Buddha, S.J.

Sunday, November 3, 2024

The Ontological Odd Couple—The Origins of the Fischer-Hoffman Psychic Therapy Process

Originally posted July 31, 2004, 1st revision 9/16/2006, 2nd revision 6/6/2011, 3rd revision 5/18/2021

I began research for this paper, “The Ontological Odd Couple, the Origins of the Hoffman Process,” when the current owners of Hoffman licensed intellectual property began to rewrite their marketing copy. They recast Hoffman and his Process, editing out the contributions of many people who worked hard and selflessly to help Hoffman flesh out his rudimentary insight..

There was another purpose behind my writing. I was trying to resolve my reservations about Hoffman and his work by simply recounting facts and events. However, after trying to disentangle Hoffman's bizarre and abusive behaviors from the modality of the Process itself, I see nothing original or other-worldly about his insights or his methodology, either as presented nearly 40 years ago or in their current iteration. I'd advise anyone to undertake an ordinary course of therapy with a licensed professional rather than the HQP.

I also have to note here that my observations are colored by a sexual and emotionally abusive relationship with Hoffman.

Other Posts regarding Bob Hoffman and the Fisher-Hoffman Process of Psychic Therapy

The Ontological Odd Couple, and the Origins of the Fisher-Hoffman Psychic Therapy

Introduction

When creating a historical account, you have to start at the beginning to get it right. If you’re lucky, some facts, times, and dates can be accurately reconstructed and pinpointed in documents, letters, transcripts, and personal calendars. Some of the messy parts of bringing something new into the world will inevitably be buried and lost. The current owners of the Hoffman Process have recast, revised, and distorted the history. They need to create a compelling narrative to sell the Process. I do not rely on the process for my livelihood, which lifts some of the constraints on telling the truth.

I will argue that they are following Hoffman’s own steps in creating the narrative of a distinguished psychotherapist appearing in a psychic event to resolve his botched karma and making a plausible claim that a tailor from Oakland could be the source of complete psychological treatment.

Bob Hoffman created the original Fischer-Hoffman Psychic Therapy (FHPT) between 1968 and 1973. Claudio Naranjo, the Chilean psychiatrist who introduced the “Enneagram” into Western psycho-spiritual conversation, is the best-known of the professionals who contributed to Hoffman’s Process, but there were many others. Hoffman sought input from many sources (who sometimes did not even know that he was talking to others about the same issue). But he always attributed the final product to his spirit guide, Dr. Fischer.

The myth that the Process came full-blown from a pure source and neglected people who did the difficult work of bringing something new into the world is false. In addition, fostering outrageous expectations creates false standards for evaluating personal experience and makes it more difficult to use one’s own inspiration to gain self-knowledge and liberation. In other words, it undermines what it sets out to do.

No course of psychotherapy can produce real changes in people if it remains only theory. It changes. It reaches into areas that its creators cannot predict. If promises and expectations cannot be fulfilled, they have to be modified or eliminated. However, this evolution is distinct from marketing. Sadly, in our culture, promoting a brand name, writing persuasive copy, will prevail and in the process the contributions of many talented people are cut and lost. Their contributions were marginalized and their value neglected or attributed to others.

If nothing else, what follows can be an inclusive footnote to the revised story.

My Purpose and Sources

I propose to outline the early development of the FHPT from the basement ‘reading’ room in Hoffman’s clothing store on 15th Street in Oakland to the SAT group process. I will not cover any of the subsequent additions and deletions since the creation of the seven-day format. My focus will be the 13-week process, the exercises, and mind trips (now called ‘visualizations’) that remain the framework of the HQP to see if this yields an insight into how a very simple insight became an expensive course with a sequential series of scripted emotional events, a product in the human potential marketplace.

The primary source of information about the early development of the FHPT is my own experience. In 1972-73, I was in the first SAT group that Naranjo used to create a group process to accomplish “a loving divorce from mother and father” that Hoffman promised. Later in the spring of 1973, I was one of approximately 55 people Hoffman invited to be in his first 13-week group that he himself “took through” the Process in Tolman Hall on the UC Berkeley campus. The following year I was trained as an FHPT therapist and group leader, which became my primary work for several years. I led the 13-week processes for PSI, and later, I worked privately with smaller groups for another three years.

Another source is Hoffman himself and my conversations with him from 1972 until his death in 1997. Our friendship was strained and painful. While he was alive, I could not talk about my observations that gave me some insight into his inner workings, puzzles, and deep-seated unhappiness. Extremely concerned about his public image, he asserted that he had to present himself to the world as straight. Most people close to him, certainly those who worked with him, knew that Hoffman was gay, but he never publicly acknowledged his homosexuality. In this day of liberation and acceptance, his deception and his closeted life, cannot be overlooked. A good case could be argued that the process itself grew out of his conflict about being a man who loved men, his difficulty forming and nurturing close relationships, his creativity and sensitivity, and perhaps some of his inner doubts about the worth of his work.

I do not know all the people who contributed to the development of Hoffman’s work. There are many. I have not included hearsay material from people with whom I did not work or with whom I didn’t have focused conversations. Many disappeared after working with Hoffman and making a significant contribution to the Process, such as Dr. Ernest Pecci, M.D., a psychiatrist who founded PSI, The Center for Psycho-Spiritual Integration, to present the 13-week Process. I trained as a therapist under Pecci and worked with him for more than two years in the 70’s. Pecci’s psychotherapeutic model was influenced by New Age spirituality. My last personal contact with Pecci was a phone call about 1977 when he told me that Hoffman was going to sue everyone that he, Pecci, had trained unless we ceased to offer the Fischer-Hoffman Psychic therapy to the public. (Nearly everyone who was offering some version of the FHPT ceased under Hoffman’s threat of legal action, with the exception of one or two practitioners who had split with Hoffman before PSI, substantially altering or modifying it. He was also not successful in shutting down the Anti-Fischer Hoffman Process that was offered in the Bagwan Shree Rajneesh’s ashrams in Pune and Antelope).

Some key people are dead. Julius Brandstatter is the man who coined the word ‘Quadrinity’ to reflect the four aspects of being human—physical, intellectual, spiritual and emotional. I met Julius and his wife Miriam when they returned from Israel in the 70’s; their work with Hoffman continued through the re-casting of the Process into the current seven-and-a- half-day format. In the opinion of most observers, their contribution was never fully acknowledged by Hoffman. I had several long conversations with Miriam in 2006. It was she who created the organization and flow for Hoffman’s early sessions. Hoffman would call Miriam in Israel and tell her what he presented that week with SAT, and later in Tolman Hall. Miriam, a trained psychotherapist, then returned what she had presented in Israel, as an orderly, effective outline, which Hoffman filed and used for the next Process. Both Julius and Miriam are now dead.

The most important person in this story is dead before Hoffman gives birth to the Process. Dr. Siegfried Fischer assumed the status of legend and myth in the story of the Process as Hoffman’s guide. His name was removed from the original title when his son filed a lawsuit. He said that Hoffman had been his father’s patient and that his professional reputation was threatened by Hoffman’s claims. I will briefly examine both claims below.

