‘Confirming his brothers in the faith’ - the legacy of Saint John Paul II

Spanish Cardinal Antonio Rouco recalls his time with JPII

Cardinal Antonio María Rouco was one of Saint John Paul II’s closest collaborators in Europe, leading the transformation of the Spanish episcopacy as Archbishop of Madrid after a turbulent post-conciliar period in the country.

Saint John Paul II with Cardinal Rouco (Courtesy picture)

On the 20th anniversary of Saint John Paul II’s death, The Pillar talked with Cardinal Rouco about Saint John Paul II’s legacy, his visits to Spain, and his response to the abuse crisis.

Rouco, 88, was ordained a priest in 1959 and received a doctorate in canon law in Munich in 1964. He taught canon law at the University of Munich from 1964 to 1968 and in the Pontifical University of Salamanca from 1969 to 1972, when he was appointed vice-rector of the same university until 1976.

He then became the auxiliary bishop of Santiago de Compostela in 1976 and its archbishop from 1984 to 1994, serving as the main organizer of the 1989 World Youth Day. He would then become the Archbishop of Madrid, was created cardinal in 1998, and served until his retirement in 2014.

The interview was conducted in Spanish and has been edited for clarity and length.

At an event marking the 40th anniversary of Pope St. John Paul II's first visit to Spain, you said, "The richness of John Paul II's magisterium is unparalleled in the history of the Church." Why do you think that?

That was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but there is truth to it. I was referring mainly to his distinctive and deeply personal way of exercising the papal magisterium, which is, above all, the fundamental duty of a pope: to confirm his brothers in the faith.

From a magisterial perspective, I believe that no pontificate in the last 500 years has been quite like that of St. John Paul II. He addressed the great truths of the faith, which were implicitly and explicitly questioned after the Second Vatican Council with criticism that went beyond what the Council had taught, and at times even contradicted it.

John Paul II understood that the crisis underlying the widespread disorder of the late 1960s and early 1970s within religious life, the priesthood, and even among the laity in the free world was fundamentally a crisis of faith, a crisis of the very foundations of Catholic teaching.

Thus, his first encyclical was Redemptor hominis, on Jesus Christ. His second, Dives in misericordia, focused on God the Father, and soon after, he published Dominum et vivificantem on the Holy Spirit and Redemptoris Mater on the Virgin Mary.

In the 1990s, his magisterium turned more toward moral theology and philosophy. He wrote Veritatis splendor on moral principles, Evangelium vitae on the inviolability of human life, and Fides et ratio on the relationship between faith and reason. He concluded his pontificate with the beautiful encyclical Ecclesia de Eucharistia.

Throughout his magisterium, there is a clear theological continuity addressing the profound crisis of postmodernity, which erupted in May 1968. I witnessed this firsthand in Munich, where I was at the time, and later saw its consequences at the Pontifical University of Salamanca.

The 1968 crisis was not primarily political—it was anthropological. Influenced by Marxist and Maoist thought, it culminated in a full-fledged nihilism with regards to the destiny of the human being, life, and the very concept of the good of the person. The Frankfurt School played a significant role in this intellectual shift.

At the heart of it all was a crisis of reason. This philosophical movement translated into the madness of student and professor groups, especially younger academics, in European and North American universities, summed up in the famous French slogan: "It is forbidden to forbid."

So, John Paul II began his pontificate in the aftermath of this crisis, when it was still very much alive. And what did he do? He set out to confirm his brothers in the faith, starting from the fundamentals, with an unmistakable Christological focus: starting with God made flesh, Jesus Christ.

In Christ, Revelation reaches its climax, but at the same time, Christ opens history to the future and its ultimate completion. He is the Alpha and the Omega—the theme of the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000: "Christ, yesterday, today, and forever."

This is what makes his pontificate one of the most original and significant in modern papal history, particularly since the Council of Trent.

And we haven't even mentioned the synods he convened, which were always very relevant and produced rich documents.

