Every generation produces a handful of outstanding individuals, whose ideas and actions can make a real difference to their age. Cardinal Franz König, who has died aged 98, belonged to that select group.
He was not only a remarkable prelate and diplomat, but a great humanitarian, whose liberalism and commitment to ecumenism carried influence far beyond his native Austria. Some said he was the best pope the world never had.
As primate of Austria from 1956 to 1985, König combined a natural gift for pastoral work with a sharp intellect, deep learning and the determination to use the influence of the Roman Catholic Church to broaden dialogue and open doors, not only to other faiths but also to non-believers.
He was the first senior Austrian prelate prepared to establish close contacts with the country's Social Democrats, and he formed a warm friendship with the Jewish, socialist chancellor, Bruno Kreisky.
Outside Austria, he was close to Pope John XXIII during the Second Vatican Council and an enthusiastic supporter of reforms to bring the Catholic Church into the modern age.
By cultivating contacts in eastern Europe, he was among the first to break down east-west barriers and, having met Cardinal Karol Woyjtila in Poland when he was still a little-known priest, König was instrumental in securing his election as Pope John Paul II in 1978. Though he never regretted his backing for Woyjtila, he did not hide his dismay over the Pope's conservatism on issues of theology.
König was born in the village of Rabenstein an der Pilach and attended the Benedictine school at the nearby Melk Abbey. Initially uncertain about his vocation, he wanted to study philosophy in London or Rome. Opting for the latter, he went to the Gregoriana, the papal university where, in addition to philosophy and theology, he became interested in Zoroastrian learning. A gifted linguist, he added Old Persian to a reservoir of languages that eventually included fluent English, French, Italian, German, Russian and Latin.
In 1933 he entered the priesthood, becoming chaplain in his home diocese of St Pölten. But he also continued with his studies, taking social science courses at Lille University in France. He returned home in 1938, the year of the Anschluss, and became a curate in St Pölten's cathedral. Out of tune with Austria's primate, Cardinal Innitzer, who had welcomed Hitler's annexation of Austria, König took considerable risks during the war to make the cathedral a safe haven for young people to learn and discuss issues outside the Nazi curriculum. He only narrowly escaped arrest and deportation to a concentration camp.
At the end of the war St Pölten was under Soviet occupation, and König spent many nights guarding a group of nuns from the threat of being raped by victorious soldiers.
As he recalled much later: "One night a Russian officer arrived, pointed at one of the sleeping nuns and said that he wanted her. But I stood up and said 'That is my wife'; the Russian respected that and left."
In those early postwar years König was well aware that little was being done to denazify Austria's public services, or to bring Nazi war criminals to justice. In later years he took the lead in calling on his countrymen to assume moral responsibility for their part in the Holocaust. But in the immediate aftermath of the war, like the rest of the church in Austria, he kept silent on these issues.
"We were haunted by the Soviet presence," he recalled. "We feared that Austria would remain under Soviet domination. We were short of food and housing and were preoccupied by the daily chores of simply keeping alive. The church did not understand early enough that it must urge people to search their consciences . . . We saw ourselves as victims."
For a while König went into academia, teaching religious studies at Vienna University before taking up a professorship at Salzburg. In 1952 he became bishop of St Pölten. Four years later he was named as Innitzer's successor as archbishop of Vienna and primate of Austria. In 1958, to König's surprise, Pope John decided that the best way to strengthen the new archbishop's authority over the deeply conservative Austrian church establishment was to make him a cardinal - at the age of 53.
König quickly gained the love and respect of Austrians of all persuasions, but especially of his Roman Catholic flock. And he never lost it. "As chaplain in St Pölten I learned that I have to go to the people, that they must know me before we can have any meaningful talk," he said. "So when I came to Vienna I had no great political strategy or concept. I simply felt that I wanted contact with people of every persuasion.
"The church had been too close to the // People's Party and had marked itself out as a determined opponent of the Social Democratic party," he said. "I wanted a dialogue with all people, and that included the leading political figures."
König was criticised in some quarters for near-heresy after he initiated meetings with Bruno Kreisky, then Austria's foreign minister. But he persevered, and an early result was the long-delayed conclusion of a concordat with the Austrian government in 1960. The two men's good relationship eased many later problems between church and state, not least the tensions over the legalisation of abortion.
König distanced himself from the Vatican, and from the People's Party, declaring the issue to be a matter of personal conscience. Although he joined in anti-abortion demonstrations himself, he continued to urge toleration and advised acceptance after the abortion laws were adopted in 1973.
He became one of the stars of the Second Vatican Council in 1962, identifying himself with progressive theology. Already convinced of the need for Rome to come closer to the eastern churches, he was also determined that the church should take a clear stand against anti-Semitism and acknowledge that Jews must not be held responsible for the crucifixion.
During the Vatican Council Pope John surprised him once again by proposing König as head of the new Secretariat for Non-Believers. König said to the Pope: "That falls outside my experience. What am I supposed to do?" The answer was: "Just begin, and you will soon see what there is to be done."
König realised that his new secretariat must address the issue of atheism, an issue that led directly to the church's attitude to communism. A powerful school in the council wanted to issue a strong condemnation of communism, but he successfully resisted this, a move that began to lay the foundations for the Vatican's opening-up to the communist bloc.
The Vatican never gave König an official diplomatic role in eastern Europe. Indeed, his many journeys were often undertaken without express authority from Rome - "I would inform them afterwards," he explained. Poland became a frequent port of call. König had a deep admiration for the Polish primate, Cardinal Wyszynski, and together they discussed how the church could help to create greater freedoms for the peoples under communist control. But they were discreet and avoided anything that might provoke confrontation with the authorities.
In Hungary, König was a frequent visitor to the US embassy in Budapest, where Cardinal Mindszenty had imprisoned himself in protest against communist rule. It was hard to gain Mindszenty's trust, and still harder to persuade him to accept the Vatican's request that he leave the embassy and Hungary; but in the end König's advice prevailed, and Mindszenty ended his life quietly in a Polish monastery.
In 1961 König had a car accident in Yugoslavia after attending the funeral of Cardinal Stepinac. Lying in a hospital room, he noticed a framed photograph of President Tito on the wall. König reflected on the Yugoslav leader's war record, and his break with Moscow, and emerged from the hospital determined to build bridges with him. The two men came to know and like each other.
König's work with non-believers extended beyond Europe. He went to India to take part in conferences with Hindus and Parsees; he lectured at El-Azhar University, in Cairo, on the common interests of monotheistic religions vis-à-vis atheism. But his highest priority - and where he felt he could make a real impact - was ecumenism, and the strengthening of links with the Orthodox churches of the east. He founded Pro-Oriente, an organisation that became the vehicle for this work.
He remained primate of Austria until his 80th birthday. After that, he stayed on in Vienna, moving to a comfortable flat in a home maintained by a religious order. His work schedule remained heavy; there was a steady stream of visitors.
Franz König: born August 3rd, 1905; died March 13 th, 2004