A Pope's Triumph in Britain

By Richard N. Ostling

John Paul's gamble pays off; next high-risk stop: Argentina

During his six-day pastoral visit to England, Scotland and Wales that ended last week, Pope John Paul II evoked the sobering specter of modern warfare at nearly every stop. To a Britain at war, the Pope offered a vision of peace--of the inviolable worth and dignity of every soul on earth. At an open-air Mass, he told 300,000 cheerful but attentive listeners that, if unleashed, society's war machines today would make even the destruction of World War II pale in comparison. He spoke near the most renowned landmark in Coventry, England: the remnant of the bombed-out Anglican cathedral, left standing as a perpetual reminder of the horrors of war. The Pontiff painted a chilling picture of "people . . . under the shadow of a nuclear nightmare."

Clearly alluding to the old-style battle that was moving toward a final denouement on the Falkland Islands, he said, "Today the scale and horror of modern warfare, whether nuclear or not, makes it totally unacceptable as a means of settling differences between nations. War should belong to the tragic past, to history."

In fact, war had almost dashed the Pope's hopes for his pastoral and long-awaited trip to Britain. But John Paul, overruling the caution of close advisers, would not let war prevent his mission of peace. In the end it was clear that the Pope's judgment had been sound and his trip a phenomenal triumph. Under uncharacteristically sunny skies and warm ecumenical dispositions, the pretrip jitters about security and the ticklish wartime atmosphere quickly subsided. Britons took no perceptible offense at the Pope's plan to fly to Argentina this Friday, though perhaps he should anticipate some British grumbling when he shakes the hand of General Leopoldo Galtieri, with whom he is expected to meet. A session with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher had been canceled to point up the nonpolitical nature of the Pope's British tour.

Though some crowd turnouts were smaller than anticipated, 1.9 million Britons attended the papal events, and millions more were glued to TV screens to view the first visit in history of a Pope to Britain. John Paul II pulled off a kind of diplomatic and personal coup that should move forward the cause of Christian unity, if not world peace. Many who viewed the Pope's impressive performance were struck by his simplicity, straightforwardness and warmth.

Into crowds of massed enthusiasm, John Paul plunged with a tactile directness, grasping hands, reaching out to hug and kiss infants with a touch that was at once firm and paternal. Through 15-hour day upon 15-hour day, the Pope persevered, both visibly wearied by the self-imposed ordeal and rejuvenated by the obvious stir he was creating. Said one member of the Pope's entourage: "He is a good dash man but not a miler. He gets awfully tired after a sprint. But the crowd scenes and the youth meetings seem to inject adrenaline into his veins." Concluded Glasgow Catholic Archbishop Thomas Winning: "This was his hardest mission. The British are a phlegmatic people, yet he captured them completely."

Militant antipapal Protestants staged their demonstrations, but they seemed eerily irrelevant in the glow of celebration and history that emanated from the Pope. Uniformed police and plainclothes agents were out in force to suppress any mob trouble, but they were never put to the test. In Liverpool, where police were ready for the worst, the Orange Order, a group of bitter opponents of the papal visit, launched no demonstrations.

This restraint left matters to a few extremist clergymen led by Ian Paisley, a Member of Parliament from Northern Ireland, who declaimed, "The name of this man of sin, this son of perdition, this Antichrist, this false prophet, must be brought down." But his oratory and leadership inspired a mere 60 protesters to join him in waving signs and Bibles at the papal motorcade. For weeks Paisley had insisted that "anyone blessed by the Pope is cursed." When John Paul II spotted the knot of angry dissenters on a side street, he turned and, with a smile, coolly bestowed his blessing upon them.

In Calvinistic Edinburgh the Pope also doused protesters with a shower of papal blessings. A band of young extremists who hurled eggs at the Popemobile (none hit their mark) were quickly hustled away by police. In Glasgow a paltry 100 militant Protestants paraded in protest near by while the Pope led the main worship. At every protest demonstration, he seemed unfazed--and unmoved.

