Beatification of Pope John Paul II from Rocco Palmo on Vimeo.

by Jeremy Priest

The first time I met Pope John Paul II…well, perhaps “met” is the wrong word when you’re in a crowd of seven million people? Yet, as I think back to that World Youth Day in the Philippine Islands, “met” is the only word that describes what happened. I didn’t merely see John Paul II. No. Even in a crowd of millions, I had the feeling that he loved me. As his eyes fell upon each of us, I felt loved by him, as if his eyes were the very eyes of Jesus.

I can imagine Jesus looking at people with these same eyes. Pope John Paul II had so given himself to the Heart of Jesus that his eyes spoke with the Heart of Jesus. One can understand why the crowd that gathered that World Youth Day in the Philippines was the largest crowd ever assembled in human history: these young people gathered not simply to see Pope John Paul II; they crowded around the Bishop of Rome because in him they saw Christ.

Like the Philippines and so many other places Pope John Paul II visited, millions thronged the city of Rome when he died in April of 2005. They flooded the streets of Rome to be with him, to mourn his death, to rejoice in his life. They flooded the streets of Rome because they had lost a man who had become their “father in Christ Jesus through the gospel” (1 Cor. 4:15). One of my friends, a Protestant pastor, confided in me that after he heard the news that John Paul II died he immediately felt compelled to find the nearest Catholic church and pray. He had lost a father too.

This celibate man who so many of us knew as a spiritual father (pope means ‘papa’), thought that the 20^th century had gone off track. Amidst the horrors of the 20^th century (two world wars, millions of corpses, oceans of blood), Pope John Paul II thought that we as human beings had forgotten what it means to be human. He was convinced that in Jesus Christ we experience and see what it means to be human. John Paul II never tired of quoting these words from the Second Vatican Council: “Christ, the final Adam, by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear” (GS 22). Only through faith in Jesus will we find our way again.

Pope John Paul II has been described as a “Witness to Hope.” This poet, this playwright, this worker, who was philosopher, theologian, pastor, teacher, bishop, and pope; this man who was so many things was, at the last, a disciple of Jesus Christ and a witness (the Greek word is “martyr”) to hope: a witness to the hope that fills our lives when our eyes are fixed on Jesus.

On this day we celebrate his Beatification, his becoming a “Blessed.” While I still deeply miss him, as soon as he died I had the feeling that he was closer to me than he had been before. The Catholic doctrine of the Communion of Saints says that death cannot separate us from our brothers and sisters in Christ: they are more alive in God now than when they were living with us here on earth. And so, on this Divine Mercy Sunday, the liturgical anniversary of his death, his entry into eternal life, we both miss him and simultaneously know his closeness to us.

These are the closing words of Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger’s 2005 funeral homily for Pope John Paul II:

None of us can ever forget how in that last Easter Sunday of his life, the Holy Father, marked by suffering, came once more to the window of the Apostolic Palace and one last time gave his blessing urbi et orbi. We can be sure that our beloved Pope is standing today at the window of the Father’s house, that he sees us and blesses us. Yes, bless us, Holy Father. We entrust your dear soul to the Mother of God, your Mother, who guided you each day and who will guide you now to the eternal glory of her Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

In an excerpt of some retreat notes, the Saint writes on the power and beauty of prayer:

[Prayer] is the only means of purifying us, of uniting us to God, and of allowing God to unite himself to us and be glorified in us. We must pray to obtain the apostolic virtues; pray that we may use them to help others, and pray also that we may not lose them while serving others.

Without a doubt, Saint Claude’s spirituality of prayer is intense. It is a means, and what he identifies as the only means, of purification and unification with God. This understanding of prayer is mystical, that prayer is a certain transportation of the soul into the arms of God. Saint Catherine of Siena, for-instance, explains that through prayer, the soul tastes truth and goodness, and “unites [itself] with God”.[1] This mystical theology of prayer is also how the Catechism of the Catholic Church defines prayer—using the words of St. John Damascene: “Prayer is the raising of one’s mind and heart to God” (CCC 2559). If prayer is about the transportation of the soul above, then the object of prayer is not just God, but more specifically, it is the presence of God. Prayer cultivates the Most High present within one’s own existential make-up. Prayer enhances the life of God within us by bringing us closer to Him: prayer awakens man.

The Saint continues, considering the counsel of Saint Paul to pray without ceasing: “[This] seems sweet to me and in no way impossible. It includes the practice of the presence of God…We always have need of God, therefore we must always pray”. Likewise and furthermore, the greatest charity is the giving of Jesus Christ to others. Not only, then, do we pray in order to be with God, but we pray to overflow with God: prayer, thence, becomes a way of being gift: “How can we help our neighbor? By prayer and good works. Preaching is useless without grace, and grace is only obtained by prayer. If conversions are few, it is because few pray.”