Many of the people with whom I had extensive conversations were estranged from Hoffman, among them Ilene Cummings and Stanley Stefancic, who both served as Executive Director of the Institute after Hoffman’s return from Mexico. Besides long and thoughtful discussions about the origins of the Process and the contributions of various players, Stefancic showed me several documents, lists of the unique terms and phrases that were intended as teaching tools in the HQP (e.g. “negative love,” “giving to get,” “illogical logic, nonsensical sense”), as well as descriptions of several elements in the Processes, (including the bitter sweet chocolate ritual, and spirit guide and sanctuary mind trip), that Hoffman and his lawyers prepared when he was considering lawsuits against those he considered pirates. (I have used quotes around words and phrases that Hoffman habitually used to describe either his methodology or the concepts that were derived from the Spiritualist Church.)

Other people were constant friends and supporters from their first meeting with Hoffman until he died. Although I know these people and have had many conversations with them, I have not used anything they told me in my presentation because I do not have their permission. Cynthia Merchant, personal assistant to Hoffman and Hoffman Quadrinity Teacher, worked as editor of the lengthy transcripts of Hoffman’s presentations that became the core of today’s Process. Ron Kayne, an early supporter by Hoffman’s admission, created the “guide and sanctuary mind trip,” as well as being the ghost writer for Hoffman’s book, Getting Divorced from Mother and Dad, and the first version of The Negative Love Syndrome.

When I became serious about uncovering and documenting the origins of the FHPS, I interviewed several of the members of Naranjo’s first SAT group who had worked individually with Hoffman. Ron Deziel gave me important information about the bare bones of Hoffman’s initial work, heavily laced in psychic practice borrowed from the Spiritualist Church.

Most of what I will present is not easily reconciled with the image of an inspired “intuitive” or kindly and wise Jewish grandfather. However, I feel it vital to record another version of Hoffman’s inspiration and preserve it in a small corner of the universe, especially in order to note Naranjo’s contribution in some detail. Suppose we allow a story of real creation and inspiration to be sanitized. In that case, the contributions of this highly talented man who was present at a certain moment and responded wholeheartedly to Hoffman’s questions and requests without concern for his own personal gain and enrichment might be forgotten.

The Inspiration

I heard Hoffman describe the inspiration for the Fischer-Hoffman Psychic Therapy many times. The rather bare outline of this bizarre otherworldly encounter never varied. In the middle of the night in 1967, the figure of a recently departed friend, the psychiatrist Siegfried Fischer, appeared at the foot of his bed and revealed to him the missing link in psychoanalytic therapy: the concept of Negative Love as the stream of negative behaviors unconsciously passed from one generation to the next. Then Fischer’s spirit-being took Hoffman through his own psychic therapy, uncovering the roots of his own inherited patterns of behavior and liberating him with a new understanding that reached into the depths of his emotional being. Hoffman said that he was able to forgive his parents for all the negativity he had experienced growing up. He knew that “everyone is guilty and no one is to blame.” He then severed his karmic connection to his parents’ negativity. Fischer disappeared with the promise to return and assist Hoffman in completing some of his unfinished work and his karma, and that Hoffman could help him “move on.” Hoffman said he heard the phrase “doors will open” when he asked Fischer how he, a tailor, would enter the world of professional psychotherapy and present this insight as the missing piece, an antidote to the endless cycle of analysis.

Who was Siegfried Fischer? Hoffman claimed that Fischer was an acquaintance, a friend of his wife’s family, a German psychiatrist who managed to escape the country in 1936, making his way to San Francisco. I confirmed the basic outline of the Fischer story from the public record. Siegfried Fischer emigrated in the 40s and practiced psychotherapy at Langley Porter; he wrote Principles of general psychopathology: an interpretation of the theoretical foundations of psychopathological concepts (New York, Philosophical Library, 1950).

Hoffman presented a scenario of convivial after-dinner conversations with Fischer. They chatted and argued about the existence of the psychic realm, life after death, and questions about the efficacy of psychotherapy. I can’t overemphasize the Spiritualist Church’s doctrine: “truth” spoken by disembodied spirits to spirits inhabiting human bodies, satisfying karmic obligations. Fischer was a scientific materialist and would have had none of it. Hoffman’s telling had the feel of an apocalyptic battle between the forces of good and evil, psychotherapy vs. a psychic tailor, the psychic declaring victory after death.

After hearing this part of Hoffman’s story, with slight variations, innumerable times, I began to feel that Hoffman had an ax to grind with the enterprise of psychoanalysis that he had probably had a failed experience in therapy himself. I began to suspect that he had been Fischer’s patient and quit, still in transference. I asked Hoffman if he had been Fischer’s patient, and he said yes, that he and his wife had seen Fischer for family therapy with their son Michael. I have confirmed through reliable sources that Hoffman was Fischer’s patient “for years.” Still, Hoffman lied about his personal friendship with Fischer in order to present himself as a reliable source.

Fischer’s son maintained that he was never a close personal friend of Hoffman or Hoffman’s wife. Hoffman continued to use “Fischer-Hoffman Psychic Therapy,” and Fischer's son, David, filed a lawsuit against Hoffman. Hoffman did not contest David’s claim and changed the name of the FHPT to the Quadrinity Process. However, Hoffman still claimed, both in private conversation and group presentations, a personal friendship with Fischer and that Fischer was his spirit guide.

Hoffman claimed that Fischer guided him as he began to work with people who started to come to him for psychic readings. From my conversations with several people who did psychic therapy with Hoffman in the “reading room” of his 15th Street shop, Hoffman’s initial work contained the following elements. After some discussion of the problems that were plaguing a person’s life (and legendary “forceful” persuasion), and making lists of his or her parents' negative traits, Hoffman instructed clients to write an emotionally-charged autobiography of their life from birth till puberty. Then he began to direct the “prosecution” of Mother and Dad for programming a defenseless child with negative emotional traits. An “anger letter” to his or her parents capped the prosecution, which provided some release as well as giving Hoffman an opportunity to evaluate the depth of the client’s emotional state.

Then Hoffman “psychically read” the emotional history of the client’s parents, living or dead, describing events without prior knowledge, often including times and places, that explained and cemented difficult emotional traits into their emotional makeup. This was the parents’ “defense”: to see that negative love was passed from one generation to the next. This is the concept of “negative love”: that his or her parents had unwillingly “adopted” these negative traits themselves, driven by their own emotional history, and therefore could not be blamed. These deep, psychically verifiable understandings led to the experience of forgiveness and compassion for one’s parents. “Everyone is guilty, and no one to blame.”

Finally, through the mediation of Fischer and their personal spirit guide, the client got “Closure” by cutting the psychic ties to his or her parents. In a “mind trip,” the client yanked out the umbilical cord that connected his or her emotional child to their parents and allowed them to grow up to their chronological age. As an emotional adult, the client could, for the first time, experience unconditional love for their parents. The tools for breaking the habit of negative behaviors, now just phantom symptoms of imagined hurt, were a repetition of positive traits, a process called “recycling,” and avoidance of negative behaviors by “putting your awareness on your awareness” using rudimentary self-awareness exercises. There were also tapes of sessions with Hoffman and written negative trait lists and positive alternatives for reinforcement.

According to Ernie Pecci, the original elements of the Process were the prosecution of the Mother and then the defense of the Mother, the prosecution of the Father and the defense of the Father, and the “Closure.”

One other piece was introduced into the FHPS before Naranjo took on creating the group process with Hoffman. The imagined conversation between the client’s emotional child and the emotional child of the parent came from Transactional Analysis. Hoffman no longer psychically “reads” his patients to uncover his or her own parents’ emotional history. Hoffman found facilitators trained in transactional analysis and adapted an existing technique, a path that he was to follow many times throughout the creation of the Process.

