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opinionAlso in this section: Pope John Paul II and Liberation Theology by W. E. Gutman When does speaking ill of the dead turn from tactlessness to calumny? Or is speaking ill of the dead less reprehensible if perfunctory praise is tempered with truth? Adulation for Pope John Paul II aside, most Americans --- Catholics and non-Catholics alike --- have long yearned for sweeping changes that would bring the Church into the modern era. This yearning reflects a deep cultural chasm between Americans and the church that even the charismatic John Paul could not or would not bridge. His hostility toward reform, the hallmark of John Paul's papacy, became manifest shortly after his enthronement when the pontiff, affirming his absolute authority, denounced a 25-year-old experiment that not only humanized Catholicism but augmented and enhanced its appeal among the world's poor, the disenfranchised and the voiceless. It was in appointing arch-conservative Bishop Fernando Sáenz Lacalle to succeed slain Salvadoran Archbishop Oscar Romero, that Pope John Paul, touring Latin America on his first official visit, struck at Liberation Theology, the oxygen-rich doctrine that redefined and enlivened Catholicism. The Pope's choice came as a shock and resonated like thunder from Mexico to Patagonia. Within weeks, scores of activist bishops were sacked and replaced by compliant champions of conformity. According to the Reverend Joseph Mulligan, an American Jesuit living in Nicaragua, these clerics "have been toeing the line very carefully on issues of doctrine. They are the 'yes-men' who do Rome's bidding." Mulligan believes the Church was pulling back from the strong commitment to social justice that the Vatican purported to espouse. Bishop Sáenz, a Spanish-born prelate, is a former Vatican liaison to the Salvadoran army and a member of Opus Dei, an ultra right-wing organization dedicated to promoting and enforcing Catholic canon. The new archbishop's critics have accused him of cozying up to the ruling party, the oligarchs and the military. They were also offended that Sáenz accepted over one million dollars from the government and the country's richest families to resume construction of a cathedral left unfinished when Archbishop Romero proclaimed, "it is time to build the Church, not to build more churches." Short on resources and political clout but long on memory, people in Central America have not forgotten that Pope John Paul II paid a courtesy call on then-president of El Salvador, Armando Calderón Sol --- a man widely suspected of inspiring Archbishop Romero's assassination and masterminding the massacre of 900 men, women and children at El Mozote. They also vividly remember that the Pope then cavorted with barrel-chested colonels and generals festooned with medals, and granted audiences to high society women sporting low-cut dresses and dripping with diamonds, instead of kneeling at the grave of six recently slain liberal Jesuits. It was in Nicaragua that Pope John Paul II first clashed with supporters of Liberation Theology. In Managua, he publicly humiliated the Reverend Ernesto Cardenal, a prominent advocate who was then promptly suspended from the priesthood. Scores of vocal Latin American liberal clerics were then "retired." The headstrong and unrepentant among them were unceremoniously defrocked. Hastened by papal nepotism strongly biased in favor of ultra-conservative bishops, this dilution in the ranks of progressive clergy has gained new impetus in Latin America. Tragically, in the most Catholic domain on earth, the peaceful religion of Jesus has been subverted by martial attitudes that view the faithful as the very enemies of the state. The church feels it must tap into the reactionary power base to maintain both doctrinal monopoly and political custody over the masses. This has in large part alienated the masses from Catholicism and opened the door to evangelical Protestantism. Like Karl Marx, who detested the proletariat, the Church under John Paul II never expiated its mistrust of the flock. It steadfastly rejected the notion that that people can govern their conscience without its guidance or control. Worse, it denied them the right to manage their political destinies by consigning their existence to the same Pharisaic elite that Jesus rebuked. Few of Christianity's rulers, however outwardly pious, have lived up to the principles of Jesus, the consummate radical who preached compassion, pacifism and egalitarianism. Faced with a choice between Jesus's incorruptible ethic and political expediency, Pope John Paul II opted for the latter. He came to Latin America and told the poor that poverty is good. He then enjoined the rich to reject materialism --- he might as well have ordered hyenas to give up meat. In casting out the good shepherds of Christianity from the fold, he also surrendered the flock to the carnivores. Unwavering commitment to outmoded or unpopular dogma may inspire admiration among the diehard but it does little to quench the thirst of the faithful for a religion that resonates with 21st century attitudes and aspirations. If John Paul II was a remarkable man --- and he was --- his papacy lost some of its luster among those of us eager to humanize God and enlighten the Church. Sic transit gloria mundi.
Willy E. Gutman is a veteran journalist on assignment in Central America since 1991. He lives in southern California.
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