One cannot consider prayer without its component and fullness within the Holy Mass. Saint Claude goes so far as to write that “God is more honored by a single Mass than he could be by all actions of angels and men together”. He continues that it is in the Mass, in this “adorable Sacrifice”, that man can “find all things: graces, riches spiritual and temporal, favors for body and mind for life and eternity”. With such an understanding of the Eucharist, is it any wonder that the Saint also writes about the necessity of the Sacrament?

My daily Mass and Communion is my only hope and resource. Jesus Christ can do very little if he cannot uphold me from day to day. He will not fail to reproach me if I begin to relax; each day he will counsel me and give me new strength; he will instruct, console, and encourage me and give me all the graces for which I pray. [Emphasis added.]

These words ought to inspire the Christian of today. In the Holy Mass, the participating individual is able to encounter the authenticity of a hope that transforms and renews, to receive and be received into the communion of Jesus Christ and therefore eat the greatest nutrient of the human person: the bread of life (cf. Jn 6). To encounter Jesus Christ is a central component of the Liturgical life. By encountering Him, our souls are lifted and renewed, and our senses are opened and strengthened by the powers of faith, hope, and love. By encountering Jesus Christ we enter into the communion of creation that longs for the closeness of the Creator, in whom man’s true source of happiness rests. The Holy Mass is that place where the personality of the human person reaches its fullest expression in the adoration and reception of her God.

I was greatly touched in considering the thoughts that Jesus Christ has of me when I hold him in my hands: the dispositions of his Heart, his desires and plans for my soul. What sweetness and grace a pure and detached soul receives in this Sacrament.

I would now like to end with a brief passage the Saint wrote on charity and service to others:

God is in the midst of us, and it seems that we do not recognize him. He is in our neighbor and desires to be served, loved, and honored in him, and he will reward us more than if we served him in person…Let each one see Jesus Christ in his neighbor.

Religion has always been about the other, that is, some sort of divinity. However, in Christianity, the whole structure of the other is transcended and illuminated. Christianity is, in the first place, about being close with the Most High, the God of Love. In that communion with the Creator, however, man is received into the communion of creation; thus, because Christianity is about the Ultimate Other, who is the God of Jesus Christ, it always concentrates on the other. Christianity is therefore a religion of excess, of being radically and extensively pro-life. For true life is one of excess and fullness. Only from God can such spring forth into the human heart.

May these words on service inspire us to dive deeper into relationship with others, and to look into their eyes and see not a reflection of oneself, but, aided by light of faith, adore the eyes and presence of Christ.

Saint Claude la Colombiére, pray for us!

The primary Gospel message that Gregory is preaching on is Christ the Good Shepherd (Jn 10). He is speaking to encourage the flock to truly be flock, and by that he means true followers of the Heavenly Shepherd: “Ask yourselves whether you belong to his flock, whether you know him, whether the light of his truth shines in your minds. I assure you that it is not by faith that you will come to know him, but by love”. To be a sheep of the Good Shepherd is if to, not surprisingly, follow Him—and this requires love.

Moreover, to arrive at this conclusion, Gregory first read and interpreted the following passage: “I am the good shepherd. I know my own – by which I mean, I love them – and my own know me. In plain words: those who love me are willing to follow me, for anyone who does not love the truth has not yet come to know it”. Gregory, here, is drawing upon the Biblical tradition of knowledge, namely, that it is something more than a mere acknowledgement of a fact, that it, instead, involves an interior transformation and even a certain relationship with the truth. Thus, when we come to know God, we thereby come to love the truth—which He is—and so enter into discipleship.

The question, then, seems to be, “How do I come to know God?”. Gregory answers this question by tracing the path that the Son took. It is through love that man comes in communication with God. For the flock of Jesus Christ is a flock inundated with love, and that is the mark of Christianity, of being Christian (cf. Jn 34-35). The whole persona of Jesus is love. He is God Incarnate, the personification of Love. He came “to serve and give his life as a ransom” (Mk 10:45). Therefore, to come to know God requires that we come to know the mediator of God, Christ Jesus. This, in turn, necessitates a conformation-in-being with Jesus. And how one comes to this is through love: serving and giving his life to others. Living for the other is the atom of the Christian compound, so to speak.

Gregory quotes from the First Letter of John to emphasize the importance of love in knowing God: “anyone who claims to know God without keeping his commandments is a liar” (1 Jn 2:4). In a later passage, John writes: “Whoever is without love does not know God” (1 Jn 4:8). Just as God came down into the human condition through love, so man comes to know God through love, of which God Himself is the source and fount.

Thus, love really is a mystical power. By entering into life, into the “sheepfold through me [Jesus] he [one] shall be saved; he shall go freely in and out and shall find good pasture. He will enter into a life of faith; from faith he will go out to vision, from belief to contemplation, and will graze in the good pastures of everlasting life”.

