Last week, I shared with you my "audio diary" of Pope Benedict's trip to our country. His journey to the United States and the great excitement he created by his presence among us stirred up memories of my various papal encounters through the years.

My first papal sighting was in the fall of 1960 when, as a new seminarian at the North American College in Rome, I attended a beatification presided over by Pope John XXIII, the so-called "Good Pope."

I remember vividly his entry into St. Peter's Basilica, carried by eight papal attendants on the pontifical "sedia." He was a portly man and very self-effacing. Indeed, it is rumored that when the cardinals were processing into the Sistine Chapel for the 1958 papal election, a nun whispered to her companion, "He's too old and ugly to be the Pope."

Overhearing her sharp observation, the soon-to-be-elected pontiff responded, "But, Sister, it's a conclave, not a beauty contest."

While chosen as a "caretaker pope" at the age of 78, following the 20-year reign of the princely Pius XII, Pope John XXIII exceeded everyone's expectations by convening the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s, which became the watershed event of 20th-century Catholicism and the most noteworthy occurrence in the Church since the Council of Trent had been convened to deal with the fallout from the Reformation.

Pope John XXIIII evidenced his peasant roots and radiated a joy and affability which were contagious. By opening the windows of the Church to the fresh air of change, his legacy of liturgical and scriptural renewal, ecumenical and interfaith dialogue, religious liberty and an understanding of the Church not as the hierarchy but as the people of God, continues to bear rich fruit.

While I never met him personally, over the next three years I was always inspired any time I attended a papal ceremony.

I remember the keen sense of loss I experienced on that warm June evening in 1963 when I had the opportunity to pass his coffin while he laid in state. Pope John's diary, "The Journal of a Soul," is a spiritual treasure which continues to guide me.

His successor, Pope Paul VI, was a diplomat by training and, because of his intimate knowledge of the Vatican bureaucracy, really was the perfect choice to bring to completion, and above all to implementation, the norms and reforms of the Second Vatican Council.

In contrast to John XXIII, Paul was a frail figure with a patrician bearing. The perpetually dark circles beneath his eyes reflected the intensity of his manner and the burdens he experienced in carrying forward the will of the Council Fathers despite the strong movement among some ecclesitical hard-liners for retrenchment.

After my ordination to the priesthood, Pope Paul VI received my classmates and our families in a private audience at the Apostolic Palace. He was very gracious and grateful to the priests and to their family members for the gifts of their sons and brothers to the service of the Church.

My only personal encounter with Paul VI after he appointed me Bishop of Albany 31 years ago occurred in April of 1978, on the occasion of my first ad limina visit to Rome.

Pope Paul VI appeared very weak and was obviously in poor health (he would die four months later). Nonetheless, he received the bishops from New York State warmly and with words of great hope and encouragement.

His love for the Church and his zeal for the apostolic mission of Jesus were palpable. The photo I have of his presenting me with a tray of religious souvenirs to mark the ad limina visit is my favorite.

Pope Paul's death gave rise to "the year of the three popes."

The Patriarch of Venice, Albino Luciani, was selected as his successor and took the name Pope John Paul I. His radiant smile and gregarious amiability captured the world's imagination. Unfortunately, his tenure was short-lived. In early fall, I was awakened at 2 a.m. by a reporter who wanted a comment on the Pope's death.

My initial reaction was that the call must be some type of prank. "Of course he died -- two months ago," I replied. "Why solicit a comment now, in the middle of the night, no less!"

Unfortunately, John Paul I had suffered a sudden fatal heart attack, and the promise of his genial papacy died with him.

Yet God would not leave the Church orphaned long, and the College of Cardinals soon elected the Archbishop of Krakow, Poland, Karol Wojtyla, as the next successor of St. Peter.

He chose the name John Paul II, honoring his two immediate predecessors. A relatively young man of 58, he was to reign for 27 years (1978-2005) and has garnered the accolade "Pope John Paul the Great."

