“It was a serene death, it was very beautiful.” These words are from Laurent Desmard, his personal secretary, who remained by the bedside of Abbé Pierre during his final hours of life. Yet, at 94 years old, the clergyman still roamed a short while earlier, his suffering body wrapped in his traditional black coat, into the theaters of last battles for human dignity. With his unshakable beret fixed on his head, the abbé continued to challenge politicians, to rail against misery.
His fight began at 18 years old. Heir to a “soie” silk trader from Lyon, he quickly distributed his inheritance to good causes. Following this, the young man joined the poorest mendicant order: the Capuchins. In 1939, as World War II erupted, his life took a pivotal turn. Abbé Pierre was then 27 years old and decided to join the resistance. He made fake papers for his comrades, helped Jews escape the Nazis, but did not forget God. He remained a chaplain.
After the conflict, he took a detour into the political world. Elected under the MRP label, Abbé Pierre became the deputy for Meurthe-et-Moselle in 1945. He himself would later say, not without humor, that he was a very poor representative of the people. He only served one term. It was during this time that the man of the church settled in Neuilly-Plaisance in a ruined house. Gradually, he restored it, and one morning in 1949, a man knocked at his door. It was a former convict asking for help. His name was Georges. Abbé responded with this beautiful phrase: “I own nothing, but if you want to help me, we can help many others.” This was the starting point for the Emmaüs movement.
The call of winter 1954 definitively entered him into the circle of great French men of the 20th century. After the death on February 1st of a sexagenarian evicted from her apartment, Abbé Pierre made a plea on Radio Luxembourg. With an outraged tone, he implored people to donate for the homeless. It was a triumph and the beginning of a long love story with the French people.
Abbé Pierre was also a different kind of clergyman. His positions and numerous outbursts remained famous. He lamented the celibacy of priests and regretted that women could not be ordained. In short, he was someone who dared to say what he thought. A maverick, the founder of Emmaus found the right balance between discipline and rebellion. The Vatican always gave him a discreet blessing as if the Church understood there was more to gain than to lose with a star like him.
Since his return to the public scene in the early 1980s, Abbé Pierre had become a true celebrity, highly sought after on television shows. To make his message heard, he did not hesitate to engage in the media game, even with its glamor. He said, “The media exists, it would be foolish not to use it.” Whenever he spoke out, it was always for a good cause. The priest took advantage of the microphones extended to him to play the role of a provocateur. Often, Abbé Pierre did not mince his words, such as the day he explained, “If you refuse the condom, you are a bastard.” Indeed, numerous times the Abbé Pierre went back to war, harassing the public authorities and reminding everyone that the fight must continue. Countless times.
The most astonishing was the man’s endurance. His capacity for indignation remained always renewed, never exhausted. For a long time, the founder of Emmaus fought for the requisition of vacant apartments for the poorly housed. In order to be heard, he refused the Legion of Honor in 1992, in vain. So, he employed drastic measures: squatting. At 80, Abbé Pierre personally supported the occupation of a building by the Right to Housing association on Rue du Dragon in Paris. Another cause dear to him: the undocumented immigrants. In 1996, it was an old man, stubborn and determined, who stood beside those who had sought refuge at the Church of Saint Ambrose. He was the inventor of the noise law. “The voice thatcries out makes others interested,” Bernard Kouchner said of him.
Over the years, Abbé Pierre became both a friend and the guilty conscience of politicians. The priest had his entrées at the Élysée where he could directly negotiate the cause of the “small” people. He had the habit of explaining that “the politician, to not become stupid, needs to have nearby those who prevent him from sleeping.”
In forty years of flawless media presence, with repeated outbursts, there was only one slip-up. The Garaudy affair caused a storm in April 1996. The man of the church gave his endorsement to former communist Roger Garaudy, an old friend. He had just published a book with denialist theses. Some newspapers unleashed on him, as they sometimes do with those they have truly loved. Abbé Pierre was then struck off the members of the honorary committee of Licra. The controversy raged, and his friends did not understand. Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the affair, hurt, he distanced himself from his friend and from France. Abbé withdrew his statements and exiled himself for some time in Italy.
Yet the myth was not tarnished. Upon his return, the French granted him forgiveness, and Abbé Pierre quickly climbed back to the top of the popularity polls. Since the 1990s, he had unfailingly occupied the first place in the top 50 personalities of the Journal du Dimanche. He even asked that his name be removed from the list in 2004, after fourteen years of almost absolute reign. A record. At over 90 years old, finally elevated to the highest rank of the Legion of Honor, the clergyman remained the all-time favorite of the French. A model, a hero, across all generations. The media never tired of making him an icon. Despite himself.
Why such a cult, why did Abbé Pierre arouse so much love? Perhaps simply because the old man himself gave a lot of love. Maybe also because he knew how to speak truthfully, sincerely, sharing his heart and his doubts. Lastly and most importantly, the abbé remained true to his word, through his actions, to the end, despite the years weighing on him. Whatever the cost. Even at the cost of his health, even in a wheelchair, even when his voice no longer carried.
The idealistic young man who dreamed that altruism and love could be contagious, had become an old gentleman. Without illusions but who had never given up. He was there for everyone. He was there. If there was one phrase of Abbé Pierre’s to remember, it would be the one he said on February 1st, 1954: “You who suffer, whoever you are, come in, sleep, eat, regain hope. Here, we love you.”
