Rev. Robert A. Graham, S.J., the author of the preceding article, is also the author of the following monograph which was first published by the Catholic League in 1987. The introduction (which begins on page 32) was written by the late Dr. Joseph L. Lichten, author of A Question of Judgment: Pius XII and the Jews, which comprises the third section of this present book.
PIUS XII'S DEFENSE OF JEWS AND OTHERS:1944-45
by Robert A. Graham S.J. with an Introduction by Dr. Joseph L. Lichten.
Ever since Rolf Hochhuth's The Deputy made its appearance in 1963, it has been an unshakable axiom of popular mythology that Pope Pius XII was, if not actually a crypto-Nazi, at least guilty of criminal cowardice and insensitivity in the face of the Holocaust. It is accepted as a truism that the Pope's failure to act or even to speak out against the atrocities of the Nazis made him a silent partner in the massacre of millions. In the hands of some writers, this alleged collaboration of the Pope is adduced as evidence of the anti-Semitic and pro-fascist nature of the Catholic Church as a whole.
The Deputy was more than merely a play. It was a sustained exercise in character assassination that was resoundingly echoed in the popular press. The production of that play coincided closely with the publication of Anne Frank's Diary and the trial and execution of Adolf Eichmann. The world needed to give vent to its horror, and with no more real Nazis left to punish, the image of a pusillanimous pope offered just the right scapegoat.
So New York Times columnists write about the "unctuous silence" of Pope Pius XII. Specialists in Holocaust studies characterize the Pope as a symbol of moral irresponsibility. The Bronx Museum of Art displays a painting called "Nazi Butchers", featuring Pius XII in full papal regalia. A certain species of hat-in-hand Catholic writers beat their breasts loudly over the cowardly silence of the Vatican, as if this proves their own liberality of mind. And an ABC News correspondent, covering Pope John Paul II's visit to Munich, remarks that this city was the cradle of Hitler's Nazi movement, knowing the allusion will not be lost on a public that has been taught to view the papacy as a pawn of the Third Reich.
Pius XII is beyond harm. He received his final reward a generation ago, and before he died he had the consolation of receiving the gratitude of worldwide Jewry for his noble efforts on their behalf. Yet while his detractors can no longer injure him, their slanders and insinuations continue to plague the Church, for when a pope is defamed, the Church suffers.
Unfortunately, when these cheap accusations began to surface, when they were stealing into popular consciousness and shaping public attitudes, the historical data needed to refute them were not at hand. For more than 15 years, Father Robert Graham, the distinguished Jesuit historian and former editor of America magazine, has been editing the Vatican archives from this tragic period. His work proves beyond any reasonable doubt that in its diplomacy and in its direct humanitarian works, the Holy See was a champion of peace, of compassion and of human dignity in the midst of the most terrible passion and violence.
The present booklet is but a brief summary of the contents of Volume X of the Acts and Documents of the Holy See Relative to World War II. It relates the humanitarian efforts undertaken by the Vatican, under the personal direction of Pius XII, during the last stages of the war to alleviate suffering and to protect human life and human rights. It is a record no Catholic need be ashamed of. Before and after Hitler's seizure of power, the Catholic Church in Germany was a formidable opponent of Nazism — so much that Hermann Goering complained in 1935 that "Catholic believers carry away but one impression from attendance at divine services and that is that the Catholic Church rejects the institutions of the Nationalist State. How could it be otherwise when they are continuously engaging in polemics on political questions or events in their sermons ... hardly a Sunday passes but that they abuse the so-called religious atmosphere of the divine service in order to read pastoral letters on purely political subjects." And the Church was persecuted for these "abuses". Catholic lay leaders were murdered. Catholic organizations and schools were suppressed. Priests and nuns were framed on false charges and thrown into concentration camps.
In 1937, when the leaders of the Western democracies were scurrying to Munich to negotiate with Hitler, the Holy See condemned the theory and practice of the "Nationalist State" in the encyclical Mit Brennender Sorge.
When Jews felt the cruel sting of Nazi hatred, the German bishops protested, "Whoever wears a human face owns rights which no power on earth is permitted to take away," echoing Pius XI's declaration, "We are all spiritual Semites."
Pius XII had just ascended to the Chair of Peter when the world was engulfed in war, and that war provided a cover for the ultimate Nazi atrocity; the deliberate genocide of an entire people. This called for action, not words, and it was with action that the Holy See responded. While Britain and the United States were refusing to admit refugees to their territories, the Holy See was distributing thousands of false documents — life-saving passports to freedom — to the beleaguered Jews. While the Allies were trying to use the rumors of death camps for war propaganda, Catholic priests, nuns and lay-people were hiding Jews in their flight to safety, and often paying for it with their lives. While the Allied military leaders were refusing to bomb the rail lines into camps, Vatican diplomats were dealing with the leaders of occupied areas, trying to keep Jews off the trains.
Some have accused the Church of taking an interest only in baptized Jews, and it is true that Church spokesmen were able to make a more persuasive case to the Nazis to save the lives of Jewish Catholics. But as Father Graham shows so clearly, the fatherly concern of the Holy See extended to all the victims of war, regardless of race or creed.
In one tragic instance, the Archbishop of Utrecht was warned by the Nazis not to protest the deportation of Dutch Jews. He spoke out anyway and in retaliation the Catholic Jews of Holland were sent to their death. One of them was the Carmelite philosopher and mystic, Edith Stein.
It could be asked whether these good works were enough, whether it would have been better for the Pope to have denounced from the rooftops the crimes that were occurring. This thought troubled Pius XII, and he confided afterward to an associate, "No doubt a protest would have gained me the praise and respect of the civilized world, but it would have submitted the poor Jews to an even worse persecution."
With the benefit of historical hindsight, one may question this judgment and many others. One can suggest that a mistake was made here or there, that sometimes caution got the better of courage, that more lives might have been saved if the Pope or his agents had acted differently. But these things will never really be known.
What cannot be questioned is the integrity, the charity, and the deep commitment to humanity of Pius XII. It is idle to speculate about what more he could have done, for unlike most of the leaders of his day, he did very much.