Archive for Pope John XXIII

Clarity about Charity in Truth

Charity in Truth, Pope Benedict’s new encyclical, has been in preparation for some time. It was intended to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Pope Paul VI’s 1967 encyclical, Populorum Progressio, which took up the problems of human solidarity and justice on a large scale, in particular the problems of the poor nations of the Third World, a trend toward the globalization of the Church’s social teaching that grown during the pontificate of John XXIII and the Second Vatican Council. The anniversary actually fell in 2007, but the encyclical has been delayed by over a year; partly it was because of updates necessitated by the world economic crisis that began last fall.

Pope Benedict looks at the question of “integral human development in charity and truth.” He tells us that “love — caritas — is an extraordinary force which leads people to opt for courageous and generous engagement in the field of justice and peace. It is a force that has its origin in God, Eternal Love and Absolute Truth.” The focus of the encyclical then, is that love is the motive for social action, but only truth can set love free to act and direct its course. The truth about humankind and the means to human justice can be sought only in God. A particularly bold challenge for a relativistic time.

Reading it — and I’m trying to go slowly to savor it — is re-acquainting me both with the force and vigor of Pope Benedict’s mind as well as the sweetness of his devotion, if I can put it that way; as I recall from Jesus of Nazareth, he has a powerful connection with Christ and what His love can do.

I wanted to put down some of my own thoughts, but first, it seems necessary to clear away some misunderstandings.

I’ve spent some time looking at the reactions to the encyclical. I’ll spare you the sillier ones from the professional pundits right and left, who fall all over themselves trying not to notice Benedict’s criticisms of their own social and political views, while loudly trumpeting his criticisms of their opponents. Misunderstanding is rife here, but it’s the type of misunderstanding anyone could easily predict.

Skipping all that, I’ll get right to the basic misunderstandings found among Catholics in blog comment boxes. I’ve noticed over time that the number of those who have made any study of Catholic social teaching or papal encyclicals on the subject is relatively small. At times the wildest misunderstandings of the Pope’s words occur.

Misunderstanding #1 Context, context, who has the Context?

Some errors come out of a near-total lack of knowledge of the history of Catholic social teaching, which forms the context in which the encyclical is written. For instance, the misunderstanding of those who read Bendict’s words about the need for “a true world political authority” and decided at once that he meant there should be a “one world government” that would absorb the powers of all other nations, whose governments would then presumably disappear. They reacted with tremendous — and completely unnecessary — alarm. What the Pope actually wrote was:

To manage the global economy; to revive economies hit by the crisis; to avoid any deterioration of the present crisis and the greater imbalances that would result; to bring about integral and timely disarmament, food security and peace; to guarantee the protection of the environment and to regulate migration: for all this, there is urgent need of a true world political authority, as my predecessor Blessed John XXIII indicated some years ago. Such an authority would need to be regulated by law, to observe consistently the principles of subsidiarity and solidarity, to seek to establish the common good, (Pacem in Terris no. 84) and to make a commitment to securing authentic integral human development inspired by the values of charity in truth.

For those who have read Pacem in Terris, the encyclical of John XXIII that Benedict refers to, and who are familiar with subsidiarity, one of the principal aspects of Catholic social teaching he refers to, there is no difficulty in interpreting this passage. John XXIII wrote in the cited passage: “one must bear in mind that, even when it regulates the relations between States, authority must be exercised for the promotion of the common good. That is the primary reason for its existence.” So good Pope John wanted an authority to regulate relationships between states, and was probably thinking of the model of the U.N., certainly not of one world government. And subsidiarity, clearly stated again and again in Catholic social thought, teaches that the smallest, most local and most de-centralized authority that has the competence is the best one to make decisions. In short, a “world political authority” would not have the authority to do those things that could best be done by the member states themselves.

But few Catholics are genuinely familiar with these things. This is a rather sad reflection in general on Catholic education. But on the other hand, if final encyclical texts were a little clearer, and made a greater effort to explain things to ordinary Catholics, some of this harm might be avoided. Benedict’s thought, as I said, is vigorous and well-expressed, but it’s also possible to tell when a text has been through the curial committee wringer one too many times.

