Two years ago today: We ♥ U Papa
Cofton Park, Birmingham
I have neither taste nor talent for the sort of work which you cut out for me. And besides, Birmingham people have souls.
- John Henry Newman, 1864 (on declining a request from a Vatican official to go to Rome to give a series of sermons to visiting English aristocrats).
Clifford Longley, in The Tablet that week (25.9.10), caught the mood of the Pope's visit to Britain perfectly:
There were two fifth columns that nobody had bargained for: ordinary British Catholics who decided spontaneously to stand up and be counted; and ordinary British people with open minds and sense of fair play. The former bought tickets for the set-piece events, some even giving up a night’s sleep to stand for hours in a wet and muddy field on the outskirts of Birmingham. The latter let curiosity and a desire to be touched by history move them to join Catholic crowds on the streets of Edinburgh, Glasgow and London to wait, watch and wave. The Catholic masses and the broader public formed a resonating feedback loop via the media, learning how to behave as bystanders on a papal route from what they saw others doing and feeling on television the night before. It was Diana moment.
By then there was nothing the protesters or the media could do to blow the Pope off course. They began to seem deaf to the zeitgeist. What could have been a papal disaster and national disgrace became for Pope Benedict, for the organisers, and above all for the ordinary people of Britain, Catholics included, a significant and memorable victory.
First prize goes to those feisty Catholic teenagers who seemed to be everywhere, laughing, having the time of their lives. Catholic, yes. But typical teenagers, very normal. “Pope Benedict, we love you more than beans on toast,” said one of their banners. They were loving it and saying so, with joyous exuberance at being near the Pope and being on the telly simultaneously. Whatever they were on, I wanted some.
Completely by chance, the TV cameras cut between these appealingly giddy young people in Hyde Park and the grim and serious business of “protesting the Pope”, as the opposition marchers called what they spent Saturday afternoon doing. It was Cavaliers versus Roundheads, and, televisually, no contest. No doubt the protesters spoke for many more, as the polls had suggested. But if voting was by one’s feet, the Cavalier party seemed to win by a factor of 20 or more. If I were Peter Tatchell, I would be a little bit embarrassed.
Their fundamental mistake, in order to correct the earlier error of sounding like bigoted anti-Catholics, was to try to separate Catholics from their Pope. It wasn’t the majority they were against, they said, just this one man and his outrageous opinions – which many Catholics disagreed with. That last bit may be half true, though this Pope’s teachings differ hardly at all from the last one’s. And when it comes to the list of anti-Pope grievances drawn up by Mr Tatchell – though not those of the ludicrous Richard Dawkins – there are bits here and there with which I can sympathise.
But the effect on me of their general nastiness was to want to go and join the Swiss Guard. Yet Pope Benedict himself is surely a bit of a Roundhead, a touch Puritan. His addresses were utterly serious, though brilliantly calculated to connect with many of the things the British are worried about. But if his thoughts didn’t appeal directly to the senses, the gorgeous sights and sounds certainly did. It was Charles II’s time again, rumbustious and slightly irreverent. Thank you, God, for teenagers.
More here.
On 19th September 2010, John Henry Newman was beatified by Pope Benedict XVI at Cofton Park in Birmingham.
Two years ago today: We ♥ U Papa
Cofton Park, Birmingham
I have neither taste nor talent for the sort of work which you cut out for me. And besides, Birmingham people have souls.
- John Henry Newman, 1864 (on declining a request from a Vatican official to go to Rome to give a series of sermons to visiting English aristocrats).
Clifford Longley, in The Tablet that week (25.9.10), caught the mood of the Pope's visit to Britain perfectly:
There were two fifth columns that nobody had bargained for: ordinary British Catholics who decided spontaneously to stand up and be counted; and ordinary British people with open minds and sense of fair play. The former bought tickets for the set-piece events, some even giving up a night’s sleep to stand for hours in a wet and muddy field on the outskirts of Birmingham. The latter let curiosity and a desire to be touched by history move them to join Catholic crowds on the streets of Edinburgh, Glasgow and London to wait, watch and wave. The Catholic masses and the broader public formed a resonating feedback loop via the media, learning how to behave as bystanders on a papal route from what they saw others doing and feeling on television the night before. It was Diana moment.
By then there was nothing the protesters or the media could do to blow the Pope off course. They began to seem deaf to the zeitgeist. What could have been a papal disaster and national disgrace became for Pope Benedict, for the organisers, and above all for the ordinary people of Britain, Catholics included, a significant and memorable victory.
First prize goes to those feisty Catholic teenagers who seemed to be everywhere, laughing, having the time of their lives. Catholic, yes. But typical teenagers, very normal. “Pope Benedict, we love you more than beans on toast,” said one of their banners. They were loving it and saying so, with joyous exuberance at being near the Pope and being on the telly simultaneously. Whatever they were on, I wanted some.
Completely by chance, the TV cameras cut between these appealingly giddy young people in Hyde Park and the grim and serious business of “protesting the Pope”, as the opposition marchers called what they spent Saturday afternoon doing. It was Cavaliers versus Roundheads, and, televisually, no contest. No doubt the protesters spoke for many more, as the polls had suggested. But if voting was by one’s feet, the Cavalier party seemed to win by a factor of 20 or more. If I were Peter Tatchell, I would be a little bit embarrassed.
Their fundamental mistake, in order to correct the earlier error of sounding like bigoted anti-Catholics, was to try to separate Catholics from their Pope. It wasn’t the majority they were against, they said, just this one man and his outrageous opinions – which many Catholics disagreed with. That last bit may be half true, though this Pope’s teachings differ hardly at all from the last one’s. And when it comes to the list of anti-Pope grievances drawn up by Mr Tatchell – though not those of the ludicrous Richard Dawkins – there are bits here and there with which I can sympathise.
But the effect on me of their general nastiness was to want to go and join the Swiss Guard. Yet Pope Benedict himself is surely a bit of a Roundhead, a touch Puritan. His addresses were utterly serious, though brilliantly calculated to connect with many of the things the British are worried about. But if his thoughts didn’t appeal directly to the senses, the gorgeous sights and sounds certainly did. It was Charles II’s time again, rumbustious and slightly irreverent. Thank you, God, for teenagers.
More here.
On 19th September 2010, John Henry Newman was beatified by Pope Benedict XVI at Cofton Park in Birmingham.