The Life and Legacy of Pope John Paul II

by Wyatt North

  In all his efforts, Archbishop Wojtila strove to implement the ideals of human dignity that emerged from Vatican II, but there were two areas in particular where Vatican II became his focus. First, his next book, Sources of Renewal (published in 1970), was a guide to the documents of Vatican II. Second, he organized a Synod of Krakow, in which he recreated for the clergy and laity of his jurisdiction the experience of Vatican II. Whereas a Synod would normally deal with issues of canon law, this Synod would focus on pastoral issues. The chief question asked of the participants was how the guidelines of Vatican II could be implemented within their diocese. Throughout the duration of the Synod, which lasted through most of the 1970s, tens of thousands of Catholics in Krakow were engaging with the documents of Vatican II and debating how to realize them in their lives. The archbishop’s book provided a commentary to the texts with which they grappled. The outcome of the process was an educated laity that functioned as a community and had created their own stake in how Vatican II and Catholicism worked within their churches and within their lives. The Synod was a master stroke of pastoral and administrative management.

  When Pope Paul VI named him a cardinal in 1967, Cardinal Wojtila developed even more outlets for his talents, and his reputation and status grew accordingly. The Polish government usually granted him permission to travel, unlike some of his Polish colleagues. He traveled frequently to Rome for meetings of the congregations in which he served, and he became active on the Synod of Bishops, which met annually to discuss important issues. In 1969 he traveled for a month to Polish communities throughout Canada and the United States. In 1973, he traveled to Australia for the International Eucharistic Congress, at which time he also visited the Philippines, New Guinea, and New Zealand. There were other trips as well, including a return tour of the United States.

  In 1976, only two years before his death, Pope Paul VI invited Cardinal Wojtila to conduct the annual Lenten retreat for himself and the Roman Curia. Cardinal Wojtila was to present a series of twenty-two lectures before the assemblage. It was a singular honor, and it put the cardinal on view before a host of very influential figures.

  The Year With Three Popes

  In August of 1978, the aged Pope Paul died. Within the same month, Cardinal Albino Luciani of Venice was elected pope in his stead. The new pope sought to honor his two great predecessors, John XXIII and Paul VI, by taking both their names. The unique choice of a double name endeared him the populace, both for the humility it demonstrated (his motto was humilitas) and because the choice contained the reassurance of continuity. But then, the world was dismayed when only thirty-three days later Pope John Paul I suddenly passed away. On October 16, 1978, on the second day of deliberations and the eighth ballot, Karol Wojtyla, the Cardinal Archbishop of Krakow, was elected pope.

  It was not an outcome that Cardinal Wojtila had wanted. Friends who saw him before he left Poland for John Paul I’s funeral in Rome have indicated he may have had an intuition or a premonition that this would occur. His goodbyes seemed too serious, too somber. Becoming pope would mean leaving behind forever a lifetime of friendships and connections, the cultural and intellectual stimulation of his academic circle, and the city and country that he loved. He accepted the decision, as he put it, with obedience to Christ.

  In one respect, the choice of Wojtila made sense to all who heard: this man was young and in good health. His election, in that respect at least, seemed a reaction to the stunning loss that had just occurred. But there were other aspects to Wojtyla’s election that came as a complete surprise. Upon hearing the unfamiliar sound of his name, some listeners thought he was African. “Who is he?” the people congregating in St. Peter’s Square wanted to know.

  The content of the conclave’s deliberations was, of course, confidential, but this is what most experts believe occurred: It seems a deadlock had arisen between two popular Italian choices. Unable to find another suitable Italian candidate, the cardinals began to look farther afield. The Church at the time was experiencing discord, partially due to difficulty in implementing Vatican II and partially due to the general moral malaise of modern culture. Cardinal Wojtila was known to have successfully negotiated this challenging course within his own diocese. Moreover, he had managed to do it behind the Iron Curtain. If he had shortcomings as an administrator, he was a brilliant pastor. In addition, his star had been steadily rising among his fellow bishops.

  And so Karol Wojtila became the first non-Italian pope in 455 years, and the first Slavic pope in history. Catholic Poland, especially, rejoiced.

  After twenty years as bishop, fourteen of them as the successful leader of a major metropolitan cultural center under extraordinarily challenging circumstances, the cardinal felt thoroughly comfortable with his new role as pope. He was confident that if the Holy Spirit had led him here, he must have the attributes that were needed for the job. From the beginning, he signaled to the Roman Curia that things were going to change: they would not control him. He broke with the etiquette of precedence at every turn, always doing things his way. If this made the Curia nervous, Pope John Paul II was not overly troubled by it. His management style as bishop had always been to pursue and accomplish his goals. The bureaucracy could take care of itself. When Pope John XXIII had called for a Second Vatican Council, he famously declared that it was time to open the windows of the Vatican to let in fresh air. Now, Pope John Paul opened the doors as well.

