This time, at least it was not about sex. That is almost the only comforting fact to emerge from the fiasco in the Polish Catholic Church over the appointment of a new Archbishop of Warsaw. The dramatic last-minute withdrawal of Archbishop Stanislaw Wielgus has damaged the reputation of Pope Benedict, who at best acted in good faith on bad advice, at worst ignored all the warning signs he should have seen. By his own admission, Archbishop Wielgus had been less than totally frank about his involvement with the SB, the Polish secret police under Communism. The exact nature of that involvement is still unclear, but his lack of candour was itself a sufficient disqualification. He asked to be forgiven, but had no right then to assume that he had been. So lack of humility seems also to be an issue.

The crisis has further divided the Church in Poland, already split between conservatives and not-so-conservatives (actual progressives, at least among the leadership, are scarce). It has made the Catholic Church look foolish and badly run, with decisions made on the basis of preconceived assumptions rather than on the facts. The Vatican was trying to micro-manage a local Church instead of relying on the judgement of those on the ground with better knowledge. Head office does not always know best.

The Bishop of Plock was already controversial when his name emerged from a tortuous consultation process where there was far from consensus about the best man to succeed Cardinal Glemp. Pope Benedict liked the look of him and decided to back his man, so to speak, regardless. But it is almost impossible for outsiders - even a Pope - to say to what extent certain embarrassing details of an individual's past life are sufficient to discredit him permanently, or are readily forgiven. Context is everything. The struggle in the hearts and minds of the Polish people between their faith and the externally imposed Marxist creed has left deep scars, not least in not knowing who to trust in a climate polluted by deception and betrayal. The Vatican was in no position to judge how prepared the Poles themselves were to excuse those who collaborated with the security services under Communism, and therefore in no position to say whether Archbishop Wielgus could ever be trusted and respected as a national leader. But any reasonable observer must have had doubts long before the Vatican was continuing to insist that there was no problem and the trouble was all down to a mischievous media campaign. Where have we heard that before?

Under the Polish Pope, the steadfastness of Polish Catholicism contributed greatly to the downfall of Communism not just in Poland but in Russia and the rest of Eastern Europe. It was an historic triumph for the Polish Church as much as for the Polish nation. The Polish hierarchy had been dealt an almost perfect hand, therefore, but then proceeded to play it arrogantly and badly, squandering its unique prestige by mistake after mistake. Its only strategy seemed to be to try to turn the clock back to 1939, to an imagined golden age of Polish Catholicism. The signs are that Archbishop Wielgus, whose strongest support came from the Church's most reactionary wing, would have continued on that course. His withdrawal therefore gives a breathing space for second thoughts. Whether this providential opportunity will be taken is another matter.

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