the two popes
CANONIZATION

ALWAYS
A PARISH PRIEST
Not the “good Pope” but the Pope of goodness; one of tradition, not traditionalism. Monsignor Gianni Carzaniga, former director of the John XXIII Foundation, reviews Roncalli’s life and pontificate, that of a pastor “alongside the people”

by Paola Bergamini

“This is the victory that overcomes the world: our faith. My dear friends and brothers, let us be on our guard against the vain simulacrums that today encumber and terrorize our world. All eras resemble each other.” Thus, on August 6th of the Holy Year 1950, Monsignor Angelo Roncalli, apostolic nuncio in Paris, closed his homily in the church of Sant’Alessandro in Colonna, in Bergamo. The future John XXIII, who on April 27th will be canonized together with John Paul II, had a particular bond with this parish. Here in 1898, as a young seminarian, he listened to the homily of the Patriarch of Venice, Giuseppe Sarto, later Pius X, and, in 1906, gave his first important homily as a priest, on Saint Frances de Sales. Other occasions would bring him back to this church. “John XXIII was the most beautiful expression of the clergy of Bergamo, close to the people, and dedicated to pastoral care. He would always feel he was a pastor,” explains Msgr. Gianni Carzaniga, rector of the seminary of Bergamo and for eight years director of the John XXIII Foundation, which collects and studies the writings of the Pope. He left the position when he became parish priest of Sant’Alessandro because  “the commitment was incompatible with care for souls.”

What does it mean to say that John XXIII always felt he was a pastor, he who never served as one?
The first gift that the Lord gave him was to meet Him. Angelo Roncalli became a priest because he wanted to be a priest, that is, to announce Jesus Christ in any situation. It is not something you learn in books. He had experienced it by watching his parish priest, close to the people in his pastoral care, person by person. In this sense, he would always be a parish priest. I’m reminded of the years spent in the peripheries of Europe.

Where and in what sense?
First in Bulgaria, alongside the over 160,000 Macedonian Catholic immigrants who escaped during the war, and then in his ten years in Turkey, where he was apostolic delegate, that is, the representative of the Pope to Catholics: a missionary bishop, alongside the people. His diplomatic role with those -governments was of little value–almost none. In Turkey, he was even forced to wear non-clerical clothing. But this did not stop him from creating relations, relationships, and knocking on back doors. He was a man of attentive dialogue. An episode can perhaps clarify this intelligent and wily position of his (in the sense of evangelical wiliness).

Which  one?
In 1961, Nikita Kruschev sent John XXIII greetings for his 80th birthday, and a few months later his daughter and her husband visited the Pope. Many claimed that this indicated a thawing between the USSR and the Holy See, but Pope Roncalli was not deceived and said, “The world was made in six days. This is the first day for Russia.” He knew that the Gospel can be announced everywhere, but care is required. Toward the end of World War II, he was invited to Paris as apostolic nuncio, an important role. There, he became aware of the work of de-Christianization that began with the French Revolution. These were all experiences he would bring to Rome. The world was changing. He felt anxious, desirous to speak to the modern person. This is why he called for Vatican Council II.

Can we say that the Council originated in his pastoral concern?
Yes. John XXIII said it clearly. The Council was not born of a doctrinal question, but of the desire to care for families, those in need, the human person in a society that was changing. There was no need to alter the dogmas, but the way they were presented. Here we see his pastoral sensibility, his being a parish priest. The doctrine needed to become flesh, even while remaining anchored to tradition. He was the man of tradition, not of traditionalism.

What does this mean?
Tradere means to cherish and transmit the Christian mystery. Pope Roncalli spoke to everyone, even though he knew there were differences. Like Pope Francis, he respected each human being, but had no intention of changing dogmas or doctrines. John XXIII looked at what united, not what divided. In this sense, his tradere was vivacious, lively.

Do you have an example to illustrate what you mean?
When he visited prisoners in the Regina Coeli prison, he was not ashamed to talk about his cousin who had been incarcerated. Here was the pastor who “put himself alongside” those he cared for. He communicated with freshness what he had most at heart: the relationship with the Lord, who leans over everyone and offers His desire to meet them. This relationship shone through him, a relationship that enables us to forgive others and ourselves for harm done. For him, the Gospel re-animated the fibers of existence to the point of making us understand that the relationship with the Father that the Son offers is something that opens us outward, that melts our anger, because we feel loved and, in turn, can love.

There are many affinities with Pope Francis...
A fundamental one is that both start out from the encounter with Christ, who sets into motion an existence filled with a greater love. Only as a consequence are there rules. Pope Francis, like John XXIII, is announcing the experience of having encountered Christ. But there is another aspect they share: prayer. John XXIII prepared for the Council with a week of spiritual exercises. He thought that his person was within the mystery of Christ. He wrote: “Prayer is my breathing.” His prayer was for the world. When he prayed the Rosary, on the third joyful mystery, the birth of Jesus, he would say, “This is for all the babies being born.” The evening of his election, when he was alone with his secretary Monsignor Loris Capovilla, and the latter asked him, “What shall we do?”, he responded, “Let’s pray Vespers.”

In an interview, Fr. Giussani said that the characteristic feature of John XXIII was “God’s merciful forbearance for the salvation of the human person.”
This reverberated in the goodness of John XXIII. As Cardinal Capovilla always emphasized, he was not “the good Pope,” but the Pope of goodness. His gaze, just as he received it from Christ, was charged with confidence, ready to correct, but without condemnation. It was the announcement of the truth.