Following is an account of St Josemaria Escriva's canonization as written by Russian poet Aleksandr Ivanovich Zorin, an Orthodox Christian who discovered in “The Way” the secret for finding God “here, sitting in front of my desk.”

The square in front of Saint Peter’s Basilica holds 300,000 people. Today there will be more than 400,000. Half of them will be young men and women in their twenties. The canonization of Josemaría Escrivá has brought people from around the world to Rome. Volunteers - some 1,800 mostly young people and by no means all Italians - will be on hand. They arrived in Rome two weeks early for special training. And now, in the ebb and flow of the throng, they are able to channel the flood like experienced sea captains. They have command posts – at the airport, in the streets of the city and in Saint Peter’s Square.

A dense phalanx of carabinieri, at once forbidding and courteous, shut down the approaches to the Basilica. Wheelchairs are allowed to pass. In countless numbers, they group around the colonnade very close to the altar. One of the wheelchairs carries a priest. Thirty years ago he had a serious car accident and became paralysed for life. The trauma does not prevent him from serving as a pastor, helping people, and celebrating daily Mass…

The sun is already shining on the Basilica’s dome, the portrait of Josemaría Escrivá, and the cross atop the obelisk; Saint Peter’s Square -cool and fresh like a mountain valley - is slowly filling up with pilgrims.

On the roof of the right and left arms of the colonnade, I had the impression there were many bushy plants. These are common in central Rome. Down below there is not a blade of grass - only asphalt and cobblestones, but on the rooftops there is luxuriant growth in boxes and flowerpots. But on closer inspection I realized that these were not plants, but journalists with their branch-like electronic equipment.

Sitting behind me were two older ladies, who appeared to be housewives. Someone had apparently told them that we were Russians. With raised eyebrows and gesticulating animatedly, they said: “We are praying for the spread of the books of Josemaría in Russia.”

And just in front of me was the massive back of a Nigerian. I ask him - “Are there lots of you?” “Yes, eight hundred.” And pointing to his group, he says, “There we are.”

His back, however, was no hindrance. Gigantic screens at several points in the plaza will allow everyone to see what is going on.

A white marble slab in front of the high altar is decorated with flowers - the gift of a Latin American florist - arranged in the form of broad, colorful palm fronds.

The throng swells, and the sun continues its ascent, shining on the icon of the Mother of God high above the right arm of the colonnade. It was put there during the reign of the present Pope. It had been brought to his attention that Saint Peter’s Square lacked an image of the Mother of God. “This situation must be corrected,” he said.

A flaxen-haired, mulatto woman is wearing a red cross around her neck. We are in section 4, or more precisely, the part of the section under her supervision. As the volunteers working in the plaza do not carry megaphones or walkie-talkies, she must call out in a loud voice that she is a doctor, and that people should come to her for even the slightest necessity. She can only offer first aid, and hand out candy for whatever ails you. At the word candy, the older people in the crowd laugh and applaud - a healthy reaction.

The day promises to be sultry, and no one brought umbrellas. Caps, berets - and when it turns really hot – scarves and maps of Rome are used to provide protection from the sun. We did not bring anything and that evening the left side of everyone’s face- cheeks and necks – had turned brown in contrast to the right side.

The bells of the Basilica ring out - a soft, melodious sound.

Suddenly, the whole square becomes agitated, everyone rises in his place: a white car heaves into view in the road flanking the plaza. In it is the Pope - hunched, concentrated. He raises his head, and, with a trembling hand, blesses the crowd.

The car drives up to the podium. The Pope walks to the altar unaided, leaning on his crozier.

Last night, young people, gathered in front of the Pope’s apartment, formed a sea of chanting voices: Viva il Papa! “The whole world loves you!”

Did everyone always feel that way? The shot that long ago rang out in Saint Peter’s Square gives rise to doubts. I perfectly remember that day in May…. We – a group of Orthodox laymen – were gathered for prayer in a Moscow apartment. The telephone rang, bringing us the horrifying news….

