Good Friday, Commemoration of the Lord's Passion - April 14th, 2017
As we commemorate Good Friday for this year, I have chosen to share with you the following reflection on what Pope John Paul II taught us at the end of his life. I cannot recall Good Friday without remembering Saint John Paul II, especially his final Good Friday on earth in 2005. This reflection is part of a major address I gave at the Knights of Columbus Museum in New Haven, Connecticut, for the opening of the special exhibit, “Blessed,” that commemorated the life of this great man.
On Human Suffering
One of the beautiful and not frequently cited writings of John Paul II was his 1984 apostolic letter Salvifici Doloris, “On the Christian Meaning of Human Suffering.” The late Pope, following the Apostle Paul and the entire Catholic Tradition, maintained throughout his life that it is precisely in suffering that Christ displayed his solidarity with humanity, and in which we can grow in solidarity with Christ, who is our life.
In Salvifici Doloris, suffering is the consequence of sin, and Christ embraces that consequence, rather than repudiating it. By embracing suffering, he shares fully in it; he takes the consequence of sin into and onto himself. He does this out of love for us, not simply because he wants to redeem us, but because he wants to be with us, to share what we share, to experience what we experience. And it is this shared love, this shared suffering in love, which completes and perfects the relationship broken in sin, and so redeems us.
Saint John Paul II taught us that the meaning of suffering is fundamentally changed by the Incarnation. Apart from the Incarnation, suffering is the consequence of sin. It offers opportunities for insight into oneself, for personal growth, and for demonstrating practical love for others, but these are incidental. Because of the Incarnation, however, we become sharers in the Body of Christ. Our suffering becomes his suffering, and becomes an expression of redeeming love.
Because he was the leader of a billion Roman Catholics; because he was the first pontiff of the satellite and Internet age, reaching out to billions more, and because he was John Paul II, who has ruled the church for more than 26 years – in that public experience of suffering was found enormous power. And that he certainly knew. In 1981, after recovering from the gunshot wound that almost took his life in St. Peter's Square, John Paul declared that suffering, as such, is one of the most powerful messages in Christianity.
During the final years of his pontificate, John Paul II brought suffering back into the realm of the expected in human life. Everyone could see that his spirituality gave him an inner strength – a spirituality with which one can also overcome fear, even the fear of death. What an incredible lesson for the world! His struggle with the physical effects of aging was also a valuable lesson to a society that finds it hard to accept growing older, and a culture that sees no redemption in suffering.
In 1994, as age and infirmity began to incapacitate John Paul publicly, he told his followers he had heard God and was about to change the way he led the church. “I must lead her with suffering,” he said. “The pope must suffer so that every family and the world should see that there is, I would say, a higher gospel: the gospel of suffering, with which one must prepare the future.”
A consoling letter to his peers
In 1999, in preparation for the Great Jubilee, Pope John Paul II published his “Letter to the Elderly.” This followed his Letters to the Young in 1985, to Families in 1994, to Children in 1994, to Women in 1995 and to Artists in 1999 – in addition to the letters that he wrote each year to priests every Holy Thursday since the beginning of his pontificate. In his Letter to the Elderly he wrote deeply moving and encouraging words to his peers. He had no fear in placing before the eyes of the world the limits and frailties that successive years had placed upon him. He did nothing to disguise them. In speaking to young people, he had no difficulty in saying of himself: “I am an old priest.” John Paul II continued to fulfil his mission as the Successor of Peter, looking far ahead with the enthusiasm of the only youth that does not deteriorate, that of the spirit, which this Pope maintained until the end of his life. His Letter to the Elderly had a very personal, almost confidential, tone and was not an analysis of old age. Rather, it was a very intimate dialogue between people of the same generation.
“The passage of time,” the Pope wrote, “helps us to see our experiences in a clearer light and softens their painful side.” Moreover, he said, the daily difficulties can be eased with God’s help. In addition, “we are consoled by the thought that, by virtue of our spiritual souls, we will survive beyond death.”
