From Mr R. P. Cachia

Rivers of ink have been used in his name; television has thrown Karol’s face and words at us with the insistence of commercial advertising. The usual pundits have given us their usual hackneyed, sugary, all-too-obvious judgement on the man. Yes, the man was exceptional. One could even say he was great.

I have remained silent, perplexed, awed. I must admit I even cried, seeing others weep for the man. Confronted with such human emotion, such worldwide adulation, such universal sorrow, one remains, believer or unbeliever, essentially dumbfounded.

And yet, I cannot help thinking that, after all, what Karol did and achieved was only extraordinary because he was a man in an extraordinary position. I mean, Popes are expected to do exactly what Karol did: to fight for the oppressed, to combat tyranny, to speak out against evil. Popes who want to do their job in today’s post-conciliar Church have to face up to these kinds of challenges. Otherwise they do not merit the name of Holy Father.

Karol often made the headlines for the simple reason that few Popes before him had risen to these challenges. He was the exception that should have proved the rule. Where others before him had dallied and dragged their feet in the presence of institutionalised tyranny, like Pius XII, Karol confronted it head on. Where others before him ran with the hares and hunted with the hounds, like Pio Nono, Karol took his stand unequivocally with the persecuted.

Beyond that, which for a spiritual leader of a billion human souls should really be the minimum, Karol rarely ventured. Woytila was not made of the stuff of martyrs. He rarely exposed himself beyond the strictest necessity. When the Bosnian genocide was being perpetrated by Slavonic Christians, he stayed home. As Latin America was being bled to death by civil war and Catholic priests fought for justice and civil liberties, he had the audacity to silence many of them into submission. Though, happily for Latin Americans, not all obeyed.

Karol’s grip on the sensibilities of many stemmed as much from his personal charisma as from his position as head of the Church of Rome. He did not, like Gandhi or Mother Teresa, acquire his popularity gradually by the sheer force of his example, rising in spiritual stature from anonymity to fame. Fame was thrust upon him and his example was expected as a matter of course. He, unlike many others before him, did his job very well, nearly to perfection. For that alone he deserves the love of all Catholics and the respect of the rest of us. But in the end he only did his duty. Saints are made of different stuff!

Robert Paul Cachia

Gudja