Cardinal Biffi

Wikipedia:

Giacomo Biffi (13 June 1928 – 11 July 2015) was an Italian Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church. He was Archbishop Emeritus of Bologna, having served as archbishop there from 1984 to 2003. He was elevated to the cardinalate in 1985.

In 2000, Biffi told a Bologna conference that the Antichrist would most likely be a prominent philanthropist promoting the ideas of ecumenism, vegetarianism, and pacifism.Many of these predictions originate from the 19th century Russian philosopher Vladimir Solovyov, in whom Biffi is well-studied. Biffi believed that ecumenicism promotes the dilution of Catholic doctrine (a view common among conservative Catholics) and thereby encourages the acceptance of the Antichrist.

An excerpt from, “Vatican watcher reveals Italian cardinal’s Conclave speech to Pope Benedict” Catholic News Agency, October 25, 2007:

Biffi’s legacy is mostly tied to his years as the archbishop of Bologna (1984 to 2003), but according to Magister, “he reviews his entire life, from his birth in working-class Milan to when he became a priest, then a professor of theology, a pastor, a bishop, and finally a cardinal.”

The Vatican watcher goes on to call Cardinal Biffi’s memoirs “obligatory reading for those who want to survey the current conditions of the Church from a viewpoint that is outside of the standard interpretations, and at the same time authoritative.”

An excerpt from, “Cardinal Biffi’s Bombshell” By Brother André Marie, Catholicism.org, February 14, 2008:

He retired as Archbishop of Bologna in 2003. In June of 2008, he will be eighty and therefore ineligible to vote in conclave. All the same, Giacomo Cardinal Biffi is exerting tremendous influence — if only moral influence — in his retirement. The pulpit and the pen are still open to him, even if his former offices have passed to others.

Regarding his activities in the pulpit, readers may recall the Lenten retreat he preached to the Holy Father and leaders of the Roman Curia. The remarks he made about the Antichrist caught the fascination of the press, Catholic and secular.1 Soon after that retreat — because papal retreat masters are considered more papabile — Cardinal Biffi’s papal odds went up in gambling houses.

As for the pen, the Cardinal is about to come out with a new book, one that — judging from Sandro Magister’s sneak preview — promises to be a blockbuster. On October 30, his 640-page autobiography, Memorie e Digressioni di un Italiano Cardinale (Memories and Digressions of an Italian Cardinal), will be in Italian bookstores.

We have come to expect bombshells from the Cardinal. Besides his Lenten remarks about the Antichrist, Giacomo Biffi is known to be an outspoken opponent of the dilution of Europe’s Christian identity, Islamification through immigration, and Freemasonry. He once said “Europe will become Christian again or it will become Moslem,” a statement at variance with the notions that a merely secular Europe is desirable or even possible.

Despite his opposition to the Islamification of Europe, during the harshest weeks of winter, Cardinal Biffi once sheltered in his Church a group of homeless people from the Maghreb. A watchdog for the faithful and an opponent of foreign invasion, the Cardinal is a priestly-hearted and merciful shepherd all the same. His concern for the “little ones” — as he frequently refers to those weak in the faith and therefore easily scandalized — bespeaks the tender devotion of a kind spiritual father, a pastoral sensitivity redolent of the Good Shepherd Himself.

Perhaps it is that pastoral combination of mercy and commitment to truth which gives the Cardinal’s strong critique of ecclesial novelties a dignified and self-posessed grace and charm.

An excerpt from, “Cardinal Biffi Warns of the Looming Danger of An Eloquent” By Inside the Vatican Staff, CatholicCulture.org, July 2000:

A cardinal, the Times of London has suggested is a possible successor to John Paul II as Pope, has warned that the Antichrist may already be among us — but not seem evil to many. Rather, this “fascinating personality” (fascinating in the sense of mesmerizing) may be seen by many as a great humanitarian because of his support for things like vegetarianism, pacifism and the protection of the environment.

Cardinal Giacomo Biffi, the 72-year-old archbishop of Bologna (central Italy), made his comments in a lecture he gave in March on Vladimir Soloviev (1853-1900), a brilliant Russian Orthodox theologian and mystic who has also been cited approvingly by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger.