In the unadulterated Buonarroti sky a helicopter circles. Timid, pneumatic clattering. Descending from above the plaza, it emerges from behind the dome, then disappears behind the roofs of the Vatican. What was it doing? Shooting a film, keeping on eye on security?

On the giant television screen appears a shot of the crowd taken from a great height. A mass of heads. Forgive me for this comparison, but they look like the densely packed roe of caviar. I turn around and notice that each caviar egg represents an absorbed, intelligent face.

Above the Pope, above the canopy shading the altar, from the pediment of the Basilica hangs a large portrait of Josemaría Escrivá. The image of a saint: a kindly face wearing glasses against an azure background, like a sky by Michelangelo Buonarroti.

The Mass begins.

At the beginning, before the liturgy of the Word, the Cardinal who is the head of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints addresses the Pope with the request to canonize Escrivá. And the Pope reads out a statement extolling him.

To help people follow the ceremony, the day’s liturgy has been printed in a number of languages and distributed. The Pope proclaims the Eucharistic canon, initiating the most important part of the liturgy. Saint Peter’s Square, full of hundreds of thousands of people united in the sacramental prayer, falls as silent as an empty room.

Tracing a fluent cardiogram of silence, a butterfly flits about.

The voice of the Pope, the voice of the organ, the voice of common prayers. Communion….

One thousand priests flow in three currents out towards the motionless ranks waiting in the square. In their hands are chalices containing the holy gifts, and opened out above them, like lilies of the field, are white umbrellas. Each one knows exactly the spot he should occupy.

It is surprising to see this perfect order, which for members of Opus Dei is customary. Even amid the endless ranks of chairs, the communicants - and, I repeat, there were hundreds of thousands of them - did not jostle one another, but rather approached the chalice-bearing priests serenely.

The shadow of the obelisk, like the hands of a watch, reaches the row in which we are sitting. The obelisk - this ancient monument brought here from Heliopolis - commemorates the deaths of the first martyrs…. In the days of the Roman Empire, Nero’s circus was located on this very spot. They threw Christians as living meat to hungry dogs and wild animals. Now on this spot a bloodless sacrifice is taking place.

The hands of a watch can be seen in the portrait of the saint above the heads of the crowd. He also experienced great trials; he shared in the crucifixion of Christ in the ordinary circumstances of daily life. As the Pope said during an audience with the canonization participants the day after the ceremony: “The most important thing about the founder of Opus Dei was his love of the will of God. The faithful fulfillment of the will of God, no matter the consequences, is the true sign of holiness. The Lord has a plan for each and every individual; he gives everyone a specific mission on earth. The saint lives in order to fulfill this mission. It never occurs to him to live and act outside the bounds of God’s plan. Saint Josemaría was chosen by God to proclaim the universal call to holiness, to proclaim that the ordinary activities that make up daily life constitute the path to holiness. One can say that Saint Josemaría is the patron saint of daily life. Indeed, he was convinced that, for those who believe deeply in God, every circumstance of life is an occasion for encountering God and a stimulus to prayer. When we consider life from this point of view, we discover in it a grandeur we had not noticed before. We realize that everyone can attain sanctity.”

The next day, after the Mass, the recently canonized saint appears on the television screen…. A film shows him meeting with various groups. Here are the words of Escrivá himself. They ask him: “How can one love Jesus?” “Be with Him in the Word and in the Bread. Speak to Him all day. When Christ comes, however, he comes with a cross. Disease, betrayal – we have to be prepared for such things. When a person is ready, these things lift him up -- the cross exalts.” And more: “There is something divine about everyday life. You must discover this.” And yet more: “I have a great many friends who are not Catholic….”

We among them – we three from Russia. Yes, yes, just three of us among the hundreds of thousands who came from 84 countries.

The ecumenical spirit is part and parcel of the pontificate of Pope John Paul II. It came as a surprise, and as a priceless gift to everyone, when the Patriarch of the Romanian Orthodox Church appeared on the podium. Saint Peter’s Square exploded in joy!!!

