Cover
story He
served as underground priest in nations dark night
By MARGOT PATTERSON
Special to the National Catholic Reporter Prague, Czech
Republic
Fr. Tomás Halíks
election to the presidency of the Czech Republic is unlikely but hardly more so
than the life hes led up to now as priest, professor, psychotherapist and
public figure. Born in 1948, the year communism was established in
Czechoslovakia, Halík was raised in an agnostic, intellectual Prague
family that was anti-communist. He converted to Catholicism in his first years
at the university. Contact with several priests who were not allowed to
practice their vocation and had earlier been imprisoned for their faith was an
important influence in his conversion.
I met the church not through the institution but through
persecuted personalities who were really martyrs, Halík recalls,
going on to describe these priests as people who had been 15 years in
prison but were not destroyed but were really mature, charming personalities.
A milestone in his decision to become a priest was the suicide of
Jan Palach in 1969, an event that burned its way into the consciousness of the
Czechoslovak people and is still commemorated today.
A fellow student of Halíks at Charles University,
Palach set himself on fire in protest not only against the 1968 Soviet invasion
of Czechoslovakia but against the Czechoslovak populations growing
acquiescence to it. When Palach died, Halík organized a requiem for him
in a church in Prague.
It was a January night and I went to the church through the
snowy night with his death mask and had this inner dialogue with myself. I was
so shaken by this sacrifice that I felt it was time for some sacrifice on my
part. It was one step on my way to being a priest -- part of my war with this
one-dimensional communist society.
Communist Czechoslovakia had only one theological seminary, which
was open to students leaving secondary school, not university. But Halík
met an underground priest who knew that this situation to be a priest and
to have a secular job is not just a necessity but an opportunity. After
seven years of clandestine study, Halík was ordained secretly in the
private chapel of the bishop of Erfurt in East Germany. Even his mother
didnt know of it, he said, nor of his 11 years as an underground priest,
during which time he was also working as a psychotherapist and counselor to
alcoholics and drug abusers.
During the last seven years of the communist regime, Halík
became an assistant and confidant of Cardinal Frantisek Tomásek of
Prague. Because the cardinals living quarters were bugged by the
authorities, Halik was frequently entrusted with the responsibility of talking
to Western visitors, often meeting them late at night and walking with them
through the streets of Prague while acquainting them with the facts of what was
taking place in Czechoslovakia.
Today Halík juggles half a dozen different roles. In
addition to teaching at Charles University, hes a popular university
pastor who often baptizes as many as 40 or 50 students in a year. For three
years he has been a member of the pontifical commission for dialogue with
unbelievers. He has lectured in India and has spent time in Buddhist
monasteries in Japan and at the University of Al Azhar in Cairo, the center of
learning for the Sunni branch of Islam. Each year since the establishment of
Forum 2000, a conference of world thinkers held annually in Prague, hes
organized the interreligious program, bringing prominent personalities and
scholars of different faiths to the forum. The Czech Christian Academy, which
he founded, holds numerous interreligious dialogues between Christians, Jews,
Buddhists, Muslims and Hindus.
A sociologist, Halík calls the great issue of today not
secularism but globalization. The Catholic church, because it has one foot in
the modern world and one foot out, has a special opportunity to communicate
between the West and traditional cultures, he believes. The church needs
to extend both hands to these two worlds, he says.
While celibacy and the role of women in the church preoccupy many
Catholics in the West, Halík views these issues as significant but
secondary, complex enough to defy easy answers. The problems of the Catholic
church go deeper, he says; the church must rediscover values important in its
own mystical tradition.
In this connection, he speaks of St. John of the Cross,
speculating that the Dark Night of the Soul that the Spanish saint described is
an experience that may pertain not only to individuals but to the history of
humankind and to the history of the church.
Crisis is always an opportunity, he notes. To be
a mature personality, you must go through some crisis. The experience of the
century with all this darkness, with all this violence and totalitarianism, is
perhaps this dark night of the soul in human history.
Maturity is not, in his opinion, one of the outstanding
characteristics of the church today. Too often, Halík says, those within
the church seem to reflect either a childish conservatism looking to authority
or an adolescent progressivism struggling with it.
There are very few representatives who have a mature
position. Id like to support this maturity within the church.
Interviewed in Prague in between trips to Australia and Argentina, Halík
reflected on a life that he finds full and satisfying but feverishly busy
except for occasional periods of solitude at a hermitage he retreats to for
contemplation.
What I do is enough for five lives. If I could divide myself
into five persons, all five would have much to do. I am crying to God [about
this] and I think I receive the answer that my special vocation is to be
between, to be in the center of all these activities. Its a terrible
answer. Its your vocation and also your cross. I cannot say I will be
just a politician or just a pastor or just a contemplative.
Told that his sounds like an exciting life, he pauses.
It sounds, he says wryly. But its not
easy. Its really not easy.
National Catholic Reporter, February 9,
2001
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