The Development of the Group Process

I have attempted to describe the huge emotional breakthrough that I had over several weeks in that first SAT group in Bob Hoffman—#GayMeToo. I also talk frankly about Hoffman’s predatory behavior towards me, which included sexual abuse as well as my difficulty dealing with it. I’ve written about his clear violation of ethical and legal conduct as well as my struggle with it in several places, including "Bob Hoffman was a criminal. Simple." But that is not the subject of this article.

This was the very beginning of the creation of the Group Process. Hoffman’s written notes in Stefancic’s possession clearly show that Hoffman credited Naranjo with transforming the FHPT into a group process. Every interaction between them that I witnessed over more than 20 years also clearly shows that Naranjo always regarded Hoffman as a modern-day shaman.

Lacking psychological training, Hoffman needed Naranjo’s validation, but he never trusted the techniques that Naranjo introduced to yield insight. He felt that psychotherapy was, at base, a misguided enterprise, and any kind of self-observation was, at best, far too slow and, at worst, a head game. His style was to evaluate and attack people, then point to their emotional reactions as examples of negative programming, almost always violating the boundaries of professional behavior.

Naranjo was absent from Hoffman’s group interactions, and I suspect he allowed Hoffman to conduct himself in any way he chose. However, Naranjo crafted the interactive exercises for most of the sessions. I will discuss two exercises in some detail, the “bitch session” and the “child/intellect confrontation.” They highlighted Naranjo’s major contribution to the Process and laid the groundwork for the experiential HQP.

Hoffman instructed us to list our parents’ negative traits. He defined a negative trait as any behavior that was “giving to get,” “buying love,” or “withholding love.” This warped economy of love thwarted the free exchange of affection to satisfy our innate desire to love and be loved. (Naranjo examines Hoffman’s view in The End of Patriarchy). As we listed our parents’ negative traits, Hoffman insisted that we had adopted them, every one of them, even if we had rebelled against them as children and they occurred as negative reactive behavior. He insisted that this was the sum total of what we knew about love, that our emotional life was infantile, and that we gave emotional love in the vain hope of having it returned, deprived of our birthright to give and receive love freely. This simple model became the foil that Hoffman used to reflect our behavior back to us, a rudimentary self-observation: the memory of past behaviors in relation to our parents revealed how we conducted our emotional life. Our list of negative traits became his confrontational tool. In the SAT group, Naranjo also used dyads and other tools of self-observation, notably the study of the Enneagram, meditation, and methods adopted from Gestalt, but Hoffman considered those techniques cumbersome and slow.

We were then instructed to take the list of negative traits and recall scenes from our childhood, before puberty, where we had experienced these traits exhibited by our parents, and write down our reactions. Our emotional autobiography was to be as emotional as possible; we were not to censor ourselves as we wrote. (The Emotional Autobiography is no longer used—Hoffman told me that it was unnecessary, but I suspect it took too much time for the compressed version).

That first Fall, at least five weeks were dedicated to this prosecution of Mother. It was mid-October when we began the bitch session. I mention this because it was the first time I noticed Hoffman’s urge to move the process ahead while it appeared to me that Naranjo was testing psychological methodology as applied to the FHPT. My observation was, of course, obscured by the fact that I was a participant with enormous transference already underway, but when Hoffman ended the SAT group process before it was even half complete, it was evidence of their tension.

The bitch session, which replaced the “anger letter,” was an experiential expression of anger, directed at a parent, using explicit language, physical motion, beating pillows, and screaming. It was first conducted with the group members observing the person on the “hot seat” and then providing feedback about the depth and expression of the anger. (A personal note here: this experience was, for me, one of the major breakthroughs in my entire adult life. It took weeks for me to really allow myself to express my own anger, but when I finally did touch the depth of my rage at my mother, it altered the course of my life. It was as if a huge veil had been lifted and I had to admit that I was an angry person. But more importantly, I recognized that I had a range of feelings I’d struggled to avoid all my life and a set of defenses I had constructed to avoid these feelings. At that moment, I became solidly engaged in my exploration to achieve some degree of resolution and freedom.)

The introduction of the “bitch session” was important to Hoffman. It was his first experience of psychological work, allowing a person to experience the level of emotional release that he had been unable to achieve with his “anger letter.” It also, in my view, pointed to a rapid way to induce the level of feeling and emotion that is the hallmark of the current version of the HP. Later Pecci introduced another technique for inducing very early infantile feelings, the “primal,” an adaptation of Reichian bodywork, borrowing its name from the then-popular Primal Scream Therapy; it also continues, I think, to exist in some form in the current HQP.

The next of Naranjo’s contributions that I would like to discuss is what is now known as the “Child/Intellect Bitch Session.” This does not follow the chronological sequence because it actually occurred after Hoffman had begun to do his own work. While I worked in the first FHPT Process, I continued my participation in the SAT group. One night I took the hot seat when Naranjo himself was doing Gestalt therapy. In the FHPT, the client visualizes his or her self as composed of four parts: the physical self, the intellectual self, the spiritual self, and the emotional self. The emotional self can assume whatever age, where the client or patient feels some block or experiences some incident that remains unresolved. In a dream sequence that I began to act out, alternately taking the role of a stern mother and a vulnerable child, with Naranjo’s coaching, I experienced myself at war with myself, perpetuating a kind of stalemate, hiding from my sexual feelings and repressing them, fearing my mother’s disapproval. Anger and frustration surfaced, and the solution that I had crafted, the choice of the celibate religious life, began to look like just that, a solution I had crafted and not the vocation that I was trying to follow. As a follow-up, it was suggested that I try to craft another kind of truce between the emotional child and the intellectual self, represented in the session as my disapproving mother. I was among the first of several people who used the persona of the child and intellect on the hot seat. Very soon, Hoffman introduced an exercise in which the emotional child and the adult intellect alternately expressed anger and frustration, eventually arriving at a kind of truce. This became known as the Child/Intellect Bitch Session and continues to exist in a different form in the HQP today.

By the end of November, Hoffman ended the group experiment with SAT. He told us that he would take us to a place where we could stop—the defense of mother, and that he would conduct his own 13-week group process in Tolman Hall on the UC Berkeley campus. (I later learned that he had been diagnosed with bladder cancer and was going to retire to Mexico to either heal or die; that he had made the decision to entrust his group process to Pecci; and that the training in Tolman Hall was to introduce a pool of people to the group process who might be trained as therapists, or ‘teachers’ as we were called.)

A hallmark of the 13-week process was the order and the pace. Specific assignments for each week were due three days after the session; Hoffman reviewed them, and his recorded comments were back in your hands at the beginning of the next session. In every session, Hoffman lectured, shouted, cajoled, confronted, intimidated, humiliated, bullied, and abused us. He called us assholes and negative love buyers. Perhaps this behavior forced some people to examine themselves, but it far exceeded professional boundaries appropriate for therapist/teacher and student/patient relationships. Hoffman justified his behavior by claiming that his basic message was so simple that it was hard to grasp without his unyielding confrontation: human beings deserve a satisfying emotional life but are prevented from achieving that goal by the adoption of the negative traits of their parents.

