Many readers will remember with fondness Pope John XXIII, certainly one of the most loved popes of the twentieth century. Coming after the stern and aristocratic Eugenio Pacelli, Pope Pius XII, this roly-poly man with a smile on his face and a readiness for a joke was a breath of fresh air for many. In fact, that was the meaning he gave to the major project of his papacy, the convoking of the Second Vatican Council. John XXIII wanted the council to open windows that had been closed to let in some fresh air.

And the council did exactly what he dreamed it would—it opened windows and let in fresh air. Perhaps this can be best understood in the opening lines of the council document Gaudium et Spes: “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ. Indeed, nothing genuinely human fails to raise an echo in their hearts” (© 1965 Libreria Editrice Vaticana). These lines, perhaps more than any other, epitomized John’s life and hope for the council.

With the council under way and with only a few months to live—he’d been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer—John turned his attention to his great encyclical on peace. Pacem in Terris (“Peace on Earth”) was addressed not only to Catholics but to “all men and women of goodwill” and was heralded by many in and outside the Church as a landmark document.
The incidence of military conflict in the early 1960s and the continuing arms race between Russia and the United States brought fear to people the world over. Things came to a head in the fourth year of John’s papacy with the Cuban missile crisis in October 1962. American spy planes discovered that Russia had secretly begun installing Soviet missiles in Cuba, only minutes away from the United States. President John F. Kennedy made the discovery public and told Premier Nikita Khrushchev that the presence of Soviet missiles just off our coast was unacceptable and insisted they be removed.

When Khrushchev ignored his ultimatum, JFK set up a blockade around the island. Millions watched the final encounter on TV—the Russian ships approaching Cuba, the U.S. blockade standing firm and ready, and then the Russian ships slowly turning around and heading home.

Before this dramatic moment, however, much had gone on behind the scenes. On October 23, after the blockade had been imposed, JFK made one last attempt at dialogue. He contacted Norman Cousins, who then contacted the Vatican and was told that Pope John XXIII would be happy to help. The next day Pope John sent a message to the Soviet embassy in Rome to be transmitted to the Kremlin. In part it read, “I beg heads of state not to remain insensitive to the cry of humanity: peace, peace. Let them do all that is in their power to save peace; in this way they will avoid the horrors of a war, the appalling consequences of which no one could predict. Let them continue to negotiate….”

Pope John’s message appeared in Pravda, the official Communist newspaper, on October 26 under the headline, “We beg all rulers not to be deaf to the cry of humanity.” Khrushchev was given an out. By withdrawing he would be known as a man of peace. Two days later on October 28, Khrushchev agreed to withdraw the missiles.