Pope John Paul II was one of the truly outstanding figures of the 20th century. In terms of moral stature only Nelson Mandela came anywhere near his standing in the world. A combination of great personal charisma, deep attachment to his Polish homeland, a strong sense of history and a deep spirituality made him what many believe to be the most influential Pope in history.
His very existence played a huge role in the collapse of communism, the liberation of eastern Europe and of the Russian Federation. The 1978 election of the first Slav Pope in history gave a huge impetus to resistance to communism.
His slow passing at the age of 84 has been agonising, even cruel over latter years. It seemed a reluctant parting. Seeing him in Cuba on that extraordinary visit in 1998, he did not then look long destined for this world. Then again in February 2001, as he blessed the Sunday crowds on St Peter's Square, his voice so feeble it kept breaking off, he looked at the end of his tether. But he went on. Such was his indomitable will.
He has seen his church safely into the third millennium, even if not without problems. His very first encyclical, Redemptor Hominis (1979), began with a reference to that millennium. It was always something of a goal. It arrived. He completed his Jubilee pilgrimage through the Holy Land "in the footsteps of God" in 2000. Then, some would suggest, he began to let go.
A great man? Undoubtedly.
But Karol Wojtyla was also a great patriot. In 1980 he said: "I am the son of a nation that has lived through the greatest experiences in history which, though condemned to death by its neighbours, has survived and remained itself. It has conserved, regardless of foreign occupation, its national (as distinguished from political) sovereignty, not by depending on the resources of physical power, but uniquely by depending on its culture.
"As it happened, this culture revealed itself as being a greater power than all the other forces."
You might say this was how he also saw the papacy, an office which through the last century perceived itself more and more as a moral/cultural force in the world. That view once prompted Stalin to ask contemptuously, when he was criticised by Pope Pius XII, "how many battalions has the Pope?"
In 1991, Stalin's successor Mikhail Gorbachev supplied an answer of sorts. He said communism would not have fallen but for Pope John Paul II.
The Pope's love of Poland and his frequent visits there helped generate the tide which eventually swept communism from the whole of Eastern Europe and east of the Urals as far as Vladivostok. Later, in 1992, he did not deny there had been at the time agreement between the Vatican and Washington over support for the Solidarity movement in Poland.
A great Pope? The jury will be out on that one for some time. Yes, there have never been more Catholics in the world - over a billion - but there have never been more people in the world either. And yes, the church has grown greatly in Africa, South America, the Middle East and parts of Asia.
Yes, he has been successful in developing warm relations with Judaism and Islam. Though those fellow (with Christianity) monotheistic religions were dealt a somewhat gratuitous blow in 2000 with the publication of the Vatican's Dominus Iesus document. It relegated all other religions, all other churches, and all "ecclesial communities" (the reformed churches) to a place beneath.
There can be little doubt however that Pope John Paul's radical views on social justice were a huge influence for good, not least over recent years in the realm of Third World debt.
But he practically lost Europe and the West generally, heartland of Christianity over the last millennium. And where relations with fellow Christians were concerned he was notably unsuccesful.
He showed scant interest in bringing Rome and the reformed churches closer - indeed possibly the opposite - despite tentative advances in relations with the Lutheran Church in 1999.
Indeed the Dominus Iesus document, published by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith but approved by him, could be said to have set back inter-church/ecclesial communities' relations to the 1950s. And better relations with the Orthodox churches to the East always eluded him, though he had sought such most assiduously.
He greatly centralised church authority and church structures, "emphasising the Magisterium (teaching authority of the church) with himself as magister (master)", as it was once put. Indeed at times during his papacy, it was as though Vatican II had never happened. Especially latterly.
Under him Rome became something of a (generally benign) dictatorship once more. It was as if the windows thrown open with such flourish by Pope John XXIII in 1962, and held ajar by Pope Paul VI, were slowly, firmly, closed again by Pope John Paul II.