He conducted other portions of his course through “mind trips,” and I will mention two of them, the parents’ funeral and the birthday party because together with the other exercises already mentioned, these fill out every essential element except “Vindictiveness,” “Play Day,” and “Dark Side” of present HQP. After the prosecution and defense of both parents, we were asked to close our eyes and imagine that we were awakened in the dead of night by a phone call: our parents had been involved in a car crash and were near death. We were asked to follow the course of events from the emergency room to the graveside. Bob told me that this “came through” as he was speaking. Furthermore, he said that if we experienced a full range of emotions, we could set aside our anger towards our parents and begin to experience unconditional love for them. There was another mind trip when we were asked to visualize the birthday party that we never had, where we were celebrated and feted for who we were and not who we had to pretend to be to experience our parents’ love. During the whole time I practiced the 13-week FHPT, I know that Hoffman struggled with achieving a high level of emotional experience he considered necessary to produce the emotional freedom he saw as the goal. Both remain in the HQP today as elaborately produced events with music, props, and food. When combined with suggested visual images, they can and do induce powerful emotional states. I suggest that Naranjo’s early introduction of experiential exercises into Hoffman’s basic framework made it possible for Hoffman to create the controlled emotional rollercoaster of the current HQP.

Conclusion

As the history of the Process is being revised and cleaned up as a product of the human potential movement, I have tried to leave a footnote about the people who helped Hoffman in order that their important contributions are not neglected, attributed to others, or lost regardless of copyright.

I had hoped to shed light on how an “inspired insight” makes itself known in the world, examining how a core insight into human nature could become a coherent, repeatable experience that would provide people with access to their own emotional life and deepen their awareness of their own spiritual lives. Frankly, I do not know if any process is able to deliver this result in a sustainable way, but there is always the possibility that even a split-second experience of unconditional love might be enough to alter centuries of abuse.

However, I am certain that I demonstrated that the Fischer-Hoffman Psychic Therapy and the subsequent Hoffman Quadrinity Process came into existence through the combined efforts of Bob Hoffman and Claudio Naranjo, that it required both men to bring it to life, that the HQP would not exist at all without the generous contribution of Naranjo. Hoffman borrowed widely and used anything that he thought might be useful. He relied on Naranjo more than anyone, but also others like Pecci, to fill out his vision and give it legitimacy.

Naranjo was constant in his friendship and support. I saw Naranjo demonstrate respect and love for Bob Hoffman from the time he provided him with a group that he could use to create the FHPT to his last meetings with Hoffman when he was dying from liver cancer in his Oakland home. Naranjo thought of Hoffman as a modern-day shaman. On the other hand, their relationship was not easy—Hoffman, untrained and impetuous, a tradesman by nature and choice, Naranjo, skilled and intellectual, a thorough professional—they were an ontological odd couple.

And finally, a personal evaluation, one that was also hard-won.

In the last analysis, it is not difficult to create the circumstances for unique experiences that are extraordinary or yield real insights.

Teachers, real ones and charlatans have been doing this for ages. Their bag of tricks include meditation and self-analysis, as well as trance and hypnosis, autosuggestion, even bullying as a way of barging through defense mechanisms. Despite his claims to the contrary, Hoffman made ample use of the nastier tricks with complete impunity, always taking the higher ground. (He was, for example, never angry with anyone but ‘righteously indignant.”) But when it comes to actually seeing if his results were lasting, the evidence is scarce or relies heavily on anecdotal evidence. Many people say that the experience was powerful, but if they made real changes in their lives, if they were happier and not living under another despotism, however benevolent, the majority of those I interviewed had found a sustainable spiritual practice and devoted themselves to it.

In my experience directing people in the Process, I cut as much as I could of the trappings of the spiritualist church. I found them fraudulent or, at best, embarrassing and useless. I dropped Hoffman’s inflated claims that the Process was all the therapy that anyone needed, that it was Freud’s missing link. I introduced conversations that allowed clients to explore how their early emotional programming influenced their lives here and now. But listening deeply to 40 individuals a year began to take too much of a personal toll for a meager income, and I stopped offering the Process when Hoffman threatened a lawsuit. I certainly had neither the stomach nor the money to face off in court over his intellectual property..

Monday, October 28, 2024

White Night; The Elephant Walk

May 21-22, 1979

I missed Stonewall, but on White Night, I got slugged by a fat Irish cop in front of the Elephant Walk.

A decade earlier, my response to Stonewall was to organize a stuffy seminar on the Church and Gay Rights at Woodstock College. My response to White Night was to become a radical.

The San Francisco community’s response to White Night was far more ferocious than Stonewall. Our sense of outrage ran deep. In just a decade, we really had thrown off centuries of old stereotypes. A momentous change had happened in the community. For us, being gay was simply a fact of life. Stubborn segments of the general society were lagging behind, and they were about to feel the fury of the men and women they intended to keep in their place. We had won a place at the table, fair and square. It had been taken away violently, and the consequences of assassinating our leader were going to be a blink and a nod. Never again, and certainly not in San Francisco.

The verdict was announced late in the day, close to 5 o’clock. I remember because later the police claimed it was the end of a shift, and they had no time to prepare for the mayhem that ensued. I was working late in my wood shop on 22nd and Alabama. The Inner Mission, a very Hispanic neighborhood, was perhaps an unlikely place to hear about Dan White’s fate, but the whole city was listening to the news. I turned on the shop radio. Manslaughter. Dan White had been slapped on the wrists. He shot at close range, and killed two public figures. The jury of his peers was letting him off not because he binged on Twinkees but because they were sympathetic to what he stood for. We all knew this. A minimum sentence may have been the official outcome, but having tasted power by electing Milk, the GLBT community was not going to be silent.

I decided to drive down Howard and cross Market at 9th Street. As I started north on Larkin, I passed a line of parked police cruisers. Within a few hours, these would be torched, but it was still fairly early in the evening. I decided not to join the crowd that was already forming outside City Hall. My motivation might just have been hunger. I needed to eat.

At home on Pierce Street, Terry and I watched live TV coverage as the crowd grew to several thousand, and then in the dark we could see the flames of the burning police cars. We could hear the actual sirens in our kitchen. We were less than 14 blocks away. It was loud. I decided to walk to Castro Street. That was the community’s home. It was where the march formed if there was a protest. It was where we celebrated. I knew that there would be something going on. I had to be there, but I also had a strange sense of foreboding.

There was stunned disbelief about White’s verdict, and the rage was not in hiding. It might have been after 10 or a little later that the first protesters from City Hall began to straggle into the Castro. They arrived in small groups, mostly on foot. No one was shouting, “Out of the Bars and Into the Streets.” It was not that kind of night. This was the debriefing after a battle. What happened? How many people were hurt? Who was arrested? What’s the current situation? Drinks were bought for the warriors.

The crowd began to grow. I don’t remember thousands, but it was more than a few hundred. The bars were full with some spilling out onto the sidewalks. People were looking for their friends. It was pre-cell phone, so we relied on the more primitive communication of friends asking about friends. Each of the few buses that headed towards Noe Valley was full of weary men. Cabs picked up passengers quickly. But the fury had not finished its work.

