He gave new theological genre to church

National Catholic Reporter, Jan 6, 1995 by Arthur Jones

His summaries could be superb:

August 1980: "Every papal visit poses an interestingly different problem. The U.S. trip raised the question of John Paul's attitude toward the pluralistic society. Turkey had a clearly ecumenical purpose: It was the opening to the Orthodox. The trip to Africa tested the limits of adaptation of the local culture. The flying visit to France was an attempt to bring a largely secularized nation back into the Catholic fold. The trip to Mexico was a dress rehearsal for his most recent visit to Brazil; it was a fighting shot at Central and Latin American problems"

His incidental phrases were remarkable, such as the simile that ends this sentence:

January 1981: "As Pope John Paul peers into the future, he sees not the next decade, but the next 20 years. The year 2,000 fascinates him like the eye of the basilisk."

His analysis was widely respected and repeated:

January 1982: "As Poland entered its unhappy Christmas week, the church, which had at first reluctantly accepted Gen. Wojciech Jaruzelski's coup, began to move into opposition. The consequences of this switch are incalculable."

And all of it came from a master craftsman:

December 1992: "During the first session of the council, Montini [later Pope Paul VI!, ever the talent-spotter, remarked that there were two young German theologians from whom we expect a lot: Joseph Ratzinger and Hans Kung. Their names were linked for ever after.

"`I do not think my fate could have been very different,' muses Kung [during an interview with Hebblethwaite!. For a period, both theologians were colleagues at the University of Munster. Ratzinger's sister, who acted as his secretary, was very protective of her brother, covering his desk with a sheet so that visitors could not see what he was working on. No one ever knew what he had to hide."

Hebblethwaite made many big decisions. To join the Jesuits and to leave; to wed Margaret. Not to pursue an academic career. Not to tackle a full-scale biography of John Paul II for his papal trilogy.

One big decision came early, at 17, and while in many ways it might seem trivial to some, it never left him. To fit in with the Jesuits and to accommodate to the standards of the times, Peter had to learn BBC-speak, British Standard English, to say "grarse" instead of "grass;" "barth" instead of "bath." It was a vicious assault on his roots.

Later, thanks to the Beatles, regional British accents became fashionable. The taboo was broken.

At times, in Rome, our friendship was intense: one year we lived and worked side-by-side there for a month-and-a-half: two weeks on a New York magazine piece; one month covering the 1985 extraordinary synod for NCR. Years earlier I'd accused him of adopting architect Frank Lloyd Wright's attitude, when, having to choose "between honest arrogance and hypocritical humility," Wright, without regrets, had selected the former. Peter in high dudgeon at a press conference or on his high horse in an article was a performance.

November 1985: "Two weeks ago, knowing full well what I was doing, I wrote a story about the plan for the reform of the curia that will be laid before the College of Cardinals just before the extraordinary synod. The Vatican response was most illuminating. Denials always give away more than they intend."