Aspects of the Lefèbvre “Case” – Folha de S. Paulo, August 17, 1977

 

by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira

 

Let me define my topic precisely. I will not address the Lefèbvre “case” but only one aspect of it. This aspect has less to do with the “case” or with Monsignor Lefèbvre as a person than with the psychology of certain adversaries who have done everything possible to obstruct the archbishop’s work in Latin America.

I limit myself to this very narrow area of the vast “Lefèbvre topic,” not because the other areas’ complexity and delicacy paralyze me or because I have any reservations about the French prelate, but for another reason.

The Lefèbvre case is essentially theological. All the difficulties between the archbishop—who is both the founder and mentor of the Seminary of Ecône and the leader of a vast spiritual work spreading throughout Europe and America—and Paul VI were exclusively theological until recently. The case remains essentially and immutably theological throughout its unfolding vicissitudes—not all of which are theological.

Now, my consistent stance on civic and religious matters of all kinds, both national and international—many of which have been expressed in articles in Folha de S. Paulo over the last few years—renders my intervention in theological matters inappropriate, as such matters are more suited to a clergyman than to a layman.

Hence, my silence in this article on precisely the most noble and essential issues that the Lefèbvre “case” raises.

That said, and with the publicity dust raised by Archbishop Lefèbvre’s passage through South America having settled, I will now address the civic-religious aspect of the Lefèbvre issue.

I begin by stating that I have long held Archbishop Marcel Lefèbvre in high regard and sincere respect.

I met him during the Second Vatican Council. At that time, he formed, alongside Bishop Antônio de Castro Mayer of Campos, Archbishop Geraldo Sigaud of Diamantina, Most Rev. Luigi de Carli, bishop of Segni, and many others, the valiant antiprogressive and anticommunist coetus, whose actions constitute a great and luminous page in the history of that Council. Subsequently, in 1967 and 1974, I hosted him as a guest in Brazil. During these visits, I took the opportunity to learn in detail about the admirable work of Ecône, which he was shaping.

I cherish several photographic memories of these encounters, in which he appears carefree and smiling, still far from the storm that would come later.

Archbishop Marcel Lefèbvre’s personality was deeply ecclesiastical in every way; it was pious, serene, distinguished, and discreetly enhanced by the “charm” and manner imparted by French education and culture. I need not say more to explain the impression this brave prelate made on me.

Shall I add another compliment, in which every word has been weighed and measured? Archbishop Lefèbvre strikes me as a friend of the “cards on the table” policy. That is precisely how I am. I take particular pleasure in making my position on him clear here because I feel an affinity with him on this point.

Having said all this, I feel this overview of Archbishop Lefèbvre would be incomplete without one final point. For several months now, without abandoning his theological positions, Archbishop Lefèbvre has also issued doctrinal statements on the Church’s social teachings. I cannot guarantee that I am aware of all of them. The ones I have read seem doctrinally irreproachable and very timely. I particularly appreciate the prelate’s stance against communism. They are lucid, courageous, and forthright. Needless to say, like him, I strongly disagree with the Vatican’s Ostpolitik, about which I have published extensively in books and in the daily press.

How different the world’s situation would be if all bishops displayed the noble gallantry of Archbishop Lefèbvre in opposing communism!

Having made these considerations, let us finally turn to the topic I wish to focus on most.

In Mexico, there is a separation between Church and State. A resentful State enforces this separation meticulously, to the point that civil law prohibits clergy from wearing cassocks. Strictly speaking, this separation should imply scrupulous detachment of temporal power from religious matters. In fact, this is generally the case, as public authorities look on indifferently while all sorts of heresies proliferate. Consistent with this attitude, the Mexican government should refrain from interfering in the Church’s internal affairs. In turn, the Church should have the self-respect not to seek assistance in such matters from those who so contemptuously repudiate it.

However, as soon as Archbishop Marcel Lefèbvre’s visit to Mexico was announced, the government of that great and well-loved Central American nation ordered all its consulates to deny him a visa. Why? What could Mexico’s coldly secular and notoriously leftist government possibly have in common with that nation’s episcopate, which was obviously delighted by the government’s veto of Archbishop Lefèbvre?

Something similar happened in Argentina. There, although united with the Church, the State did not veto Archbishop Lefèbvre’s entry but clearly expressed its displeasure with his visit. Once again, why did the government take this jab at the Argentine episcopate, which was visibly satisfied?

Events of this nature can hardly be reduced to a single cause. Among the various factors that contributed to this, the following undoubtedly stands out: those two governments acted in an unusual manner, eager to please their respective episcopates and well aware that they were doing so.

Here is the question. Why do these episcopates, influenced by Vatican II, present themselves as open to ecumenical and cordial relations with all heresies (some even practice ecumenism with the Reds), yet throw ecumenism to the wind when it comes to Archbishop Lefèbvre? Why do they go so far as to move the power of the State against him, as if we were in the Middle Ages, which those bishops certainly do not miss in the least?

Tightening the noose even further: if the ecumenism of these episcopates has a double standard, opening the gates for some and not for others, what is it? Is it authentic ecumenism or veiled partiality toward heretics, schismatics, and communists, and blatant partiality against others who attack communism, heresies, and schisms?

The same can be said of Cardinal Silva Henriquez’s behavior. As Archbishop of Santiago, he extended every gesture of friendship to the Marxist Allende. But as soon as Archbishop Lefèbvre arrived in Santiago, the gentle pastor, friend of rabbis and Protestant missionaries, did not spare him any epithets. Is ecumenism only for communists and anti-Catholics of all kinds? If so, what is such ecumenism but complicity with the Church’s enemies?

A similar question could be asked of the Colombian episcopate. Although less irate than the once-affable Chilean cardinal, it also showed Archbishop Lefebvre its disapproval.

Here lies the problem, which reveals one of the saddest and most disturbing aspects of ecumenism in this post-conciliar Church. Paul VI rightly said it was engaged in a mysterious process of self-destruction (address of December 7, 1968) and was penetrated by the smoke of Satan (address of June 29, 1972).