I found a few friends from Alice, the gay Democratic Club, on 18th, standing near the entrance of the Elephant Walk. There was a heated discussion. Of course, we were talking politics. The real activists were already trying to formulate a strategy for the coming days and months. I was already disappointed in Harry Britt, the man whom Harvey had groomed as his successor and Mayor Feinstein had appointed to finish his term. I knew we couldn’t look to him for leadership. The majority supported Britt, or were willing to give him some time to learn to swim after being pushed into the pool. Filling Harvey’s shoes was an impossible job, and grudgingly I kept my mouth shut.

But most of the guys just wanted to get some dirt. We were angry, and we were about to get more angry. The cops had targeted the Elephant Walk as point zero in their retaliation for the humiliation of losing control of the rioting, looting, and burning in the Civic Center. It was just after midnight or perhaps a little later that a pretty sizable phalanx of cops, swinging clubs in riot gear, appeared at Market Street and began slowly making their way down towards 18th. They stuck together but were not in tight formation, as if to protect themselves from what who knows. Probably more than a few still had grandmothers living close to Most Holy Redeemer two blocks away. Our neighborhood had been an Irish ghetto they’d abandoned for the carports of Daly City.

Then came one of those moments that sticks in your mind for life. I don’t think there were more than a dozen of us standing close to the front door of the Elephant Walk. We were just talking. At that point, there was no traffic on the street, but we were on the sidewalk. I remember I was standing on the left side of the door, perhaps 10 feet away, perhaps as close as 5 or 6 feet. Three or four cops, maybe 10, were leading the group. They speeded up, and I thought about ducking inside. One of the leaders hit me on the chest and pushed me aside. Looking at me directly he said, “Go home if you don’t want to get hurt.” I could feel his anger was much more violent than mine. He was armed, and his badge was hidden. There was going to be a fight. I realized we were overpowered and the dangers would be entirely felt by the men and women in the streets, not the cops.

I started to walk up Castro slowly and hesitantly at first. The crowd started to come out of the other bars and were taunting the cops. I looked back and saw the cops smash through the Elephant Walk’s lovely front doors with the huge brass tusk pulls. There was lots of screaming and shouting, breaking glass, the men who’d been inside began running out. Some were fighting back. I began to run up to get across Market Street knowing that many white gay men like myself would be punched, beaten and arrested that night along with many others. I stood guiltily behind the police lines on the northside of Market until the cops began threatening us as the fighting increased in the Castro.

I was trapped in a wide range of feelings. They swung from indignation and anger to helplessness and finally just naked fear. Of course, I knew that we gays and lesbians were a minority, but somehow, this liberal former Jesuit believed that if the world were just, I would escape discrimination. The last vestiges of white classist privilege would prevail and save me from harm. I was wrong.

The only time that I experienced this kind of rage before was during the Roxbury riots that followed the killing of MLK in ‘68. I was a second-year novice doing my “Hospital Trial” at Mass General, where we served as orderlies in the Emergency Room. The stream of ambulances and police cars dumping off the victims of the riots was horrifying. Early in the morning, when all the gurneys on the platform of the ER dock were full, three Boston cops were rushing back to their cruisers. One turned to the other two and said, “Let’s get back and break some more skulls.” They used the n-word. They saw me and quickly apologized, “Sorry, Father, you just don’t know what it's like out there.” I was and am no street fighter, but my gut told me that an unprovoked attack had to be answered. There was no apology from the cops on White Night, and I still had no idea how to respond.

After Harvey’s death, I’d always been on the lookout for good gay candidates, and there have been several, but in general, I’ve been disappointed by the series of lackluster politicians who flooded San Francisco’s political life after Harvey opened the gates; Britt took being supervisor as a promotion from letter carrier and now he had Wednesday and Thursday afternoons free to play the ponies at Tanforan or Golden Gate Fields. He certainly was no Harvey Milk. But if gay men and women were to enter the world as equals with the rest of America, there is no reason why we should be spared the sad breed of political hacks. I just always hoped we could do better. I still do.

Saturday, October 26, 2024

Phil asks me the Big Question

Was Phil as confused as he pretended to be? Or was he just being a wily old fox?

Mumonkan Case 2

Hyakujô and the Fox

Whenever master Hyakujô delivered a sermon, an old man was always there listening with the monks. When they left, he left too. One day, however, he remained behind.

The master asked him, “What man are you, standing in front of me?”

The man replied, “Indeed, I am not a man. In the past, in the time of Kashyapa Buddha, I lived on this mountain as a priest. On one occasion, a monk asked me, 'Does a perfectly enlightened person fall under the law of cause and effect or not?' I answered, 'He does not.' Because of this answer (For this answer evidencing a clinging to absoluteness), I fell into the state of a fox for 500 lives. Now, I beg you, Master, please say a turning word on my behalf and release me from the body of a fox.”

Then he asked, “Does a perfectly enlightened person fall under the law of cause and effect or not?”

The master answered, “The law of cause and effect cannot be obscured.” Upon hearing this, the old man immediately became deeply enlightened

It was Saturday morning. Only a few minutes remained until the last period of meditation ended. Phil was set to descend the stairs to the zendo and begin the ritual of opening the dharma. He was legally blind. It all required a lot of effort and planning. He was going to give a talk on this koan, Hyakujô and the Fox.

I was being his jisha and carried the incense. We paused at the top of the stairs. He suddenly decided he needed to check the exact wording of the old man’s question. Phil, another old man, could not make a mistake. He asked out loud, “Does a man of enlightenment fall under the yoke of causation or not? What was his answer, yea or nay? What did it say exactly? Is the man free from Cause and Effect, or is he still trapped?”

He asked me, “Check it out in the Mumonkan, will you?” But the tone of his voice sounded more like a command. He appeared agitated. He seemed to expect that I should have had some ability to find a particular case. “It’s very famous, he said. “It's in the Mumonkan. It must be somewhere on the shelf in the living room. It’s a very important case.”

I have described his ability to find the page, the paragraph and the sentence of an author he loved in his meticulously arranged library, but that morning, standing in the living room at Hartford Street, the books on the shelves were a total disorganized mess.

With the koans, or at least in this particular moment, my ability completely disappeared. When I eventually located the Mumonkan, he said he could not remember the case number, and he seemed to be blaming me for not supplying the missing information. Eventually, making us only a few minutes late, I read, 'Does a perfectly enlightened person fall under the law of cause and effect or not?' I answered, 'He does not.'

Phil said, “Good. His first answer is no. Thank you.” Now, he was prepared to open the dharma. I remember nothing about his talk. Questions tumbled over and over in my mind--not just is the enlightened man free from the law and cause and effect, but what exactly are we trying to free ourselves from anyway? What part of my life did I need to unyoke to be happy

A few years later, I sat with this koan for days in the damp woods of Camp Meeker. When the sun came up till the day darkened, I thought of Phil, his blindness, and his generosity. The wily old fox had given me a koan filled with indecision, red herrings, witchcraft, and a few wrong answers, probably just traps or misdirections laid out with skill. He told me that he thought he remembered it correctly, but he wanted to double-check it. What was this puzzle that he had to get right?

Philip was a man whose life, almost all of his waking life not occupied with meditation, was devoted to language and the written word. I can attest that words were his lovers, and he returned the favor. Now, he couldn’t read at all anymore. He was almost completely blind, and the reason was simply misdiagnosed glaucoma, which would have been easily treatable. What a tragedy. If only a doctor had been able to give him the correct word for his blindness and not assigned some rare disease that only one a thousand get. Or if he had only gotten a second opinion when the highly recommended quack told him to kiss his sight goodbye. Maybe not 500 lives as a fox, but close.

