Giovanni Donelli was robed in the white cassock his mother had stayed up sewing the night before. He glanced at his family who had arrived half an hour before the service to make sure to get the front pew. Papa was beaming, Mamma quietly proud, and his younger brothers Giuseppi and Giorgio were trying to look uninterested. The old wooden pews protested as the congregation settled back and Father Vincenzo Abostini prepared to address them all. The beautifully kept little church didn’t have a pulpit, but Christ and his Mother Mary would have certainly approved. The altar was covered in the finest white lace, which le donne of the village laundered every week. High on the wall behind the altar between two marble pillars was a life-size statue of Mary, standing watch over the little congregation, six gold candlesticks at her feet. Giovanni could still remember sitting on the marble steps that led up to the chancel, listening to Father Abostini, a quiet gentle man with an ample waistline, thinning hair and flushed, pudgy cheeks.
‘I have a message from the Holy Father himself,’ Father Abostini began, grasping the sides of the lectern. On Sunday 14 October 1962, the same message was being read in tens of thousands of Catholic parishes around the world but Father Abostini had the ability to make it seem as if it was a personal message to the villagers of Maratea.
‘Il Papa sends his blessings to each of you and he asks for your prayers. Under the auspices of the Virgin Mother of God, the Second Vatican Council is being opened in Rome beside St Peter’s tomb. I want to add my own message to that of Il Papa. I know that many of you have great hopes for Vatican II, but, i miei amici, please understand that reaching a conclusion will take time.’
Like a true priest of the people, Vincenzo Abostini was warning them against expecting too much. He had spent time in the Vatican and knew well the formidable power of the Curial Cardinals massing against any change.
‘Many of you, I know, have deep concerns over issues such as birth control, but I would caution that change will not happen overnight.’ The Vatican’s dogged ban on contraception had caused millions of Catholics enormous pain. He glanced at Giovanni’s mother sitting in the front pew. He had shared the guilt of her confession as they’d sat either side of the grill in the church’s little white wooden confessional the previous day. Like so many of his flock, tormented by the Church’s teaching. A dogma that had very little to do with the Bible and a lot more to do with the Vatican using sex to maintain its power over the masses.
‘In convening such a Council our much loved Holy Father has shown great leadership,’ Father Abostini continued. ‘In his own words, he has flung open the windows of the Holy Church to what he has called aggiornamento, a process of renewal and modernisation of the Faith. He has reached out to the Jewish faith with a concern for the Church’s anti-Semitism of the past. Instead of denouncing other religions he has rejoiced in their common spirituality. Il Papa is truly a man of the people. He is one of us. I am reminded of the story of him catching a reflection of himself in a mirror and remarking ‘ Sono fa brutto – I am so ugly!’
The laughter of the villagers of Maratea was full of affection for a Pope who was truly ‘one of them’. A Pope who held the view that the Church should be less hierarchical and more open. More responsive to her grass roots congregations and the world outside the walls of the Vatican. In the tradition of Christ himself, Pope John XXIII held that the villagers were the most important part of the Church. Rather than a tree with the Pontiff and his bishops at the top, Pope John saw the Church more like a field, each blade of grass making up the People of God.
It was this view of the Church that made an indelible impression on Giovanni and it had become stronger as his career progressed. It was a philosophy that resonated deeply within him and formed the foundations for his interpretation of his faith and its teachings. This philosophy was a guiding light in times of doubt and darkness. It gave him an inner strength that would be sorely tested in the not too distant future. Archbishop Petroni and his supporters were quietly massing against any departure from the dogma and were preparing to silence the echoes of Vatican II. But across the Mediterranean, as the heat haze shimmered off the Dead Sea and a few grains of sand trickled from the roof of a cave, a much greater threat to the dogma was yet to be discovered.
‘And what did Father Abostini have to say about Vatican II?’ Archbishop Petroni demanded, frustrated with Giovanni’s noncommittal answer.
Giovanni was jolted back to the present with the realisation that, on the one hand, Archbishop Petroni seemed to need reminding as to which parish Giovanni had belonged but on the other, he knew precisely which priest was in charge.
‘He was supportive of the Holy Father’s message, Excellency.’
‘Of course. And what were the peoples’ views on Humanae Vitae?’
‘Maratea is only a small village, Excellency, but the news of the world does not go unnoticed and many villagers follow The Catholic Weekly. When it reported that the Canadian bishops had allowed informed conscience on birth control, it was also reported that this had provided a great many Canadians with relief from the burden of guilt. Many of the villagers in Maratea expressed their disappointment, Excellency, that they did not receive the same relief.
‘The disobedience of the Canadian bishops has not gone unnoticed, Father.’
‘The people of Maratea are fishermen, Excellency. They have a strong faith that is a great comfort when times are hard.’
Archbishop Petroni got up from behind his desk, turned his back and walked over to the windows overlooking La Piazza San Pietro. Giovanni remained seated.
‘The Holy Father has decided to introduce a pilot scheme whereby selected men and women of the Faith are to attend a state university. It is something I have opposed, Father Donelli, but the Holy Father is adamant.’ Pertroni returned to his desk but remained standing, looking down on Giovanni, his blue eyes cold and steely. Petroni did not enjoy being overruled, even by the Holy Father.
‘You, Father Donelli, have been chosen to lead the program and to provide periodic reports on its effectiveness or otherwise,’ Petroni said, with a chilling emphasis on the ‘otherwise’. ‘You are also to ensure that the more junior members of this program do not go off the rails.’
‘I already have two degrees, Excellency, in theology and chemistry,’ Giovanni said, more than a little puzzled.
Petroni’s eyes narrowed and Giovanni instantly regretted his response. ‘I am aware of that, Father,’ Petroni said slowly. ‘I have at least persuaded the Holy Father that theology continue to be taught where it should be, within the correctness of a Catholic university. You and three others have been enrolled in a new degree, the Philosophy of Religion. The details including the reporting requirements are in this folder. I require only one copy of each report and there are to be no duplicates. They are to be submitted for my personal attention and the reports are to include a general summary on the approach of each lecturer, highlighting where there are departures from the teachings of the Church.’
In years to come Giovanni would have cause to remember Archbishop Petroni’s paranoia.
‘You leave for the Universita Statale in Milano at the end of the year.’
With that Giovanni was dismissed, but it would not be the last time the ambitious Archbishop would impact on Giovanni’s career. As Giovanni would discover, the Holy Spirit worked in strange ways. Two weeks later Petroni was summoned to see the new Pope.
‘Lorenzo. Avanti. Avanti.’ The Holy Father waved Archbishop Petroni to a comfortable chair. ‘Now that I am settled in I have been going over the list of suggested new appointments and I think it is time we got you out of these dusty corridors in the Vatican.’
Petroni’s heart sank. His power base was firmly rooted here in the Vatican and the Vatican Bank. Immediately his disappointment swung to anger as he wondered who might have engineered the move to sideline him. Petroni struggled for control, but the Holy Father was smiling.