Paying My Respect

Friday night I turned on the TV for some background noise while cleaning the bathroom. I had left the channel turned to MSNBC the last time I turned the TV off, and was immediately seized by the “Flash News” headline: The Pope hovers near death.

I am not Catholic and I do not believe that the Pope is God’s Representative here on Earth. I have grave doubts as to great chunks of RCC theology and a massive issue with the Church’s stance on birth control in light of the AIDS crisis in Africa. But I have a great respect for those men and women within the church who have chosen to dedicate their lives to the service of God and the church. I feel that those who serve God to the best of their ability and honestly strive to understand the will of God, then live their lives in an heartfelt attempt to fulfill that will, should be regarded with reverence, even if you disagree with their belief as to what God’s will is. That’s why I join the Catholic faithful in mourning the passing of Pope John Paul II.

I was touched by the stories told by men and women whose lives had been touched by this man. I learned about the Pope’s early life, gaining a newfound respect for the young man who tried to find God among the destruction and evil of WWII. I saw the obvious joy in his face as he met with children and presided over one youth rally after another. Regardless of your faith (or lack thereof), the fact is that the Pope has an effect on your life—for better or worse—by dint of his political and social influence.

In the local paper, they carried a special pictorial section documenting the life of Karol Wojtyla. The mischievous grin of the nine year old could still be seen in the 84 year old. One photo showed the Pope together with a couple of other men in a labor camp—and the (future) Pope was shirtless, which threw me for a loop. I mean, those are the Pope’s nipples! And the pictures continued right up until just a few months ago, when the smiling, kindly-looking man had become stooped and unsteady—his expressions stunted by the progression of Parkinson’s.

Two of my favorite things about the Pope were not included in the documentary. The first is last Fall’s audience with the breakdancers. I don’t remember where they came from, but I was so tickled by the smile and thumbs-up that the Pope gave at the end of the performance. I loved the idea that he might see the love of God and the joy in the performance instead of jumping to the default position of many older church members who would find the idea of breakdancing for God outright blasphemous.

The other is the 1983 meeting between the Pope and the man who tried to kill him in the 1981 assassination attempt. Can you imagine what strength he must have needed to not only be in the same room with a man who tried to kill him, not only to shake his hand, but to call for God to bless him, to show him love, to spend the afternoon alone with him talking. This, for me, is the very definition of forgiveness.

“Be not afraid!” These were no empty words, but a life line to the faithful in Poland, a rallying point for opposition to Soviet rule. “They are with us tonight. They are us.” – a recognition of the great suffering of the Jewish people in the Holocaust and a declaration that we are all human and that the suffering of one is the suffering of all.

The statements issued from the Vatican brought me to tears several times. “Christ opens the door” Indeed, I hope and believe that Christ did open the door for Karol Wojtyla. “Do not weep for me” he said to the men gathered at his bedside—and to us, waiting and keeping vigil here in the world. And I am struck by the beauty of the ceremony surrounding events. There are those who would say that Catholicism is spiritually empty because of its reliance on ceremony—and I’ve certainly know individual Catholics who are “going through the motions”. But I think that the ceremony can also be a conduit for spirituality, providing you with a sense of connection to others who share your faith and with those who came before you (and those who will come after you). It is also full of powerful and moving symbolism.

Be not afraid—the message he left behind with his dying, but all the more with his life. I honor his courage and his devotion to his faith. There are certainly valid criticisms to be made of both his papacy and the church he led—evidence that he is just another man, I suppose—and issues that will need to be addressed by his successor, but today I want to focus on the goodness to be found in the 26 years of Pope John Paul II. May he rest in peace. May his church choose wisely in the days to come.