An Interview with Professor Fr. Tomáš Petráček 

Professor Fr. Tomáš Petráček is a prominent Czech Catholic priest and scholar. In Prague, he teaches at the Catholic Theological Faculty of Charles University and is Canon of the Chapter of All Saints at Prague Castle, a position created by Holy Roman Emperor Charles 1V in the 14th century. Fr. Tomáš also teaches at the University of Hradec Králové, approximately one hour east of Prague, where he ministers to a parish with many students at the Church of the Virgin Mary. 

The editor of the East-West Church Report met with Fr. Tomáš at Charles University’s Catholic Theological Faculty in November 2019. The conversation took place in English. 

Did you have a Catholic upbringing or were you drawn to the Church as an adult? 

Both are true to some extent. But if I had to choose, I would say I converted in my late teens, towards the end of the Communist period. It was linked with my search for truth and for some orientation in that Communist time. The Catholic Church was one of the few points of resistance within Czech society, so there was a certain attraction for me. 

Did you come from a dissident background? 

Politically, my whole family refused to accept the Communist regime. They were members of agrarian political parties, which were an important force on the center-right from the time of the First Czechoslovak Republic [1918-38]. My father was a farmer who did not want to give up his fields to the new collective agricultural units. He was imprisoned for this, for about two years in the early 1950s.

You were 17 at the time of the pro-democracy Velvet Revolution in late 1989. Did you take part?

Yes. I was in the final year of college, and we elder students were the leaders of what was called the Strike Committee. There were members in each class. In my home town of Hořice [approximately two hours’ drive northeast of Prague] there is also a unique school for stonemasonry and sculpture, and the students and most teachers at this school were very well connected with the schools for art and sculpture in Prague. That meant that they had accurate information on what was happening here in Prague. The stonemasonry  school and mine were consequently the first schools outside of Prague to strike and demonstrate in public. The events of 17 November 1989 [a brutal attack by riot police on a peaceful demonstration in central Prague] took place on a Friday. We started to demonstrate on the following Tuesday and then traveled to Prague for the large demonstrations in Letná Park over the following weekend. There were at least half a million people there. 

Were there any Catholic figures active in the Velvet Revolution who impressed you? 

At that point I was already attending church. Everyone knew Fr. Václav Malý [today auxiliary bishop of Prague]. He was a spokesperson for the Charter 77 humanrights campaign. He was also a speaker at the two big demonstrations in Letná Park. He made a very important gesture then, when he invited the huge crowd to pray the “Our Father” with him. It was a very significant moment. [Footage of the prayer may be seen at “Druhá obří demonstrace na Letné (26.11.1989),” YouTube, 22 October 2012, https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxmthRAIrGM&t=2045s from approximately 28.00 to 35.00.] 

Was there a turning point during those weeks when you expected the Velvet Revolution to succeed? 

After about two weeks a new government was appointed in which only a small proportion of ministers were not Communist Party members. The euphoria weakened a little at that point. I remember thinking that it could become more complicated and that worse problems might lie ahead. But for most of us there was no question of hesitation or turning back. 

Nowadays you teach at the Catholic Theological Faculty of Prague’s Charles University, as well as at the University of Hradec Králové. What are your academic roles in these institutions?

Here in Prague I work in the Department for Ecclesiastical History and Literary History. This faculty’s other four departments cover Pastoral Theology and Law Sciences, Biblical Sciences and Ancient Languages, Christian Art History, and Systematic Theology and Philosophy. In a typical year we receive 15 new students in theology, and at least 20 in art history. Many lay people study theology here, not just future priests. 

At the University of Hradec Králové, I head the Department of Cultural and Religious Studies within the Faculty of Education. This department trains future school teachers of religion, who will go on to work in either public schools or parishes. There are also students who just wish to deepen their knowledge of Christianity. Most are Catholics.  

The same department teaches cross-cultural communication, which spans cultural anthropology, philosophy, and ethics. Students there come from all corners of society and are mostly not affiliated to any particular faith. Instruction is in English, and we have some students from China and Vietnam.  

According to recent polling by the Pew Research Center, only 29 percent of Czechs say they believe in God—the lowest proportion in Central and Eastern Europe. Is there something specific in Czech culture determining this?

I tried to describe the reasons in one of my [Englishlanguage] books, In the Maelstrom of Secularization, Collaboration, and Persecution: Roman Catholicism in Modern Czech Society and the State [Lublin: El-Press, 2014]. In brief, the Czech Republic is a territory that suffered from the first wave of secularization in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, which took place in connection with modernizing liberal government and the rise of anticlericalism. State churches were also negatively associated with the ancien régime. Then came a second wave of secularization in the form of persecution organized by the Communist state. I think this is a reason why so many people abandoned the Church and their affiliation to organized religious institutions. 

These people are not atheists—they are in a gray zone. There are many who are simply “religiously amusical”: they do not understand the concept of religion. They do not know what use it would be or how it might help in their lives. These are not amoral people—they raise their children well and actively engage with society. Often, they believe that there must be “something,” and they may be close to pantheism, or trust in superstitions, such as chakras and horoscopes. In the Czech Republic there are actually fewer genuine scientific atheists than there are religious believers.