And if I could make a small suggestion to the people who draw up the final text of an encyclical and its footnotes — would it really hurt to cite papal texts by their paragraph numbers, instead of their page numbers in the printed edition of the Acta Apostolica Sedis, which exists only in a few specialized libraries? This is especially helpful for those who want to look up the citations on the Vatican’s own website, as I have been trying to do today. It took me a long time to find the citation from Pacem in Terris by the Vatican webiste, because, of course, there are no page numbers there. The other method would make more sense considering the way most people get information today through the Internet. And, while we’re at it, why not put hyperlinks to the citations of other papal documents? (I put the paragraph number in the text above, so you can find it as well).

Misunderstanding #2: What does a Pope know about Economics Anyway?

“I don’t like the Pope’s ideas about one world government (sic). And why should I pay any attention to him anyway? I’m sure he knows very little about economics. After all, he never cites economists, just other Popes.”

This as actually said by someone in a combox yesterday, on a thoroughly Catholic site. And this is a pretty basic misunderstanding.

When a Pope writes an encyclical, he is primarily writing as a pastor, as a theological and moral authority. He is not writing to make specific social economic proposals — a task for Catholic economists, social scientists and politicians. At the same time, it would be very difficult for him to make the application of moral principles clear without any knowledge of the specifics of economics and social realities. In fact, papal social encyclical are all written after consultations with experts. Often there is a whole team of them overseeing the work, as with John XXIII’s encyclical above.

Now I’m going to bring in a little and (to readers of this blog) very familiar help. As it happens, I have been translating just this week a very pertinent text by Pope John Paul I on the subject of the preparation of one papal social encyclical Rerum Novarum, the grand-daddy of them all, written in 1891 by Leo XIII, when the problems of the working class became acute in industrialized Europe. One of the economists who helped Pope Leo with the encyclical was Giuseppe Toniolo, who lived in the diocese where Albino Luciani was bishop, Vittorio Veneto. Speaking in the Church of the Assumption in Pieve di Soligo, where Toniolo is buried, in 1961, for the 70th anniversary of Rerum Novarum, Luciani spoke of the preparation and inspiration of the encyclical, and the mutual part of the Pope and social and economic thinkers in it. As usual his treatment is clarity itself.

But I must clarify in what sense and within what limits Toniolo contributed to preparing the encyclical.
Rerum Novarum, like other papal documents on social themes, contains three sorts of truths: truths of faith, of reason, and of simple observation.
Truths of faith: for example, in Rerum Novarum, the supernatural destiny of man is present from beginning to end; the reasoning that emerges, now here, and now there, is this: “Yes, let’s seek a good arrangement for the workers, but let’s recall that no arrangement can be good if it puts the other arrangement of heaven in danger!” In this area of truth, obviously, Toniolo had nothing to suggest to Leo XIII.
Nor did he in the sector of “truths of reason,” which is the sector of good sense, of natural law, old as the centuries, which the Pope interprets authentically. To this sector belong, for example, the statements of Rerum novarum about the right to property and the right of workers to unite in associations.
It is instead in the sector of observation that the advice of Toniolo could be useful. Social phenomena formed the material for observation. Society, in fact, changes as life changes, and to the changes there must correspond, on the part of the Church, not a different truth, but a different dose of the same truth. Hence a constant adaptation, an opening of our eyes to quickly register the signs of the new times.
I will supply an example: it is a truth of reason that the state must intervene in favor of the workers, in cases where they are not succeeding in reaching just and reasonable goals on their own. Well then, in Quadragesimo anno we hear Pius XI concerned with indicating the limits of state intervention and it is understandable; it was in 1931, the period of totalitarian governments that actually intervened too much in social questions.
In Rerum Novarum, Leo XIII urged the state to intervene in favor of the workers. This means that the Pope was convinced that in 1891 the workers could not do it alone and that the states were taking little action. But from where did this conviction come to him? Not from Sacred Scripture or from philosophy, but from the world itself, which from the observatory that is the Vatican, he sought to read as though in a book. He tried to make the reading easier for himself with the help of Catholic thinkers, who, however, were divided on this point.
“The state is like pitch,” said some; “if we dip our finger in it, we will not get it out again; the workers must act alone without the state!” “If the state does not intervene with its massive power, the workers will remain as miserable as they are, the power of the employers are too great!” answered the others, and they were the flower of bishops, thinkers and politicians, in France, Belgium, Germany and England. Among these was none other than Giuseppe Toniolo and he was distinguished among them by the moderation of his tone and the acuteness of his reasoning.
Did he have an influence on inserting the thesis of state intervention and other points in the encyclical? The decree of introduction of the cause of Giuseppe Toniolo says the Leo XIII “doctissimos in hac encyclica conscribenda consuluit viros, quos inter Servum Dei Josephum Toniolo [consulted very learned men in the writing of this encyclical, among them the Servant of God Giuseppe Toniolo].”