Soloviev said the Antichrist would appear after the 20th century. He said the 20th century would be marked by horrific wars and the demise of sovereign nations. Then the Antichrist would appear. He would call for a world religion via ecumenism, replacing traditional Christianity with an amorphous “New Age” type of spirituality…

Soloviev’s predictions are “astonishing” in their accuracy, Biffi said, suggesting that Antichrist has already started his work.

Vatican watchers think Biffi’s remarks significant because they offer a glimpse into the mind of a man who could be John Paul II’s successor. Here is Biffi’s address, “Vladimir Soloviev: A Prophet Unheeded,” delivered in Italian on March 4, in our own translation.

Soloviev And Our Time

By Giacomo Cardinal Biffi

Vladimir Sergeevic Soloviev passed away 100 years ago, on July 31 (August 13 according to our Gregorian calendar) of the year 1900. He passed away on the threshold of the 20th century — a century whose vicissitudes and troubles he had foreseen with striking clarity, but also a century, which, tragically, in its historical course and dominant ideologies, would reject his most profound and important teachings. His, therefore, was a teaching at once prophetic and largely unheeded.

                      A Prophetic Teaching

At the time of the great Russian philosopher, the general view — in keeping with the limitless optimism of the “belle epoque”‘ — foresaw a bright future for humanity in the new century: under the direction and inspiration of the new religion of progress and solidarity stripped of transcendent elements, humanity would enjoy an era of prosperity, peace, justice, security. In the “Excelsior” — a form of dance, which enjoyed an extraordinary success in the last years of the 19th century (and which later lent its name to countless theaters and hotels) — this new religion found its own liturgy, as it were. Victor Hugo proclaimed: “This century was great, the one coming will be happy.”

But Soloviev refused to allow himself to be swept up in this de-sacralized vision. On the contrary, he predicted with prophetic clarity all of the disasters which in fact occurred.

As early as 1882, in his “Second Discourse on Dostoevsky,” Soloviev foresaw — and condemned — the sterility and cruelty of the collectivist tyranny which a few years later would oppress Russia and mankind. “The world must not be saved by recourse to force.” Soloviev said. “One could imagine men toiling together toward some great end to which they would submit all of their own individual activity; but if this end is imposed on them, if it represents for them something fated and oppressive… then, even if this unity were to embrace all of mankind, universal brotherhood would not be the result, but only a giant anthill.” This “anthill” was later constructed through the obtuse and cruel ideology of Lenin and Stalin.

In his final work, The Three Dialogues and the Story of the Antichrist (finished on Easter Sunday 1900), one is struck by how clearly Soloviev foresaw that the 20th century would be “the epoch of great wars, civil strife and revolutions” All this, he said, would prepare the way for the disappearance of “the old structure of separate nations” and “almost everywhere the remains of the ancient monarchical institutions would disappear.” This would pave the way for a “United States of Europe.”

The accuracy of Soloviev’s vision of the great crisis that would strike Christianity at the end of the 20th century is astonishing.

He represents this crisis using the figure of the Antichrist. This fascinating personage will succeed in influencing and persuading almost everyone. It is not difficult to see in this figure of Soloviev the reflection, almost the incarnation, of the confused and ambiguous religiosity of our time.

The Antichrist will be a “convinced spiritualist” Soloviev says, an admirable philanthropist, a committed, active pacifist, a practicing vegetarian, a determined defender of animal rights.

He will also be, among other things, an expert exegete. His knowledge of the bible will even lead the theology faculty of Tubingen to award him an honorary doctorate. Above all, he will be a superb ecumenist, able to engage in dialogue “with words full of sweetness, wisdom and eloquence.”

He will not be hostile “in principle” to Christ. Indeed, he will appreciate Christ’s teaching. But he will reject the teaching that Christ is unique, and will deny that Christ is risen and alive today.

One sees here described — and condemned — a Christianity of “values,” of “openings,” of “dialogue,” a Christianity where it seems there is little room left for the person of the Son of God crucified for us and risen, little room for the actual event of salvation.

A scenario, I think, that should cause us to reflect…

A scenario in which the faith militant is reduced to humanitarian and generically cultural action, the Gospel message is located in an irenic encounter with all philosophies and all religions and the Church of God is transformed into an organization for social work.