Sometimes, the law of cause and effect seems filled with random errors. Perhaps the law is quirky and poorly administered. The koan says, “The law of cause and effect cannot be obscured.”

The Zen master says he’s happy to have saved us all!

Phil’s verse:

HYMNUS AD PATREM SINENSIS

by Philip Whalen

I praise

those ancient Chinamen

Who left me a few words,

Usually a pointless joke or a silly question

A line of poetry drunkenly scrawled on the margin of a quick

splashed picture—bug, leaf,

caricature of Teacher

on paper held together now by little more than ink

& their own strength brushed momentarily over it

Their world & several others since

Gone to hell in a handbasket, they knew it—

Cheered as it whizzed by—

& conked out among the busted spring rain cherryblossom winejars

Happy to have saved us all.

Thursday, October 24, 2024

What would Kaiser be writing these days?

The Synod is the most significant event since the Second Vatican Council—that is, unless you read the press rather than theologians. According to my news feed, it is a dud. If I include the right-wing “traditionalist” media, it is the work of the devil.

I wonder how our great friend and companion, Bob Kaiser, might be reporting on these events. We could all use a good dose of Kaiser’s prose at his propagandistic best.

I admired Bob Kaiser. No matter that the world seemed to turn against him, he remained a dreamer, though I can hear him complain loudly that he was a realistic one. His vision took root in Rome during the Second Vatican Council: an incarnate Church deeply rooted in faith, nourished by the Lord Jesus, guided by the wisdom of the faithful called and gathered together to ponder and pray, would prevail; that the Lord Jesus through His Incarnation blessed our world with a vision to make all things holy: churches, men and women, study, and politics, the whole enchilada.

He wrote and spread his enthusiasm. He sold an inspired dream in which all the pieces fell into place as if Providence had ordained it, and the whole mess would begin to function as it should. Sex, imagination, and creativity played a huge role, as did prayer, the discernment of spirits, and holding fast to the promise of the Ecumenical Councils. He called this Ignatian DNA. Father Ignatius was always present for Kaiser, as for most of us.

Another key is that Kaiser’s vision was shared. Of course, we all know and appreciate the great lengths he went to share his insights with us, his Jesuit companions—even when we couldn’t pronounce the word “autochthonous” and thought it was missing a vowel. Sharing entailed advocating a position, but in a broader sense, it also meant that the church, the gathering of fellow Christians, shared a vision for what is possible in a world redeemed by the Lord Jesus.

As corny as it sounds, Kaiser was a cheerleader. He had journalistic objectivity when required but was unequivocal about where he stood. His vision was boldly democratic—the last fruit of the Enlightenment, which began to emerge in the turbulent world of the first Jesuit explorers and missionaries.

And Bob, you encouraged me to write. I still can see the sea of red ink when you returned my paper “Xavier meets the Zen Roshi,” which I asked you to edit. Thank you.

I am no longer connected to the church in the same way I was when I graduated from college or was a young Jesuit, but my first impression is there is barely a blip on the enthusiasm meter—certainly nothing like when John 23 said, “I want to throw open the windows of the Church so we can see out and the people can see in.” The windows have been thrown open, and everyone inside looks bored to death.

It may be a case of the press coverage skewing the argument. Let me try to put on my Kaiser glasses and take a very biased look.

Pilgrim’s Progress

I watched some of the opening salvos and prayers at the Synod on Synodality. It comes at the end of Pope Francis’s apostolic visits to Asia, then Europe, a horrendously long journey for an 87-year-old man with mobility issues. Francis began the first long leg of his trip to Indonesia, Papua New Guinea, East Timor, and Singapore from September 2nd-13th; then, with barely time to catch his breath, he visited Luxembourg and Belgium from September 26–29th, returning to Rome to begin on October 2nd the last session of what might be the nail in the coffin of the monarchical church. He is the Pope and well taken care of, but I am exhausted just thinking about the effort required for so much travel.

I followed as much of the journey as possible on YouTube, local TV news coverage in Asia, and the official Vatican News Service. I currently live in Asia. I have friends in Singapore and Bali. I know Jesuits and former Jesuits who live and work in India, Thailand, and Nepal. It is very different from Europe or South America, as are the Jesuits working here. I studied the photographs of Francis's private meetings with his brother Jesuits wherever his plane landed. Something I found very encouraging was that he always began by opening the floor for questions and never, as far as I know, delivered any cautions or admonitions; certainly nothing like my early days of Jesuit training more than 50 years ago.

Six countries in just over two weeks. It's not the kind of slow-moving travel I favor. I want a chance to absorb a bit of local color and adjust the clock of my biorhythms. But Francis and I have different missions. He spent a few hours and perhaps even slept in former colonies; he visited the courts of colonizers; he held court in two of the smallest and richest city-states; he touched ground in the world’s largest Muslim majority countries as well as two of the four surviving Catholic monarchies; in one of the poorest Catholic new nations, half the population attended his papal mass; and then he attended a celebration of the oldest Catholic University in the world founded in 1424. (For a more detailed look at the itinerary *).

I was curious about Francis’s attitude toward meeting these cultures outside the Vatican bubble. His stump speeches were very carefully worded, very “correct;” they seemed open and welcoming. He’s been the Pope for more than a decade, so he has a trusted staff. He is inclusive; he is inquisitive, and he is a reformer. His message was pretty much the same at every stop, so I concentrated on his body language and facial expressions as carefully as I could when he was introduced to hundreds of diverse people.

At times he seemed to exude a kind of joy, something that I most remember in John 23 and John Paul the First. Frankly, I am more comfortable with that than the seriously burdened look of John Paul the Second or Benedict, whose smiles felt like, against their better judgment, they were following a commandment or a recommendation from the Papal PR team rather than experiencing real joy. Perhaps that is a professional hazard whether your moniker is the Bishop of Rome or Pontifex Maximus. On Francis’s face, a bit of absolute joy still shines, though he shows the wear of years of trying to do the most impossible job in the Catholic Church. Serious work, indeed.

This may be a byproduct of taking the world and our responsibilities seriously. It is not the ecstasy of understanding the chorus of birds' songs that Francis’s namesake experienced, but Francis of Assisi was a mystic, not the practical workaholic charged with modernizing an antiquated, creaky, and too often corrupt regal court. Ignatius’s final years in Rome were largely administrative, too, but we do not have live footage of his daily routine.

I want to talk about three public conversations that I witnessed.

My god, he’s getting dressed down!

I followed the progress of Pope Francis’s visit to both campuses of the oldest Catholic University in the world on the occasion of its 600th-anniversary celebration. Even with a few interruptions, that's a pretty good run.

At the Old University of Leuven, which occupies the magnificent ancient buildings, the primary language is Dutch. Francis graciously thanked his hosts and gave a short blessing or prayer in Italian. Then, a striking woman stepped up the rostrum and began to address him in Dutch. A woman in charge, she wore no signs of belonging to a religious congregation. She smiled; she seemed equally gracious and respectful, but I could see that she spoke to Francis as an equal, believer-to-believer, not as his subject in a medieval court. Google suggests that she was probably Bénédicte Lemmelijn, dean of the theology faculty.

There was no simultaneous translation available on YouTube. The Pope had a translator standing at his back, but I had no such luxury. However, I decided not to rush to Google to get an authorized translation into a language I understood. Instead, I tried to listen to the words spoken without fully understanding and watch her deliver the unspoken.