Or his social magisterium…

His social magisterium built upon those of Leo XIII and closely aligned with St. Paul VI.

Both recognized something that is often overlooked but that is a presupposition of the social magisterium, which is the need for a life lived in accordance with truth and natural law.

Natural law was a concept that had to be reintroduced into theological debates and pastoral life. Marriage, human love, and the family must be in harmony with the truth about man.

St. Paul VI gave us Humanae vitae in 1968. Then, St. John Paul II expanded on it, beginning with his synod on the family and his early catecheses on the theology of the body.

There was a clear coherence in his approach: he started from the truth of the faith and developed it linearly. At the same time, John Paul II engaged deeply with contemporary social issues, developing a theology of work, reflecting on the common good, and reaffirming the link between freedom and social justice.

All of this demonstrates the doctrinal consistency of his pontificate. His primary concern was always to confirm his brothers in the faith, and from that flowed his concern for the problems of humanity.

And all of this was accompanied by tireless personal evangelization, especially among young people.

I was the vice-rector of the Pontifical University of Salamanca from 1972 to 1976, before becoming auxiliary bishop of Santiago de Compostela.

The university had felt the full impact of the 1968 revolution. In the 1969-70 academic year, it had to close in November and reopen in May just for exams.

There were political factors specific to Spain at play, but the ideological and anthropological aspects of the revolution from the United States and the rest of Europe were far more significant.

I remember thinking back then that if the pope ever wanted to visit the university, it would be a problem... And yet in 1981, St. John Paul II filled St. Peter’s Square with young people and launched the World Youth Days.

John Paul II had an extraordinary gift to reach people from every corner of the world because he went everywhere. He didn’t visit China or the Soviet Union because they wouldn’t let him.

This deep sense of priestly vocation, of pastoral ministry, and of being the successor of Peter and Vicar of Christ can only be described as extraordinary.

Cardinal Antonio María Rouco Valera (Wikimedia Commons)

Given everything you've said, it seems we should think about whether he should be made a Doctor of the Church…

[laughs]

Well, in that regard we must also talk about Ratzinger, who was behind it all the whole time.

Doctrinally, St. John Paul II and Benedict XVI are inseparable.

Paul VI appointed Professor Ratzinger as Archbishop of Munich in 1977, a completely unexpected decision. Ratzinger was then a professor of dogmatic theology at the University of Regensburg. He never backed down from theological positions faithful to the Church, which made his appointment all the more remarkable. Just four months later, he was made a cardinal, in the smallest consistory of Paul VI’s pontificate, with three other cardinals.

Then, in 1981, John Paul II appointed him Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Their collaboration continued until John Paul II’s death in 2005.

I still vividly remember Cardinal Ratzinger’s homily at John Paul II’s funeral. The personal emotion and poetic language he used struck me. Knowing the Germans, and especially Ratzinger, I could see that he was truly moved.

The Germans are often seen as a stern and cold people, but that exterior can sometimes be just a shell.

After all, they are the people who gave us Goethe...

Of course. The Germans describe themselves as a nation of thinkers and poets.

And to fully understand John Paul II’s pontificate, you must understand his partnership with Cardinal Ratzinger. They met every Saturday, unless the pope was traveling—which, of course, he often was.

Now that you mention the papal trips, what memories do you have of John Paul II’s visits to Spain, particularly the 1989 World Youth Day in Santiago de Compostela, which you experienced up close?

I have very fond memories. In 1982, John Paul II visited Santiago de Compostela on the final day of his trip to Spain. At the time, the Archbishop of Santiago, Ángel Suquía, was part of the pope’s entourage, so I stayed in Santiago while he traveled.

However, I was able to welcome the pope in Salamanca, where I had previously studied theology and had also served as vice-rector.

During that visit, he delivered a spectacular speech, reflecting on the great Spanish theological tradition from the Reformation era and the renowned School of Salamanca. He left us with a profound challenge: to think and do new theology for a new time, like the 16th-century Salamanca theologians did.

