What a difference a new century makes.The first and last time a Pope visited Scotland, in 1982, the build-up was tremendous, and the day itself went down as one of the defining moments of modern Scottish history.
Even die-hard Protestants were wooed by the thrill of this unprecedented visit, and watched the coverage of that day’s events with pride.
In what was widely and correctly perceived as an age increasingly dominated by a secular agenda, here was Christianity taking centre stage: gloriously, joyfully, and prayerfully.
For the Catholic community in Scotland, despite the occasional and predictable outburst of anti-Catholic feeling, Pope John Paul II’s trip was an unforgettable and emotional meeting of pontiff and people.
Few who were there will forget the touchingly personal note John Paul II struck with his Scottish flock.
One suspects that the cases of heatstroke dealt with by the first aid outposts throughout Bellahouston Park might have had as much to do with the excitement of seeing the Pope in person as with the sun’s glare.
Before that visit, some were no doubt anxious that such a huge public celebration of Catholicism would inflame sectarian grudges, which are notoriously easily triggered. Yet, as the event itself demonstrated, the benefits of the day far outweighed a few complaints.
Today, however, with society more keen than ever to stamp out religious bigotry of all kinds, it is possible that a desire to keep in step with a multi-faith Scotland might lie behind the alleged apathy of Scottish Catholic bishops over Pope Benedict XVI’s visit later this year.
Already the reception for this behind-the-scenes visit has been soured by a reported lassitude on the part of the Scottish Catholic hierarchy, whose methods of liturgy and pastoral care are very different from those Pope Benedict would like to see practised.
The conceptual gulf between the Scottish Catholic Church and the Vatican that this outlook suggests is perhaps not wholly surprising. Benedict, as a retro, revivalist Pope, is keen to reintroduce a degree of formality – and Latin – to the celebration of Mass, and to dealings between priest and parish.
His ambitions are those of a first-rate intellectual who grew up well before Vatican II, and its populist-minded changes.
Before his elevation to the papacy, Joseph Ratzinger was a renowned academic, a professor of theology who had written a vast number of books.
Born in Bavaria in 1927, he was the oldest papal appointment since the 18th-century Pope Clement XII.
Theologically conservative, he has been a staunch supporter of bringing back the Tridentine, or Latin Mass. His papacy so far has shown him as a man of strong pastoral sensibility, but he has also courted controversy.
On one occasion he offended the Islamic community with what were seen as derogatory remarks about their beliefs, and the revelation that as a teenager he had been a member of the Hitler Youth also caused concern.
If there truly is scepticism over his reforms among the bishopry, this may stem from the inherent resistance of priests working daily in the complex and far from easy setting of modern Scotland.
While no faith wants to lose its distinctiveness, ecumenism is seen by many across the religious spectrum as the holy grail, a civilised way to ease tensions, rather than entrench them.
Given the liberal, laid-back tone of many services, the argument seems to be that the more low-key the rituals and pomp associated with the Catholic Church, the more widely the Christian message is likely to be heard and sought.
In Italy, or indeed any predominantly Catholic country, a shift towards greater ceremony is more easily accepted, one presumes, than in countries on the margins of the faith, where the Church is under perpetual, corrosive assault from apathy or disbelief.
To be told what’s best for their parishes, when they know first-hand what works, might well be galling for Scottish Catholic leaders.
The restricted nature of Pope Benedict’s visit to Scotland indicates that the religious fervour that made 1982 so remarkable may now be deemed more trouble than it is worth.
Either that, or it indicates the loss of fervour itself.
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