  While the world celebrated the new pope, or at least waited to see what it would all mean, the Communist regime in Poland was horrified. Karol Wojtila had long been a thorn in their side, and he quickly made it clear that relocation wouldn’t alter his outspokenness. The new pope made frequent references to oppressed churches, the lack of liberty in some parts of the world, and the need for religious freedom in all societies. What’s more, he was able to address the various nationalities comprising the Soviet Union and its orbit in their own languages. Not just Catholic Poland was at stake, but also heavily Catholic Lithuania, the Ukraine, Belorussia, and Czechoslovakia. (As archbishop, Wojtila had already been engaged in the clandestine ordination of Czechoslovak priests.) The Soviet Union made it clear to Poland that it wasn’t amused by this Polish export. The KGB opened a dossier. Changes were indeed coming.

  Pope John Paul’s Vision for the Church

  As pope, John Paul looked to the words of Jesus to Peter, his predecessor, for guidance: “And when you have turned again, strengthen your brethren” (Luke 22:32). Toward that end, John Paul’s first and ongoing efforts were to strengthen the members of the Church.

  One of his first aims was to strengthen the family. Towards that end, at the beginning of his papacy, he organized his Wednesday general audiences into a series of 129 lectures organized around a single theme. This took place between September 1979 and November 1984. These homilies were later compiled and published as The Theology of the Body, which was, in part, an extended attempt to purge any residue of Gnostic distain for the human body. In these talks, he presented very carefully his view of family relations, elaborating what he had said earlier in his book, Love and Responsibility. Marriage was a vocation, just as the priesthood was a vocation, and fidelity was the core of both.

  He included his explanation for why natural sexual relations, unimpeded by unnatural birth control interventions, was God’s plan to uphold the human dignity of husband and wife. While he conceded that family planning was part of a responsible relationship, he argued that this could only take place through Church-approved, natural means of fertility regulation. Artificial means of birth control were, he argued, dehumanizing.

  Another early focus was the priesthood. In 1979, on Holy Thursday (April 8), the day when priests renew their vows, he addressed a letter to every Catholic priest. The salutation read: “My Dear Brother Priests.” His message was designed to reinvigorate their commitment to their vocations and to restore lost morale. Whereas Pope Paul had allowed more than 32,000 priests to be released from their vows, John Paul was going
to make the process harder. He wanted his priests to recall why they had become priests and to recover that sense of purpose. He reminded them of the importance of their priestly celibacy, which is a gift of the Spirit, a renunciation for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Through this renunciation, the priest becomes a man serving others and is thereby able to build up the Church.

  As is well-known, the new pope very soon went traveling. He traveled more extensively than any pope before, going personally to speak with the faithful and encourage them. With targeted visits to Africa and Asia, he demonstrated the importance of youthful churches for the future. And while in Africa, he deflected criticism about his many trips by suggesting that popes should take their cues not just from St. Peter but also from the peripatetic St. Paul. He didn’t only speak to Catholics, however. One of his earliest trips brought him before the United Nations (October 1979), where in an hour-long address to the General Assembly, he lectured the nations of the world on human rights and human freedom.

  Karol Wojtila had always believed the Church’s core task was to proclaim God’s love, mercy, and forgiveness. This was his vision as he assumed leadership of the Church, and he articulated it in his first three encyclicals as pope. He saw this as a joyous message and one that elevated the dignity of all human beings.

  He knew very well that it was his task as pope to complete the implementation of Vatican II. Accordingly, he consistently looked to the Second Vatican Council for direction, particularly the conciliar statements on ecumenism, religious freedom, and the laity. He especially focused on Gaudium et Spes (see above) with its emphasis on the role of the church in the modern world, the dignity of the human person, and the community of mankind. The Church didn’t need to be confined to church buildings; it had a role to play out and about in the modern world.

  While Vatican II had begun the process of “declericalization,” or adjusting the unbalanced emphasis on the clergy, it was John Paul who gave impetus to the effort. He wanted reemphasis on the Church as a community in which all the baptized are equally important. As such, there was room for a multiplicity of voices—women, young people, and various Catholic movements—to be heard within the overarching unity of the Trinity. The Trinity itself was the model for unity in diversity, and it was the foundation for John Paul’s renewal efforts for the Church.

  Latin America

  John Paul’s first foray as pope into the world of diplomacy occurred very shortly after his election. In December 1978, he offered the Vatican’s services (not his personal services, however) as mediator in a border dispute between Chile and Argentina that threatened to erupt into war. The Vatican hadn’t been involved in a mediation of this sort since 1885, and some were afraid that failure would diminish the Vatican’s prestige. For his part, John Paul felt that he could not stand aside while two Catholic countries teetered on the brink. The initiative, however, succeeded.

  The following month came John Paul’s first trip abroad as pope. It would be to Mexico. Latin America holds nearly half of the world’s Catholics. In targeting Mexico for his first pilgrimage, he signaled the importance of Latin America within the Catholic world. It was an acknowledgement welcomed by the Mexican people. It is estimated that a million Mexicans lined the short route from the airport into Mexico City. Their enthusiasm was matched at every point of the pope’s trip. In a talk before a half-million indigenous people from Oaxaca and Chiapas, he spoke of the injustices perpetrated against them, the need for recognition of their dignity, and the imperative for bold social change.

