John Paul I may have lasted only 33 days in office but some think he’s earned a permanent ticket to paradise.

On September 29, the 24th anniversary of his death, the process was begun of making the “Smiling Pope” a saint.

The announcement came at a mass in Venice and was greeted, according to the Irish Catholic, by “loud applause”. The statutory Irish aspect of the affair stems from the fact that Bishop John Magee of Cloyne has been asked to provide a deposition attesting to John Paul I’s saintliness. Magee has already made a deposition for Paul VI: he served both men – as well as current supremo John Paul II – as personal secretary.

Sainting popes is becoming commonplace. Of the eight pontiffs who lived in the last century, one (Pius X) is a full-blown saint already, one (John XXIII) is a blessed, and the cases for the beatification of two others (Pius XII and Paul VI) are being formally considered. Add John Paul I to the list, and that’s five out of eight set fair for sainthood.

No miracles performed by John Paul I have yet come to light, but this shouldn’t prove a problem. The Venetian diocese, where he served as Patriarch, is to advertise in the media for evidence. It would be wholly inexplicable if no inexplicable happening came to light.

I can’t help wondering, though, if John Paul I’s promoters have thought through the implications of pushing the case for top honours. In his 1984 book, In God’s Name, David Yallop suggested that John Paul I been offed by Curial officials who feared he’d blow the gaff on murder and financial mayhem at the Vatican Bank. Personally, I didn’t find Yallop’s case totally convincing. He did demonstrate both that the Vatican was rife with corruption and that there was something distinctly dodgy about the death. But he didn’t find a smoking gun, nor yet a poison phial.

John Cornwell’s 1988 book, A Thief In The Night suggested that there was no need to posit murder, that a bizarre series of coincidences could account both for the mysterious death and the behaviour of Vatican officials afterwards. John Paul I may have forgotten to take medicine for a heart condition and could have died naturally from a blood clot, Cornwell suggests; the disappearance of medical records arose from panic on the part of officials who feared, wrongly, that something more sinister was afoot.

This may well be the truth of it. But It leaves a number of conundra unresolved. Why won’t the Vatican say straight whether a post-mortem was conducted? If yes, what did it show? If no, why not? These seem straightforward questions if there’s nothing to hide.

A campaign to have John Paul I canonised will surely pitch these issues back into the public arena. Which some of us would welcome. But can the cabal around John Paul II take the same relaxed view?

If John Paul 1 and the other popes in the pipeline are canonised, it will mean that all four pontiffs immediately preceding John Paul II – going back to the Nazi collaborator Pius XII, crowned in 1939 – will have been elevated to sainthood. In which circumstance, the next pontificate will have no practical option other than to move swiftly to add John Paul II to the list. It would be taken as a deliberate hostile snub were any other course adopted.

This might explain why the incumbent regime should risk awkward questions about the death of John Paul I. It’s the place in church history of the John Paul II that they are concerned with.

Has any Roman leader since Caligula declared himself a god displayed such immanent arrogance? I think not.