Greg Burke…

I learned a few days ago that some smart American journalist – called Greg Burke – had been appointed senior communicator to the Secretary of State, Vatican’s top governing structure. “At last”, thought I, “poor father Lombardi really needed help”. Having served a nine years term as spokesman to the Belgian bishops, I know exactly what I’m talking about. Spokesmen are communicators – and father Lombardi is quite good at doing so. But communicators – as I became – are not to be confused with media professionals. They are trained to give the message, not to shape the image. This is why I always relied on the consultancy of media actors. « You’re shaping the message, you’re molding the message, and you’re trying to make sure everyone remains on-message, » says Burke. « And that’s tough. »
“Greg Burke”… That name sounded familiar to my ears. Then, all the sudden, it popped up into my mind. We had met some twenty-two years ago. In 1990, I still was an ecclesiastical student in Rome, just ordained a deacon. In those days, I decided to help as secretary during the synod about priestly formation. There I served amongst cardinals and  bishops. There I saw JPII presiding and Josef Ratzinger counseling.

Then, on one late afternoon, there were but four of us still working on some document at the Vatican: cardinal Danneels – the Belgian archbishop, a French bishop, another deacon belonging to that bishop’s diocese and myself. All the sudden, father Di Falco, then spokesman to the French episcopacy stormed into the room, somewhat out of breath. “Le” cardinal urgently needed a chauffeur to drive him to Fumicino airport, he said. In those days, when French Catholics talked about “le” cardinal (translate: “THE” cardinal), everyone understood. Even if the elder daughter of the Church counted half a dozen porporati, the only possible answer was “Lustiger” – familiarly called by insiders: “Lulu”, the charismatic archbishop of Paris. My French deacon colleague was prepared to help, but his bishop said somewhat imperiously: “I still need your service”. So, I told father Di Falco, with a not so humble smile: “Well, if the Republic misses a chauffeur for “le” cardinal, the small Belgian kingdom might help”. So it happened that Di Falco brought me outside where  a small 104 Peugeot was waiting, with two poliziotti in motorcycle just beside. I entered the car and there was “le” cardinal. Nervous and decided as ever, he didn’t even bother saluting me, but said: “You just follow that police escort and don’t think about anything else!” “Fasten your seat belt, Eminence”, I answered. And there we drove at full speed out of the Vatican. The police escort plunged into the chaotic late afternoon Roman circulation and I did my very best to follow them. Actually, it was fun, but somewhat scary. Whilst I was trying to concentrate on my driving wheel, “le” cardinal was giving an interview in English to some smart young American journalist, sitting at the rear of the Peugeot. It was about the next Synod to come, which the Pope had asked Lustiger to prepare. The Berlin wall crumbled and a Synod on Europe was on the agenda. I remember the journalist asking: “Do the changes in Eastern Europe mean the victory of Christianity over Communism?” “No”, answered the prophetic prelate, “it just means the victory of one materialism over another”. From time to time, “le” cardinal did not find the needed English word and shook my hands concentrated on the driving wheel, with a vivid: “How on earth do you say that?”, nearby pushing the Peugeot outside the road and guiding the three of us straight into Eternal Light. Though enjoying the race, I was sweating and even praying. The American journalist, on the contrary, remained remarkably calm. At last, Fumicino Airport was in sight. The police escort left. I parked and leaving the journalist in the car, accompanied cardinal Lustiger into the airport. There we were informed that the flight to Paris would be an hour belated. “Le” cardinal took that up with philosophy and I nearly laughed. Leaving the great churchman waiting for his plane, I then returned to the Peugeot. Whilst driving back to the Vatican, I had a conversation with the young man now sitting next to me.

I learned his name was Greg Burke and that he worked for “Fox News”. He also told me he belonged to Opus Dei. My experience with “la Obra” was that most of its members were brilliant, and that many were not that stiff. Burke clearly wasn’t. We returned the car to the French and then went on sharing a pizza. I had a very enjoyable evening and still remember some of our conversation. I don’t think we ever met again, but my guess is that the Vatican picked the right person up, to coordinate its communication. I wish Greg Burke the best of lucks and will pray for him. May the Spirit inspire his work and Francis of Sales, the patron saint of journalists, help him to make the right decisions.