(Toniolo was actually declared Venerable by Paul VI in 1971).

***Update July 12

Here’s an equally interesting passage Luciani wrote on this subject a few years later, in 1971, after the appearance of Populorum Progressio, in a Lenten sermon he gave in Venice called “We and the Third World”:

But does the Pope, does the Church, have the right to touch on these questions, beyond the generic call for justice and charity? I know: the Magisterium of the Church must limit itself to declaring what God has revealed. Now, God, by His revelation, has opened new spiritual horizons for humanity, but He has not directly proposed the solution to social problems. Jesus expressly denied being a social revolutionary; he urged us to be just and to share our substance with the poor, but he did not specify how society and property should be regulated in specific periods in history; he has said that people as individuals are the goal, the protagonists and the foundation of human institutions and activities (the Sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath), but he did not descend to details in socio economic matters.
The ecclesiastical Magisterium, therefore, can only touch on these questions indirectly, by expounding the principles of Christ and setting them beside the various concrete social situations. The analysis of these situations, on the other hand, is up to the experts, whose collaboration the Magisterium must humbly seek and accept. This might explain, for example, why private ownership of the means of production, although stated and reconfirmed as necessary to human liberty and dignity in Gaudium et Spes and Populorum Progressio, occupies a less important place than at one time. And why the Pope, among other things, calls upon the responsible authorities for suitable international laws and an international authority capable of making them respected by the nations.

*** End of update

As for why Popes never cite economists — just as Toniolo went uncited — I’m sure it’s so no one economist or school of economics were be pinpointed as identical with the Pope’s views; since this would not be true in any case, and would be detrimental in some cases to the spiritual point he is making.

I dearly miss the encyclicals John Paul I would have written — something makes me think they would have excelled in clarity and readability as well as in charity and truth. And he did actually speak as Pope on social justice, very briefly, but in a way that resonates with the new encyclical.

But that’s a subject for another post. In fact, I’ll make it my next post.

In the meantime, here’s a useful primer on papal social encyclicals, as well as a link to the Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church.

And a good general roundup of the commentary on Charity in Truth.

Last of all, some excellent clarifications from Jimmy Akin. (I’ll let him handle the guy who insists that the Pope is far to the left of Obama).

Pope John Paul I and Pope John XXIII

I haven’t forgotten my promise to write some more about Pope John Paul I. I wanted first of all to finish this month of June, on the feast of Sts. Peter and Paul, with his memorial to Pope John XXIII, who died 45 years ago this month. Of all the Popes in modern times (at least since Pius VIII died in 1830), the Pope with the shortest reign next to John Paul I was John XXIII. And though his reign was one of the shortest, it was also perhaps the most important, because of his work for peace and justice and the calling of the Second Vatican Council.

He certainly has much in common with his successor John Paul I, whose “humble service” as Pope was also brief, and also very important for the world. Papa Luciani was defined by one of his friends, Cardinal Hyancinthe Thiandoum, the Archbishop of Dakar, as a “spiritual son of Pope John XXIII” because of his capacity to see far and look to the future of the Church. Certainly he was just as beloved as Pope John for his smile and his simplicity of manner. Luciani closely followed every aspect of Angelo Roncalli’s life, as his writings show. He was consecrated a bishop by Pope John on December 27, 1958, and entered his new diocese of Vittorio Veneto on January 11, 1959, just two weeks before Pope John called the Second Vatican Council. Luciani spent the whole of his life as a bishop affected by this Council. and deeply loved the Pope who had called it. He succeeded Roncalli as Patriarch of Venice in December 1969, and then followed him into the See of St. Peter on August 26, 1978. Like Pope John, he is on his way to sainthood.

Their spiritual kinship is very obvious from these excepts from Luciani’s writings about Pope John from 1963. The first is the letter to his diocese of Vittorio Veneto, announcing the Pope’s death. In them, writing about the Pope as “his son,” Luciani seems to be giving, without realizing it, a spiritual portrait of himself, especially when he described the late Pope as someone who “in his simplicity and without trying to . . . made an extraordinary impression on every kind of person” and as someone of “goodness, humility and a robust faith in God.”

