A Christmas Memorial of Cardinal Mindszenty

A Christmas Memorial of Cardinal Mindszenty

One afternoon a letter arrived that awakened a lot of memories from my previous diplomatic assignment in Hungary. The letter, from a Father Julian Fuzer in Detroit, Michigan, representing the "Committee For The Canonization Of Cardinal Mindszenty," asked my cooperation and testimony.

I was glad to oblige, and Father Fuzer was kind enough to write me subsequently to say that my recollections had been useful. Cardinal Mindszenty, the Primate of Hungary, had of course been imprisoned under the communist regime and subjected to a show trial, and eventually sentenced to life imprisonment. He was briefly released during the confusion of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution, but as that epic event neared its tragic end, Cardinal Mindszenty appeared dramatically at the door of the American Embassy (then Legation) in Budapest and asked for refuge. It was granted, perhaps by President Eisenhower personally. From that day on, His Eminence resided in the Embassy, in the corner office that had been the Ambassador's office (and is now once again).

We had two duty rosters at the Embassy then. The first was the routine duty roster that all Embassies have, which puts someone in charge of fast-breaking events concerning the mission that happen during off-duty hours. The second roster was composed of Hungarian speaking officers such as myself who walked with Cardinal Mindszenty in the Embassy Courtyard during his late afternoon exercise period.

I was formally introduced to Cardinal Mindszenty before our first walk, but before that I briefed myself on his history. One fine point that stuck with me came from the Embassy's Political Officer who knew him well, Ross Titus. Ross told me that the Cardinal suffered from chronic arthritis in his feet, owing to tortures that he had sustained while in prison. Whenever it rained or the weather was particularly cold, I therefore would ask the Cardinal whether he wanted to walk outside as usual, or would prefer to stay indoors.

He always seemed to appreciate the question. Once he did stay indoors, and that was when I told him that it was bitterly cold outside. "So cold that the wolves are howling?" he asked. The vivid Hungarian expression was new to me, which he could tell by my puzzled expression, and so he elaborated a bit. "You know, Mr. Shepard, we Hungarians say that when it gets extremely cold that the wolves desert the forests and come into the towns and villages in search of food. Is it that cold?" I understood that life in that part of Europe had many different cultural reference points from my New England upbringing!

During our first walk back and forth in the Embassy Courtyard, which was surrounded on three sides by a building controlled by the Hungarian AVO or Secret Police, windows flew open and five photographers took our pictures in a total frenzy of picture taking that went on for the full half-hour of our walk. "They already have me on file many times," the Cardinal explained with a knowing smile. "This is for your benefit. You are supposed to be intimidated."

During our walks, we covered many conversational topics. The Cardinal wanted to talk mostly about Hungarian history. He could be nearly as indignant at the failure of the French, at the time of Louis XIV, to come to Hungary's aid during a seventeenth century Hungarian rebellion, as he was about contemporary times. I once asked him whether Nazi or Communist mprisonment (for both regimes had imprisoned him in turn) was worse. He thought for a moment and simply replied, "The Nazis usually remembered to give me something to eat."

For his part, the Cardinal remembered the children of Embassy staffers. It once happened that it was my turn to walk with him on Christmas Day. I brought our daughters Stephanie and Robin along with me for the occasion, and sure enough, he brought forth little chocolate bars and blessed each child. Years later, driving our daughter Stephanie to school in Washington one morning, I asked her what she remembered about Hungary. The first thing that popped into her head was "that nice man in the long red robe who gave me a chocolate bar in the Embassy courtyard."

As I told Father Fuzer, I was impressed by Cardinal Mindszenty's courage, beginning with his comportment when the Nazis entered Hungary years earlier. A number of Hungarians at that time Germanicized their names, hoping perhaps to curry favor or at least to mitigate expected ill treatment from the German soldiers. Father Joszef Behm, in protest against Nazi barbarism, took precisely the opposite course, changing his name to Mindszenty, from the little village of Csehmindszent, where he had grown up.

Cardinal Mindszenty felt deeply for his people and seemed to concern himself with their welfare. He was extremely suspicious of any moves by the Communist Kadar regime, especially those that the West would see as liberalization, possibly justifying policies that he thought would accommodate the communists and prolong their power in Hungary.

I still recall one lecture he gave me on the Hungarian Government's subsidies for alcoholic beverages, making them cheap and widely available. He said that cheap alcohol dulled the people. and that was the government's intention.

In 1971, negotiations were concluded which allowed Cardinal Mindszenty, over his strong and stated objections, to leave the Embassy and, indeed, Hungarian soil. He said goodbye
to the Embassy staff, and left the building for the first time in fifteen years.

Surely he had planned that moment in his imagination for a very long time. He must have imagined the crowds that would be there. Looking out from an Embassy window, I could see that of course, there were none. The Hungarian Secret Police had cordoned off the square.

The only couple I saw in the early morning sat on a park bench halfway across the square, their backs to the Embassy. Perhaps they were police spies, monitoring the far end of the public square. However, they seemed to be arguing, and although they might have been witnesses to history, they missed the entire departure.

My wife Lois did not. She had assumed that the streets would be blocked off around the square. Therefore she drove me to work. We arrived just before the square was cut off from traffic, and Lois parallel parked the car directly opposite from the Embassy's doorway.

Shortly thereafter, the car of the Papal Nuncio to Austria arrived, along with a Hungarian police car or two as an escort. Cardinal Mindszenty left the Embassy with his clerical escorts, pausing for a moment to salute the crowd with a broad wave.

But there was no crowd at all. There was Lois Shepard waving a friendly goodbye to His Eminence. After a moment or two Cardinal Mindszenty saw her, gave her a friendly wave back, and then got into the Papal Nuncio's car. The shades on the car windows were drawn, and then the procession began its drive to Vienna.

And there, for the time being, my story ends. But I wonder, in this festive season, what His Eminence would make of developments in Hungary since he left. And what would he think of us? I also cannot help but wonder whether the Vatican, which is rightly said to think in centuries, may one day please many of us by acting favorably on Father Fuzer’s research. Perhaps this memorial, and your inquiries, may help that process to a deserved conclusion.