The God of Love calls us to a life of love. When we therefore live charitably, generously, and gratuitously, we begin to follow His incarnate Son—the Bridge into the Divine. Love is the ingredient of mysticism, of coming into contact with the Infinite, of experiencing the closeness of God’s presence face-to-face.

The Pope closes his homily with beautiful words of inspiration that, still today, should be a source of encouragement for Christians: “Let us stir up our hearts, rekindle our faith, and long eagerly for what heaven has in store for us. To love thus is to be already on our way. No matter what obstacles we encounter, we must not allow them to turn us aside from the joy of that heavenly feast.” The excerpt accordingly ends with a message of joy. There is a certain, unique joy of knowing Christ. It is a joy that liberates, a joy that conveys true life, and a joy that nourishes the divine source of the human person. It is a joy that only comes from God, and it is a joy that is accessible only through love.

Thus, just as Deus Caritas est, may we, in turn be love, and so be with God, and allow our souls to experience their primal wings and soar the heavens with the Divine, once again.

Recently my wife and I have been reading through St. Francis de Sales’ masterful spiritual classic, Introduction to the Devout Life. St. Francis de Sales’ preface has a great passage that I think has much to say on these matters. 

He explains that he is not writing for the vowed religious in orders or monasteries, but for

those who live in town, within families, or at court, and by their state of life are obliged to live an ordinary life as to outward appearances….just as the mother of pearl fish lives in the sea without taking in a single drop of salt water, just as near the Chelodonian islands springs of fresh water may be found in the depths of the sea, and just as the firefly passes through flames without burning its wings, so also a strong, resolute soul can live in the world without being infected by any of its moods, find sweet springs of piety amid its salty waves, and fly through the flames of earthly lusts without burning the wings of its holy desires for a devout life.¹ 

In short, we are all called to become Saints, regardless of our vocation or state in life. This is the “universal call to holiness” about which the Second Vatican Council taught (5^th Ch. of Lumen Gentium). We can pray at all times (e.g., 1 Thess. 5:17) by practicing the presence of God, offering short prayers before we work (e.g., cleaning dishes, typing at the computer, attending meetings, fixing plumbing, etc.) thereby transforming our very work into prayer, and even silently praying brief prayers while we work (e.g., “Jesus, I love you,” “O God come to my assistance,” etc.). All of us can share our faith with others. We can do this by telling our family members, friends, colleagues, about how God has worked in our lives. We talk to people about our friends, spouses, parents, and children; we can also talk to people about our relationship with God, since that relationship is the most important one we have. Sometimes we’ll be called upon to explain the faith to the best of our abilities. This will take study and experience, but we all have to begin at some point if we are ever to gain such important experience. Finally, we can serve others in numerous ways that are simple (but not easy) every day: pray for others, offer our work and sufferings as prayers for others; doing the little things well (smiling for others, cleaning up for others, simple greetings and courtesies, offering to lend a hand when the opportunity presents itself, being better listeners, etc.). 

Soup kitchens and service/mission trips are wonderful. But we all have daily opportunities which can draw us closer to God, and through which can draw others closer to God. Religious orders and communities are wonderful, necessary, and essential. But those of us who are not called to such vocations must not use that as an excuse to neglect God. God desires all of us to become Saints. For those of us who are called to live in the midst of the world, the very world becomes our monastery; the streets, the workplace, the many varied vehicles of transportation we use, all of these locales become for us our houses of prayer, our temples, and at the same time our mission field. The most important of these will always remain our home, where we are called upon to spread Christ’s love among the members of our family. In St. Francis de Sales’ words, we are to become souls living “in the world without becoming infected by” the world. 

St. Francis de Sales

All of us can become Saints. Such sanctity is achievable, although the path is arduous, and I’m as far away from it as you, further away probably than most of you. As Catholics we must not neglect the aid of the Communion of Saints, on earth, in purgatory, and in heaven, for we are called to bear one another’s burdens (e.g., Gal. 6:2), and how wonderful such brotherly and sisterly aid can be. We should also frequent the Eucharist, the source and summit of our lives (Lumen Gentium no. 11), precisely because the Eucharist is Jesus’ gift of Self, of His very life, and Jesus is the center of our lives. We will invariably fall down, again and again. Thanks be to God for the Sacraments, including Confession! What lavish gifts the Lord has provided for us! He has given us all the means to grow in holiness. Let us then strive to become Saints. For those of us called to a secular vocation as described by St. Francis de Sales, let us become Saints in the midst of the world. We can do it with God’s grace. Put simply, we must follow Jesus, walking by faith every day.

1. St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, trans. with an introduction and notes by John K. Ryan (New York: Doubleday, 1989), 33-34.