THE eponymous viper of Father Dunn's book is neither a curial official nor a present day pope. Rather, it is Gregory X, an amiable 13th century pontiff whose charitable leadership achieved much in reconciling a troubled church.
When Dunn says there are no vipers in the Vatican he is making a subtle criticism. This should be no surprise since he has already spoken of "loyal opposition" in terms of the church. Dunn's criticisms are trenchant without stridency, and are clearly made from within. They confront the church in the name of its own best insights. Of the Roman church he observes that it "remains the most interesting, intriguing, contradictory, awe inspiring and maddening institution in the religious and political history of the world for twenty centuries". No sycophancy here and certainly no facile iconoclasm.
The book's 25 essays run widely church reaction to human rights violations an aggressively conservative Curia democratisation in the church (or lack of it) human rights violations within the church (the persecution of Bishops Hunthausen and Gaillot). Two poignant chapters examine the dilemmas of the underground church in eastern Europe now they are an embarrassment to everybody, including Rome. Interesting vignettes are drawn, e.g. of Father Andrew Greeley. (As to Greeley's novels, this reviewer, admittedly having read only two, would demur from Dunn's positive estimation.) There is an absorbing essay on the Archbishop of Milan, Carlo Martini, unhelpfully bruited by the Italian media as "the next Pope". In Ireland, Dunn examines integrated education, communications, and, with limited success, the "Mother and Child Scheme".
The text is unvaryingly lucid. Deliciously mischievous asides keep one turning the pages. Conventional wisdom gets brusque treatment. Reputations are given due, but never excessive, respect.
Romuald Dodd, a gracious and talented Dominican, is treated kindly but curtly. J.C. McQuaid "liked being responsible for things, or perhaps better, didn't like others to be responsible". The formidable press secretary at President Aristide's inauguration "was a big horse faced woman with a light skin and reddish hair ... when it came to giving stick she gave as good as she got".
Dunn's investigation of Argentina's "dirty war" discloses the ambiguous role of the hierarchical church. An army chaplain an Irish Dominican understands the military caste to a worrying degree "is there any war in which there aren't abuses?" The nuncio, Pio Laghi (now a Cardinal) as reputed to have played tennis with Admiral Massera, architect of the disappearances. (Others testify to Laghi's intercession on behalf of the disappeared.)
Many bishops dined with military torturers while refusing to support the "Mothers of the Disappeared". In 1995 five bishops confessed. "We will carry on our consciences the weight of not having done much more to impede the aberrations of the military.
Throughout the book, uncomfortable facts are recounted. The practical alliance between Ronald Reagan and John Paul II remains a scandal. Father Dunn's essays on Haiti and Nicaragua show the pathologies of such collaboration. While observers discern crisis in the Church Dunn's purview is cooler. Perhaps he has a better grasp of church history and understands the ambiguities of great institutions. In any event, panic is not his metier. Yet his analyses pinpoint the exercise of a power unaccountable to the broader church, and the sight is not pleasant.
Despite its light touch, this elegant book is a major contribution to addressing church reform. In many ways it emulates Father Dunn's earlier No Lions in the Hierarchy. Better than a library of heavier tomes, it adumbrates a new kind of church less defensive, less authoritarian, more just, more compassionate.
Perhaps the future of the church lies in the favellas and barrios rather than in Vatican halls or nunciatures. I suspect Father Dunn believes we need vipers (like Gregory X) in the Vatican. And then one ponders anew his book's title. {CORRECTION} 96050900102
