Statement by H.E. Mr. Algirdas Saudargas

 Former Minister for Foreign Affairs of Lithuania

Your Serene Highness,
Your Eminence,
Your Excellencies,
Ladies and Gentlemen,
 

It is a great honor for me to address this distinguished audience. I am grateful for this rare opportunity to comment on the words of the Holy Father.

In the address to the Fiftieth General Assembly of the United Nations Organization, His Holiness Pope John Paul II speaks about taking the risk of freedom. What does one risk in the quest for freedom? In this struggle one stands to lose a great deal, even his life. However, those who fight for their property or even those who seek to subjugate others, also run such a risk. The participants of all the revolutions throughout history took a risk. Revolutionaries always declare a struggle for freedom. Afterwards, these very revolutions, if they fail to curb their hatred and revenge, will trample the newly gained freedom and flood it with rivers of new hatred.

Where then does the greatest risk in the quest for freedom lie: in its price and the sacrifices that have already been made, or in the danger that these sacrifices may become meaningless and the price paid for freedom may be in vain? The greatest risk in the quest for freedom is that the freedom gained in one form may vanish in another. This happens when the source of freedom is not understood.

"The Redeemer of man, Jesus Christ, is the centre of the universe and of history." With these words, the Holy Father opened his first pontifical encyclical on March 4, 1979. Ten years later, in 1989, came the year of liberation, annus mirabilis. Where did this freedom come from? The words with which the Holy Father began the first encyclical will remain meaningless if we do not make an effort to reflect upon historical events with respect to Christ as the centre of history. If we forget that all comes from the spirit and do not look for spiritual insight, we will not be able to understand and interpret the true meaning of history.

The late Andre Frossard, who has so subtly revealed in his book, The World of John Paul II, regards the election of the Pope from beyond the European ideological wall, as a prophetic act. He writes that: "Those who fail to see today that this election is connected with divine inspiration, will never understand anything either about heaven or earth, and in vain will the signs appear above their heads with increasing frequency: they are covered with helmets of pride."

To us, who were also beyond that wall, the election of Pope John Paul II was a clear sign of hope. However, we were greatly disturbed by the paradox it presented. One who is in chains waits for someone to come and break those chains; one who is bound waits for someone to come and tear those bonds; one who is imprisoned waits for someone to demolish the prison wall. Those of us who were suppressed by a totalitarian system were waiting for someone to come and to destroy that hateful system. We instinctively waited for the freedom that was to follow the destruction. If the Pope from the East brought hope, how could he also be the one who destroyed the system? Is the spirit that brings freedom also the spirit of destruction?

The first key to the paradox is the Rock. Let us remember the works of the Lord: "And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this Rock I will build my Church and the gates of Hades will not overcome it." (Mt. 16,18). Freedom comes not through destruction, but through the indestructible. It is therefore not surprising that in Lithuania, organized resistance to the totalitarian regime was centered around the Church. It was with joy and hope that the legendary Chronicle of the Catholic Church in Lithuania received the words of the newly elected Pope that there will be no longer be a "silent Church", because it will be able to speak through the Pope himself.

The second key is abstention from destruction. Frossard reminds us that just one word from the Pope would have sufficed for the entire Polish nation to rise up. Just one signal and all those who could have, would have risen up to smash the system - such was the situation created by the election of the Pope from the East. However, no signal was forthcoming. The absence of a signal was another sign. Its meaning was that one should go towards freedom without violence.

The third key is forgiveness. The former Secretary-General of the United Nations, Dag Hammarskjold, wrote at Easter time in 1960:

"Forgiveness breaks the chain of causality because he who "forgives" you - out of love - takes upon himself the consequences of that which you have done. Forgiveness, therefore, always entails a sacrifice.

The price you must pay for your own liberation through another's sacrifice is that you in turn must be willing to liberate in the same way, irrespective of the consequences to yourself."

If we are becoming freer, this means that we are being liberated through forgiveness. Christ, as the center of history, is the first to forgive and liberate us. No liberation is possible without Him.

In January 1991, members of new, freely and lawfully elected Lithuanian Parliament, protected only by a handful of primitively armed volunteers, waited for an attack and the possibility of death. Thousands of unarmed people stood guard around the Parliament building. At the television transmission tower, tanks had already rolled in and were crushing defenseless people in their wake. Barbarous soldiers were shooting down unarmed civilians in the streets. The same could happen at the Parliament at any moment. Suddenly, a window opened and the Parliament was no longer a fortress but a shrine: the Holy Mass was being celebrated. While waiting for freedom on the threshold of death, all those at the Parliament that night were forgiving others and, by doing so, were liberating them.

It is not a "velvet" or "singing" revolution that stops multiplying the hatred that is borne by every revolution. A forgiving revolution is the one that truly liberates because it does not go on to oppress others.

What is the risk of freedom? It is not a determination to destroy in order to be liberated. It is not just an agreement to accept freedom granted to you because others forgave and liberated you. The risk of freedom is also a resolve to become a further conduit for freedom by forgiving and liberating others. If a nation is liberated, this does not mean that every individual in the nation has been liberated as well. Liberation is an ongoing process that needs continuity. A nation can become completely liberated only when all of its people are free.

To be able to accept freedom in the proper way is one thing; to retain that freedom is another. There is a great temptation among the people of Eastern Europe who regained their freedom to use it without measure and responsibility, thereby jeopardizing it.

The countries that had previously been under communist oppression turned to Europe and expressed their desire to join their community. Exhausted and weary, what could they give Europe? Having gained freedom through a peaceful and forgiving revolution, they felt it was their duty to spread it further. But what freedom could one bring to an already free and prospering Europe?

The answer is: freedom from fear. Let us remember the first words of the newly elected Pope from the East: "Do not be afraid." Andre Frossard reminds us that fear is one of the components of European unity. I would specify two kinds of fear. The first is an external fear of communism, the second is an internal fear of oneself and of the failures of Europe in the first half of this century. Both reasons for these fears have disappeared. The totalitarian communist system no longer exists, and Europe has created a system which has eliminated the danger of internal wars. Nevertheless, fear has remained and it wanders around seeking a new target.

The words that we read in Frossard's "The World of John Paul II" that: "Today's Europe needs a harder cement," sound like a warning. The duty of those of us coming from the East is to help get rid of fear and at the same time, to help search for this new cement which will unify the Europe of the third millennium. We must obey the call of the Holy Father to create "a culture of freedom".

We have to understand that the time has come to grasp the opportunity that today's freedom offers us. If we miss this chance today, we may not get another one tomorrow. We know how hard it is to "turn a sword into a plough", how difficult is the negotiating environment and process of nuclear and other disarmament. Much depends not on the weapons that have already been produced, but on our own personal and political will. Therefore, we must answer the call of the Holy Father to suppress fear and to "create a civilization of love".

Let us turn our fear into love.