“Guardians of shared memory” was the title of the one section of the Pope’s Letter. Pointing out that “in the past, great respect was shown to the elderly,” the Pope remarked that this is still true in many cultures today, “while among others, this is much less the case, due to a mentality which gives priority to immediate human usefulness and productivity.” He wrote: “It has come to the point where euthanasia is increasingly put forward as a solution for difficult situations. Unfortunately, in recent years the idea of euthanasia has lost for many people the sense of horror which it naturally awakens in those who have a sense of respect for life.”
The Pope added:
Here it should be kept in mind that the moral law allows the rejection of “aggressive medical treatment” and makes obligatory only those forms of treatment which fall within the normal requirements of medical care, which in the case of terminal illness seeks primarily to alleviate pain. But euthanasia, understood as directly causing death, is another thing entirely. Regardless of intentions and circumstances, euthanasia is always an intrinsically evil act, a violation of God’s law and an offense against the dignity of the human person.
Pope John Paul II continued in that letter: “Man has been made for life, whereas death [...] was not a part of God’s original plan but came about as a consequence of sin […] However rationally comprehensible death may be from a biological standpoint, it is not possible to experience it as something ‘natural.’” We ask ourselves, he said, “What is on the other side of the shadowy wall of death?” The answer comes from faith, “which illuminates the mystery of death and brings serenity to old age, now no longer lived passively as the expectation of a calamity, but rather as a promise-filled approach to the goal of full maturity.”
Pope John Paul’s Letter to the Elderly closed with a section entitled “An encouragement to live life to the full,” in which he wrote:
I feel a spontaneous desire to share fully with you my own feelings at this point of my life, after more than twenty years of ministry on the throne of Peter […] Despite the limitations brought on by age I continue to enjoy life. For this I thank the Lord. It is wonderful to be able to give oneself to the very end for the sake of the Kingdom of God!
At the same time, I find great peace in thinking about the time when the Lord will call me: from life to life! […] “Bid me to come to you!”: this is the deepest yearning of the human heart, even in those who are not conscious of it.
What a magnificent signature piece of Pope John Paul II! He not only wrote the letter but enacted it in his own life. We were eyewitnesses.
The public suffering
Saint John Paul II taught us that life is sacred, no matter how painful his life became for him. Rather than hide his infirmities, as most public figures do, Pope John Paul II let the whole world see what he went through. The suffering and dying of this Saint did not take place in private, but before television cameras and the whole world. In the final act of his life, the athlete was immobilized, the distinctive, booming voice silenced, and the hand that produced voluminous encyclicals was no longer able to write. John Paul II’s final homily was an icon of his Galilean Master’s final words to Simon Peter:
Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go. […] After this he [Jesus] said to him, “Follow me” (John 21:18-19).
Many Catholics and non-Christians saw the Pope’s suffering as something like the agony of Jesus himself, and neither John Paul nor those around him discouraged such comparisons. When asked a few years ago if he might consider resigning, John Paul reportedly asked, in reply, “Did Christ come down from the Cross?” His close aides say that debate about his ability to administer the church, as if he were the CEO of a secular corporation, essentially misses the point. This pope was not doing a job, he was carrying out a divine mission, and his pain was at its core.
That final Good Friday evening
One of my most vivid memories from the last week of our late Holy Father’s life was during the Way of the Cross on Good Friday evening in 2005, in which he participated by watching the service at the Coliseum in his chapel on television. The television camera in his chapel was behind him so that he would not be distracted from taking part in this ceremony in which he always took part personally. Then-Archbishop John Foley was doing the television commentary in English from Rome, reading the very provocative meditations prepared by a certain Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger.
At one point toward the end of the Way of the Cross, someone put a rather large crucifix on the knee of the Holy Father, and he was gazing lovingly at the figure of Jesus. At the words, “Jesus Dies on the Cross,” Pope John Paul drew the crucifix to himself and embraced it. I will never forget that scene. What an incredibly powerful homily without words! Like Jesus, Pope John Paul II embraced the cross; in fact, he embraced the crucifix of Jesus Christ on Good Friday night.