He took the papacy global through his pastoral visits to every continent, and he was a prolific writer, teacher and preacher. I recall his riveting presence at some of the papal events I was privileged to witness here in the United States:

* decrying the gap between the rich and the poor in the "house that Ruth built," Yankee Stadium;

* standing in Battery Park against the backdrop of the Statue of Liberty, exhorting our nation to be true to its heritage of welcoming "your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free;"

* hugging Tony Melendez, the guitarist with no arms, at the conclusion of his remarkable musical performance at the Youth Rally held in Madison Square Garden; and

* mesmerizing teenagers and young adults assembled at Denver for World Youth Day, and feeding off their enthusiasm and adulation.

Most especially, I remember the personal encounters with John Paul II during ad limina visits: concelebrating the Eucharist in his private chapel, dining at his table and meeting with him alone in the papal library.

I was always impressed by the sincerity of his interest, the clarity of his vision, his apostolic zeal and fraternal affection, as well as by the prayerful demeanor he exuded.

I was most struck by the way he bore the burden of age and infirmity -- not hiding or denying the steady decline of his physical prowess or mental stamina, but embracing it, and witnessing to the power of suffering to lead us to that eternal life for which we are placed on earth and to which we are destined. He left a long shadow for his successor, Benedict XVI.

Pope Benedict is the first pontiff I met prior to his elevation by the College of Cardinals. Early one morning during our 1983 ad limina visit to the Eternal City, I spotted a distinguished-looking figure with a striking mane of white hair transversing St. Peter's piazza. He was dressed in a simple black cassock, briefcase in hand, and evidencing a serene countenance.

I thought to myself, "That looks like Cardinal Ratzinger. But I can't imagine that he just wanders around the Vatican by himself with no attendants or security."

The next day, when our group gathered at the Holy Office to meet with the Prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith, sure enough, it was the same gentleman I had seen the previous day in the piazza.

The Cardinal received us very enthusiastically. Unlike so many of the Congregational leaders with whom we meet, he didn't have a prepared text or a stern message to deliver. Rather, Cardinal Ratzinger stated he wanted to listen and to learn from us about the pastoral issues we were encountering.

He engaged in dialogue and entertained our questions, comments and observations. His own responses were carefully crafted and nuanced, yet candid and persuasive. All the bishops were impressed by his intelligence, his vision, his grasp of the issues -- but, most importantly, by his collegial and fraternal style.

In subsequent ad limina visits, his was the audience no one wanted to miss.

Pope Benedict's visit last month was a wonderful opportunity for him to introduce himself to Catholics in the U.S. and to our nation at large. For over two decades, he had been known primarily as the defender of orthodoxy -- or, more recently, for the comments he made about Islam and for his approval of the revised Good Friday prayer for the Jews in the Tridentine rite, both of which stirred controversy and reinforced his long-standing image as a polarizing figure.

Much to the surprise of the press, especially, but also to those who attended his events or viewed them on television, the Pope came across not as a fiery prophet throwing thunderbolts or an inquisitor sniffing out heresy, but as an erudite preacher, engaging teacher and gentle pastor who wanted to affirm, encourage and support.

Benedict radiated warmth and gentleness, especially in relating to the young, disabled, elderly and infirm. His approach to and comments about the clergy abuse crisis and his concern for the faithful priests who have been impacted negatively by this "deep shame" were widely welcomed.

Further, in the conversational and pastoral tone of his homilies, as The Tablet (newspaper of the Brooklyn Diocese) suggested in a recent article, he presented himself more "as a thinker out loud than a Pope who wants to turn his personal opinions into Church doctrines," more as a kindly father to be revered than a scolding teacher to be feared.

I pray, then, that the memories of the Pope's visit and his message will live on. In particular, I hope that Benedict may be able to deepen that unity within the Church and among Christians which has become a major goal of his pontificate, and that in a time of growing secularization and religious fanaticism he will be able to demonstrate to the world that harmony which can and should exist between faith and reason.


Faithfully yours in Christ,


Howard J. Hubbard 
Bishop of Albany

(05/01/08)