Troubled Citadel

For the first time since the end of the Civil War in 1939, Spain's Roman Catholic hierarchy has issued a joint pastoral letter to the faithful. The 38-page letter, redefining the relations between church and state in the light of the Second Vatican Council, spoke out for political and economic freedom within Spain, but also urged Catholics to avoid politicking in the name of the church and asked for "moderation" in seeking reforms. It was unmistakably designed to calm down the turmoil that has led Vatican officials to speak openly about Spanish Catholicism being in a state of crisis.

Once a staid citadel of baroque piety, the church in Spain has been torn by shock after shock since police attacked a group of picketing priests in Barcelona last May. Four Catholic publications have defied the hierarchy's wishes by referring to the incident--and three of them were promptly banned by nervous government censors. Last month, after leaders of the 200,000-member Catholic Action approved a resolution calling for separation of church and state, the bishops denounced the statement as being too political in intent, then banned all future meetings of the organization.

Rebels & Repairmen. In defiance, Catholic Action members two weeks ago took part in a demonstration of 3,500 Madrid workers seeking higher wages. Priests and seminarians seem almost equally restive, in search of change and experiment. In San Sebastian, for example, after students for the priesthood refused to attend certain spiritual exercises at the diocesan seminary, Bishop Lorenzo Bereciaurta closed down its theological department and expelled five of the rebels. And in a suburb of troublesome Barcelona last week, five priests opened a motorcycle repair shop in a slum, boldly announcing that they intended to become "worker priests."

The basic cause of the Spanish turmoil is that the Catholic hierarchy has been unwilling or unable to achieve the same kind of progressive evolution within the church that has transformed other aspects of Spain. Perhaps the single most conservative group of prelates in the church, the 82 Spanish bishops average 65 years of age; all owe their appointments to Franco,* and most are old enough to still think of him primarily as the savior whose crusade spared the church from the terrors of Communism. By contrast, most of Catholicism's influential lay leaders, and almost half of its 34,500 priests, are under 40. Many of the priests are of working-class origin, and feel strongly that the church has lost touch with the mass es. They accuse the hierarchy of doing little to implement the reforms of Vatican II, and generally regard Franco's authoritarianism as incompatible with the council's declarations on political freedom and liberty of conscience.

The Pace of Change. The conflict between the hierarchy and its flock is a tragic but perhaps inevitable clash between generations in which merit can be found on both sides. As one sympathetic Spanish layman put it, "The bishops fear a return to the chaos of the past, and with good reason. Yet the younger clergy, which is not burdened with Spanish history, looks to the future." Both aging prelates and youthful priests agree that a transformation of the church in the light of the council is inevitable; what divides them is the pace of such change.

* According to the 1953 Concordat, the Spanish government and the Papal Nuncio jointly suggest to the Pope the names of six acceptable candidates for a vacant see. Rome narrows the choice to three men, one of whom is then selected by the government.

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