"Poland?" he said, "Poland? You want me to go to Poland? That's a job you ought to give to some Republican, or to some enemy you want to get rid of. I'm not your enemy. I'm your friend."

Now both Poland and Rome are coming to Boston--the times they are a-changing.

The history of Catholicism in America, particularly in New England, has not been peaceful. In a land where attacks of nativism have been as frequent as the common cold, Catholicism has frequently been regarded as foreign and its adherents as mindless followers of an alien despot. When the Pope, following the example of the monarchs of Europe, sent over a block of marble to be included in the Washington Monument under construction in the 1840s, an angry mob threw the gift into the Potomac. Closer to home, an equally unpleasant mob burned to the ground the Ursuline Convent and made the life of the Catholic minority in Boston uncomfortable indeed.

More recently, Paul Blanshard's "Protestants and Others United for the Separation of Church and State" had as its agenda the rollback of the alleged Catholic takeover of the American (nee Protestant) system including the public schools; through lectures and a best-selling book The People's Padre, ex-priest Emmett McLoughlin exposed contemporary Romish abuses to the delight of many.

In Boston, however, the militancy of the late William Henry Cardinal O'Connell and the rising affluence of the Irish Catholic middle class between the world wars ensured that the Catholic presence was here to stay. The Cardinal, among others, even began to worry that success would do to the faithful Catholics what it had done to the third generation of Puritans: lead to diminished zeal and cultural identity.

It would be left to his successor, Richard Cardinal Cushing, a man of simpler style, and Pope John XXIII, successor to Pius XII, to paint a picture of Catholicism which was inconsistent neither with the times nor the experiences of 20th century Americans of all faiths living in an age of rapid social change. The election of John F. Kennedy '40 to the presidency in 1961 did not so much prove that a Catholic could be president as show how little being a Catholic had to do with being president at all. These developments raised the nation's consciousness and provided the context in which the present visit of the Pope to Boston must be understood.

Neither the visit nor the Pope are without their complications even today. The Pope, adored in the streets and hailed as a media phenomenon, is scarcely the slicked-down, "with-it" Pontiff one might think the 20th century requires. Indeed, he has been called by some social critics within his own church a throwback to the frosty Pius XII. His pronouncements, shaped by the rigors of his Eastern Catholicism and his perception of a world in moral drift, have served to defend the eroding frontiers of faith and practice. He is both personable and tough-- a difficult combination to defeat, and, in these soft days, to understand.

Those who see beyond the Toyota-led processions in the courtyard of St. Peter's and the quotable remarks made in half a dozen languages at his thronged weekday audiences may well find that the present occupant of the Chair of St. Peter has fully as much in common with Gregory VII and Boniface VIII as with Leo XIII and John XXIII. His coming to Boston has stimulated a debate, not so much about the Pope or his church but rather over who will foot the bill for his visit. (Presumably when Billy Graham blows into town someone other than the Commonwealth picks up the tab.)

A strict constructionist interpreting the Constitution would argue that it is a Roman Catholic event and the Archdiocese should foot the bill. Others argue that it is a "state" event of enormous civic importance, and therefore the city and Commonwealth should assume financial responsibility as they would for any visiting dignitary. Still others argue that it compromises the always precarious doctrine of the separation of Church and state, and therefore even more care than usual must be exercised. The problem is particularly acute because Boston's political and civil establishment is in the hands of Catholics, none of whom wished to be accused of impropriety, and all of whom wish to vindicate the honor of their ancestors and their church.

It will be instructive for the Pope to experience at first hand these realities of American life, and instructive for Bostonians as well as they seek an equitable resolution of the matter. However it is managed, it will be an extraordinary scene: the Supreme Pontiff in the Hub of the Universe: how Mayor Curley would have loved it!

Peter J. Gomes is Plummer Professor of Christian Morals and a minister in Memorial Church.