He didn't seem to like the western world very much. Culturally he tended to identify it as the antithesis of so much in which he believed. He seemed to perceive it as a moral desert where relativity ruled in all things and he found the pursuit of prosperity and material well-being there as nothing more than mere crass comsumerism.
The west's emphasis on freedom and rights suggested selfishness and unbridled individualism to him. And that entire culture of compromise, endemic to democracy, seemed repugnant to his clear, absolute cast of mind. A cast of mind formed in Poland by the twin absolutes emanating from Moscow and Rome.
"Is it a civilisation or an anti-civilisation, a culture or an anti-culture?" he asked about the West on a visit to Poland in 1991. He was warning his people against treading that primrose path.
Even the clerical child sex abuse scandals of latter years he tended to blame on western decadence. It was an issue he hardly addressed publicly at all. In his Letter to Priests for Holy Thursday 2002, he spoke of such abuse as "the most grievous form of the mysterium iniquitatis [mystery of evil] at work in the world". He said the church wanted to show its concern for victims and to "respond in truth and justice to each of these painful situations."
"Grave scandal is caused, with the result that a dark shadow of suspicion is cast over all the fine priests who perform their ministry with honesty and integrity and often with heroic self-sacrifice," he said. It was his only significant reference to the issue.
Pope by the grace of God and the death of John Paul I, - after just 33 days in office - Karol Wojtyla's election on October 16th, 1978 as 263rd pontiff meant he was the first non-Italian to hold the post since the Dutch man Hadrian VI died in 1523, 455 years previously.
At 58-years-of-age he was also the youngest pontiff since the election of Pius IX in 1846, who he beatified controversially in September 2000. There can be little doubt that his comparative youth and robust good health assisted his electors and the Holy Spirit in choosing him, following the sudden and untimely death of Pope John Paul I.
From the beginning he made it clear that where doctrine was concerned he was very conservative, upholding - forcefully - traditional church teachings on sexuality, celi bacy, and the role of women. Dissent was simply not tolerated, nor further discussion of issues he had decided upon, as was made clear for instance in his 1993 Veritatis Splendor encyclical.
As one commentator said of it, that document insisted on freedom of conscience to follow the truth. Then it declared what that truth was, as determined by the Pope and his curia - defined in the encyclical as the magisterium. In other words as a Catholic you could believe what you liked so long as it was what the magisterium taught. A "holy" variation on Henry Ford's dictum that you could have your car in any colour as long as it was black.
Central to Pope John Paul II's beliefs, hardly surprisingly, was a profound conviction that the Catholic Church was the one, true church founded by Christ and the one church in which revealed truth "subsists", to use a word from Dominus Iesus. This Pope most definitely was a Catholic!
Also central were his deeply held views surrounding the dignity of the human person, based on the individual's relationship with God. This was probably fed by his own experiences under communism and his coming from a region of Poland which included the Nazi concentration camp at Auschwitz. His views on human dignity formed the basis of his frequently repeated critiques of both communism and capitalism.
And yet this deep respect for the person was so often absent when it came to dealing with those who dissented within the church.
Such troublesome voices were silenced, banned from teaching, cast out. The exercise of true conscience during his papacy became the making of some few heroes . . . and of many would-be heroes - if only they could find the courage.
A contradiction? Definitely. And just another one in a man who preached passionately against abuses of human rights - outside his church - and who also condemned political involvement by priests while it is likely he himself will be most remembered for helping reshape the political map of Europe.
On a personal level he was deeply charismatic. Though of medium stature, and smaller in his later years, he had about him a great physical presence as he moved through crowds. He liked and so very obviously enjoyed being with people.
In latter years when that smile was frozen by disease it must have troubled him greatly not to be able to communicate his affection with the easy fluency of earlier years.
He was a deeply spiritual man with a well-developed inner sense. This was most obvious from his writings and addresses, in which he sometimes touched the sublime.
He was a great human being, and a contradictory one. Then, as Winston Churchill said, "consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds". The world is truly poorer without him. It is unlikely many of us alive today will ever see his likes again.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam dhílis. |
