 1977. Specifically, he asked
whether his “conservative friends” from his former seminary could
“work with the Society after ordination.”
In reply, Lefebvre said
yes, however, given the recent changes in the ordination
rite, they would first have to be conditionally re-ordained.
Because one word in the new form in the rite for priestly ordination
had been changed, Lefebvre considered it doubtful. The new form for
Episcopal consecration, however, was so completely different, he
considered this to be definitely “invalid.”
The archbishop himself
used only the old rite in ordaining his priests. As indicated, he
also conditionally re-ordained any priests joining the SSPX who had
been ordained in the new rite. Or so he did until sometime in the
early 1980’s, when apparently he reneged on the issue. According to
a letter of protest sent to Lefebvre by nine American priests of the
Society in March of 1983, he had accepted the services of two
applicants who refused the conditional re-ordination. To the others
it was obvious that this violated the mission of the SSPX, which was
to provide only valid sacraments. Now, “under the aegis of the
Society,” they wrote, “doubtful Masses are being offered, doubtful
absolutions are being given and dying people are being anointed with
an ‘Extreme Unction’ that may be invalid and of no more value than
the anointing with oil done by a Protestant minister.”
Truly this was a “source
of scandal.”
Nor was that all. The
young priests’ letter went on to enumerate such concerns as the
recognition by the SSPX of the phony annulments being churned out by
conciliar authorities. Couples wed for 20 years with a bunch of
kids were having their marriage dissolved. (Poor Henry VIII! Think
of all he went through! Today he would have no problem getting rid
of Catherine.) If one of the “annulled” pair wanted to remarry, a
traditional priest naturally hesitated at performing the nuptials,
but here again the Society bigwigs balked at denying the legitimacy
of the Novus Ordo — and ultimately the Conciliar popes. Obviously
the SSPX did not want to challenge the status quo, i.e. the dictates
of the Roman hierarchy.
Inevitably such a policy
led to compromise, such as that with the liturgical changes made
under John XXIII. In their 1983 letter, the writers relate how SSPX
priests in the U.S. had always used the Missal of their founder,
Pope Pius X. More recently, however, the leadership at Econe had
been promoting the “liturgical reforms” of John XXIII. As they put
it, “an attempt has been made to force all the priests and
seminarians” in this country to accept these “on the grounds of
uniformity and loyalty to the Society.” One newly ordained priest,
in fact, was told either to start using the Missal of John XXIII, or
leave.
These changes to the
liturgy, they assert, were mere “temporary steps in preparation for
Vatican II.” For them to use that Missal and rubrics would put them
and their parishioners in a path leading to a gradual acceptance of
the New Mass. As for the specific changes mandated by Pope John,
one of the writers, Father Daniel Dolan, lists them elsewhere, in an
article published in 1983. Most significant was the insertion of
St. Joseph’s name into the Canon. While this may sound fine to the
uninformed, it represented a radical move, for no one else calling
himself a Catholic, not even a pope, since at least the time of
Gregory the Great, had dared touch the sacred Canon. Protestants
had mutilated it, of course, but certainly no one claiming to be
head of the Roman Church had done so. Moreover, as Dolan points
out, the man in charge of making the changes under Pope Roncalli was
none other than Annibale Bugnini, future architect of the Novus
Ordo! Dolan also says “Archbishop Lefebvre himself, based on his
personal experience,” thought it “highly probable” that Bugnini was
a Mason!
While Dolan seems at
first to blame Bugnini for the changes in liturgy more than he does
the big boss, he goes on to say the latter, i.e. John XXIII, was
“long suspected of Modernism, as he himself personally told
Archbishop Lefebvre.” Wow! Yet, in public, at least, Lefebvre
would not contest the legitimacy of him or of the other Conciliar
popes! Nor would the archbishop’s apologist Michael Davies, who, of
course, also had the goods on Bugnini. Though Davies insists his
case against the so-called reform is not based upon any of this
other evidence, that “the objective defects of the reform remain
unaffected whether or not the Archbishop has ever been a Freemason.”
Ultimately, as Davies
makes clear, Bugnini was not the one responsible for any of the
changes, including the full-fledged Novus Ordo. For the latter,
Paul VI was, since he promulgated it. Writing about the new rite
for ordinations in The Order of Melchisedech, Davies says:
The
most impressive argument for the validity of the new rite is
based on the contention that the Holy Ghost would not permit
the supreme authority in the Church to promulgate an invalid
sacramental rite. It is claimed that no matter what the
intentions of those who actually devised the rite, once it
had been accepted by the Pope and promulgated with his
authority it must, ipso facto, be valid.