June 3, 1963

My esteemed priests and beloved faithful, today at 7:49 p.m., Pope John XXIII died piously and serenely after 81 and a half years of life and 4 years, 7 months and 6 days of “humble service” as Pope.

This “service,” in a very brief space of time, was in reality very dense with generous works for the benefit of both the Church and the whole world. “Humble” on the other hand, was the attitude of his spirit. Placed on a high cathedra, he presented himself to the world, saying, “I am one of you, I am your brother Joseph!” While working, teaching or approaching people in small groups or vast crowds, he repeated without every becoming tired: “Let us seek what unites us!” “Let’s have faith in God and mankind!” Let’s love one another!”

Simple, abandoned to the “good providence” of God, smiling and full of sensitive kindness to everyone, but resolute and tireless, right at the dawn of his pontificate he launched the daring idea of an ecumenical Council, which he patiently prepared for and courageously initiated, and for the success of which he repeatedly offered his life.

Never, perhaps, has a Pope been so loved as has John XXIII, by the whole world, even non-Catholics, and it is surprising to observe how, in his simplicity and without trying to, he made an extraordinary impression on every kind of person. This leads us to mediate on and imitate his example of goodness, humility and robust faith in God.

In the meantime, however, we have the filial duty of supporting his pious soul with prayer, all the more so since, before becoming Pope, he was for five years our most beloved and venerated metropolitan Patriarch (1). I myself cannot forget that I was consecrated a bishop by his august hands. And therefore with the soul of his son and your brother, at his moment I invite you all to pay him your respects and offer prayers for his soul. (Albino Luciani / John Paul I, Opera Omnia, vol. 3, p. 43.)

The second is the homily Luciani gave in the cathedral in Vittorio Veneto, three days later, on June 6. It contains a very moving reminiscence of the talk that he had with Pope John shortly before his consecration as a bishop.

The idea of Pope John that has made the greatest impression on my soul is this: Ecclesia Christi, lumen gentium! [The Church of Christ is the light of nations]. (2) The Church must shine not only on Catholics, but on everyone; it belongs to everyone, we must try to help everyone get to know it better.

When the Apostolic Delegate Angelo Roncalli arrived in Turkey at the beginning of 1935, he felt a pang in his heart: there were dozens of priests and thousands of faithful there, but almost none of them had bothered to learn the national language of Turkey; the Catholics were somewhat closed within themselves, they formed an island. He tried to remedy the situation as best he could: he ordered that the official acts of the Delegation be written in Turkish, before each of his sermons he had the Gospel passage read in Turkish and ordered that the “Blessed be God” be recited in Turkish at the end of Mass. There was amazement and criticism and some people asked: “What are these novelties for?” He answered, “They are for both the Catholics and the Turks. To the Catholics I would like to say: ‘Come on, come out of your isolation! Give up the French and the other things that hinder you, and get to know these people who are your hosts and who are also made for the truth!` To the Turks, I want to say, ‘Dear Turks! We cannot give away a single point of our creed, but we want to let you know that the creed itself obliges us to show you our liking for you, our sincere esteem for the good you have been able to create, and our desire to walk together with you when it comes to things that are good by their nature.’”

It was, on a small scale, the program that he applied on a large scale as Pope: to build bridges towards the world.

The Council is one of these bridges. In an audience for us bishops of the Veneto, he told how the idea had come to him. “One morning Tardini (3) came here with his usual stack of papers. We reviewed them, then we examined the world situation. So many problems, so many difficulties! We said, ‘What can the Church do to help?’ I had not thought about it before, but at that moment a word flashed into my mind, and I said, ‘It would take an Ecumenical Council!’ When the word was said, I almost surprised at having pronounced it and I looked at Tardini. Right away, he placed the papers on the table; I saw his eyes shine behind his glasses, and I heard him say, ‘Holiness, that is a great idea! Yes, it would take a Council!’ I am accustomed to following with simplicity what seem to me to be inspirations from the Lord. I did so then, and you know the rest.”

And you, my faithful, know it too. You have heard John XXIII speak on every occasion about the Council. He saw it as an examination, a self-criticism by the Church in order to improve itself, to beautify and renew itself and in this way to present itself as more attractive, convincing and welcoming to the separated brothers and to the rest of the world. No sermons would even be necessary, he said once, quoting St. John Chrysostom, if our faith really shone in our lives!

