The Luciani legacy.

Albino Luciani? The name is vaguely familiar. Perhaps a trendy Italian fashion designer, an upscale restaurateur, or one of those Grand Prix race-car drivers.

Actually, Luciani's "15 minutes of fame" lasted 34 days. He was elected the 262nd pope on Aug. 26, 1978 and died a little more than a month later, on Sept. 28. Better known as Pope John Paul I, this man, whose birthday we celebrate on October 17, should be nothing more than a distant memory after the extraordinarily lengthy papacy of his successor.

Yet a quarter of a century later the cameo appearance of John Paul I has not been forgotten. Pilgrims frequently leave fresh flowers at his tomb beneath St. Peter's Basilica. Ordinary people whose long-term memory has not faded pay homage to this short-term pope.

He smiled, exuded a warm humanity, and didn't seem to take himself too seriously--rare qualities today in the hierarchy of the church. The bedrock of his character, in addition to his faith, might well have been his imagination. I suspect his imagination stoked the characteristics many people--both Catholic and non-Catholic--admired in him and yearn for in today's church leaders.

His imagination also fueled one of the more interesting books ever authored by a pope, Illustrissimi: Letters from Pope John Paul I (Little Brown). First published just a few years before his election to the papacy, this book is a series of letters to a wide range of people: other authors, figures from history, and fictional characters from novels. He writes to Christopher Marlowe and Mark Twain, to King David and Maria Theresa of Austria, to Mr. Pickwick and Pinocchio. Saints also "receive" letters, among them Bernard, the abbot of Clairvaux, Francis of Sales, Therese of Lisieux, Bonaventure, and Luke the Evangelist.

The last letter of his book is addressed to Jesus. The future pope begins it: "I have received some criticism. 'He is a bishop, a cardinal,' it has been said, 'and he's broken his arm writing in all directions, to Mark Twain, to Peguy, to Casella, to Penelope, to Dickens, to Marlowe, to Goldoni, and heaven knows how many others. But not one line to Jesus Christ.'"

He then goes on to extol what he really likes about Jesus. He sees Jesus as the good father of the Prodigal Son story, "a scene to be found on every page of the gospel." He admires Jesus' approach to sinners: "You approach sinners, men and women, you eat at their table, you invite yourself, if they do not date invite you. You really seem--this is my impression--to be more concerned with the sufferings that sin produces in the sinners than with the offense against God."

Had this imaginative momentary pope been given length of days, it would have been interesting to see the character and caliber of bishops and cardinals he would have named. It would have been interesting to see how he would have handled faithful theologians who think outside the box. It would have been interesting to see what liturgical reforms or regressions might have happened under his watch. And much more.

We will never know. But that should not stop us from remembering this bishop of Rome named Albino Luciani on October 17, the 91st year of his birth.

PETER GILMOUR ([e-mail]) teaches at the Institute of Pastoral Studies of Loyola University Chicago.