There we have it, the
crux of the problem, which is one of authority. Davies can
criticize the new rites to the hilt. He can call them defective or
deplorable –– but never invalid, because that would incriminate the
promulgator, and like Lefebvre, he can not bring himself to contest
the claims of the man occupying the papal throne. Thus his
contradictions, which amount to a kind of swing dance, to and fro,
round about the subject at hand. So too with Lefebvre and the SSPX,
whose criticism of the Novus Ordo went just so far. While resisting
it, they insist their priests recognize the legitimacy of its head,
and accept, in addition to phony annulments, the liturgical
innovations of John XXIII. They compromise, in other words. When
some of the younger priests object in writing, logically or not, it
is interpreted as an assault on a higher authority, ultimately that
of the Vatican. And, despite the ambiguity of the SSPX position,
one thing is clear: the protestors, lacking any trace of authority
on their own, were totally out of line.
So they had to go.
Ironically the
replacement for Rev. Donald Sanborn as head of the SSPX seminary in
the United States was — yes, Richard Williamson, the Cambridge grad
sent from abroad to handle those unruly Yanks! The same man who has
been depicted recently in the media as some kind of loose cannon was
actually one of those who adhered strictly to the rules set by
higher-ups at Econe. While most, if not all, of the priests who
were expelled from the Society ended up embracing some form of
sedevacantism, Williamson, like the rest of the SSPX, presumably
still regards the Conciliar popes as legitimate. In the case of
Benedict XVI, the problems of validity discussed in this essay are
especially apropos, because he, unlike his predecessors, was
“consecrated” a bishop under the new rite. If this is invalid, so
is his papal office, because the Bishop of Rome must first of all be
a bishop!
Meanwhile, Lefebvre
continued to vacillate. In his article “Logical Chickens Coming
Home to Roost,” Sanborn reports that in 1988 the archbishop signed a
Protocol saying that he accepted Vatican II in “the light of
tradition” and also recognized John Paul II as Christ’s Vicar. He
even agreed to let a New Mass be said at St. Nicolas du Chardonnet,
the SSPX church in Paris. The following day, however, Lefebvre
“repudiated the Protocol.” Furthermore, he soon revealed the
contents of an official letter written the previous year in which he
had “described John Paul II as an Antichrist.”!
Subsequently he went on
to consecrate bishops according to the old rite — without the
mandate of the bad guy whom the SSPX still recognized as pope! How
their leader reconciled all this mentally is not clear. To his
dying day, he did not recognize the validity of the
“excommunications” that were incurred ipso facto by himself, Bishop
Castro-Meyer of Brazil and the four new bishops. So the question
now is, what would Lefebvre think about the younger four having
theirs “removed” by a “Pope,” who, according to former SSPX
criteria, is not even a valid bishop?
Is this simply
paradoxical? Or does it signify much more: the farcical betrayal of
a legacy?
As for this writer and
family, all the compromise and contradiction finally got to us years
ago. After leaving Kansas in 1981 we continued to frequent an SSPX
chapel until the early 90’s, when the sight of John Paul II’s
picture newly installed in the vestibule prompted us to turn
elsewhere. How could they justify his ecumenical antics at Assisi,
or in India, where he let a woman daub a pagan mark on his
forehead? Or in New Guinea, where he sat at “Mass” with a group of
clerics while a bare-breasted woman in native garb read the
Epistle? While deploring these publicly, the Society still called
him the Vicar of Christ! So was he or was he not to be obeyed?
While we as laymen had no authority to put the Polish actor on
trial, it was also true that in judgments affecting us personally,
we had to use common sense.
Surely he had to be an
imposter!
As abuses mounted so did
the excuses, taking their toll. The official SSPX line we continued
to get via newsletters from Bishop Williamson, who, rather than name
names, tended to blame the situation on what I would call “isms:”
modernism, liberalism, ecumenism, feminism, and Americanism. As we
saw it, however, such abstractions could not possibly be the main
problem. Demonic entities, yes, were no doubt attacking the Church,
but “isms” in themselves could not. Nor did we see signs of a
high-minded hierarchy engaged in honest debate over the issues, or
the ideas, much less the “isms,” for the benefit of a worldwide
audience. It had to be, rather, a matter of covert deception, of
devious men conniving and infiltrating the pinnacles of power. Yes,
the rot coalesced at the top, where the virtue of obedience was used
to silence those below. Feeling helpless, all we underlings could
do was watch helplessly. As one of us observed, it was like being
forced to witness a gang of thugs beat our Mother to death while we
could do nothing.
Except to watch and pray.
(Part V)
Copyright by Judith M.
Gordon 2009