And in his famous speech at the opening of the Council, he was also thinking of the world. “Don’t forget!” he seemed to be saying in his precise Latin, “I don’t want a Council-museum, that limits itself to gathering and cataloging antiques; the Council must be instead a forge that brings forth doctrines that are unchanged, but in new forms, with a new spirit, in view of new needs. Today the Church must be a mother to everyone, kind, patient, and full of mercy, even towards the separated brothers; the great medicine of today must be mercy.”

Mater et Magistra can also be considered a bridge towards the world. The problems treated in it are of interest to everyone: it speaks, among other things, of the imbalances between advanced and under-developed nations, it deals with de- colonialization, with world population, which is growing in the face of meager means of sustenance. And it concludes: we are responsible for the under-developed countries, we must help, both as private individuals, and as nations!

In the encyclical, the principles remain firm: the well-known unfortunate ideologies are called “incomplete and erroneous,” it speaks of Christians who “have been savagely persecuted for a number of years” in many countries, and of the “refined cruelty of their persecutors;” Catholics are warned “not to compromise” when “the integrity of religion or morals would suffer harm.” Once this had been said, however, “a spirit of understanding” is recommended, Catholics are invited to “join sincerely in doing whatever is naturally good or conducive to good,” and for the first time, in an encyclical, there is explicit praise for secular Institutions like the International Labor Organization and the FAO. (4)

Pacem in Terris, on the other hand, is the first encyclical in which a Pope addresses not only the bishops and the faithful, but “all men of good will” on whatever side of the boundaries of the Catholic Church. Even here a single iota of doctrine does not fall. The peace of which it speaks is Christian peace, founded solely on the fear of God, love for mankind, and on liberty. Considering the phenomenon of refugees, it says clearly that “there are some political regimes that do not guarantee for individual citizens a sufficient sphere of freedom . . . in fact, under those regimes even the lawful existence of such a sphere of freedom . . . is denied.” (5) But then it observes: we must not “confuse error with the person who errs; the person who errs is always and above all a human being, and he retains in any case his dignity as a human person; and he should always be regarded and treated in accordance with that lofty dignity.” (6) Absolutely nothing is conceded to error, but a step is taken towards those who are in error. Meetings between Catholics and non-Catholics on questions of a practical order are possible under certain conditions, and those are: that we be watchful in avoiding illicit compromises, that we be prudent, that there be an accordance with natural law, with the social doctrine of the Church and with the directives of ecclesiastical authority.

This is not the place to enumerate all that Pope John has done for the good, not only of the Church, but of humanity: I would only like to stress the spirit in which he has done it.

I learned about this spirit from his august lips, seated in front of his desk, in a private audience that I will never forget, five days before he consecrated me a bishop.

He confided to me that a page from the Imitation of Christ that he had meditated on in 1904 in the fervor of the very beginning of his priesthood had been providential for him and had served as an orientation for the whole course of his life. “Go and look at it for yourself,” he said to me, “It’s in Book 3, Chapter 23.” But meanwhile he recited it for me from memory. “There are four things that will bring great peace. First: seek to do the will of others rather than your own. Second: always prefer to possess less rather than much. Third: always seek the last place. Fourth: desire always, and pray that the will of God be accomplished perfectly in you.” I have always tried to put these four points into practice,” he concluded, “and I have always been content, in joys as well as in sorrows; the Lord has helped me and blessed me.”

During these sad days, thinking again about his life, and re-reading his letters and discourses, I have found that he told me the truth. He truly let himself be guided by the will of God, he did not seek success or greatness, he possessed great gentleness and patience. When he was named an archbishop in 1925, he wrote to his friends: “I feel nothing but shame and confusion, my spirit, however, is calm, and my soul is at peace. I obey, though overcoming strong repugnance at leaving certain things behind, and at venturing to do certain others, and I am putting aside all anxiety. Yes, ‘obedience and peace’: this is my episcopal motto. May it always be so.”