In Liverpool on Sunday, in the vast Anglican cathedral, John Paul was as emphatic as he has ever been about Christian ecumenism, linking peace and the desire for unity in a tight bond. "As Christians today strive to be sources of reconciliation in the world," the Pope said, "they feel the need, perhaps more urgently than ever before, to be fully reconciled among themselves. For the sin of disunity among Christians, which has been with us for centuries, weighs heavily on the church." He continued, "The restoration of unity among Christians is one of the main concerns of the church in the last part of the 20th century. And this task is for all of us. No one can claim exemption." England's George Basil Cardinal Hume later said he was overwhelmed by the applause with which the Anglican audience responded.

With unemployment running at 18.7% in Liverpool, the Pope sought to inspire British youth: "The young, unable to find a job, feel cheated of their dreams, while those who have lost their jobs feel rejected and useless. . . All these ills of society could bring us to disillusionment and even despair if we were not a people of hope, if we did not have a deep and abiding confidence in the power and mercy of God." During the Liverpool motorcade, the Pope passed through Toxteth, the scene of last summer's ugly riots, which was decorated with photos, flowers and lights. Observed Jeremy Griffin, a student: "All of a sudden we have only one religion in this city today. Even in Liverpool, which is full of unemployed people, they are joining together."

In York the following day, the Pope turned to his controversial and conservative social stands. Once again he defined the sacrament of marriage as "an unbreakable alliance of total mutual self-giving . . . It is unconditional." But his tone was paternal rather than condemnatory. Though the church refuses Communion to those in second marriages, John Paul spoke to the divorced with sympathy: "Christ himself, the living source of grace and mercy, is close to all those whose marriage has known trial, pain or anguish. We must reach out with love, the love of Christ, to those who know the pain of failure in their marriages."

Though not drawing back from a quick and blunt attack on the "scourge of abortion," which is legal in Britain, the Pope invoked the need for a "renewed search for Christian unity" and spoke directly to Catholics who are married to non-Catholics. Mixed marriages create "special difficulties," he said, but "you live in your marriage the hopes and difficulties of the path to Christian unity." It was an arresting juxtaposition of elements; no one in the papal party, or in the British hierarchy, had ever before heard the Pontiff put the matter quite this way.

In the speech John Paul did not repeat his well-known view that any use of artificial birth control by married couples is sinful. Instead he spoke of "the spread of a contraceptive . . . mentality," referring to the unwillingness of couples to have children.

Scotland was the Pope's biggest surprise. Anticipating a mild reception in the motherland of Presbyterianism, he found the people there the warmest of all. At the opening event, a rousing youth rally Monday evening at Murrayfield, some 50,000 young people waited through the afternoon for John Paul to arrive. "John Paul, John Paul, John Paul," they chanted rugby-style as the Pope reached the stage. Then they broke into song with the gospel anthem that accompanied the Pope in so many places: He's Got the Whole World in His Hands.

Clearly moved, John Paul offered a paternal appeal to his young listeners. "You feel conscious of your own inadequacy and afraid of what the future may hold for you," he said. "I say to you: Place your lives in the hands of Jesus. . . He will make such use of your lives as will be beyond your greatest expectations . . . Do not let the sight of the world in turmoil shake your confidence in Jesus. Not even the threat of nuclear war." Like the speech containing similar moral lessons the previous Saturday at Wembley Stadium, which was interrupted 25 times with warm applause from a youthful audience, his strict admonitions against self-indulgence and "sexual irresponsibility" were received with surprising equanimity.

The Mass at Glasgow's Bellahouston Park on Tuesday was the emotional high point of the papal visit. On 175 well-groomed acres, more than 300,000 people gathered, a staggering number considering that the entire Scottish Catholic population totals 800,000. Families and groups of youths came with picnic baskets. To soccer-style chants and crescendos of applause, the Popemobile--a custom-made, bulletproof vehicle--rolled up and down aisles carrying the Pope high over the crowds. At Communion time the multitude adopted a respectful silence. By the time dusk had fallen, John Paul was being serenaded by the audience to the familiar strains of Auld Lang Syne. Michael Goodwillie, an unemployed young man who had waited through the night in the Glasgow park with his pregnant wife Mary, reflected on the unexpected crowd response. "He doesn't hate anyone. He just comes out and says what he believes. He believes in us, so we should believe in him. He has made us stronger in our faith already." Said Glasgow Youth Joyce Kilty: "He has a natural magnetism, especially for young people. Maybe it is because he gives us something to hope for. It's nice to catch a glimpse of him." Said another teenager: "Could it just be his wee smile?"

