Solemn, he walked down to a different land to 1979

POPE FRANCIS looked relaxed, but maybe a little pensive too, as he emerged from the aeroplane after touching down in Dublin Airport shortly before 10.30am. At the door of the Alitalia A320, standing remarkably ramrod straight for a man of 81, he removed his cap and allowed his cape to be ruffled by a gentle breeze before an aide spared him any embarrassment and pulled it back into place; for a moment, it had looked like it might obscure his face, as happened four decades ago when Pope John Paul II knelt to kiss the Tarmac and disappeared beneath a veil of silk.

There was no such effusive gesture, no wave or smile from the top of the steps from Pope Francis. Perhaps mindful of the difficult lead-up to his visit for the World Meeting of Families and the meeting with abuse victims that lay ahead, he must have known he was arriving into an Ireland very different from the one that experienced a weekend of mass joy back in 1979.

In the wake of the Pennsylvania report on child sex abuse, the eyes of the wider world too were focused once again on the failure of the Catholic Church to protect children. Those revelations, not just of abuse but of cover-up too, and the horrors of our own past, have dominated the agenda for what was initially planned as a joyful pastoral visit to conclude the WMOF.

It was only when he was greeted by Tánaiste Simon Coveney, his wife Ruth, and their three young daughters, that the warm and very human smile for which he is renowned burst into life on the Pope’s face. Beth, Jessica and Analise Coveney welcomed him in English, Irish and Spanish, and each received a gentle pat on the head and set of Rosary beads in reward. Not everything goes to plan, though, and there was a minor glitch when Analise, who is only five, backed out of presenting the Pope with a simple posy of roses in the Vatican colours of yellow and white. Not even the promise of a new kitten could change her mind, so elder sister Jess stepped in.

Almost as excited was three-yearold German Shepherd Lou, who works alongside Dublin Airport Police. Lou barked as the plane arrived, like one of those dogs in a war film who is first to hear the safe return from a mission.

Francis also met the Boland family from Nenagh in Co. Tipperary. Daughter Jane, 11, entered and won a competition organised by World Missions Ireland to design a vestment that His Holiness will wear at some point during his visit. Her winning entry was a motif expressing her hope that the world would become a better place. Flanked by her parents Ruairi and Maura, and younger brothers Daniel and Tom, Jane presented her gift to the Pope and beamed when he thanked her and said: ‘That’s very nice of you.’

The Pope and his entourage, including over 70 international journalists, parked on the western apron, a restricted zone at the airport, and the scene was very different to 1979 when Pope John Paul II was greeted by cheering members of the public, who thronged the now-closed rooftop galleries. Modern security concerns and health and safety rules meant this Papal

arrival was a private event, attended only by the two families, media, top-ranking Garda officials and a number of clergy including Cardinal Kevin Farrell, Archbishop Diarmuid Martin (warmly embraced), Cardinal Seán Brady, Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of all Ireland Eamon Martin, Archbishop of Tuam Michael Neary, and Church of Ireland Archbishop of Dublin and Bishop of Glendalough Michael Jackson.

Pope Francis famously eschews the luxuries favoured by his predecessors, and when in Rome he drives around in a Ford Focus. For this visit, his transport is a specially modified Skoda Rapid bearing the SCV 1 Vatican number plate. It popped up again later on the Popemobile; just as any aircraft on which a US president flies is called Air Force One, the Papal registration plate goes with the man not the car.

The motorcade of around 20 vehicles proceeded across the M1 motorway at the Ballymun junction and passed a queue of cars waiting to leave IKEA; the occupants who spend the weekend assembling flatpack furniture might find themselves invoking the Lord’s name more often even than the Pope.

He continued through Glasnevin and Dorset Street before taking the North Circular Road to Phoenix Park. On arrival at Áras an Uachtaráin, five minutes behind schedule, he was welcomed by President Higgins and his wife Sabina, along with Children’s Minister Katherine Zappone (a pointed choice given the current controversies).

Ms Zappone had an extended conversation with the Pontiff, and later he said her words would ‘stay in my heart’ – the minister’s office has promised it will share them publicly tomorrow. Also in the reception party were secretary-general to the President Art O’Leary, ambassador to the Holy See Emma Madigan, presidential adviser Claire Power, Defence Forces chief of staff Mark Mellett, acting Garda Commissioner Dónal Ó Cualáin, and Miriam Dollard of the Taoiseach’s Department.

In the state reception room, with its twin chandeliers, elaborate cornices, gilt inlays and marble-topped side tables, the atmosphere was informal. With the President to his right and Mrs Higgins to his left, the Pope signed the visitors’ book, where he inscribed a message of gratitude and offered his prayers. ‘

In the grounds of the Áras, the Pontiff planted an Irish oak tree on the lawn facing the south portico, close to the one placed in the soil by Pope John Paul II. In this he followed in a long line of famous planters – every president to date, along with Queen Elizabeth, and Presidents Clinton and Obama among them. In a gesture of inclusion that signified the emergence of a new Ireland, a family of Syrian asylum seekers witnessed the ceremony.