Are we sure Soloviev did not foresee what has actually come to pass? Are we sure it is not precisely this that is the most perilous threat today facing the “holy nation” redeemed by the blood of Christ — the Church?

It is a disturbing question and one we must not avoid.

An excerpt from, “The Inconvenient Memoirs of Cardinal Biffi” By Sandro Magister, WWW.CHIESA, November 16, 2010:

A CARDINAL AND A POPE IN DEFENSE OF THE JEWS

(pp. 360-362)

On November 4, 1988, the Jews of Bologna rightly thought to commemorate publicly the 50th anniversary of the infamous and shameful anti-Semitic laws of 1938. With all my heart and with full conviction, I wanted to manifest my complete adherence on that occasion in the name of the entire Church of the city, pledging my personal attendance at the commemorative rite in the synagogue, where I was welcomed with warm hospitality and took part in the prayer.

Under the circumstances, I was reminded of the events of that long-ago 1938, which had struck me in a singular way at the time, although I was not even eleven years old.

In those days, anti-Jewish measures – preceded by various publications on “race” of a pseudoscientific nature, approved if not directly commissioned by the regime – rained down repeatedly on the dumbfounded Italian nation. To cite only the ones about which I have some information, on September 1 a decree-law of the council of ministers began to prohibit foreigners of Jewish origin from permanent residence in our territory. On September 2, another decree-law removed from all the schools of the realm, of every order and degree, the teachers and students of Jewish race. On November 10, another decree-law excluded the Jews from all jobs in the public administration, in quasi-governmental agencies, and in state-run businesses. And that was only the beginning of the harassment, which became ever more pervasive and devastating.

Our people, caught by surprise, were disoriented and dismayed, when suddenly a voice was heard from Milan – it was the first, and remained the only one – of someone with the courage to distance himself openly from all of the madness.

On November 13, from the pulpit of the cathedral of Milan, Cardinal Schuster, for the beginning of the Ambrosian Advent, gave a homily that from its very first words, instead of referring to the liturgical context, immediately addressed the subject that most concerned him:

“A kind of heresy has emerged abroad and is infiltrating more or less everywhere, which not only attacks the supernatural foundations of the Catholic Church, but in materializing in human blood the spiritual concepts of individual, nation, and country, denies humanity any other spiritual value, and thus constitutes an international danger no less serious than that of Bolshevism itself. It is what is called racism.”

It is difficult today to realize the impression made by these words of criticism against the thought and actions of a government that, for decades, had not tolerated the slightest expression of dissent. They did not remain confined within the solemn atmosphere of a crowded cathedral: they were printed in the “Rivista Diocesana Milanese,” and, two days after they had been pronounced, they were published in “L’Italia,” the Catholic daily that was brought into our homes. In Rome, the fascist circles began to call for a retraction, or at least for a clear change of direction by the newspaper, with the threat (in case of refusal) of suppression without appeal.

The cardinal, however, was not left alone. From the pope arrived a message signed by his secretary, Monsignor Carlo Confalonieri: “The Holy Father exhorts the cardinal of Milan to uphold Catholic doctrine courageously, because this point cannot be ceded, nor can the newspaper ‘L’Italia’ change direction. ‘Aut sit ut est, aut non sit’ [Either this way, or not at all]. Which, if it should be forced to cease publication, should give the names of its subscribers to ‘L’Osservatore Romano’.”

The last sentence reminds us that Pius XI never gave up his “Milanese concreteness,” not even in the most decisive and dramatic moments of his pontifical action.

I was only a boy; but from that event I understood what a “secular” and rational fortune is, when the hour of general timidity and submissive conformism comes, the presence in our country of the Church of the living God, the pillar and foundation of truth (cf. 1 Timothy 3:15).

There has been recently, however, someone in Italy (from the perch of one of the highest state offices) who in a completely unmotivated public statement has spoken of a deplorable silence of the Church in that circumstance. Of course, being of the year 1952, he has the extenuating circumstance of not yet having been born at the time; but he has the aggravating circumstance of having wanted, in spite of this, to speak on the subject, revealing at the same time his gratuitous preconceptions and his singular lack of knowledge.