Later, in Santiago, we were a bit anxious about the weather. He arrived on November 9, and in Galicia, that time of year can bring harsh Atlantic storms. Many people had traveled overnight by bus from rural areas. The night before, it had rained cats and dogs.

The Mass was held on the airport runway, and afterward, he went to the cathedral to pray before the Apostle.

That evening, he delivered his historic “European Act” speech, as Santiago is, par excellence, a European city. We invited bishops from across Europe, prominent abbots, university rectors, political leaders, and even the King and Queen of Spain came. That speech has stayed with me for life.

The event was a very simple liturgy of the word, with the pope’s address as its central moment. And, at the end, the famous botafumeiro was swung. I remember seeing the pope watching it with a mix of fascination and fear — [laughs], as if thinking, "Is that thing going to fall?" And I thought to myself, "It never has, there’s no need to worry!"

The majestic 137 lb botafumeiro (Wikimedia Commons)

Then, in 1989, he returned for World Youth Day in Santiago de Compostela. By then, I was the archbishop, and the great challenge was finding a place big enough for all the young people who would come. We didn’t know how many to expect, but the Plaza del Obradoiro, the largest square in Santiago, could hold only about 7,000 people.

We reached out to the mayor, an architect from the Socialist Party, and recalled a large piece of land near the city that was completely undeveloped—just tangled forest.

At first, the landowners hesitated, but when we told them it was for the pope’s visit, they quickly agreed. Problem solved.

Then the question was, what to do with all those young people? That’s when we came up with the idea of the “preparatory week” before WYD, with catechesis, confessions, vigils, and cultural events.

It was also the first time a prayer vigil with the pope was held at WYD. John Paul II encouraged the young people to be apostles among their friends—but the enthusiasm and applause were so overwhelming that they barely let him speak! I remember saying in Spanish, “The pope wants to speak, the pope wants to speak.”

At the closing Mass, he uttered the now-famous phrase that has since gone viral, as kids say today: “Do not be afraid to be saints.”

That night, the pope stayed at the archbishop’s residence. We arrived after 1:00 a.m., and I don’t think he slept at all.

By 5:00 a.m., he was already up and functioning — I believe he spent the night in prayer.

And I say this because of a story from his 1982 visit to Spain.

A priest in Madrid told me that when John Paul II stayed at the nunciature, several priests took turns keeping watch overnight.

One night, around 2:00 or 3:00 a.m., this priest noticed a light on in the chapel. He went to check and found the pope completely prostrate on the floor, deep in prayer.

The priest told him, “Holy Father, we have to start at six in the morning.” The pope looked up and, in perfect Spanish, said, “You stay here with me.” And so, they prayed together.

What do you think was John Paul II’s greatest legacy to the Church in Spain?

He reminded us to be proud of our Catholic heritage and to be a missionary Church until our last breath.

His 2003 visit to Spain concluded with a meeting with young people at Cuatro Vientos Airport, followed by the canonization of four Spaniards: St. Genoveva Torres, St. Ana de la Cruz, St. Maravillas de Jesús, St. Pedro Poveda, and St. José María Rubio.

The theme of that trip was “You shall be my witnesses,” and he urged us to witness to Christ—not by imposing, but by proposing. The young people affectionately called him “a young 83-year-old man,” because even though his illness had progressed, his energy was remarkable. He told them that giving one’s life for the Lord is the best thing anyone can do.

At the end of the Mass, he bid farewell to Spain, saying, “You are a Catholic people, a Catholic nation with an incomparable missionary history.”

This message remains deeply relevant for Europe today. At that time, Europe was undergoing closer integration, but its “pre-political” foundation, as Ratzinger called it in his 2004 dialogue with Habermas, was being eroded. An European constitution was being drafted without any mention of the continent’s Christian roots. Anticipating this, John Paul II told us that we had a crucial responsibility: to be a living voice that reminds Europe where it came from and how it was built.