The mood of picnicking and celebration carried over into Wednesday as John Paul arrived in Cardiff, Wales. His final Mass of the tour drew a turnout of 100,000 at Pontcanna Fields, the largest Christian gathering the city had ever witnessed. The peacemaking theme remained vivid: "In every place where human blood is shed, and in the power of the blood of Christ, may we find peace, reconciliation and eternal life."

Although the peace theme captured the headlines of a war-conscious Britain, the long-run significance of the trip will probably be its effect on the fortunes of Christianity in Britain--and on the Vatican's future course on Christian ecumenism. The Pope's agenda reflected not the imperial hand of the Vatican conservative old guard, but the more cosmopolitan touch of Britain's Catholic hierarchy. All observers agreed that the Pope's visit was without doubt his most ecumenical tour. Two significant interchurch services took place in Canterbury and Liverpool, and there were several conferences with non-Catholic clergy, who received personal invitations from John Paul to continue the discussions later at the Vatican. "Next time in Rome," the Pope told them.

In Edinburgh, John Paul held two discussions with the Rt. Rev. John Mclntyre, the titular head (Moderator) of the Church of Scotland--the first time that a Pope had met Scotland's leading Protestant on Scottish soil. The meeting occurred in the shadow of the stern gaze of a statue of 16th century Calvinist Reformer John Knox, who once said, "The venom and malice of Satan reigneth in all Papists." Mclntyre seemed unintimidated by the setting: "If you are concerned at all for the unity of the church in Scotland, where we have a very bad record," he said, "it is a very significant event." The Pope's visit, Mclntyre added, would give Scots an entirely new opinion of "the character and nature of the papal office." John Paul nodded.

Long after the Pope had returned to Rome, to rest and prepare for President Reagan's visit to him this week, observers were still reflecting on the stunning May 29 service in Canterbury Cathedral. It was then that John Paul and Robert Runcie, the Archbishop of Canterbury and leader of world Anglicanism, named a new commission to try to smooth over the tough remaining doctrinal and practical problems that stand in the way of reunion of the two branches of Christianity, in particular the Vatican's attitude toward the validity of Anglican orders and the question of the sharing of the Eucharist.

Unforgettably, the Pope declared that he and Archbishop Runcie were pledged to the task of "praying and working for reconciliation and ecclesial unity according to the mind and heart of our Saviour Jesus Christ." In the cloisters after the joint service the two men sealed their pledge by grasping each other's shoulders in a bear hug--all this from a Pope who said he had never met an Anglican in his life until he and Runcie crossed paths during their tours of Africa in 1980. A top aide to Cardinal Hume, Monsignor George Leonard, later told TIME that the "depth and sensitivity" of the Pope's ecumenical diplomacy in Britain "exceeded everything imagined."

Any significant level of Anglican reunification with Rome at present seems very remote, if not impossible. But the Pope and Archbishop may have begun a process that could undo the inertia. Aside from future reunification, the "dialogue of charity" among separated Christians, the Pope claims, may already be contributing to an atmosphere of world peace. As he said in Liverpool, "We have to resolve important doctrinal issues. Yet already mutual love, our will for unity, can be a sign of hope in a divided world."

Archbishop Runcie, paying broad tribute to his departed papal guest as "a great Christian teacher," believes that as a result of John Paul's visit Britain's denominational divisions must be seen in a new light: "in the context of a common determination to make Christ's voice heard above the noise generated by a selfish and self-indulgent [British and Western] culture." He believes that the friendship and Christian joy exemplified by John Paul's visit could strengthen the prospects of religious conversion in a nation like Britain, where an anemic 11% of the populace worships on Sunday.

