The last visit by a Pope restored my faith... in the basic kindness of people, not in the Church

WHEN the plane flew overhead, the crowd in the Phoenix Park rose as one in what can only be described as an eruption of joy. A rippling wave of flags in the papal colours of yellow and white became a tsunami, and a roar went up, so loud it actually drowned out the engine noise of the low-altitude Boeing 747 and the Aer Corps jets that flanked it.

The aircraft, like all Aer Lingus planes, was named after a saint, and this one, appropriately, was called St Patrick. On board was John Paul II, the first Pope ever to visit Ireland – and, for the 1,250,000 people waiting to hear him say Mass, it was an extraordinary moment.

Landmark

Not since the Eucharistic Congress of 1932 had so many people gathered in the same place to profess their Catholic faith, and at the time, it seemed the increasingly shaky grip exerted by the Church on religious and political life, and on public morality, would robustly be reasserted.

That was not to be. When Pope Francis arrives here in August, almost 39 years since John Paul’s landmark visit, it will be to a very different Ireland. It is no longer unusual for couples to live together before marriage (indeed, it’s seen as odd if they don’t, and the notion they’re ‘living in sin’ seems laughably antiquated); men can marry men and women can marry women; divorce has long since been legalised; no one decides what films we can watch or books we can read; and the numbers who attend Mass weekly total little more, nationwide, than the number present that day in September 1979 on the Fifteen Acres, in the shadow of the Papal Cross erected for the event.

But nor is Ireland as different as some would have you believe. The overwhelming majority of Irish people still identify as Catholic, even if they’re a lot more à la carte than set menu nowadays. Personally, I have long since lapsed, and the only time I ever go to a church is for a wedding or a funeral, though I find even those ceremonies increasingly are civil, nondenominational, or humanist.

If I’m being truthful, my disengagement from the religion into which I was baptised was already well under way when the 16-year-old me got up that Saturday at 5am to catch the packed train in Dalkey station that took hundreds of us to Ashtown Gate, but it was a piece of history and I wanted to be present.

Thousands of people at a time made their way to pre-determined corrals in the park, each one assigned to one or two parishes so families and friends could stick together. Everyone carried collapsible chairs, known forever more to almost every family in Ireland as the ‘Pope stools’, and backpacks full of sandwiches, rainwear, and loo roll. I always laugh now when the sandwiches you grab in petrol stations tell you to throw them out if not consumed within 90 minutes. I left home that morning at dawn and, after walking to the city centre to see the papal motorcade in O’Connell Street that night, was still eating the last of the homemade sandwiches at 10pm. I survived.

In fact, the next day, a friend and I also went to see the Pope in Knock, not because we were devout, but because we had never been on a long train journey and it was cheap as chips to get to Co. Mayo that Sunday. We brought a whole roast chicken and ate the last of it at about 2am the next day; but again we survived – and here’s why.

Generous

On no other day in my memory have I seen so many people, literally to a man and woman, so generous and kind.

Everywhere, people helped each other, whether that was pushing a wheelchair, or carrying a bag for an elderly person who was clearly struggling, or just offering a smile instead of a growl, and it truly was infectious. Two ‘old’ women (who very likely were younger than I am now) poured the last of the boiling water from their flask to give us a cup of tea when we looked frozen half to death in Knock, and we all know what a sacrifice that must have been.

What it all, in that case literally, boiled down to was not only a shared sense of purpose and faith, but a sense of belonging to a much greater family, one in which everyone looked out for each other and put their own needs second to the greater good. Even though my Catholic faith was wavering, my faith in people was reinforced, and I still often wish that the good I saw that day was a daily feature of my life, and not the occasional visitor it has become.

We live in a more connected world than at any time in history, but the connection that brings the most pleasure is simple human contact, especially when we are part of a crowd. I saw it again five years ago last week when, writing for this newspaper, I was in St Peter’s Square to see Pope Francis elected by the conclave of cardinals.

Lapsed Catholic or not, I still find mesmerising some of the ritual and pageantry of the Church, the rhythmic beat of traditions that date back two millennia, or maybe are more recent additions to the canon.

Collective

Francis was elected faster than anyone had predicted and when the white smoke bellowed from the chimney of the Sistine Chapel, the first reaction of the maybe 100,000 present was a collective gasp, then a cheer, then much speculation, before it was announced that Cardinal Bergoglio of Argentina would be the next Pope, and that he would be known as Francis.

The toytown army that is the Swiss Guard paraded, and then the new Pope emerged onto the balcony and the square went wild. And – do you know something? – I got it. I understood.

Faith can slip through your fingers, but when you’re raised Catholic, no more than probably is the case for those of other religions, it is part of your cultural DNA. Everything you do is either because of it, or an act of rebellion against it, but it still is a fulcrum for many of us who pick and choose. In Vatican City that night, I felt connected to my cultural Catholicism, even if I am now more black sheep than prodigal son.

That’s why I’m glad Pope Francis will be here at the end of August. A previous Pope’s visit brought joy to many, even to those of us who weren’t fully committed to the message but who still, in the faces of others, saw something that looked a lot like grace.

There is much still to be reconciled in the institutional Church, and hopefully the Pope will address some of the issues that must be aired, but I don’t subscribe to the protests at his visit. For the four in five who are still nominally Catholic, this is an important milestone. I’ll probably go along myself too, if only to see if the mood of two extraordinary days in my life – the first visit by one Pope, and the election of another – can be resurrected too.