Camillus Glynn (Fianna Fail)

I am greatly privileged to have lived during the lifetime of a great Pope and great Christian such as Pope John Paul II. I recall 1979, not long after the local elections in which I was successful, going with my wife and eldest daughter, then aged four, to see the Pope at Knock. My daughter remembers that with great pride and, despite her age at the time, can recall the sense of motivation to identify with what he espoused in his lifetime, not alone as the leader of the church, but as a priest. No chasm was too wide for Pope John Paul II to extend his hand across. He was a unifying force, as the champion of the underprivileged, the downtrodden, the marginalised. Those attributes were displayed not least in the championing of the freedom of his own people. The Polish people were very proud of him, and rightly so. So were the Irish people. As one of them I am very proud of him.

The words Pope John Paul II uttered to the young people of Ireland were not lost. As a number of speakers have said this was borne out in the numbers that turned up to pay him tribute. He did not follow a populist line and I regret my colleague, Senator Norris, made some of the comments he did. If that is how he feels, so be it. I certainly do not agree. I believe the Pope was a most courageous man. He was on the side of right and was not afraid to call a spade a spade. He exuded a great sense of magnetism when he came into a room, like a diamond reflecting the sunlight. There is no other way to describe him. He had a great capacity to relate to people and to take on board and say what should be said in the face of opposition. Much of that opposition came from strong international leaders. The stamina of those who turned up to pay their last tributes to one of the greatest people we shall ever witness was testament to the fact they would miss a man who had brought about so much change and was such a beacon of hope for the marginalised.

One of the great pains of Pope John Paul II's papacy was the question of clerical abuse. He carried his mission, service and duty as a priest right to the end. The frustration he felt when he was unable to speak in carrying out his pastoral duty before his death, as seen on television, was testament to the man's motivation. In many ways he was a simple man. This was a simplicity not in the sense that he was simple; he was simple in a great way. It could be said that his greatness lay in his simplicity and that his simplicity was his greatness. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.