Pope Takes A Tour in Scotland

It was a day as fine as anyone - even a pope - has a right to expect of Scotland in mid-September. From the moment the flight carrying Benedict XVI touched down at Edinburgh airport with the pilots flying a papal standard from one window of the cockpit, and a union flag from the other, it was a day of light and shade.

Abrupt breezes chased off gun-metal clouds, revealing the deep azure sky beyond. And the infectious enthusiasm of hundreds of thousands of Scottish Roman Catholics began to edge aside some of the heated controversy that had built up around the first visit to Britain of this most controversial of pontiffs.

But by the end of the first day of his trip plenty of questions remained about the nature of the message he is bringing and its reception in a Britain that has changed since his predecessor, John Paul II, visited 28 years ago. The crowds who greeted Benedict were smaller.

Non-believers protested at the pope's condemnation of aggressive secularism, while his view that Britain strives to be a multicultural society struck an odd note, like that sounded by his former aide, Cardinal Walter Kasper, who in an interview published on the eve of the pope's arrival had compared Britain to a third world nation.

The cardinal withdrew from the papal party on health grounds, said by his spokesman today to be gout. But, according to a source, he was well enough on Wednesday night to attend a dinner in Rome at the German embassy to the Holy See.

The pope's day began on an unequivocally humble note aboard the Alitalia flight from Rome. Speaking to correspondents, Benedict used his strongest language to date to condemn his church's record on clerical sex abuse.

It is difficult to understand how this perversion of the priestly mission was possible, he said, adding that the church authorities were not sufficiently vigilant and insufficiently speedy and decisive in taking the necessary measures. Roman Catholicism was at a moment of penitence, humility and renewed sincerity.

The pope went on to say that paedophile priests should be excluded from all possibility of access to young people because this was an illness and free will did not work when there was this sickness. It was the first time that any of the correspondents could recall him describing paedophilia as an illness. This briefing gave the first hint of the pressure on the pontiff, pressure that can only mount during this gruelling, four-day visit. He spoke with a hoarse voice in some of his replies.

At the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh, his first stop, the Scottish wind conspired to bolster diplomacy. After Benedict, the first pope to make a state visit to Britain, joined the Queen on a dais outside the gates of the royal palace, a gust lifted his zucchetto, his skullcap, and he only just caught it before it was spun away.

He took it in hand just as the band of the Scots Guard struck up the national anthem, so to millions of people watching on television it looked as if he was removing it as a sign of respect.

Then, and subsequently when he exchanged gifts with the Queen inside the palace, the 83 year-old pope appeared less reactive than usual. Seemingly concerned about his hearing, the Queen spoke more loudly than she does normally and placed her chair close to his for their brief, private conversation.

His speech, given at the rear of the palace to several hundred invited guests, brought home the historic nature of the occasion a pope, and a German one at that, being received by the titular leader of the Church of England.

Benedict's English is fluent, but coloured with a heavy, breathy accent. He spoke of a Florence Nightingale inspired by faith, warned against the exclusion of God and called on everyone involved to continue the work for peace in Northern Ireland.

The pope diplomatically praised Britain's stand against a Nazi tyranny that wished to eradicate God from society. And, pressing home a point that is expected to be central to his visit, Benedict went on: "As we reflect on the sobering lessons of the atheist extremism of the 20th century, let us never forget how the exclusion of God, religion and virtue from public life leads ultimately to a truncated vision of man and of society and thus to a reductive vision of the person and his destiny."

The quote was from his own encyclical on social and economic issues, Caritas in Veritate, which was published last year. That is the kind of thing you do when you are pope.

In what might be regarded as a less than warm endorsement, the pope said the United Kingdom strives to be a modern and multi-cultural society. And he added: "In this challenging enterprise, may it always maintain its respect for those traditional values and cultural expressions that more aggressive forms of secularism no longer value or even tolerate. Let it not obscure the Christian foundation that underpins its freedoms."

He was speaking to an audience that included a rabbi in a spectacularly wide-brimmed hat. And amid the colourfully robed prelates of several Christian denominations, perhaps the most strikingly dressed guest was the Pakistani-born academic Mona Siddiqui, who wore a headscarf and trouser suit in white and vivid turquoise.

Back at the entrance to the palace, where the popemobile was parked, three little girls in blue tartan skirts were waiting to present bunches of flowers to Benedict on his departure.