Is Czech society as socially conservative as states such as Poland and Hungary when it comes to issues such as homosexuality?

Well, civil partnerships are legal here. Czechs are quite liberal towards homosexuals. In recent years our president [Miloš Zeman, in office since March 2013] has tried to criticize them and encourage society to challenge their demands. But this is a surprising political trend, as Czechs are generally very liberal. For example, it does not cause a stir if a politician is divorced or is found to have lovers. Many Czechs have experience with pornography. 

Alongside this liberal streak, it is very easy for Czechs to be manipulated and mobilized against minorities. We do not have a strong collective identity as a nation or as believers, or a civic identity as in Germany or the United States—a strong belief in the Constitution or similar values. Without this positive identity, Czechs can easily be manipulated by being presented with negative depictions of “enemies.” These may be homosexuals or Muslims—as we saw in the recent European migrant crisis. Christian believers could also very easily become such “enemies”—especially Catholics. This much was clear during public debate over the restitution of church property that had been confiscated by the Communists. A large portion of society retains very strongly anti-clerical ideas and stereotypes. 

What impact does that situation have on the Catholic Church in the Czech Republic?

The Church is divided, as it is in Slovakia and Poland. Most—but not all—of the bishops wish to be allies of those politicians who build upon this negatively constructed identity of “enemies.” They wish to condemn all modern trends and emancipation movements in society. The archbishop of Prague, Dominik Duka, in particular sees fighting these culture wars as a good way of mobilizing priests and laypeople. A current example is the Istanbul Convention  on violence against women and domestic violence, which they reject as introducing gender ideology. 

[Editor’s note: First opened for signatures in Istanbul in 2011, the Council of Europe’s Convention on Preventing and Combating Violence Against Women and Domestic Violence defines “gender” as “the socially constructed roles, behaviors, activities, and attributes that a given society considers appropriate for women and men.” While this does not cover the biological distinction between men and women, some believe it is too broad. To date, the Czech Republic has signed but not ratified the Convention.] 

There are also other clergy, such as Václav Malý, Tomáš Halík, Ladislav Heryán, and Marek Orko Vácha, who seek to communicate with Czech society not through condemnation, but discussion. They accept that we are only part of society and that we have to speak with others as equals, while respecting their positions. They try to offer some positively formulated ideas.

From your experience engaging with ordinary Czechs one-to-one, what attracts or repels them about the Catholic Church?

I do not have full experience with this, because I normally do not speak with people who really hate the Church—they will not speak with me. But I think there is hunger in this society for values, for the beauty of Christianity—they want to hear about that. When we are able to present Christian ideas in the way that Pope Francis does, they listen. They do not necessarily become Christians immediately, but they feel that it is something important and beautiful. Many people in the most progressive milieu of Czech society who are trying to improve life for some minorities are angry with the Church because they think we are part of a campaign against NGOs [non-governmental organizations]— that we play a counter-revolutionary role in society, fighting all these new demands. I think that we are making exactly the  same mistakes as in the 19th century—fighting against everything in society without critical discernment of what is going on; where something is absolutely correct, where something could be improved. We just say, “No, it’s all bad, we don’t want it, the direction of modern society is all wrong.” It is always negatively formulated— against gay marriage, against the Istanbul Treaty. There is no indication of what we do want—a positive agenda.

Would this alternative approach entail a radical change in the form of the Church or its traditions?

No. Our thinking is entirely on the same ground as Pope Francis—there is no really extreme wing here. It is not even close to the liberal Catholic movements in Germany or Switzerland. 

How do you feel about the process of lustration [deCommunization, particularly disqualification of Communist officials from public office] in the Czech Republic after 1989? Has enough been done by the Catholic Church in this sphere?

It was important, but it is evident after 30 years that it was not enough. More should have been done to deal with the Communist regime. We still do not have any museum of Communist repression. There are now attempts to rewrite modern history and say that, while there were some excesses, it was generally quite okay. 

Within the Catholic Church, some of the most compromised people just moved to less important parishes, while others went on to have illustrious church careers. There was nothing like a public confession: “I did this,” “I’m sorry for this,” “I shouldn’t have done it,” or even, “No, it never happened.” There was only one priest who publicly admitted collaboration with the secret police. 

Some clergy managed to obtain formal documentation that they had not collaborated. This was absolutely crazy because it relied upon a former Communist secret policeman saying that a priest had not passed on information. Everyone knew it was a game—if someone emerges as an informer for the secret police, then they must have delivered information. The most painful part of all this is that there were heroes of the ecclesia silentil or silent church—priests who refused to collaborate and suffered as a result. The secret police informers continued their church careers, while these people were not acknowledged. The informers are not in senior positions anymore because they are too old, but they used to be. 

When it became known that clergy had collaborated, did they retain public support?

Some of them did, but we have a shortage of priests, so if they behave nicely and do the work, people are forgiving. It was like the elephant in the room. Everybody knew, but nobody spoke about it.  

Do you think this situation has negatively affected the course the Church has taken over the past 30 years?