The death of a patriarch
Several hours before his death, Pope John Paul’s last audible words were: “Let me go to the house of the Father.” In the intimate setting of prayer, as Mass was celebrated at the foot of his bed and the throngs of faithful sang below in St. Peter's Square, he died at 9:37 p.m. on April 2. Through his public passion, suffering, and death, this holy priest, Successor of the Apostles, and Servant of God, showed us the suffering face of Jesus in a remarkable way.
The Pope of Holiness
Karol Wojtyla himself was an extraordinary witness who, through his devotion, heroic efforts, long suffering, and death, communicated the powerful message of the Gospel to the men and women of our day. A great part of the success of his message is due to the fact that he was surrounded by a tremendous cloud of witnesses who stood by him and strengthened him throughout his life. For John Paul II, the call to holiness excludes no one; it is not the privilege of a spiritual elite.
Lumen Gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church promulgated at the Second Vatican Council, notes that the holiness of Christians flows from that of the Church, and manifests it. It says that holiness “is expressed in many ways by the individuals who, each in his own state of life, tend to the perfection of love, thus sanctifying others” (LG 39). In this variety “one and the same holiness is cultivated by all, who are moved by the Spirit of God […] and follow the poor Christ, the humble and cross-bearing Christ in order to be worthy of being sharers in his glory” (LG 41).
When throngs of people began chanting “Santo Subito” at the end of the Pope’s funeral Mass on April 8, 2005, what were they really chanting? They were crying out that in Karol Wojtyla, they saw someone who lived with God and lived with us. He was a sinner who experienced God’s mercy and forgiveness. He was the prophetic teacher who preached the word in season and out of season. He looked at us, loved us, touched us, healed us, and gave us hope. He taught us not to be afraid. He showed us how to live, how to love, how to forgive, and how to die. He taught us how to embrace the Cross in the most excruciating moments of life, knowing that the Cross was not God’s final answer.
That a person is declared a “Saint” is not a statement about perfection. It does not mean that the person was without imperfection, blindness, deafness, or sin. Nor is it a 360-degree evaluation of the Pontificate or of the Vatican. Beatification and Canonization mean that a person lived his or her life with God, relying totally on God’s infinite mercy, going forward with God’s strength and power, believing in the impossible, loving one’s enemies and persecutors, forgiving in the midst of evil and violence, hoping beyond all hope, and leaving the world a better place. That person lets those around him know that there is a force or spirit animating his or her life that is not of this world, but of the next. Such a person lets us catch a glimpse of the greatness and holiness to which we are all called, and shows us the face of God as we journey on our earthly pilgrimage.
In the life of Karol Wojtyla, the boy from Wadowice who would grow up to be a priest and Bishop of Krakow, the Bishop of Rome, and a hero for the ages, holiness was contagious. We have all been touched and changed by it. Saint John Paul II was not only a “Holy Father” but “a Father who was and is Holy.” At his funeral Mass on April 8, 2005, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger told the world that the Holy Father was watching us and blessing us “from the window of the Father’s House.”
As the flock of Christ journeys forward marked by the life and legacy of this great and holy man, may we learn from “Papa Wojtyla” how to cross thresholds, open doors, build bridges, embrace the cross of suffering, and proclaim the Gospel of Life to the people of our time. May we learn how to live, to suffer, and die unto the Lord. Let us pray to have a small portion of the fidelity of Peter’s witness and the boldness of Paul’s proclamation that were so mightily present in Karol Wojtyla – Saint John Paul II. May he intercede for us and for all those who suffer in body and spirit, and give us the desire to help carry one another’s crosses, to grow in holiness, and to become saints.
[The readings for Good Friday are: Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9; and John 18:1-19:42.]
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