Warm Welcome for Pope "Juan Pablo"

On his first journey, the new Pontiff visits Mexico for a critical bishops'conference

The first quake struck shortly before dawn, a strong, 6.3 nimbler that shook Mexico City a bit and unsettled the populace but inflicted no major damage. The really big quake hit nine hours later, when Pope John Paul II arrived at an airport named for a Mexican President famed for promulgating harsh anti-Catholic laws. John Paul had chosen to make this, his first international journey, to open a critical meeting of bishops from the length of Latin America that will provide the first major look at the policies of his fledgling papacy.

He walked, arms extended, off the aircraft and quickly fell to his knees to kiss the Mexican soil. The first people to greet him were Mexico's President Jose Lopez Portillo and his wife. Under the nation's anticlerical protocol, the Pope was an "unofficial" guest, and the President gave him a handshake instead of a warm Latin embrace. No matter. It seemed as if at least half of the 13 million people who live in greater Mexico City had turned out to welcome him with an overwhelming display of warmth. Along his motor route, there was near hysteria in spots as nuns and urbanites alike jostled to get a glimpse of the Polish-born visitor. Business and traffic came to a standstill.

At the Zocalo, the capital's huge central square, there were cheers for "Juan Pablo" and banners reading CHRISTIANITY YES, SOCIALISM NO and MEXICO IS CATHOLIC. Not so many years ago, such sentiments would have earned the sign carriers a trip to the police station. "I didn't think I would live to see the day," beamed Carpenter Juan Martinez Barrios, 75. The Pope entered the Metropolitan Cathedral to recite, in well-rehearsed and nearly flawless Spanish, the first Papal Mass in Mexican history. For several weeks he had spent up to an hour a day brushing up on the language.

The emotional high point of the visit came the following day, as John Paul rode across the city to the shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe, spiritual center of the nation. Police estimated that 5 million Mexicans congregated in the blazing sun to see the Pope, with 200,000 more outside the Guadalupe basilica. As the oceans of people cheered and waved yellow-and-white (the papal colors) pennants, the Pontiff began a slow parade across the plaza.

During the Mass inside the starkly modern new basilica, the Pope read his sermon from a prepared Spanish text. He frequently invoked the Virgin Mary, who is venerated in his homeland as fervently as she is in Mexico. Said he: "We offer you the whole of this people of God. We offer you the church in Mexico and on the whole continent. We offer it to you as your own." Mindful of Latin America's desperate shortage of priests, he said later, "O Mother, awaken in the younger generation readiness for the exclusive service of God; implore for us abundant local vocations to the priesthood."

The Mass inaugurated the third meeting of the Latin American Bishops' Conference (CELAM); the earlier parleys were held in 1955 and 1968. The Pope's sermon included seven carefully honed paragraphs that constituted a mini-keynote speech. John Paul will amplify these public words during his private meetings with bishops this week at the city of Puebla, site of the 17-day meeting.

Since the 1968 CELAM session at Medellin, Colombia, where ringing calls for political and economic justice were issued, the continent has been roiled by bitter church-state conflicts. Angry debate raged over priestly activism, and some younger priests and missionaries responded to governmental oppression by embracing Marxist ideas under the banner of "liberation theology."

The Pope's strategy for countering liberation theology was to take the term and broaden its definition. In his sermon, he spoke of "integral liberation" of the Latin American "seen in his entirety," an apparent indication that in his view, liberation theology has emphasized political and economic needs to the neglect of man's spiritual aspects. He added that the church should show "preferential yet not exclusive love for the poor."

The Pope reaffirmed the Medellin decrees, but spoke of them as "our point of departure." In the decade since, he said, "interpretations have been given that have been at times contradictory, not always correct, not always beneficial for the church." He did not elaborate on this intriguing statement, but sources close to John Paul indicate that he is deeply concerned over Marxist infiltration among Latin American priests. From this first glimpse, it seems that John Paul will seek to fend off further Marxist inroads while blending the church's spiritual resources with firm commitment to social justice and human rights.

As a site for a papal visit, Mexico abounds with historical paradox. So ingrained is anticlericalism in this overwhelmingly Catholic land that President Lopez Portillo was under considerable pressure not to see the Pope at all, much less greet him upon his arrival. Under Mexican law, John Paul could have been fined for wearing clerical garb in public. Of course, that law is now winked at, as are constitutional provisions that prohibit the church from operating schools and priests from saying anything about political matters.