Shortly after John Paul II’s death, you described his pontificate as “heroic and martyr-like.” What was it like witnessing his final years?

It was indeed a martyrdom. Just three years after his election, he was nearly killed simply because he was the successor of Peter.

But surviving the attack deepened his awareness of his mission as a witness to the Lord.

His episcopal motto, Totus Tuus—“All yours”—perfectly summed up his life. It reflected his total surrender to Christ and Our Lady. And this is something we are all called to, whether we are popes, bishops, or normal people by virtue of our baptism. We must put Christ, His life and His saving work at the center of our being.

He bore his illness with extraordinary strength, even though it came relatively early. He never let it stop him, nor did he try to hide it.

I remember his 2003 trip to Spain when he was already very ill. The journey in the Popemobile from the nunciature to Cuatro Vientos was a great sacrifice for him, but the enthusiasm of the crowd in Madrid carried him through.

He greeted the people but it seemed like his mind was somewhere else. So, Cardinal Dziwisz, his personal secretary, told me “the pope is always praying.” He always had this mix of contemplation and action.

He also suffered a lot because there were attacks within and outside the Church. I remember when the instruction of the CDF on the role of the theologian in the life of the Church was published, which had a critical response with the Cologne Declaration of a group of theologians.

But the pope always responded disciplinarily in a very paternal way. The press called Ratzinger the “panzer cardinal” but they had no idea who he was. There is no personality more contrary to this expression than Ratzinger.

Even in suffering, he never lost his humor and spiritual peace. I remember the Second Special Assembly for Europe of the Synod of Bishops. At one point, then-Bishop Marx (now Cardinal Marx) was about to speak, but his microphone wasn’t working. The pope, from his chair, took his own microphone and joked, “You see? Marx never works” (Laughs).

We just spoke of some difficult moments of Saint John Paul II’s pontificate. The abuse crisis is certainly a stain on his legacy. What’s your view?

He acted as best he could with the information he had.

At the final Mass of WYD 2002 in Toronto, he addressed the crisis directly, condemning it and expressing deep sorrow. But he also reminded us that most priests are good and faithful, dedicated to serving the Church. The young people’s applause was so overwhelming that all the concelebrating priests stood up in response.

The calm, balanced approach with which he started to live this problem only strengthens his legacy, rather than diminishing it.

John Paul II began his pontificate during a time of post-conciliar turbulence, but throughout his papacy, it seems that many of the debates that arose back then were settled.

Yet, today, some of those debates are being reopened, such as female diaconate and priesthood.

How can John Paul II's magisterium offer a new response to these discussions?

The Second Vatican Council must be re-read and reflected upon through the lens of his magisterium. Two key documents in this regard are Pastores dabo vobis and Ecclesia de Eucharistia.

As for the topic you mentioned, I think it’s important to revisit Mulieris dignitatem. I don't understand why it’s not referenced more often, especially since Pope Francis has already spoken clearly on this. The problem is that some theologians have pushed the debate too far, but the certainty and clarity on this matter are already very much present in the Church’s teaching.

St. John Paul II was known as a great evangelizer. How can his teachings be applied to re-evangelize a country like Spain, which has become increasingly secularized?

It's all about going back to basics and not being afraid to proclaim the Gospel. Our mission is to share Christ’s message with words and following Him with lives.

The Church in Spain is in a very diverse situation. One thing that’s positive is that the Spanish episcopate is fully Catholic. But there are many different realities. In cities like Madrid, the Church is full of life—faith, supernatural energy, apostolic zeal, and a real desire to be witnesses of the Gospel.

John Paul II also taught us to view Spain’s history through the lens of faith. In times of crisis, history can be used not to seek truth, but to impose opinions and ideologies.

In this regard, John Paul II was a great teacher. His people, the Poles, have experienced some of the most dramatic history in Europe. They’ve been divided, exploited, and oppressed. But their history always served as a reminder of the deep Catholic soul of his nation.