In the private meeting that followed, President Higgins raised the issue of child sex abuse and spoke of the widespread anger at what was perceived to be impunity for those who had the responsibility of bringing abuse to the authorities and, in many cases, still have not done so. This was the third meeting between the two heads of state, wise men of an age, and they also

continued their previous discussions on a wide range of issues of mutual concern, especially the need for global cooperation in addressing the challenges of climate change, inequality, poverty, violent conflict and migration.

The WMOF, as we know, focused on a very specific definition of family, one that no longer fully embraces the diversity of Irish families today. Addressing the concerns of marginalised Catholics, the President spoke of how the achievement of an equality of rights defined a Republic, and how acts of exclusion, including those based on gender and sexual orientation, had caused, and still caused, great suffering.

As Pope Francis left the Áras, he was warmly clasped by Mrs Higgins, who seemed to be overwhelmed by the emotion of the occasion, and she and the President waved off not just the Pope himself but his entire entourage, right to the very last car in the motorcade.

The President’s message was reiterated when the Pope continued to Dublin Castle to meet the Taoiseach, who acknowledged the good done by the Church, but also its flaws. Leo Varadkar said the past treatment of many women and young people by Church and State had left a history of ‘sorrow and shame’.

‘In place of Christian charity, forgiveness and compassion, far too often there was judgment, severity and cruelty, in particular towards women and children, and those on the margins,’ he said. ‘Magdalene Laundries, Mother and Baby Homes, industrial schools, illegal adoptions and clerical child abuse are stains on our State, our society, and also the Catholic Church. Wounds are still open and there is much to be done to bring about justice and truth and healing for victims and survivors. Holy Father, I ask that you use your office and influence to ensure this is done here in Ireland and across the world.’

Pointing out that in a changed Ireland, one in six of the population were not born here (including Mr Varadkar’s own father, of course, who immigrated from India), he pointed out that a growing number adhere to other faiths, or are comfortable in declaring that they subscribe to no religion at all.

‘Holy Father, I believe that the time has now come for us to build a new relationship between Church and State in Ireland, a new covenant for the 21st Century,’ he concluded. ‘It is my hope that your visit marks the opening of a new chapter in the relationship between Ireland and the Catholic Church... one in which religion is no longer at the centre of our society, but in which it still has an important place.’

For his part, Pope Francis was conciliatory. ‘With regard to the most vulnerable, I cannot fail to acknowledge the grave scandal caused in Ireland by the abuse of young people by members of the Church charged with responsibility for their protection and education,’ he said. ‘The failure of ecclesiastical authorities – bishops, religious superiors, priests and others – adequately to address these repellent crimes has rightly given rise to outrage and remains a source of pain and shame for the Catholic community. I share those sentiments.’

Where he fell short in the eyes of survivors was in a failure to promise practical change in the future – making mandatory reporting part of canon law as it is in civil law, and releasing records on historical abuse that might lead to prosecutions in cases where the perpetrators still are alive.

As the two men walked down the carpeted aisle towards the doorway after delivering their respective speeches in St Patrick’s Hall, a grey-haired man made a sideways step, reached out for the Pope’s hand and, with head bowed, kissed the traditional Ring of the Fisherman worn by all Popes since St Peter became the first leader of the Catholic Church. It was an extraordinarily reverential gesture, all the more so considering the man was the only one amid a sea of political VIPs past and present to show the age-old mark of respect to the leader of 1.2billion Catholics.

Despite the Taoiseach extending an official Céad Míle Fáilte, this was a restrained welcome from official Ireland. Polite, certainly, but awkward at times too. Throughout much of the Pope’s 15-minute speech, delivered in Italian, Mr Varadkar seemed ill at ease, though that seems his default position at

the best of times. He knows there are two distinct constituencies watching his every move – traditionalists who want him to be respectful of their faith and the faith of their fathers, and the loud voices of secular Ireland, who clearly wanted him to deliver a stern rebuke.

Over-thinking how best to play it, he sat bolt upright on a wooden chair upholstered in green brocade, his polished black shoes placed about two feet apart. There was, fortunately, no sign of religionthemed socks.

As the Pope addressed the assembled dignitaries in the hushed silence, the Taoiseach fidgeted, seemingly unable to make up his mind where to put his hands. Should he place them on his lap, with his thumbs held up like children do when they are playing ‘here’s the church, and here’s the steeple’, or across his chest with his fingers turned inwards?

He took several sips of water in between staring into the far distance, looking at nothing in particular, then straight at the capacity crowd that included former US President Bill Clinton’s envoy to Northern Ireland George Mitchell, former President Mary McAleese, former taoisigh Bertie Ahern and Brian Cowen, several Cabinet members, Fianna Fáil leader Micheál Martin, clerical abuse campaigners Colm O’Gorman and Marie Collins, Dublin Lord Mayor Nial Ring and disability campaigner Joanne O’Riordan. Eventually, he looked in the Pope’s direction as the Pontiff spoke of the failure of his church to deal with sex abuse.

His demeanour was in stark contrast to that of the Pope, who sat calmly, motionless, never once averting his gaze as Mr Varadkar rebuked the Church for its mistreatment of unmarried mothers, gay people, and the victims of clerical sex abuse. When they left the elevated podium, there was no small talk or social niceties, and instead of walking shoulder to shoulder, the Taoiseach stayed a few feet behind, looking for all the world like a consort to a monarch.

Their only significant exchange was when the