One afternoon, when I was probably thirteen or 14 years old, I found myself hanging out around our parish school building, outside the cafeteria. This was unusual because I went to public school, and while I attended CCD classes there on Sunday mornings and, by this point, Wednesday afternoons for my entire childhood, I really didn't know the building that well. The cafeteria is in the basement, and I hardly ever went there, and had never previously exited through the outside doors. The reasons for me being in that location are lost to the fog of time, but there I was. The cafeteria, like I said, was in the basement, and this particular afternoon I decided to do some exploring, when I stumbled upon a statue of a saint that I'd never seen before. It seemed to be hidden near an outdoor staircase that lead up to street level. It was a plain, white stone statue of a bishop. The face was gentile, and the base was inscribed "Pope St. Pius X."
I was taken aback. "A pope can be a saint?", I thought. Even then I liked history, and I don't recall if the years of his reign were inscribed on the statue, or I found out later, but when I saw that he served between 1903 and 1914 I was even more astonished. I knew that the canonization process could take decades, and even centuries to work itself out, so I thought "a pope from this century, declared a saint, and we never hear about him? And why was this stature in the most inconspicuous spot on the parish property; are they trying to hide it?" I was flabbergasted. These were the days, long before the Internet, where you actually had to go to a library to get information on people, places and things. I can't say that I rushed out and began doing research, but over the years I did pick up things here and there about this saintly pope who lost favor became of changing theological fashions, and misunderstanding.
Pius X, born Giuseppe Sarto in 1835, was probably the first modern pope to have been born poor and had real pastoral experience before becoming the Successor of Peter. Most popes from roughly the Renaissance until the nineteen century came up through the aristocracy, becoming bishops at a young age due to their connections more than their sanctity. More recently, in the 20th century, many top churchmen went into the Church's diplomatic corps or curial bureaucracy soon after ordination, moving up the line because of their skills as administrators and diplomats. It doesn't mean that some of these men weren't very holy: Pope St. John XXIII, though of humble birth, went the diplomatic rout himself before becoming Patriarch of Venice and later pope. It's only to say that it wasn't uncommon to have a man ascend to the papacy without ever having served in a parish.
This cannot be said of Pius X, who went right into pastoral work after ordination, essentially serving in place of the regular pastor who was very ill. He oversaw the expansion of the parish's church building and of a hospital under his care. Don Giuseppe was a hands on priest who worked directly with cholera patients during an out break of the disease in his town. He was popular with the people, and "moved up," if you will, because of his hard work and dedication to his flock.
When he became pope in 1903 he had an understanding of how the faith was lived on the grass roots level, and set about reforms of the church bureaucracy to make things easier for both parish priests and the people they served. He reformed canon law, establishing an orderly, systematized code for the first time (this work would not be completed until after his death). He re-established Gregorian Chant as the normative musical style for the Sacred Liturgy; not just because it was traditional, but because it lent itself to congregational singing, and thus the active participation of the faithful better than the highly stylized orchestral music that had been in vogue in recent centuries. He simplified the breviary, the prayer book priests and religious use everyday, so that they could fulfill their obligation to pray for the Church more efficiently amid their busy pastoral responsibilities.
The reform that touched the people most directly was his lowering of the age for First Communion from 12 to 7. He also promoted frequent Communion, as well as confession, at a time when it was common practice to only receive Communion a few times a year. He believed firmly that the frequent reception of the Eucharist was the "shortest and safest way to Heaven."
As for the papacy itself, Pius X simplified papal ceremonies, always feeling uncomfortable with the trappings and pomp of the office. He also refused to use his office to
benefit his family. His sisters continued to live in relative poverty
and his nephew, a priest, remained in his small, simple parish.
Up to now, you might be wondering why Pius X fell out of favor for so long. In many ways he sounds like a lot like Pope Francis.
Pius fell out of favor with later generations because he fought modernism, a heresy, which in fairness is hard to define (the term is more of an accusation than than a name), but is connected with the integration of Enlightenment philosophy into Catholic thought, skepticism, relativism, and a rejection of the supernatural claims of Scripture. These were the early days of modern scripture study, and while some progressive scholars that fell under suspicion were later vindicated, others did deny the truth of Sacred Scripture, for instance denying the veracity of the miracle accounts, and even the divinity of Christ. Pius was ruthless, some would argue cruel, in rooting out scholars he felt were teaching doctrine contrary to the Faith. The criticism is that some wheat got pulled up with the weeds.
I can say that when I was in the minor seminary in New York many years ago Pius was not looked upon with great favor by my Church History professor, among others. His years were seen as repressive for Catholic intellectuals and scholars, and though it didn't take long for subsequent popes to step back from Pius' zealousness, it's felt that it took decades for the intellectual atmosphere in Catholic seminaries and universities to thaw.
In someways Vatican II is seen as the final triumph of the "anti-anti-modernists," where the Church finally adopted a post Enlightenment vocabulary and mindset. Pius X, the crusader for orthodoxy, who held the philosophy of Thomas Aquinas as his great weapon, just didn't fit into the narrative of updating and change that filled the post-conciliar air. I have to make it clear that those who take this point of view don't self
identify as modernists, and in fact don't believe that such a thing ever
existed to begin with. While recognizing the extremes that some
scholars at the turn of the 20th century engaged in, they would argue that there was no need
for a systematic rooting out of dissenters. And so Pius X, saint of the Church though he is, was relegated to the back staircase near the dumpsters.
A scripture scholar I studied under at the same time put things in an interesting perspective for me. While he too did not believe that modernism was an organized heresy that needed fighting, he understood that things were moving fast in those days. There was legitimate inquiry going on, as well as those who were straying far from the faith. Pius wasn't a scholar, and had a hard time figuring out what was valid and what was heresy. So, he basically said, let's stop and give ourselves time to figure this out. Yes, some good men were hurt. Others were kept from active scholarship for a time before being permitted to go back to their work. While his methods may not have been ideal, that break is what the Church needed at that time to get whatever updating that was to happen right.
As we celebrate the Feast of Pius X today, which is also the 100th anniversary of his death, I think that we should remember a man who loved the flock he was sent to tend. He opened for them the riches of the Eucharist, knowing how powerful a means of grace the Sacrament of the Altar is. He understood what it meant to be a servant pope, much like Pope Francis today. He died as World War I was beginning, praying for peace and the reconciliation of the waring sides. He's a saint, which doesn't mean that the was perfect, but that he was faithful until the end. For this reason he should again be placed in a prominent place in our hearts, and in our churches.
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