  During that first trip to Mexico, he addressed an important conference of Latin American bishops, the general assembly of CELAM. His goal in speaking to them was to establish how the Church should function at that time and in that place. The history of the Catholic Church in Latin America has not always been a happy one. The Church has tended to align itself with the sources of power and the causes of oppression. Rejecting that history, activist priests had recently arisen, sometimes espousing violent expressions of liberation theology that had been shaped by Marxism. The Mexican government itself represented a reaction against the Church. It was secular, anti-clerical, and did not have formal relations with the Vatican. In that context, John Paul spoke pointedly of the need to emphasize social justice, but he also tried to steer his more radical listeners back to a course of doctrinal orthodoxy. It was his opening volley in a battle against the infiltration of what he perceived as Marxist ideas into Church life. As one who had lived a good part of his life in the shadow of Marxist ideology, he knew that it could not be reconciled with Catholic principles.

  His positions would be spelled out more thoroughly in the encyclicals and teachings that followed that first visit.

  John Paul’s focus on Latin America was unwavering, although some would argue it was heavy-handed. In the years that followed, he disciplined priests who became too embroiled in partisan politics, such as several who held posts in the Marxist-influenced Sandinista government of Nicaragua. He went as far as to assume control of the appointment of officers of the Confederation of Latin American Religious to prevent extremists from assuming leadership of the organization. The Peruvian priest who had coined the term “liberation theology,” Father Gustavo Gutierrez, was required to revise some of his writings. The Brazilian theologian Leonardo Boff, who was outspoken in his criticism of, among other things, the Church hierarchical structure, left the priesthood when he was on the verge of being silenced for the second time.

  Nevertheless, during his 1987 trip to Chile while it was under the Pinochet dictatorship, John Paul said Mass for a huge audience and provided a forum for a series of speakers describing political censorship, torture, and murder. His trip is considered a turning point in Chile’s transition to democracy.

  It was during the pontificate of John Paul, that Oscar Romero, Archbishop of San Salvador, was horribly murdered while celebrating mass. Only days before his death in March 1980 he had said, “You can tell the people that if they succeed in killing me, that I forgive and bless those who do it. Hopefully, they will realize they are wasting their time. A bishop will die, but the Church of God, which is the people, will never perish.” Of course Romero was only the most senior of the Church figures at risk in El Salvador for working with the poor. December 1980 saw the murder of the four American churchwomen, but there were many others as well.

  In 1997, a cause was opened for Romero, and John Paul bestowed upon him the title of Servant of God, the first of the four stages of canonization. Shortly before the death of John Paul, an official announced that Romero’s beatification was about to proceed, but under Pope Benedict canonizations slowed, and the beatification did not occur. It is possible that the cause has not progressed because of a (rightly or wrongly) perceived alignment of Romero with Liberation Theology. In 2013, the same official announced that the process had been “unblocked” by Pope Francis.

  With his emphasis on social justice and inclusiveness, John Paul criticized human rights violations in military governments, called for solidarity with the poor, and canonized Juan Diego (a 16th century indigenous person who saw a vision of Mary as Our Lady of Guadalupe). John Paul made a trip to somewhere in Latin America nearly every year of his papacy, the last when he was 82.

  Religious Freedom

  Although he took oblique slaps at Communism from the beginning of his pontificate, making frequent reference to religious freedom, John Paul’s first encyclical of March 1979 held a more frontal assault. Redemptor Hominis (The Redeemer of Man) refers to the “totalitarianisms of this century.” It is clear that he did not only mean Nazism. The document refers to states where power is imposed by a particular group upon all other members of the society. Since the duty of the state is to serve the common good, all citizens must be assured their rights.

  There is a type of atheism, the text continues, that is structured as a society. Yet a society that grants only atheism the right of citizenship and deprives religious believers of rights is unacceptable. The
curtailment of religious freedom—regardless of the religion involved—is an assault on human dignity. The role of the Church, on the other hand, is to be a guardian of freedom. Redemptor Hominis goes on to allude to reasons for not going into full detail but requests of pertinent officials that they respect the right of religious freedom and enable the Church to conduct its activities. Nowhere does the letter call Communism by name, but the intent is clear. It should be noted that Redemptor Hominis criticizes not just Communism, but also unbridled capitalism and consumerism.

  In 1966, the Polish government had refused a disappointed Pope Paul VI entry into Poland for the series of celebrations marking one thousand years of Christianity in Poland. Now, in 1979, the country was about to celebrate the nine-hundred-year anniversary of the martyrdom of St. Stanislaus, the first bishop of Krakow. The event had the potential to become an anti-government forum because Stanislaus was known for speaking up against power. The former Archbishop of Krakow had made it clear that he wanted to be present both for that celebration and for the closing of the Synod of Krakow he had initiated. The government knew it was facing a different situation than in 1966, and it feared public reaction against an outright rejection of the request. Instead, a delay in the visit was negotiated. The pope could come after the celebrations for St. Stanislaus were concluded.