Soon it became clear. She was politely and respectfully dressing him down! Of course, their body language, tone, and facial expressions told some of the story. She did not hold back. I was captivated. Francis appeared flummoxed, not shaken but clearly thrown off his game. The ceremony ended. It did not seem cut short, but when it was over, Francis was taken out past a good student choir that sang in either old Flemish or Dutch. Then, without much ado, he was whisked off to Rome for the opening of the Synod.

I knew, in a way that defies logic and rational thought, that I had witnessed the salvos of a debate that neither party will be able to win conclusively, given our limited human resources. I didn’t know anything about the shape of the argument other than it was more vast than either party realized. It was shielded by the norms of doctrinal debate and the history of reform, but it is now impossible to sweep it back under the rug.

After 20 minutes scanning various news reports, entirely European, I was able to sketch the outline of the dispute. I will summarize the argument as objectively as I can. The theological, religious studies, and philosophy departments at Leuven had prepared a paper for the Papal visit concerning the role of a professional, academic theology faculty in today’s world. They stated that they intended to be objective, using all the tools available as scholars and researchers to examine today’s faith landscape. One phrase struck me: “[T]heology as a scientific discipline is not a ventriloquist of the church.”

Then the committee expressed a concern. “Throughout the history of the Church, women have been made invisible,” the letter read. “What place, then, for women in the Church?” The Pope gave a response that I knew by heart: “The Church [is] female, noting that the Italian word for it, “chiesa”, is a feminine noun.” Jean-Pascal van Ypersele, a climatologist at UCLouvain University, replied that Francis had “failed to rise to the occasion. . . . To reply that the Church is a woman is really missing the point of the question – about the Church’s respect for women and their role in the institution and in society.”

The Pope could not let this pass in silence. Speaking at the French campus of Louvain, Francis said, “womanhood speaks to us of fruitful welcome, nurturing and life-giving dedication.. . . For this reason, a woman is more important than a man, but it is terrible when a woman wants to be a man: No, she is a woman, and this is ‘heavy’ and important,” he said. This argument wasn’t even going to fly at the more conservative campus. In a press release issued just moments after the pope’s speech, UCLouvain criticized Francis’ remarks on women as “conservative” and “deterministic and reductive.”

The line of questioning got under his skin. Responding to the criticism with journalists on the plane back to Rome, he returned to his argument about women's place and role, “if this seems ‘conservative’ to some people, it is because they do not understand, or ‘there is an obtuse mind that does not want to hear about this.”

I hear a chorus of critics telling me that I could not have fleshed out this argument simply by listening to an unfiltered Dutch speech without translation, picking up a few words in a short statement in Italian, some body language, and the inflection in the speakers’ voices. And the critics are right. But I know that given their arguments' positions or merit, neither side can claim victory and that an unresolved dispute will continue unresolved.

One man stood for thousands.

The second conversation I want to talk about is a speech by one man at the “Penitential” ceremony, which began the current Synod session in Saint Peters. Laurence Gien, standing in front of bishops, cardinals, all the members of the Synod, and Pope Francis himself, gave testimony about the trauma of being molested by a priest. He said he was “just trying to appeal to their better selves.”

The sanctuary of Saint Peters was bare. The clergy did not wear vestments, and although they seemed to be seated by rank, the separation did not seem as rigid as when they wear their miters. Francis's slightly elevated chair was on the east side. There were some prayers, and a choir, with a predominance of young women, sang. But again, it did not have the formal feel of a papal ceremony.

After a reading from the Hebrew Bible, Gien was the first to speak. A dignified man in a simple black suit stood facing the pope on the opposite side of the sanctuary and began to describe in some detail his molestation when he was 11 years old. I think he said, “Sixty years ago.” It had such an impact on me that I had to review it. Here is the YouTube link; Gien begins at the time mark 8:46.

Gien said he was “just trying to appeal to their better selves.” I am still searching for the words that adequately describe my reaction. The Church has been searching for words since the extent of the abuse and the attempted cover-ups first came to light. Gien’s personal description was so explicit that it took my breath away. He even described the act itself: “Far from Rome, in a small town in Southern Africa, a predator honed in on me … on a beautiful South African morning, he led me by the hand to a dark place where, in the screaming silence, he took from me what should never be taken from any child.” No one in Saint Peter’s looked away, though I noticed that some senior clergy avoided eye contact at difficult points in the narration.

Gien said that the Church had looked away for too long. He called for transparency, but there was no call for reparations or punishment. He simply said that these incidents should have been reported to the authorities. He also said that the effects of this kind of abuse can never be erased and that they ripple out into the wider church.

Many details regarding compensation, prevention, and punishment must still be worked out. I would personally like to see an investigation of Timothy Dolan’s transfer of 57 million dollars into financial instruments, among them a trust he established for the maintenance of Catholic cemeteries to avoid paying compensation to victims of abuse in Milwaukee. I did not see Dolan among the cardinals at this ceremony. He’s one of the churchmen elected to represent the US Church at the Synod; he is known for his hostile response to the victims of clerical abuse seeking reparations; he is also one of the most responsible for the Americans’ lackluster response to Francis’s call for a Synod; I do know that he was in New York on the 19th of October for the Alfred E. Smith political dinner where he hosted Donald Trump. The Synod closes on the 27th. Dolan clearly knows who butters his bread.

This was a remarkable moment. What was secretly hidden has come to light, but senior officials can no longer obstruct victims motivated by protecting the Institution’s good name or assets.

“The Church cannot be understood without being rooted in a place and a culture.”

When I decided to dedicate time to observing the Synod and comparing notes with my experience during Vatican II, I asked myself, where are the theologians, or more specifically, who are the best creative theologians working today? Who are John Courtney Murray, Gus Weigle, Hans Kung, Urs van Balthasar, Edward Schillebeeckx, Yves Congar, Augustin Bea, and Henri de Lubac in today’s church? Who are the men and women Kaiser would be asking to his legendary Sunday night dinners?

But what do I really know about doing theology? As a Jesuit theology student, I read something from the luminaries I listed, usually 10 to 20 mimeographed, pirated pages from a larger text or article. There was some casuistry afloat that Jesuit seminarians were not obliged to pay the high price of textbooks, including royalties to the author because they were Jesuits. I cannot remember ever spending a semester with one book in its entirety. This was how I might open my argument that I cannot recognize essential theology—due to my inadequate Jesuit training.

However, I’d witnessed great theology being done, although I was hardly aware of it. During the year that I lived in a small community on the Upper Westside with Avery Dulles, he finished “Models of the Church.” He taught courses, so days were consumed with class and student meetings, but every night after dinner, when all the dishes had been washed and put away, he would go to his room, surrounded by stacks of books—this was very pre-Google—and he shut the door.

Avery was very conservative by disposition. There was no firebrand reformer like Hans Kung, but in retrospect, the open way Avery embraced several of the Reform models was itself radical. He would share some of the issues with us from time to time over dinner, but the work, at least the portion that we witnessed, was solitary. We did not knock and invite him to watch a TV show with us. But from long before 1972-3 in a sprawling shared apartment on 102nd Street, this is how theology was done. Even in the intense work at the old Woodstock leading up to Vatican II, individuals worked alone and came together to test one another and present a unified, coherent position. All that changed at Vatican II, and I’d like to think that Kaiser’s Sunday soirees also had something to do with it.

