In Munster, one evening last week, everyone seemed to be hurrying to Ludgerus Square. They poured through the streets of the bomb-blasted old German town, past posters proclaiming "The City Comes to Hear Pater Leppich!" and under streamers announcing "Pater Leppich Speaks." Staring down from smashed churches, lampposts and walls were countless pictures of a craggy-faced Roman Catholic priest.
By 8 p.m., 40,000 were in the square, young people and old, Communist workers from the fringe of the Ruhr, solid Catholic burghers, even ten busloads of Dutch Protestants who had trekked across the border. They had come, as crowds throughout the length...
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