There are two old men nearby. Who are they? Locals, Italians, probably. They have one hearing aid between them and share the earpiece, as well as a single pair of binoculars. Standing constantly nearby was a young woman volunteer with an outlandish ring in her nose. She helped them into chairs in order to see the Pope as his car passed by. It was funny to see her supporting them, unsteady as blades of grass.

A loudspeaker announces that it is forbidden to throw flowers and flags and messages at the Pope’s car. It is customary on such occasions that children are brought forward as the Pope passes by. The Pope blesses and sometimes kisses them. But suddenly, a child, falling from his mother’s arms, lands in the Pope’s lap…. A small message in the form of a child’s crying - from the 21st century....

(CNA).- The cause for beatification for Pope John Paul II is advancing well, says the late pontiff’s personal secretary, Cardinal Stanislaw Dziwisz.

The documentation about his life in Poland is completed and the documentation in Rome is almost finished, said the cardinal in an interview broadcast on Italian state radio on Sunday.

"I am happy because the cause (for beatification) is proceeding well," Cardinal said. "The Holy Father Benedict XVI is looking after it."

"I'm not in a hurry .... People are discovering, even those who before watched with curiosity ... the true face of John Paul II and his heritage," Dziwisz said.


Cardinal Dziwisz was named archbishop of Krakow after John Paul died in 2005.

Pope Benedict XVI waived the five-year waiting period after a person's death to begin a case for possible sainthood. Pope John Paul II lifted a similar waiver for Mother Teresa in 2003.

The Sunday Times of London reported that the three miracles required for sainthood have already been reported in the case of John Paul II.

The British newspaper reported that the cardinal overseeing the John Paul’s beatification process said he expected the local dioceses to have checked on the three miracles by April. A formal announcement is expected on April 2, the second anniversary of John Paul's death, he reportedly said.

"In Krakow, the procedures were wrapped up quickly because there were fewer witness, there are more in Rome (with) 27 years of papacy," the cardinal said. "But it seems that this questioning process is nearing completion also in Rome, and then after that it is in the hands of the Holy See."

Recalling John Paul's last days, as the pope drew near death in the Apostolic Palace on St. Peter's Square, the cardinal said that the pontiff could hear the prayers and songs of faithful gathered below outside the apartment studio window. "Up there, you heard everything, ... the words from the square."

Dziwisz said that during his papacy John Paul would go into the chapel near his bedroom to pray. "He always had this habit. Every night before going to bed, he went into the chapel, and after he would go to the window. Always, until the last day, he was trying to raise himself up in bed to see Rome, to bless it. Because it was his city."

One of the miracles John Paul is being credited with is curing a French nun of Parkinson's disease. The late pope also suffered from the disease. The nun was in the advanced stages of Parkinson's when members of her convent prayed to John Paul to ask God for her recovery in May 2005.

Cardinal Stanislaw Dziwisz, the man who served as the secretary to Pope John Paul II, claims the late pontiff seriously considered resigning in 2000 due to poor health. Cardinal Dziwisz served as a secretary to Pope John Paul for 40 years.

Cardinal Stanislaw Dziwisz makes the comments in a new book, "In A Life With Karol," which will be published January 29 initially in Italian and Polish, adding at in 2000 Pope John Paul II had called a meeting to discuss his resignation.

At that meeting, according to Cardinal Dziwisz, Pope John Paul II asked "if even the pope should resign from the post at the age of 80," the age at which cardinals are no longer eligible to elect a new pope. At the time of the meeting, Pope John Paul II was 79, but he had already been suffering from the degenerative effects of Parkinson's for several years.

At the end of the meeting, "he came to the conclusion that he had to submit himself to God's will, that is, to remain as long as God wanted," Cardinal Dziwisz said.

Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger now Pope Benedict XVI was also present at that meeting, according to Dziwisz.

Executed for murder in 1957, the Church is considering his beatification.

"Only five hours to live! In five hours, I shall see Jesus.”


As day dawned over Paris, a slim, dark-haired young man stepped through a doorway into the courtyard of La Santé Prison. Surrounded by guards, hands and feet shackled, he walked to the guillotine erected in a corner of the yard during the night. He was pale but otherwise calm.