Yes. Certainly there was some confusion in values. If the Church preaches passionately about transparency and penance and conversion, and has people in important positions who are not able to do any of this, it is very problematic. Probably we will discover later—now it is all only at the level of unverified oral tradition. But I think it will come out.  

Are the relevant archives open? 

The Czech archives are open, but many important documents disappeared immediately after the Velvet Revolution. Maybe they are somewhere, I do not know—but the materials on the most problematic bad guys are not in the Czech archives. They are somewhere in Moscow. 

Has the Church ever organized any kind of investigatory commission? 

No. There were some ideas, but they never came to anything. 

You yourself have been active in efforts to honor the memory of one particular victim of the Czech Communist regime, Fr. Josef Toufar. He was tortured and killed by the secret police in February 1950 for refusing to denounce a miracle witnessed by his Catholic parishioners—a crucifix that began to move on the altar in his church in the village of Číhošť. 

Yes. Fr. Josef did not see the crucifix move because it was behind his back. But there were around 25 eyewitnesses, some of whom are still alive. We have spoken to them and registered their testimony as part of the process towards Fr. Josef ’s beatification. [Beatification permits local veneration, but is a stage away from canonization as a saint of the Catholic Church.] There is a group of volunteers working on this. Formally, the process started in 2013, but it was taken  up by the Promotor Iustitiae only in 2018. [Meaning “Promoter of Justice” in Latin, the Promotor Iustitiae is a Catholic body responsible for examining evidence on behalf of a candidate for beatification or canonization]. As Hradec Králové is a small diocese, it took several years to find people willing and able to take this on. The volunteers are priests with their own parishes, and this was something they had to add to their normal workload. 

We were also occupied by the exhumation of Fr. Josef ’s remains. His bones were complicated to find as they were in an anonymous mass grave in Ďáblice, a neighborhood of Prague [see T. Pexa, J. Krajsa, M. Šaňková, P. Velemínský, J. Havrda, T. Kotrlý, and J. Drábek, “Identification of the skeletal remains of the Czech communist regime crime victim, priest Josef Toufar,” Forensic Science International, Volume 291 (October 2018), https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/ article/pii/S0379073818303803.]

Was Fr. Josef Toufar the only Czech Catholic priest killed by the Communists? 

No, there were other priests sentenced to death and executed. Fr. Josef ’s is a special case because they did not even charge him with anything. They wanted him to blame bishops and Vatican officials for ordering him to orchestrate this miracle. He refused to do that because it was not true. It would have gone against his conscience. 

If Fr. Josef were beatified, would this be the first instance in the now-Czech Republic in recent times? 

There are none so far, but some cases are already being considered by the Congregation for Beatification in Rome. There is Archbishop Josef Beran of Prague, for example. [Editor’s note: Archbishop Beran was imprisoned by the Nazis in Dachau concentration camp as well as being placed under house arrest by the Communist regime in then-Czechoslovakia.] There are also two Czech priests, Fr. Jan Bula and Fr. Václav Drbola, who were hanged for the shooting of several Communist officials in the village of Babice, Moravia, in 1951. Both were wrongfully in prison at the time of the shooting, so they could not possibly have been responsible. 

Hundreds more priests and laypeople were imprisoned for as long as 15 years. Many also died in prison because they were forced to work in uranium mines without any protective measures [see the East-West Church Report, vol. 26, no. 3 (2018), 5-8.] Was Ladislav Mácha, the main secret police interrogator responsible for Fr. Josef Toufar’s torture and murder, ever brought to justice? There was a trial in which he was sentenced to several years in prison, but he served only about a year before being released due to his age and health issues. He had been the leader of a group of five or six secret police officers who tortured Fr. Josef in order to make him confess that he had staged the miracle with the crucifix. When Fr. Josef refused, they escalated the violence against him over several weeks and finally beat him to death. 

[Editor’s note: The day before he died, Fr. Josef was forced to appear in a short propaganda film aimed at debunking the miracle. See “Běda tomu, skrze něhož přichází pohoršení (1950),” YouTube, 5 March 2017, https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=msGdYUMZiNA.Particularly notable is the segment at 9.40 illustrating how the wiring alleged to be responsible for the crucifix miracle is ultimately being pulled from Wall Street, New York.] 

Did Mácha ever express any remorse?

 No, he never accepted his guilt. To him, Fr. Josef was an enemy of the new regime, and it was right to eliminate him. When he was asked if he felt some remorse, he said no— the only thing he regretted in life was that he had spent too much time in offices rather than outdoors in the fresh air. 

What about the others in the group? 

There were investigations in the 1960s [i.e. during the short Prague Spring period of political liberalization] and after the Velvet Revolution. The others involved were mostly dead by the time the case reached trial in the 1990s, and those who were still alive tried to blame Mácha. However, their testimony was important in his conviction. Earlier, some of the group did show remorse and even stopped working for the secret police, because they did not want to be part of something like this. Only Mácha was so stubborn. He was a true Stalinist, angry at Communists he saw as too weak and soft. He died only very recently—in September 2018.