The Prestigious Destiny of a Founding Text (1)

But isn't there a kind of anachronistic emphasis or even “political reclamation” in this effort to highlight it? Does this text really have the importance it is being given? Did Archbishop Lefebvre himself realize the significance of his Declaration?

The question deserves to be asked, so humble and discreet do the circumstances of its drafting seem. 

A “Moment of Indignation,” not a “Declaration of War”

After the sudden Apostolic Visitation which took place from November 11 to 13, 1974, Archbishop Lefebvre went to Rome to visit the three Roman Congregations involved in the visit. On December 2, having just returned from his trip, Archbishop Lefebvre addressed the seminarians gathered around him:

“Dear friends, I have been asked to clarify a little what the position of the Society and the seminary is after the visit of the two apostolic visitors that has taken place, and I thought it might be helpful to read you a little Declaration, which I have drawn up to clearly affirm the principles that guide us, and not have any hesitations.”

Indeed, on November 21, back at the Albano house after some talks with the Congregations, realizing that there was little to look forward to at the moment, and “in a moment of indignation,” as he would say, he had drafted in one session a summary of his position.

But make no mistake. This “moment” was not a whim. “Obviously,” he continued, ”these are serious matters, but the situation is serious. Consequently, when events are serious, we also need to make decisions that correspond and have an attitude that is firm, that is clear.”

Archbishop Lefebvre did not know how things would develop. But judging it pointless to get bogged down in vain conjectures about the future, he pointed out: “I am no more informed than you about what may or may not happen. [...] Let us let events unfold as Providence allows, and let us pray. [...]

“But I still wanted to take a position of principle that does not need to be determined by events. This has been the position of the seminary and the Society since the beginning, but it [the declaration] puts it in clearer and more definitive terms because the crisis has grown more serious.”

Then, in a calm voice, at once quiet and strong, he peacefully read his text and concluded: “This Declaration may seem very strong to you, but I believe it is necessary.”

What motivated this clear-cut stance, transcending particular circumstances in its clarity, was an awareness of the gravity of the situation: “A disaster that affects souls. For that is what must be seen: the souls that are being lost! The number of souls going to hell because of this reform! And all those deserted convents, scattered nuns, empty seminaries! [..] Faced with this wave of neo-Protestantism and neo-Modernism, we must say no!”

Dwelling then on the sanctity of the Sacrifice of the Mass, treasure of the Church and source of all priestly and Christian virtues, he concluded: “These are things so precious that it seems to me we cannot speak energetically enough to try to preserve them and keep them for the Church and for souls.”

“I would have preferred to die rather than have to confront Rome and the Pope!” he had confided to Fr. Aulagnier on November 11, while awaiting the visitors sent by Paul VI.

His stance was not, therefore, a cold declaration of war against Rome, nor was it an overly sharp or ill-managed reaction. It was a serious “non possumus,” fully aware of his responsibilities, pronounced to provide his seminarians, in the midst of growing confusion, with a clear and firm line of conduct. It was a holy indignation filled with faith; a humble and strong profession, inspired only by his deep love for the Church and for souls.