As apostolic visitor and then apostolic delegate in Bulgaria for nine years, he encountered trials that were neither small nor of short duration. The Catholic community there, which is in dire straits, has enormous needs and places great hopes in the delegate, but he is forced to admit his own inability to provide for everything, and to fulfill the hopes that had been cherished. Then comes the unfortunate affair of King Boris’ marriage with Giovanna of Savoy; the delegate carries on the negotiations, he assures Rome that the august groom appears sincere and willing to fulfill his obligations, but instead Boris repeats the wedding ceremony, which has already been celebrated in Assisi in the Catholic rite, in the Orthodox rite, in a way designed to cause a sensation, and later has his daughter baptized by the Orthodox.

The delegate hears that he is being criticized in the Secretariat of State, where his nomination, due solely to the Pope, is already not liked; he sees his faithful humiliated, the Orthodox exultant, the royal court irritated by the loud and clear public allusions of Pius XI; he must take difficult steps, he confesses that the affair has caused him “more troubles than there are hours in the day.” But he writes: “I hope the Lord will help me and not allow the desire for a change to issue, even once, from my lips or from my heart.” And later: “I am in the condition that St. Francis de Sales calls the state of perfection: that is, I ask for nothing, and I refuse nothing. The Lord knows that I am here. That is enough for me.” And still later: “We often suffer from impatience for great and sensational successes. We want to see and experience them every day . . . we are deceiving ourselves.” And again: “I pay no attention to what the world says of me, the testimony of my good conscience and the knowledge that the Holy Father is happy with my modest work is enough for me.”

From Bulgaria, he is transferred to Turkey and to Greece. It is anything but a great promotion, all the more so because the newspapers had spoken of him as nuncio to Romania. But he writes: “Many people on both the European and Asian shores sympathize with me and call me unfortunate. I don’t know why. I carry out the obedience that is asked of me and nothing else . . . Perhaps there are some bad days and painful situations in store for me. But I do not cease to look above and to look far.”

Here is a phrase that becomes familiar to him: “To look above and to look far.” Along with this one, he likes to repeat others. For example: “Gutta cavat lapidem [The drop of water wears away the stone]” Or: “Dabo frontem mean percutientibus [I gave my back to those who beat me]” (Is. 50:6). Or: “Omnia videre, multam dissumulare, pauca corrigere [See everything, overlook much, correct little]” (7) Imbued with this spirit of patience, detachment from the things of the world, and faith in God alone, he faces the difficulties of the nunciature in France and the diocese of Venice and also the great problems of his pontificate. After being named to Venice, he writes from Paris to the vicar of the cathedral chapter: “. . .in this nomination of mine, there is nothing of my own; therefore I will be very glad to come.” In Venice, again, facing some lively reactions to his project of removing the screens in front of the altar of the basilica of San Marco, he wrote: “If they told me that to succeed in my intention I would only have to kill one ant, I would not kill it.” It is impossible to explain his strong and gentle patience in his very long death agony without the patience that he exercised through his whole life. “There are four things that bring peace,” the Imitation of Christ had said. He constantly tried to put them into practice, and experienced for himself the truth of what the Imitation adds: Ecce, talis uomo ingreditur fines pacis et quietis — “The man who does these things enters the kingdom of tranquility and peace” (8).

Now that his mission has been completed, he has gone to the Lord. Down here there remains the good that he has done, there remains, as a stimulus and a consoler, his luminous example. There also remains his exalted teaching, and it is this: Extend the area of the Church! Truth alone is not enough, we need love too! Look above and look far! Walk on the paths of obedience to arrive at the kingdom of peace!

Let’s welcome the warning, and let’s translate his example into firm convictions and solid virtues! Let it not be said of us that the passing of Pope John has only lightly touched our hearts. Let it be said: “That great and good Pope has impressed them, convinced them, and has transformed their ideas and their lives!” (Opera Omnia 3:44-48).

NOTES

(1) Vittorio Veneto was one of the suffragan sees of Venice, where Angelo Roncalli was patriarch before becoming Pope, from 1953-1958. – Trans.

(2) Lumen Gentium (the light of nations) was also the title of the Council’s Constitution on the Church. — Trans.

(3) Domenico Cardinal Tardini was Pope John’s Secretary of State. — Trans.

(4) Mater et Magistra, nos. 212, 216, 239, 103. — Trans.

(5) Pacem in Terris, no. 104. — Trans.

(6) Pacem in Terris, no. 158. — Trans.

(7) St. Gregory the Great.

(8) Imitation of Christ, 1,3, Ch. 23, v. 7.