On the scaffold, he asked the priest beside him for the crucifix and kissed it. Before the blade fell, he uttered his last words: “Holy Virgin, have pity on me!”

The date: October 1,1957.

Jacques Fesch, a 27-years-old playboy, was beheaded for the murder of a police officer following a bungled robbery.

Yet many Catholics in France now believe that the killer died a saint. Thirty years after his execution, the archbishop of Paris, Cardinal Jean-Marie Lustiger, signed a decree that may one day see him beatified.


The story begins near the Paris Stock Exchange on February 25, 1954. During the evening rush hour, Fesch arrived with a friend at a office of Alexandre Silberstein, a currency dealer in the Rue Vivenne. Om the previous day, Fesch had arranged to change 2 million francs into gold bars.

Silberstein asked his son to bring the gold from the safe. With the young man out of the way, Fesch pulled a revolver from his briefcase, pointed it at Silberstein, and demanded the cash from the till. His friend, meanwhile turned and fled.

As Silberstein tried to reason with him, Fesch hit the dealer twice across the head with the revolver butt. He grabbed 300,000 francs and ran.

Once outside, he tried to melt into the crowd on the busy street – but Silberstein recovered very quickly. Running from his office, he shouted to passers-by that Fesch had robbed him.

Now, with a crowd at his heels, the thief took refuge in a building on Les Grandes Boulevards. Minutes later, he re-emerged, attempting to play the part of an innocent citizen. Immediately someone cried, “That’s him!”

By this time, Jean Vergne, a 35-years-old police officer, had arrived at the scene. Vergne drew his revolver and ordered Fesch to put his hands up. Instead, Fesch reached inside his raincoat pocket for his own gun, and fired three times. Vergne, a widower with a 4-year-old daughter, was shot through the heart.

Enraged, the crowd chased the killer into the Richelieu-Drouot Metro station. Fesch, still firing, wounded one persuer in the neck before he was finally surrounded and overcome.

The public was shocked to learn that Vergne’s murderer was no common criminal, but the son of a wealthy banker, Georges Fesch. Jacques, born April 6, 1930, had idled his way trhough school, then travelled to Germany with the army. After he completed his service, his father found him a well-paying job at the bank, but he soon tired of it.

Georges Fesch had never taken much interest in his son, who was closer to his mother, Marthe.

Eventually, Jacques’s parents parted.

After the stint at the bank, Jacques had no real occupation. He sailed boats, rode horses, drove fast cars, and hung out with a band, where he tried to learn the trumpet. In a civil ceremony at age 21, he married Pierrette Polack, a neighbor’s daughter who was expecting his child. His anti-semitic parents were horrified: Pierrette, herself Catholic, had a Jewish father.

A daughter was born, but Fesch continued to see other women.

With one of these he had an illegitimate son, Gerard, whom he abandoned to public care. Soon after, Jacques and Pierrette separated, but remained friends.

Bored and restless, Jacques Fesch now conceived a grand plan. He would buy a boat, sail away to the South Pacific, and a start a new life in the sun. For this, of course, he would need money. He petitioned his parents first, but, for once, they refused.

Very well, he would get the cash for himself. He would rob Alexandre Silberstein.

That his mad scheme might go wrong seems not to have occurred to Jacques. Sitting in court with a bandaged head, his mood was defiant. He said he was only sorry he had not carried a submachine gun.

Later, to the chaplain at La Santé Prison, he declared, “I’ve got no faith. No need to trouble yourself about me”.

But Paul Baudet, his defense attorney and a deeply spiritual Catholic, resolved to fight, not only for his client’s life, but also for his soul. At first, Fesch viewed the lawyer’s efforts with amused disdain. He called him “Pope Paul” and “Torquemada” (after the infamous Spanish inquisitor).

Fesch had another advocate in the tough-minded Dominican chaplain, Père Devoyod, and in Brother Thomas, a young Benedictine who knew Pierrette and wrote regularly from his monastery. Fesch’s mother-in-law, Madame Polack also cared for him as for a son.

