The Feast of All Saints burst upon this month of November with sky- rocketing joy, to be concluded with the secular/religious celebration of Thanksgiving, both days charging the intervening weeks with the splendor of God, leaving us mute in the presence of the Divine that offers us both earthly and heavenly homes.

Although he has not yet been canonized, millions of Catholics find that the mere mention of Pope John Paul I’s name can quicken their hearts and bring tears to their eyes. “Too good to be true,” they repeat to themselves, while scanning the latest morning’s headlines of betrayals of little people around the globe, trapped in prisons of poverty and violence.

“Too good to be true” is the way I felt when first opening an article on this great saint, who has no need for canonization, already raised by many to that august state through the power of their love and respect, without spending one lire for a splendid celebration in Vatican Square. Better the money should go to the poor of Rome would have been Luciani’s sentiments. Here is how I felt then. Here is how I feel today.

I knew he’d be there, of course, between the covers of Pontiff by Thomas and Morgan-Watts, and in God’s Name by David Yallop. I just didn’t know there would be that much to him – all that genuine Christianity in the open for the world to see, among the purple and gold, the Michaelangelos and Raphaels, the politicians and financial wizards. Right on the throne of Peter.

Somehow, he didn’t seem to belong, the man with the ready smile, the heart of steel for hard decisions, the heart of compassion for little people, this stranger to intrique. Yet, the more I studied, the more convinced I became that Albino Luciani’s entire life was a preparation for those brief 33 days as Pope John Paul I.

He had been nurtured in poverty, and never forgot what that was like. As he moved from being an unknown cleric to becoming bishop of Vittorio Veneto, he gently refused all gifts with these words: “I came without five lire. I want to leave without five lire.”

Later, as pope, when he looked over the file of Cardinal Cody of Chicago and balanced his record of fiscal mismanagement, the unrest among his clergy and laity, his closing the doors of hope in inner-city schools, against his lavish contributions to the Vatican, the decision came quickly: Cody must go!

An incident in Vittorio Veneto shows his attitude toward clerics and civil law. Two priests had become involved in a financial scandal, resulting in the loss of money to small savers.

Luciani called his four-hundred priests together, told them the entire story and promised the two billion lire would be returned. He said:

It is true that two of us have done wrong. I believe the diocese must pay. I also believe that the law must run its due course. We must not hide behind any immunity. In this scandal there is a lesson for us all. It is that we must be a poor church. I further intend to sell one of our buildings. The money will be used to repay every single lira that these priests owe. I ask for your agreement.

Albino Luciani obtained their agreement. Some who were present admired the man and his morality. Others felt he was too moral about the matter. The property speculator who had involved the two priests committed suicide before his trial. One of the priests served a one-year prison term, and the other was acquitted. (In God’s Name by David A. Yallop)

If Luciani was this sensitive about financial matters, one cannot help but wonder what he would have done if faced with the sexual abuses in our American Church. There wouldn’t have been any cover-ups, for sure. How many thousands of children he would have saved, and in the process, no doubt his direct, immediate actions would have avoided the vengeful lawsuits we are coping with today.

While a spirit of poverty revealed Luciani’s attitude toward money, it was compassion that made him one with his people. He visited the sick, the poor; he stopped in to talk with his priests, to listen to their problems, their dreams. His door was always open – sheep didn’t need appointments to receive the care of the shepherd.

If anyone had any doubt about Luciano’s determination to follow his path of poverty and humility straight to the halls of the Vatican, his coronation as Pope John Paul I set the record straight.

No time for a papal coronation; he would become pope during a simple Mass. No need for a chair to be carried on; he would walk. There would be no tiara covered with precious jewels; a woolen stole over his shoulders would tell all who cared to know that he was still the shepherd; his flock had simply grown to eight-hundred million Roman Catholic Christians.

Through his example, we know that from the throne of Peter, he would have defrocked the founder of the Legion of Christ, Rev. Marciel Maciel Degollado, at the first opportunity, thereby avoiding unspeakable scandal and emotional pain for those who had suffered from his diabolical abuse.

By the way, when a reporter attempted to question the then Cardinal Ratzinger, he angrily brushed him off. Apparently, abuse of boys doesn’t rank up there with the real evils of inclusive language, a married priesthood, or the ordination of women, subjects the now Pope Benedict XVI is never reluctant to discuss.

God, our Father, we thank you for the years your Son walked this earth and taught us to attend to the needs of your little people, our brothers and sisters. We ask You to give all whom Marciel Maciel profaned untold graces of comfort and healing, that they may understand that they are our martyrs of today, whom we honor and cherish and love.

And we beg You to surround all those who have injured our children with Your forgiveness and love, that they may learn how to turn their depravity into service and gentle respect for the littlest of God’s people.

And, God, please help us to forgive those who have so corrupted the sacred honor of our saints, past and present. Bind up our wounds, and give us courage and strength to begin anew, to walk humbly with You; bring us into the quiet hope of a new day. We ask this through Your Son, our Brother, Jesus Christ, Our Lord. Amen.

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