From that moment, as the popemobile set off through Edinburgh, Scottishness exploded into full view.

And as the bullet and bomb-proofed vehicle edged into sight, with the pope's frail body draped with a tartan shawl specially designed for his visit, the children of St Peter's Catholic primary school in Aberdeen erupted into cheers, waving their paper St Andrew's saltire flags.

Woken at 5am, they had clambered on to their coaches as dawn broke for a 130-mile trek south. Five hours later, they were in joyful mood, grinning and cheering for a television camera, before pressing themselves into prime positions against the crash barriers lining the road.

"It's a good day, said Claire Richard, a softly-spoken 11-year-old. "Well, the special thing about him is that this is the first time I have seen a pope. He doesn't come here every day and it's not even like once a year."

Despite Aberdeen's size and prominence, the city has only three Catholic primary schools and no Catholic secondaries.

"Whenever they hear about Pope Benedict [from now on], they can connect with being here today, said Jo Martin, St Peter's headteacher. "It's an opportunity for them also to see children from other Catholic schools, identifying with their heritage."

It was a rare experience - a day for Catholics to celebrate, despite the horror of the child sex abuse scandals elsewhere and their minority status within an increasingly secular state.

And it was St Ninian's day, the rarely acknowledged feast day of the reputed founder of Christianity in Scotland. Before the pope's drive-past, Ninian's arrival, on a beach in south-west Scotland in 397 was marked, by nearly 1,000 students from Catholic, ecumenical and Protestant schools across Scotland called St Ninian's, accompanied by massed pipers, some with saltire flags fixed high on their instruments.

Alongside Claire was a young Polish schoolmate, Igor Kantor. His mother Martha emigrated three years ago to find work in Aberdeen - one of the thousands of east European migrants who have swelled the school's roll and reinvigorate ailing Catholic congregations across north eastern and northern Scotland.

There are 70 Polish children, all Catholics, out of 199 enrolled at St Peters. "I never ever saw a pope before," said Igor, eight.

The church had predicted up to 100,000 people would line the 3½ miles through central Edinburgh. Early estimates suggested the crowd was nearer 60,000, though the council later claimed there were some 125,000.

At all events, it lacked the intensity and emotion of the visit by John Paul II in 1982. Then the crowds on Princes Street were 10 deep in places.

Intensity, though, was not lacking at Bellahouston park in Glasgow. A crowd of 60-70,000 holding saltires and white and yellow papal standards that streamed in a stiff, southerly wind spread out across the open green space beyond two tower blocks. It looked as if it had been occupied by a medieval army waiting for its general.

The crowds had begun arriving as early as 9.30am, small groups, clutching folding chairs and waterproof clothing. By midday they were coming in their hundreds, filling the length of Mosspark Boulevard. Young, old, infirm; Scottish, Indian, Filipino. They bore flags, carried placards and wore papal bandannas, enjoying the sunshine and the convivial atmosphere.

Few seemed to mind the hours of waiting or queuing. When the white-haired pope eventually arrived, screams erupted from the vast crowd. As he toured the park in a second popemobile, some of the faithful pushed insistently against the crash barriers, prompting security staff to call for restraint.

In his sermon, Benedict returned to a theme that is one of the keys to his papacy, and which is likely to crop in again and again in different forms in the rest of his visit.

A dictatorship of relativism threatens to obscure the unchanging truth about man's nature, his destiny and his ultimate good, he told the vast congregation.

Appealing to Scotland's Catholics to join him in the task of re-evangelisation that he set for his church, he said: "Society today needs clear voices which propose our right to live, not in a jungle of self-destructive and arbitrary freedoms, but in a society which works for the true welfare of its citizens and offers them guidance and protection in the face of their weakness and fragility.

"Do not be afraid to take up this service to your brothers and sisters, and to the future of your beloved nation, he urged as the sun in an all but clear sky began to fade on his first day in Britain."

Michael Fox, aged 18, a eucharistic minister at St Aloysius College, Glasgow, called it the one day that Catholics could be "top dog". "I went to see something that will only happen once. I'm here for the whole experience and the chance to be part of this massive community." He said he knew lots of people who saw the mass as a chance to connect with the church.

"I'm embracing it all, my faith is very important to me. Look at the crowd, look. Every year there's the Orange walks to adjust to. We change our lifestyle, we ask one day for the pope, once in 28 years, and people are put out."