THE ATTACKS of Sept. 11, 2001, sent religious people all over the world to their knees in prayer. Just 48 hours after the World Trade Center collapsed, a former altar boy from a poor Catholic family in Iowa found himself praying in private with Pope John Paul II. James Nicholson — tapped by President George W. Bush as the new Administration’s ambassador to the Vatican — went ahead with a prescheduled Sept. 13, 2001, audience with the Pope to present his diplomatic credentials.
ALONG WITH HIS PRAYERS, the aging Pontiff used the suddenly solemn ceremony to express publicly the Vatican’s solidarity with the U.S. But, as Nicholson recalls, the Pope went one step further, leaning over to say directly to the new ambassador: “This was not just an attack against America, but against all humanity.” These and other papal comments in the weeks following Sept. 11, says Nicholson, gave an “implied justification” from the Holy See for the subsequent U.S.-led military campaign in Afghanistan. It was a prized show of Vatican support for a White House keen on strengthening its standing among American Catholics.
JUST 16 MONTHS later, all the prayers in the world could not prompt such Vatican goodwill toward current U.S. foreign policy. John Paul and his top diplomats have been among the most consistent — and at times harshest — public critics of a potential U.S.-led war in Iraq. Archbishop Renato Martino, head of the Pope’s Council for Justice and Peace, has repeatedly lashed out at the U.S. position. “Unilateralism is unacceptable. We cannot think that there is a universal policeman who takes it upon himself to punish those who act badly.” It’s an echo of Vatican opposition to the Gulf War of 1991, and is rooted in a long-standing suspicion of expanding U.S. power around the globe. This all leaves Nicholson, 65, who attends mass regularly, navigating his country’s hard-line stance through his own Church’s peace-minded hierarchy.
IT’S A DAUNTING task for Nicholson, but he’s accustomed to robust challenges. The third of seven children, he was raised on a tenant farm in Struble, Iowa, before being appointed to the prestigious United States Military Academy at West Point. As a Ranger in Vietnam — originally bound for Paris, he asked to go to Asia after seeing the photo of a dead West Point classmate in Time — Nicholson earned several honors, including the Bronze Star. Returning to civilian life, he married artist Suzanne Ferrell, with whom he raised three children. Home was Denver, where he practiced law in a major firm before becoming a successful real-estate developer.
HAVING RISEN through the ranks of the Republican Party, ultimately becoming its chairman, Nicholson is also the rare soldier-scholar. In November, he published a brief history of U.S.-Vatican relations, The U.S.A. and the Holy See: The Long Road. Now he is a major part of that history, bearing awkward responsibility for a relationship at its lowest point in years. When it all gets too heavy, he escapes to Italy’s scenic Dolomites for some cross-country skiing. But most of his days are spent on questions of war and peace.
NICHOLSON BROUGHT conservative American theologian Michael Novak to Rome last week to help persuade top officials at the Holy See that preventive war against Iraq is consistent with the long-established “just war” theory the Vatican has used to sanction a given conflict theologically. “The Pope and the Vatican are not pacifists,” says Nicholson. “A moral justification for war exists. It’s a question of deciding when those conditions are present.”
NOVAK FAILED TO sway Vatican officials, who have begun their own diplomatic exertions. John Paul sent a special envoy, French Cardinal Roger Etchegaray, to Baghdad with a letter for Saddam Hussein, urging compliance with U.N. resolutions. And last week, the Pope welcomed Iraqi Vice Prime Minister Tariq Aziz, a member of the Chaldean Catholic Church, which recognizes the Pontiff’s authority. Nicholson said he hoped the meeting would be used to “let Aziz know just how serious we are.”
AS NICHOLSON CONTINUES TO play a visible role in the Iraq crisis, his mind sometimes wanders back to an encounter during his early days in Rome. Speaking with an archbishop who works in the office that helps choose candidates for sainthood, Nicholson asked with a wink what he could do to get on his good side. The archbishop said he’s always on the lookout for those who perform miracles. Now, more than ever, that’s what the world could use.
