Pope John's life and message only make sense if we see them as given wholeheartedly to

the service of Church in full acceptance of all her teachings, argues Joanna Bogle
ope John XXIII has long been the hero of Catholic liberals — "Good Pope John" who challenged basic Catholic teachings, who believed that all religions were equal, who wanted to change the teaching on artificial contraception, who really sought the ordination of women and/or the abolition of any sense of the ordained priesthood.
Except that all this is a myth. He never — and I do mean never — sought any of these things, and emerges from his published pronouncements, personal spiritual diaries, record of active ministry, and letters to friends and family, as an utterly traditional orthodox Catholic priest, very much of the old school, utterly opposed to any changes in Church doctrine or teaching.
Where did the mythology of John XXIII arise? Almost certainly in the minds and plans of those who had their own agenda, and who sought a kind of "patron saint", providing a comfort-zone in which to operate and a fantasy to set before those whose support they needed in order to achieve their aims.
It is really inaccurate to describe most of these people as "liberals" since their approach has, for the past 30 years, often been exceedingly illiberal, denouncing those who oppose their ideas and often seeking to make life very unpleasant for them. They have been remarkably successful: brave today would be the priest who, for example, preached openly against artificial contraception (even the sinfulness of abortion is but rarely mentioned from most pulpits) or who dares to make a clear statement affirming the Church's teaching on a male priesthood.
Pope John deserves to be treated on his merits, especially as his cause for canonisation is now proceeding and future generations will see him listed in our annual calendar of saints.
"I must beware of the audacity of those who, with unseeing minds led away by secret pride, presume to do God's work without having been called to do so by God speaking through his Church, as if the divine Redeemer had any need of their worthless co-operation, or indeed of any man's" , he wrote in 1961, in a retreat during his papacy. "What is important is to co-operate with God for the salvation of souls, and of the whole world. This is our true mission, which reaches its highest expression in the Pope."
He saw this salvation as coming specifically through Jesus Christ earlier, when Papal representative in Turkey and Greece, he had written: "The problem of the conversion of the irreligious and apostate world presents one of the mysteries which weigh most heavily on my soul. However, the solution is not my business but the Lord's secret. On my shoulders, on the shoulders of all priests, rests the solemn duty of working together for the conversion of this impious world and for the return of heretics and schismatics to the unity of the Church and the preaching ofChrist to the Jews who put him to death."
There was a serenity about Pope John he really did trust-in God and his belief that everyone needs Christ rested on a simple faith that somehow, in His own way, God would answer that need: "Our sole comfort, but it is enough for our peace of minds, is knowing that Jesus the Saviour is much more anxious than we are for the salvation of souls; he wants them to be saved through our co-operation, but it is his grace alone, working in their souls, that
saves them, and his grace will not be lacking when the moment comes for their conversion."
John XXII certainly was not unaware of changes and fresh nuances in Church thinking, but he took an extremely traditional approach to such things. His own seminary days had been at a time of considerable debate and challenge within the Church: "The wind of modernity, sometimes impetuous and at other times gentle and caressing, which was afterwards to degenerate in part into so-called Modnistri,Afas bfowing almost everywhere, and was to poison the heart and soul of many. Especially during the first months it was a temptation to everyone." He recalled that the professors were quick to impose restrictions and seemed opposed to any modern trends in study or ways of thinking: "In fact, after a short time the turn of events proved them quite right and showed the timeliness, foresight, wisdom and prachcai good sense of their attitude." He praised the work of one particular priest, ensuring that "not one of us has faltered or strayed from the straight path of being 'of one mind with the Church' in all things." It was important, if anything, to be rather strait-laced so that in due course experience could show "the exact middle point where truth, justice, and charity meet".
Some of Pope John's writings read today in a rather cloying way he copied out favourite prayers or verses and wrote meditations following conferences with his spiritual director. He came from a devout family and after a brief spell of compulsory military service went to a seminary. The modern reader this one, at any rate finds it easier to identify with the prose and poetry of John Paul II, fruit of years working in a stone quarry, in amateur theatre, in underground groups in a Poland at war. To read "The Jeweller's Shop" or JP II's discourses on the theology of the body is to see a mind which is at ease with the thoughts and feelings of women as well as of men a long way from Pope John whose seminary formation, essentially on a 19th century model, saw women principally as a threat and certainly not people whose co-operation or friendship could be sought. Early in his training, he vowed never to look a young woman in the face, nor to confide in such people in any way and, even with women related to him, to be "particularly cautious, avoiding their familiarity, company or conversation, particularly if they are young women". Actually, as a private rule of life, this makes sense for one committed to priestly celibacy. But it reads oddly in a world where reasonable dignified friendly conversation between men and women, priests and laity, is considered normal.
Good Pope John had the qualities of a saint humility, prudence, chastity, a great love of Christ and the Church, a zeal for souls, a sense of awe in God's presence, a large and generous heart that sought the good, especially the spiritual good, of other people. But his life and message only make sense if we see them as given wholeheartedly to the service of the Church in full acceptance of all her teachings.
To claim him as a model for those who would disobey the Church, even in quite small things, is to dishonour his memory, falsify history, and make nonsense of a life given over wholly to a particularly traditional brand of Roman Catholicism.