These positions by faith leaders - which seem to infer both shades of envy, regret and scorn - are riddled with conjecture, inconsistencies and assumptions. But the shared admiration is clearly a mark of genuine respect that is, only occasionally, tinged with a deeper sub-text that must also be acknowledged if we are to understand John Paul II’s legacy.
Third, modern Catholicism is often a progressive element in contemporary Australian society. For example, Jesuit Social Services are active advocates for human rights and the protection of asylum seekers. Social justice is still strongly promoted and the Catholic education system vigorously supports humanist values, pacificism and respect for the individual, for others, for cultural diversity and the environment.
For those of us with the luxury of being bystanders (i.e. not practicing Catholics) we have been able to admire the vigour with which Pope John Paul II promoted the rights of Indigenous peoples, democratic values and for the peaceful development of humanity. This rhetoric is entirely commensurate with the values promoted by many Australian Catholic institutions such as those mentioned. Contrasted, however, with these public values, the internalised ones (moral values that adhere to the traditional Christian standards relating to sexual conduct and fertility, for example) have continued to be strict, conservative, and have a goal of controlling or restricting behaviour and actions.
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Fourth, the degree of respect that Pope John Paul II has commanded and the extent to which “ordinary people” have been prepared to make arduous and costly travel arrangements to visit Rome during the period of mourning has been extraordinary.
What fascinates me is that it now seems the deaths of iconic figures (another example was Princess Dianna) are one of the relatively few events, particularly in developed economies, which seem to galvanise mass and public responses of pain and concern. What causes this? Is it genuine, is it manipulated by the media, are there deeper social, spiritual or other factors (such as weakened individual or cultural identity) that engender these behaviours? Is it the loss of a symbolic figure representing an ideal that most people can only aspire to?
What bemuses me, as I contemplate the outpouring of pain at the death of John Paul II, is why it is that pharmaceutical or fossil fuel producing multinational businesses (to name just two of the worst culprits) can deplete, exploit and destroy our planet, our humanity, our biodiversity and our unique cultures with rapid, violent, amoral and voracious intensity. They do so in a manner that aggravates economic and social disadvantage, and which will result in the entire collapse of our global ecosystems, and all modern post-industrial societies by the end of the current century. Nevertheless, these injustices and these insanities never bring a million people into the streets in mourning, anger or indignation.
I see these as spiritual and moral issues because they are critical to the survival of humanity and I cannot understand how the death of a single person, no matter how great, justifies this disparity in public response.
Finally, there has been praise for the Pope as a great promoter of Christian humanism, for promoting the individual, liberty and personal rights. It is easy for those of us who are not Catholic to welcome such positive messages. However, it must be hard for those devout Catholics who are looking for a more contemporary iteration of the faith to reconcile these views with others emanating from the Vatican. Non-Catholics cannot easily enter this debate without appearing to be insensitive or interfering but it is difficult not to witness the contrast between the practical - and quite liberal values - of many Australian Catholics, with the almost antiquated standards expressed in recent papal dictates.
Pope John Paul II appears to have been a person - a natural leader - of extraordinary faith, commitment, energy, integrity and passion. He rose to the highest office in the Catholic community because of these personal qualities. His failings seem to me to be that he expected the faithful to meet many of those exacting standards that he set for himself. I am sure that he would have argued that perfection is a quality only possessed by the Almighty, but God’s Lieutenant on earth needs to come as close to this standard as possible - a standard that few can meet. The framing of a set of religious and moral values at too demanding a level may actually have had the opposite effect to what they were intended to achieve.
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Clearly, as with any complex individual with a rich legacy of achievements, understanding Pope John Paul II’s place in world history over the past quarter of a century is equally complex. His Papacy saw a strong call to the faithful while promoting genuine and constructive interfaith dialogue and understanding.
It has been one where personal liberty has been matched with a strident call to individual self-control and tough moral standards of the faith. It has seen the continuing global expansion of Catholicism, particularly in developing economies, leading to the weakening of control over what those working on the fringes of the faith are doing. This multifurcation has occurred at the same time that the centralised and authority figures within the Church hierarchy have been appointed to maintain the values and beliefs of John Paul II after his death.
In conclusion, whatever one’s faith, Pope John Paul II demands respect. It often seems that, for a single person in a vast world, individual efforts are largely irrelevant. But in the case of John Paul he made an impact. Perfect he was not. Idealistic, to the greatest standards and traditions of his faith, he was. He achieved a full life and, as much as a single person can, he changed the world - not just the Christian world - and he did so more for the better than for the worse. It is difficult to find greater words of praise for a fellow human.