Catholicism was established in Mexico in 1524 by a dozen Franciscan friars who befriended the conquered Indians. But the priesthood soon became a virtual chaplaincy to the Spanish overlords. In 1531, according to legend, the brown-skinned Virgin of Guadalupe chose to appear to a lowly Indian rather than to the conquistadors. A nationalistic cult was born, and even today Mary often outranks Jesus Christ in Mexican adoration. The two priests who led the first struggle for independence in the early 19th century carried banners of the Virgin. Both were excommunicated by the rich official church, which again and again sided with the oligarchs and laid the ground for the hostility that persists to this day. Yet the church's role in Mexico, as elsewhere in Latin America, is now reversing. The ruling P.R.I, party is revolutionary in name only. Though the majority of Mexican bishops are still conservative as well, an articulate group in the hierarchy lobbies on behalf of the poor --and risks reprisals in so doing. Last year, vigilantes murdered two progressive priests, and government goons raided a number of liberal Catholic organizations. Still, the liberals continue to speak out. Last December nine bishops in the southern states condemned persecution, jailings, torture and murder of Indian peasants in the area. Just this sort of clerical activism will be a major topic at the bishops' conference that John Paul opened last week.

At 8:20 Thursday morning, the Pope's chartered Alitalia DC-10 took off from Rome. He was assigned a window seat, covered with white velvet, in the forward compartment. His Polish secretary, Father Stanislaw Dziwisz, sat next to him, and four seats were left open for conferences with aides. A middle cabin was reserved for Vatican staff: 54 cameramen and reporters, including TIME'S Wilton Wynn, rode in the third section. On the last international papal tour, in 1970, Pope Paul VI made brief, formal visits to the press section. John Paul went back to see the journalists a half-hour after takeoff, and his visit was neither brief nor formal. For more than an hour he worked the aisle, chatting with the newsmen and answering questions in five languages. It amounted to an unprecedented papal press conference. Several times an aide tried to cut off a question that was deemed too pointed. Each time the Pontiff, with a wave of the hand, let it be known that he wanted to respond.

Does he enjoy the papacy? "What's to enjoy? It is a duty. I enjoy the help of divine grace and lots of help from the people." Someone rephrased the question, and, patiently, he answered. "I enjoy working. It is my unique life to concentrate all the strength I have on this job." Will he visit the U.S., as was widely rumored last week? "I suppose it will be necessary, but the time has not yet been fixed." What does he think of socialism in Latin America, one of the touchiest issues for the bishops' meeting? "We must begin with a historical study of what socialism means. What are its various versions? If there is an atheistic version--not compatible with the Christian concept of man, of his rights, and with Christian morality--I think this socialism is not acceptable."

Later in the flight, the Pope dined on lobster, ham, veal in wine, cheese, chestnut tart, fresh fruit and selected Italian wines, the same menu that the other travelers enjoyed. Conferring with him over lunch were Giuseppe Caprio, the No. 2 man in the Vatican Secretariat of State; Agostino Casaroli, the so-called Vatican foreign minister; and Sebastiano Cardinal Baggio, the main Vatican liaison to the bishops' meeting.

Symbolism is important on papal visits, and John Paul's first stopover was the Dominican Republic, the island where the Catholic evangelization of Latin America began. Here the first missionaries to the Americas recited Mass in 1494 during Columbus' second voyage, and here were built the first cathedral and convent in the Western Hemisphere. At the airport, the white-clad Pontiff knelt to kiss the ground. Unexpectedly, four U.S. Cardinals were there to greet him. After a motorcade he celebrated Mass at the main square of Santo Domingo for a crowd of 300,000 or more.

In a forceful sermon at the plaza, John Paul called upon Christians to construct "a world more just, human and livable," where "no longer will there be children without sufficient nutrition, without education. No longer will there be peasants without land to allow them to live with dignity. No longer will there be systems that permit the exploitation of man by man or by the state. No longer will there be families badly broken, disunited."

Whatever social policy Pope John Paul will pursue during his reign, that eloquent and emotional passage makes it clear that the Pontiff, who described himself before beginning his Latin American journey as a "traveler of peace and hope," knows well the problems that his church faces in the troubled continent.

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