Ten years ago I had the privilege of being among a group of lay persons, religious, priests, and bishops, gathered by the late Cardinal Joseph Bernardin, to launch the Catholic Common Ground Initiative. We crafted an inaugural statement, "Called to Be Catholic: Church in a Time of Peril," that was published in Commonweal and elsewhere, generating a fair amount of acclaim and even hope.

As many will remember, its appeal was for "a renewed spirit of civility, dialogue, generosity" among American Catholics, grounded in "faith in Jesus" and "accountability to the living Catholic tradition." Not content to remain at the level of general sentiments, the Statement's last section sought to articulate "working principles" to guide interactions and exchanges in the spirit of Common Ground.

One in particular seems worthy of recall: "We should put the best possible construction on differing positions, addressing their strongest points rather than seizing upon the most vulnerable aspects in order to discredit them."

In my view, Commonweal's editorial on the Pope's visit to Auschwitz (variously commented upon in a post below) falls short of this Ignatian-inspired appeal to a generous reading.

Does my view entail that there can be no respectful disagreements with the Pope's reflection? No regrets for what may have been left unsaid? Should it come to that, no fraternal correction? Of course not.

My contention, however, is that in both style and substance the editorial betrayed a one-sidedly captious assessment.

Let me single out three issues and invite readers' response.

First, the editorial speaks of Benedict's "perplexing and unsatisfactory explanation of the Holocaust." I wonder where in his anguished meditation the Pope presumes to offer an "explanation?" He knows full well that one does not "explain" evil. One might seek to situate it, to probe its scope, to discern its ramifications. This the Pope attempted to do, pointedly, if not exhaustively. But one does not "explain" the unmitigated evil of the Shoah (a term twice used by Benedict, yet unacknowledged in the editorial).

Second, referring to John Allen's reflection upon the Pope's remarks as possibly constituting a "turning point in post-Auschwitz Christian theology," (a point one might certainly accept or not), the editorial leaps to the crabbed conclusion that "Catholics no longer need be discomforted by the history of the church's treatment of the Jews." No sign here that one may seek a more considered theological perspective that does not shun human responsibility and sin, but rather discloses sin's truly demonic thrust.

Then, even when offering "a more charitable interpretation" of Benedict's words, the editorial dismisses them as "a tidy theological syllogism." What a characterization of the Pope's anguished meditation that is framed by two psalms from the Hebrew scriptures: Psalm 44 and Psalm 23. Benedict, daily immersed in the praying of the Psalter, invokes them, not for the sake of rhetoric, much less logic, but for the sake of mystagogy.

Where is the "syllogism" in the Pope's associating so intimately the fate of Israel with the very purpose of God that the assault on this people is, in the very nature of things, an assault upon God?

Far from claiming that the Shoah sought directly to assault Christian faith, the Pope sees that its direct intention was to eliminate Israel and, by that action, to tear out the very root upon which Christianity is grafted. A more generous reading would have noted the allusion to the olive tree of Romans 11: 17&18.

Finally, the editorial asserts that one does not go to Auschwitz "to defend or to praise God;" and concludes by recommending "a dread silence" -- for once citing with approval the Pope's words.

But Benedict uttered those words at the beginning of his meditation. In the course of it, however, silence gave way to afflicted, yet faith-filled prayer: prayer for forgiveness, reconciliation, and peace (words surprisingly absent from the editorial).
Were such prayer no longer possible, even in Auschwitz, then indeed the Nazis would have won the final victory.

Much more might be said, but I have already strained patience. Let me conclude with words that have haunted me over the past week, pondering the Pope's words and discerning whether to post these thoughts. They come from the sixteenth century Anglican theologian, Richard Hooker.

These words have been spoken so that "posterity may know we have not loosely, through silence, permitted these things to pass away as in a dream."