Cardinal Jean-Claude Hollerich is a young Jesuit Cardinal from Luxembourg whom Francis chose as the Synod's General Rapporteur, indicating a high level of confidence and trust. He was also a member of the Japanese Province, as were Pedro Arrupe, Father Adolfo Nicolás Pachón, and Father LaSalle, whom I revere as the first Jesuit Zen Master.

Cardinal Hollerich introduced the Synodal module focused on “Places " by stating that the Church “cannot be understood without being rooted in a place and a culture.” This phrase caught my attention. I would describe it as “theological anthropology,” or at least that discipline will have a significant impact. It also feels like an extension of the Ignatian missionary impulse without the colonial jingoism that accompanied those first brave explorers, missionaries, and saints. I would describe it as “theological anthropology,” or at least that discipline will have a significant impact.

If it is a theological proposition, it seems like the exact opposite of a universal church where one size fits all, that the good news of liberation Jesus delivered in the first century of the common era transcends language and culture, the theological template of the church triumphant; it will require our best minds to unpack it and our most prayerful Christians to work with it in the various cultures they encounter. That cannot be a solitary pursuit. Working together will be the norm. Observing the panels that I’ve witnessed during the Synod, they are much more diverse than I’d imagined; they include religious women, laymen and women, many people of color, and many languages other than the traditional European church languages, though Italian seems to be the lingua franca.

This theological inquiry dovetails with the personal work I’ve been doing for over 50 years. Suddenly, the Synod’s inquiry became interesting again.

Going to Battle under a False Flag.

I began my survey of the Synod prepared to criticize Francis; I was looking for evidence that his dream of a Synod on Synodality was insignificant, bogged down, and unable to move past Curial politics to what matters. The Synod's day-to-day work seems geared to ensuring that “Sector Eight” functions smoothly. I looked at Francis during a deliberation or a ceremony, and I thought I saw a bleak and frustrated expression, as you might expect after spending years defining terms and conditions while carefully and deliberately sidestepping urgent questions lurking in the shadows.

We’re at the end of an era. Speaking from the Chair of Peter as an oracle, Francis cannot transform our modern world. I don’t think Popes ever could, although it’s part of the script religious monarchs inherit. (I discussed my view of the Infallibility doctrine in “Vatican I was a Colossal Mistake”). But once or twice in a century, it might be possible to bypass this repetition of history and begin anew. Did Francis miss this opportunity?

The Lord Jesus preached a vision of humankind transformed. He did not teach us, love us, live, die, and then live again so that we could all say our prayers in Latin and cower before Irish priests lecturing about the evils of masturbation. He did not throw the money changers out of the Temple at the risk of his life so that priests in his name could make deals with Mafiosa to stuff their pockets. He did not preach freedom, love, and salvation so that nuns recruited by colonizers would savage indigenous children on the tundra or the savanna and subjugate them to the whim of European elites. He did not form an old boys' club with a peculiar set of initiation rituals for this new elite, or worse, afford cover for pedophiles to abuse children. Once in a great while, an opening appears, giving us a chance to wipe away the insidious accretions of the past and start afresh. That was the promise of Vatican II.

I focused on the concerned look on Francis’s face and the lack of enthusiasm in Paul Six Hall rather than the politics of reform. I could barely detect a smile among the delegates. Perhaps everyone was simply trying to be “recollected," but I doubt it. Francis is trying to reset the stage for Vatican II's promise to finally take hold, but the forces of the clerical monarchy are still too strong to die with a single blow, especially because Francis is determined to use collegial decision-making to kill the demon. Vatican II brought out the best of theological thinking that had gone into hiding during the reactionary authoritarian pontificates of almost every Pope called Pius since Vatican I, but it only took a few years before the entrenched monarchy and the aristocrats who love the money and power began to write their revisionist history and mount an aggressive campaign against reform. Francis’s critics have started their attack, and we can see that this clique is perhaps more underground but still alive and kicking in the halls of the Vatican and elsewhere.

Jesus said a person's enemies will be those of his own household (Matthew 10:36). When I began to see Francis’s critics emerge, I realized that I had been wrong in my initial assessment of the Synod. It was pretty clear that many Americans in the hierarchy had become enemies of Francis--they told us. But some are passive-aggressive and try to hide. They use False Flag tactics to discredit or implicate their rivals, create the appearance of enemies when none exist, or create the illusion of organized and directed persecution.

In my view, the tactics of the devout cult that reveres Latin Mass burn all the oxygen in the room and stifle any real conversation. That is the intention. They parade a pious front to avoid criticism but are filled with too much self-pity to merit serious consideration. Sentimental arguments based on nostalgia are False Flags. Go ahead. Pawn your freedom for an “et cum spiritu,” but do it on your own time.

However, when I recognized the tactic, I saw evidence that Francis’s Synod was succeeding. He is playing a long, deliberate game to replace Papal fiat with a far more open and democratic process. It will take more time than he has, so he is laying the foundation and will have to wait for death to cancel a lot of the votes for monarchy.

Some of the questions that the Synod cannot answer cannot yet be answered. Best leave them that way. All the churchmen Francis talked with on his journey were dressed in almost identical costumes; they were from many races and ethnicities, but, at least in my sample, they were almost all men. To grasp all things is the only way to bring the word of God to all men and women, and it will take some time before women's voices gain parity. Francis can say that the word for church is feminine, but that does not settle the conversation. I don’t know how it will play out, but neither does Francis.

What would Kaiser do with all this? He would write. He would not hold back. He included a vast array of theology in his dream. His lease on a rather luxurious apartment in Rome became, at least in legend, the hotbed of the most forward-thinking theologians and experts at the Council. To quote Cardinal Hollerich, Kaiser cannot be understood without being rooted in a place and a culture. The church you reported on with your genius, Bob, continues and changes, probably not fast enough for your taste, but it is changing.

I confess, Bob, that you still inspire me. I miss your voice, the breath of your vision, and the depth of your commitment. Hand it to Francis; he is trying to be all things to all men. I know that you, Bob would approve, and so do I. I pledge to do my best to carry on the dream.

___________________

*Luxembourg's population is 672,050, and Belgium's is much larger, at 11,870,000. Those countries are two of the last four remaining Catholic countries with royals as constitutional heads of state. Queen Mathilde of Belgium is one of only four women allowed to wear white in the presence of the Pope, and I can’t pass over in silence that Belgium was one of the last notoriously evil colonizing powers.

Indonesia, with a population of 281,190,067 in 2022, is the largest Muslim-majority country in the world. India has the largest Muslim population as well as more than 4000 Jesuits, the most of any country in the world. East Timor’s population of 1.341 million fought for independence twice--from Portugal in 1975 and Indonesia in 2002. Papua New Guinea, with a population of 10,329,931, has one of the richest biodiverse environments remaining on Earth,

Singapore, with its 5.637 million people, has more than 35% who identify as Christian; Anglicans number 22,000, which seems small given that it was one of the last colonial holdings of the United Kingdom in Southeast Asia. It gained independence on 9 August 1965.

Louvain University, founded in 1424, has 30,760 on its new French-speaking campus, but from what I was able to observe of language, customs, and Francis’s somewhat perplexed look, the smaller Old University of Leuven occupies the very old medieval buildings and is primarily Flemish or Dutch-speaking.