The Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. On 30 May 1980 Pope John Paul II led three masses at the cathedral. First, there was a mass for the general public that was held in the huge plaza just outside the cathedral. Then there was a mass for the leadership of France and Paris inside the cathedral. I was among a few invited by the pastor to join that mass (and to sit in seats on the high altar) and then there was a third mass for the brothers and sisters who were serving the French church. For that second mass, I was specifically invited to sit next to Frère Roger of the Taize community (on one side) and the primate of the Greek Orthodox Metropolis of France (Metropolitan Meletios Karabinis) on the other. It was quite an imposing moment. All the gold decorative arts of the archbishop was balanced by the golden glow that surrounded Frère Roger.

The pastor encouraged us to stay for the third mass. While people were leaving, quietly the brothers and sisters came in from one of many back doors. We just stayed where we were. The chairs were all removed, and we were milling around talking with each other about the ministries of John Paul II and our own ministries. When the time came for the pope to return, the pastor of the church was nearby and caught my eye, and motioned for me to sit down in one of a few chairs still remaining on the high altar. I later learned it was the archbishop’s chair. Not being in a white robe, it was obvious that I was an outsider. Facing the altar, I could see the pope looking at me with curiosity. His twinkle turned to a wink. A memorable moment.

A few months prior to this grand event, I, along with about 20 English-speaking Protestant ministers in Paris, had been the guest for lunch hosted by the pastor of Notre Dame. At that time, I was a Resident Theologian at the American Church in Paris while studying the physics of the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen thought formula of 1935 with Jean-Pierre Vigier on one day each week and with Olivier Costa de Beauregard on the following day each week. Now, at that luncheon at Notre Dame Cathedral, very early in that the discussions, a less-than-delicate guest loudly asked, “Why did the Pope defrock Hans Küng?” Küng was a Roman Catholic professor of theology at the University of Tübingen. The pope, of course, was Polish-born, John Paul II. After an uncomfortable pause, I asked, “May I volunteer to answer that question?” Encouraged to do so, I replied that I knew Küng, especially three of Küng’s doctoral students who at that time were in a special program at Harvard. They had told me that Küng was asking to be defrocked. He had been questioning the divinity of Jesus and believed that his research had pushed him well outside the inner circle of believers. My answer seemed to satisfy the questioners, so the luncheon comfortably moved on. It was just a couple of months later while on the approach to Notre Dame that the pastor saw me coming. He quickly greeted the senior pastors, then came up to me and looped his arm in mine and ask if he could guide me to a seat, and yes, that was to the “First row, high alter left, between the golden boys.” 

I had a delightful discussion with Frère Roger, who was to my right, and a more formal discussion about the Nicene Formula and the hypostatic union with the gentleman on my left.

I hadn’t realized how grateful the senior pastor was for my quick answer to what could have been an embarrassing question.

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