One of my personal heroes in the present-day leadership of the Church is Cardinal Biffi, the former Archbishop of Bologna. Cardinal Biffi is a very outspoken and theologically direct pastor of the Church. I often wish that a man like Biffi would have been elected pope at some point in the past 50 years. He is a man who is not prone to the realpolitik of modern Vatican-think, which often afflicts popes and lower-order curial officials alike. And he is a man who craves and recognizes responsible governance in the Church.
Biffi has often taught about the character of the Anti-Christ, a theme most pertinent to our present day. He is perhaps most famous for having done so in a well-publicized lecture on Vladimir Soloviev’s “The Three Dialogues and the Story of the Antichrist.” Here is how he describes the Anti-Christ of Soloviev’s remarkable parable:
The Antichrist will be a convinced spiritualist, Soloviev says, an admirable philanthropist, a committed, active pacifist, a practicing vegetarian, a determined defender of animal rights. He will not be hostile in principle to Christ. Indeed, he will appreciate Christ’s teaching. But he will reject the teaching that Christ is unique, and will deny that Christ is risen and alive today.
One sees here described a Christianity of “values,” of “openings,” of “dialogue,” a Christianity where it seems there is little room left for the person of the Son of God crucified for us and risen, little room for the actual event of salvation. A scenario, I think, that should cause us to reflect…
A scenario in which the faith militant is reduced to humanitarian and generically cultural action, the Gospel message is located in an irenic encounter with all philosophies and all religions and the Church of God is transformed into an organization for social work. Are we sure Soloviev did not foresee what has actually come to pass? Are we sure it is not precisely this that is the most perilous threat today facing the holy nation redeemed by the blood of Christ - the Church? It is a disturbing question and one we must not avoid.
One might add that the Anti-Christ could very well also speak of himself as a “unifier” or as an “agent of change,” who promises to use the charity of law to protect homosexuals from “discrimination” or parents from the “burden” of having to care for their children when times get tough economically. Or who promises to lift the burden of life from the elderly and the terminally ill through “mercy” killing.
The Anti-Christ, in other words, is a figure of false compassion. He appeals to Christians who are weak in faith because he is able to proof-text scripture, or because he publically proclaims himself sympathetic to Christian faith. He might even refer to himself as a Christian.
Cardinal Biffi has recently released a book of great interest. Sandro Magister reports on it at his Chiesa weblog. Though Magister does not talk about whether or not Biffi touches on the theme of the Anti-Christ in this book, there is much of interest that Magister does suggest is present in it.
Biffi is apparently as straightforward as ever, though he is now retired and living in the hills of Bologna. Biffi says in the book, according to Magister, that we live in an age where orthodoxy, rather than heresy, is newsworthy and considered shocking. Believers who take seriously Christian chastity, or who recognize Christ as both God and man, are outside of respectable public opinion — and this is as true inside of the Church as outside of it!
Magister says that Biffi does not embrace the fashionable theologies of the day. He preaches the Gospel. One quotation in this brief article by Magister caught my attention. Biffi says that given the widespread acceptance of heresy inside the Church today, the Council of Nicaea may be more pertinent to our age than the Second Vatican Council!
How insightful this is, and how refreshing to hear it said by a prince of the Church! For those who may not know, the Council of Nicaea (325 A.D.) was the first ecumenical council of the Church. The Church affirmed in this council the ancient tradition of Christ’s divinity against “Arians” (followers of a bishop named “Arius”) who denied it.
We may, indeed, as a Church, need to turn again to this ancient council: and to the other Christological, Trinitarian, doctrinal councils of the early Church. We have, as Biffi suggests, lost our way. I would add that the archaizing tendency of many twentieth century Catholic theologians, including some of the heroes of John Paul II and Benedict XVI (Balthasar, Congar, de Lubac, etc.), following in the train of Protestant thought, has left us unsure of our heritage as Christians. The theological archaizers have, quite unintentionally, revived the doctrinal uncertainty of the early Church.
The Body of Christ today, in many minds, seems to be as malleable as it is presumed to have been, perhaps falsely, in the first four centuries. The old, bedrock certainties of modern scholastic theology, which in fact continued the patristic tradition quite faithfully, were cast aside by the post-war, conciliar theologians and popes, and we have been left trying to rebuild the edifice of the Church.
The texts of the Second Vatican Council provide little help in this regard. They do not speak directly and strongly enough to a Church that has become comfortable and accepting of heresy. They oftentimes seem to betray a misreading of modern culture. The task in our day is less one of showing how Vatican II exists in a spirit of continuity with earlier councils than of turning to the earlier councils themselves. We need to be reminded, as a Church, of how the heroes of the faith upheld the truth of Christ in the days of the first councils: at much personal cost and in the face of ostracism, banishment, and even imprisonment and death from within the precincts of the Church itself.
Biffi’s voice, as a strong, clear, and critical assessor of post-conciliar trends, is a powerful voice for our age.