From the outset, Fesch had a little doubt that he would face the guillotine. Yet, despite his bravado, he was afraid. He was also sick with guilt at the trouble he had brought upon his family. Yet he remained a skeptic, until the night of February 28, 1955, when he experienced a sudden and dramatic conversion. He wrote an account of it two months before his execution:

“I was in bed, eyes open, really suffering for the first time in my life ... It was then that a cry burst from my breast, an appeal for help – My God – and instantly, like a violent wind which passes over without anyone knowing where it comes from, the spirit of the Lord seized me by the throat.

“I had an impression of infinite power and kindness and, from that moment onward, I believed with an unshakeable conviction that has never left me”.

Fesch was to spend another two and a half years in prison.

During that time, he lived a life even more ascetic than the rules demanded. He went to bed at 7 each evening, gave up chocolate and cigarettes, and took only a half-hour of exercise each day. To Brother Thomas he wrote, “In prison there two possible solutions: You can rebel against your situation, or you can regard yourself as a monk.” Though he suffered periods of depression, his fear of death was now supplanted by an even stronger feeling – the fear of dying badly.

Meanwhile, the legal process ground slowly on. More than three years after his crime, Fesch finally came to trial. Baudet argued that the shooting had not been premeditated, but was the act of a frightened man facing a hostile crowd.

Fesch himself now expressed remorse for the murder of Jean Vergne and for the grief he had caused the officer’s family. This feeling is also shown movingly in his letters and in the journal, published after his death, which he dedicated to his daughter, Veronique.

Neither Baudet’s eloquence nor Fesch’s remorse moved the court. At 7:45 p.m. on April 8, 1957, Jacques Fesch was sentenced to death.

Though he continued to live an intense prayer life, Fesch did not find it easy to accept his fate.

Since his crime was unpremeditated, he believed that he did not deserve to die. He was tempted to hate those who were sending him to the guillotine, but he overcame the temptation. “May each drop of my blood wipe out a mortal sin”, he wrote.

News of his conversion began spreading, and some began to show sympathy for the repentant killer. His final hope lay with the French president, René Coty, a man known for his humanity. But Coty was under strong police pressure not to show mercy, especially at a time when police officers were being murdered by Algerian terrorists.

“Tell your client that he has all my esteem and that I wanted very much to reprieve him,” the president replied to Baudet’s personal appeal. “But if I did that, I would put the lives of other police officers in danger.” He asked that Fesch accept his death so that officers’ lives might be saved.

Coty admitted later that he passed a sleepless night before Fesch was guillotined. As the president lay awake, Fesch wrote in his journal: “The last day of struggle, at this time tomorrow I shall be in heaven! May I die as the Lord wishes me to die…Night falls and I feel sad, sad…I will meditate on the agony of Our Lord in the Garden of Olives, but good Jesus, help me! ... Only five hours to live! In five hours, I shall see Jesus.”

Gerard, his abandoned son, was also on his mind. He pleaded that the boy should be well cared for.

The publication of Fesch’s journal and letters created widespread interest among the French public, and touched young people especially.

Those who seek Fesch’s beatification point to his mystical experience, his fervent spirituality, his self-conquest, and his victorious battle against the demons of bitterness and despair. But the move to beatify him has created controversy.

“Where are we headed, if we start beatifying criminals?” demanded a police union chief. Another, while accepting fesch’s sincerity, warned that the proposed step might encourage offenders to use conversion as a ploy to avoid punishment. One editorial predicted dryly that Fesch would become the patron saint of gunmen, who would in future pack a votive medal of St. Jacques along with their Magnum 357s.

Vergne’s daughter, now a lawyer, has refused to comment publicy, but privately has met with cardinal Lustiger.

Frequently, Fesch is likened to the good Thief on Calvary. “Nobody is ever lost in God’s eyes, even when society has condemned him,” Lustiger has said. He wishes to see Fesch beatified “to give a great hope to those who despise themselves, who see themselves as irredeemably lost”.

An edited version of an article published at Solidarity Mission.