Another legacy of this trip is a heightened prestige for the papacy, even among secular observers. Significantly, the London Times said in an editorial: "John Paul leaves Britain carrying with him the affection and admiration of far more Britons than he arrived with." Columnist James Cameron, who calls himself an agnostic, wrote in the influential Guardian: "I could rather wish we had a few more Popes around, if they were as benevolent and rational as this one seems to be." In the crowd at Glasgow, one skeptical businessman remarked, "I have tremendous admiration for this man and what he is doing. The success of the Pope's trip is simply a case of the people responding to a real leader--one of the few in the world."

Buoyed by such acclaim, back in Rome a tired John Paul and his harried entourage barely had enough time to unpack, greet the visiting President Reagan, sketch plans, repack and take off Friday for Argentina. That journey of 7,000 miles carries no ecumenical agenda whatsoever; the population is 92% Catholic, compared with Britain's 13%. But while the basic purpose is pastoral, even more than in Britain the political landscape is dotted with opportunities for trouble. "The Pope's visit could weigh heavily in peace negotiations," La Prensa, the leading daily in Buenos Aires, warned last week. Though John Paul carried no blueprint--only a desire for the two sides to stop shooting and start talking--he could confront a nation in a foul mood, reeling from a bloody and climactic Falklands defeat at the hands of Britain, the country the Pope had just passed through. Moreover, Argentina is a Catholic nation that has, by all accounts, flagrantly violated John Paul's teachings on human rights, a frequent topic that he saw no need to emphasize in democratic Britain. In his expected private meeting with junta leaders, and in all public actions, he must be careful not to offend Argentina, or weaken his new bonds with Britain, or ignore the diplomatic sensitivities of neighboring Chile. That country, which is also heavily Catholic, has its own border dispute with Argentina over ownership of the Beagle Channel islands, an area that is, if possible, even more remote than the Falklands. According to church sources, a settlement proposed by a Vatican mediator has been accepted by the government of Chile, but not by that of Argentina. The Galtieri government's refusal had prompted John Paul to spurn the pleas of Argentine bishops for a papal visit, until the fast-moving developments of the past few weeks changed his mind.

On the plane from Britain to Rome, the Pope mingled informally with the press corps on board. He was in high spirits, fairly brimming over with satisfaction over the way the six-day pilgrimage had gone. But behind the Pope's back, some Vatican officials complain that John Paul spends too much time making and planning trips and not enough on the administration of the Holy See. They could perhaps point to the current labor situation in Rome, where a labor association representing most of the 1,800 lay employees in the world's smallest state plans an unprecedented two-hour strike against Vatican City on June 14, just before the Pope leaves to address the International Labor Organization in Geneva. Their demands include a 20% pay increase, more generous child allowances and pensions and a 36-hour week. The workers hope the protest will prod the Pope, the microstate's absolute monarch, into resolving the dispute himself. If the Pope can settle an Italian labor quarrel, he will surely add to his reputation as a diplomatic miracle worker.

Nothing seems likely to keep this Pontiff within Vatican gates. A possible third papal trip this year is under discussion: to Poland. John Paul ardently wants to attend the 600th anniversary of the Black Madonna of Czestochowa, even if martial law is still in force when he arrives, just as he wanted to go to Britain despite the supposedly insurmountable diplomatic problems. Last week Archbishop Herbert Bednorz of Katowice stirred speculation by telling 200,000 pilgrims at a shrine in Poland that the Pope wants the internment centers closed, but if they are not closed when he visits, he will simply include them in his itinerary. The Polish government is known to be cool to the trip, and could prevent it from happening.

But governments, fatigue, war, strikes, political turmoil, assassination attempts--nothing seems to faze John Paul. In short, this peripatetic Pope seems unwilling to rest on his laurels, considerable though they may be after his triumph in Britain.

#151;By Richard N. Ostling.

Reported Mary Cronin and Wilton Wynn with the Pope

With reporting by Mary Cronin, Wilton Wynn

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