Mary KennyRecalling two great figures of living history
One of the compensations of age is the ever richer store of memory we oldies can draw upon: and I’m advanced enough in years, now, to remember the first appearance of both John XXIII and John Paul II on our consciousness.
I was a schoolgirl in October 1958, when the nuns at our school – that was Loreto in St Stephen’s Green – announced to us at evening study period that there was to be a new Pope, by the name of Angelo Roncalli, who would succeed the late Pope Pius XII.
Mother Edmund said that the new Holy Father came from humble stock: he was one of 13 children, and he had attended his school barefoot. As he had been born in 1881, and was already 77, he might not be Pontiff for very long, and some would consider him a ‘fill-in’ Pope until the next candidate was sent along by the Holy Spirit. But it could be a new era, too.
I think the story about John XXIII appealed to us immediately. Pius XII was much venerated in Ireland, but he had been a diplomat and came from an aristocratic background.
While John seemed to fill ‘the shoes of the fisherman’ in a great Christian tradition.
As we know now, that turned out to be absolutely so.
At the election of Karol Wojtyla in October 1978, I was a young mother at home with the children, but I knew something about Poland, and the strong Solidarity movement which was gathering momentum there. I remember thinking it was altogether fitting that we should have a Polish Pope – after all Poland had suffered, and her unswerving fidelity to the faith.
As it happened, my husband Richard West was in Poland when he heard the news, and telephoned me from Warsaw. He had been about to cross a main thoroughfare when he saw a traffic cop, with his ear to a small transister radio, tears pouring down his face as he heard the words “Habemus Papam!” The policeman was a servant of a theoretically communist state, but his first gesture was to bless himself.
And now these great figures from living history have joined the Communion of Saints.
A gift of flowers from Holland
As Pope Francis gave his Easter blessing from the balcony of St Peter’s last Sunday, he included in that address his thanks for “the gift of flowers from the Netherlands”. The camera lingered over the wonderful display, on the balcony edge, of Dutch flowers, arranged mainly in a pattern of yellow and white.
Ever since the 17th Century and their great trade outreach, the Dutch have seldom missed a chance to advance their merchandising skills. I’m not saying that cynically: I admire Dutch enterprise and this particular back story is fascinating.
The custom of providing flowers for the papal Easter blessing started in 1985, when John Paul II, as he then was, visited the Netherlands. It was a controversial visit, since the liberal Dutch Catholics, and especially the liberal Dutch media, gave the Holy Father a tough time for what they saw as his very traditionalist views.
But while the media and the politicians were rabbiting on about whether the Holy Father was “anti-progressive”, the Dutch national flower society, the “Bloemenbureau”, concentrated on what they were good at: arranging a stunning display of flowers. This was so well received that the Dutch flower-growers perceived an opportunity to offer the Vatican an annual floral arrangement for Easter.
The Vatican liked the idea, and so, for the last 29 years, two big trucks full of fresh flowers depart from Utrecht in Holy Week to bring the flowers to St Peter’s. Some 30 Dutch flower designers and arrangers follow. The leading flower supplier is Bart Bergman, a Calvinist, but happily ecumenical about flowers.
And so the Dutch papal flowers are seen and appreciated by a global television audience.
Moreover, the 1985 papal visit to the Netherlands is now remembered more for the flowers than the arguments.
Incidentally, Pope Francis will open up the gardens at his official residence, Castel Gandalfo, this summer, for the first time. Perhaps the Dutch floral influence is spreading.
The cartoon controversy isn’t funny
There’s an ongoing controversy at The Irish Times about an Eastertide cartoon which depicted two priests, quite savagely, as child-abusers venomously seeking to retain the seal of the confessional.
Many readers found it highly offensive. Others call it justified, saying that satire should be savage. The newspaper itself has admitted to “an editorial lapse”.
When I first saw the cartoon, I passed over it because I thought it so obscure and unfunny. Maybe satire should be fierce.
But it should also be (a) funny and (b) aimed at the rich and powerful – which most priests are certainly not.