Pope honors King Clovis and mollifies the French

National Catholic Reporter, Oct 4, 1996 by Donna Singles

LYON, France - Fog and drizzle greeted Pope John Paul II's arrival on French soil Sept. 19. Some thought the dreariness might be an omen - protests and threats had augured badly for weeks before - but during the next four days the sun shone more benevolently on the French visit than most people had dared to hope.

The declared purpose of the pope's visit was to commemorate the 1,500th anniversary of the baptism of King Clovis. The pope's indiscreet linking of this event to the birth of the French nation created a chilly atmosphere with which the soggy red carpet on the tarmac now seemed to be in sympathy.

French President Jacques Chirac risked national disapproval by going to Tours airport to greet the pontiff. Everyone involved risked stumbling over historical sore spots and pregnant symbols at every step. The Tours city hall, for example, where Chirac took the pope for their 20-minute private conversation, had been a Visitation convent until it was confiscated in the French Revolution in 1789.

In his words of welcome, Chirac tiptoed adroitly over the diplomatic thin ice, telling the pope that he had come to a country whose culture and sensibility have been nourished by centuries of Catholicism and that many French people recognize themselves in the gospel the pope preaches. It was pure Chirac, but the words only deepened the impression that the French church was a thing of the past.

A thoughtful sun came out in late afternoon for the pope's helicopter ride to St. Laurent sur Sevres, the first of four stops on his itinerary, a seemingly godforsaken village in rural Vendee. A written invitation was required to get within 500 yards of the village. This stop, it turned out, was more personal than pastoral. He had come to pay tribute to St. Louis Marie Grignion de Montfort, a little-known 18th century priest, who had both influenced John Paul's priestly vocation and instilled his lifelong devotion to Mary.

In 1942, while he was working in a factory in Poland, someone gave the young Wojtyla de Montfort's True Devotion to the Virgin Mary, which became his constant, bedside reading. De Montfort's Marian motto is also inscribed on the pope's coat of arms: Totus tuus sum ego - I am entirely yours.

The pastoral aspect of the papal trip was more evident Sept. 20 at the shrine of St. Anne d'Auray on the Morbihan coast of southern Brittany, a land of megaliths and fishing boats, of wild mint and heather, the sandy beaches swept clean by robust winds off the ocean. This part of France belongs less to Mary than to St. Anne, who appeared to an unlettered peasant, Yves Nicolazic, in 1628 and asked him to restore her shrine. People had waited all through the night with patience and good humor for a good seat. The crowd of 120,000 seemed to energize John Paul, who, people said, looked less tired than on recent outings.

At the outdoor Mass he referred to France's rich, complicated church history. "This faith, which is your common heritage," he went on, "is met with numerous problems." Among the problems: "Some cannot accept others in their differences," a reference to currently deep divisions in French society over how to treat immigrants. Here the pope pointedly distanced himself and the church from right-wing political leader Jean-Marie le Pen who last month said he believed in "the inequality of races." Le Pen was a potential embarrassment to the Vatican because his National Front Party has embraced Clovis as a French national hero.

Although the pope toned down his usual stridency with regard to controversial issues such as birth control and abortion, he nevertheless won most resounding applause when he reminded his audience, "Every human being that is conceived has the right to exist."

At Tours, Sept. 21, a huge structure had been erected for the pope's Mass, yet another cause for critics to complain about the estimated $6 million spent on the trip by state and local authorities. One bishop remarked resignedly that there would be debts to pay for a long time to come. But it was worth every penny, he went on.

No women were visible in the "sanctuary." While there were Protestant and Orthodox delegations, no Muslim or Jewish representatives had been invited since the celebration was intended strictly for Christians. Although France is 83 percent Catholic, only a small percentage regularly attends Mass.

In the basilica dedicated to St. Martin, the fourth century soldier-saint famous for giving away half, his cloak to a freezing beggar, the congregation included about 400 unlikely people "hurt by life": prostitutes, homosexuals, the disabled, battered women, former prisoners, AIDS patients. "Like St. Martin," the pope said, "we are invited to open our eyes and recognize in the poor person dying of, cold at the gates of the city, in the stranger who knocks at our door, a brother to be welcomed and loved."

Sunday, Sept. 22, was the crucial day everyone had been waiting for: the Clovis celebration at Reims, attended by some 200,000 faithful. Among the assembled prelates at the Mass was Bishop Jacques Gaillot, removed from his see in Evreux in 1994 for opposing papal views on sexual and other matters.