One of those was Father Michael Hill, whom Cormac had sent away for treatment following complaints of child abuse. After failing to complete the course, Hill begged to be allowed to return to his vocation. Cormac appointed him chaplain at Gatwick airport where, he thought charitably, he could do no harm. That, of course, was a bad mistake, and Hill was jailed in 1997 and again in 2002 for further pederastic offences.
This came home to Cormac when the BBC broke the story shortly after his translation to Westminster. He considered resigning, but, to his credit, dealt with the problem head-on. The result was the Nolan Commission and the current rigorous system for safeguarding children in the British Catholic church. The Nolan approach has been imitated by churches around the world, although the Vatican remains institutionally woolly on the subject.
This episode, which is likely to be all that the secular world remembers of his time at Westminster, illustrates Cormac’s strengths: steadiness under fire and a sure touch with the establishment. It did not prevent him receiving his cardinal’s hat in February 2001.
An English Spring is a quiet read, and the chapter on the Murphy-O’Connor family is the best. Nevertheless Cormac gently conveys the essence of his approach. He is a Vatican II man, interested in ecumenism and re-evangelising a society that has largely lost touch with organised religion. Where Basil Hume believed that everything began with the sacraments, “My experience has been that you’ve got to hear the Gospel first, and have some experience of what the Christian life looks and tastes like.” He approves of the Alpha Course.
That outlook brings him firmly into Pope Francis’s camp, though he professes to admire John Paul II and Benedict XVI. Cormac and Cardinal Bergoglio hit it off when they were red-hatted in 2001, and were part of a group of like-minded cardinals he dubbed La Squadra (the Team). Although he betrays no secrets, there is a fascinating account of the 2005 conclave that elected Benedict. At 81 Cormac was too old for the next election, but he dined with Bergoglio the night before it began. After the Argentine emerged as Pope Francis I, he greeted Cormac with the words: “Tuo e culpevole!” (You’re to blame.)
Many English Catholics feel that Cormac, perhaps because he is at ease with the powerful, failed to lead from the front on issues that matter to them: secularisation, marriage, abortion and media hostility. This is not entirely fair: mostly he was not listened to by government or the media, even though he received Tony Blair into the Catholic Church shortly after he left office.
Ironically, it has taken the slaughter of Christians in the Middle East to bring Christianity back into the national discourse. And it has been the tireless work of lay agencies such as Aid to the Church in Need, rather than the faint exhortations of the bishops, that has proved most effective. In a post-Vatican II Church, that may be the way ahead — and one that Cormac himself might approve.
This came home to Cormac when the BBC broke the story shortly after his translation to Westminster. He considered resigning, but, to his credit, dealt with the problem head-on. The result was the Nolan Commission and the current rigorous system for safeguarding children in the British Catholic church. The Nolan approach has been imitated by churches around the world, although the Vatican remains institutionally woolly on the subject.
This episode, which is likely to be all that the secular world remembers of his time at Westminster, illustrates Cormac’s strengths: steadiness under fire and a sure touch with the establishment. It did not prevent him receiving his cardinal’s hat in February 2001.
An English Spring is a quiet read, and the chapter on the Murphy-O’Connor family is the best. Nevertheless Cormac gently conveys the essence of his approach. He is a Vatican II man, interested in ecumenism and re-evangelising a society that has largely lost touch with organised religion. Where Basil Hume believed that everything began with the sacraments, “My experience has been that you’ve got to hear the Gospel first, and have some experience of what the Christian life looks and tastes like.” He approves of the Alpha Course.
That outlook brings him firmly into Pope Francis’s camp, though he professes to admire John Paul II and Benedict XVI. Cormac and Cardinal Bergoglio hit it off when they were red-hatted in 2001, and were part of a group of like-minded cardinals he dubbed La Squadra (the Team). Although he betrays no secrets, there is a fascinating account of the 2005 conclave that elected Benedict. At 81 Cormac was too old for the next election, but he dined with Bergoglio the night before it began. After the Argentine emerged as Pope Francis I, he greeted Cormac with the words: “Tuo e culpevole!” (You’re to blame.)
Many English Catholics feel that Cormac, perhaps because he is at ease with the powerful, failed to lead from the front on issues that matter to them: secularisation, marriage, abortion and media hostility. This is not entirely fair: mostly he was not listened to by government or the media, even though he received Tony Blair into the Catholic Church shortly after he left office.
Ironically, it has taken the slaughter of Christians in the Middle East to bring Christianity back into the national discourse. And it has been the tireless work of lay agencies such as Aid to the Church in Need, rather than the faint exhortations of the bishops, that has proved most effective. In a post-Vatican II Church, that may be the way ahead — and one that Cormac himself might approve.
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