His critics may bicker, but many still call him 'a man who spoke from principle'
By Jay Tolson
Though his harshest critics sometimes suggest as much, Pope John Paul II's reputation will not be dominated by the sex-abuse scandals that rocked the Roman Catholic Church during the latter years of his reign.
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Our photo gallery spans the pope's youth to his last days at the vatican.
Liberals, of course, are quick to charge that this pope's unyielding stand on a celibate clergy aggravated the problem. In his book Papal Sin: Structures of Deceit, for instance, historian Garry Wills observes that many people "suspect that John Paul's real legacy to his church is a gay priesthood." But even Wills, a devout Catholic and a former seminarian, admits that such a view is overstated. For their part, conservatives, who are generally far less critical of John Paul, quietly regret that the Polish-born pontiff was not more attentive to matters of church governance. Michael Novak, author of numerous books on religion and society and an influential Catholic thinker, freely acknowledges the pope's managerial shortcomings. But, like other conservatives, he makes generous allowances for them. If John Paul left the church with "a lot of housecleaning" to be done, Novak says from his office at the American Enterprise Institute, it was because "he would rather be the universal pastor than run the Vatican."
However deep their criticisms, most liberal and conservative observers of John Paul's papacy would agree with the appraisal of the Rev. Thomas Reese, editor of the Jesuit weekly America: "In a world full of politicians, he was a man who spoke from principle." They would agree, too, that the pope's principled positions had a decisive influence on the course of history during the last quarter of the 20th century, an influence that went far beyond the church that he ruled. Whether helping to bring down the Soviet empire in Eastern Europe or criticizing right-wing despots like Chile's Augusto Pinochet, whether speaking for the poor or inveighing against the corruptions of materialism, he made the defense of human freedom and dignity as much a part of his ministry as his resolute positions on human sexuality, contraception, abortion, and a strictly male and celibate priesthood.
If such a generally respectful view of the pope's larger achievement spans the liberal-conservative spectrum, does criticism of his papacy amount to anything more than petty grievances? It might not seem to. But, in fact, there is a deeper critical current that cannot be dismissed as trivial. That current takes in a wide range of disagreements with the papal magisterium (teaching) on an assortment of hot-button issues, including the role of women in the church. But, at the deepest level, it flows from a shared sentiment that Pope John Paul II tried to undo what the Second Vatican Council (1962–65) achieved—or at least what its initiator, John XXIII, attempted to achieve before he died in 1963 and was succeeded by the more cautious and vacillating Paul VI.
A description of the changes John XXIII sought almost defies simple formulation. But in his book Why I Am a Catholic, Garry Wills takes a stab. "Anyone familiar with papal teachings being enforced," Wills writes, "right up to the opening of the council—on Jews, on freedom of conscience, on disciplines imposed under pain of mortal sin, on ways of worship, on the nature of revelation, on the tools of biblical interpretation, on the role of bishops, on relations with other churches, on the competence of secular authority, on the promise of science and progress, on the centrality of Scholasticism—must think the reversals across a broad front almost miraculous."
