|
In Tribute to Pope John Paul II(1912-2005) By Fr. John Gruben, OAR From a Homily on Divine Mercy Sunday Given at St. Anthony Parish, Nanuet, New York, April 3, 2005 Back in the middle of November of 2004, when I had just returned from Rome, where I had been attending the General Chapter Meeting of the Augustinian Recollects, I started writing a short article for our community website which I planned to entitle: "Waiting Twenty Years for a Handshake." And I began the article by saying that ever since I was a student in Rome back in 1985, I had been hoping to meet our Holy Father, Pope John Paul II, to have the opportunity of personally greeting him, and shaking his hand. Over those many years a number of opportunities presented themselves, and two such audiences were actually scheduled, only to be cancelled at the last moment. To cover my disappointment I jokingly said each time that I supposed when the Holy Father heard that there were some Augustinians knocking on his door, that he must have thought about our brother, Martin Luther, and decided he didn't want to see any more troublemakers. Besides, I said to myself, I was with the Pope in Central Park in 1995, as one of the concelebrants for the wonderful Mass he celebrated on that occasion. What more could I really hope for? But last November something that I had actually thought would never happen, finally did. There were forty of us friars gathered for our meeting in Rome, when the phone call came that we were to be at the bronze doors of the Vatican Palace the following morning at 8:30 AM sharp, because the Holy Father wanted to see us. When we arrived we were ushered into a huge reception room, the Sala Clementina, covered with magnificent medieval frescos, some of which portrayed the Christian virtues as monumental figures: Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, Temperance, and the rest. And as our waiting was prolonged, I kept staring at the figure of the one virtue I most needed at that particular moment: Patience. I reminded myself that the Pope was ill, that he could no longer move as quickly as he had in his younger days, and that he had many other groups to visit besides ours. And so I waited: but not with patience! Finally a door opened and he was there. He couldn't walk on his own, and so he was pushed into the room seated on a large, decorative throne that functioned like a wheelchair. We stood around the Pope in a large semicircle, our black habits contrasting sharply with his white robes, and we were introduced individually to him by our General Superior, Fr. Javier Guerra. When it was my turn, I knelt before the Holy Father, according to the protocol, which was followed, I kissed his ring, and I finally shook his hand. He was not able to speak that day but his handshake was very firm and communicated clearly the power that he still had. It was a power that went beyond physical strength, beyond titles, and beyond authority, to a very personal realm wherein lay the gift that John Paul II had throughout his life. It was a gift he willingly shared with all those open to receive it: the power to move hearts and the power to change lives. And at that moment when our lives finally touched and we were connected physically for a brief moment, the only thing I could think to say was: "Thank You". Two words that summed up all I knew and felt for that humble, generous, fearless, and supremely human individual: Thank You - for everything you have been and for everything you have done for us: the Augustinian Recollects, the Catholic Church in the United States and throughout the world, and the entire human family - for you held us all in your heart, in your thoughts, and in your prayers. After the introductions, it became clear that the Holy Father could not communicate the message that he had prepared for us, but each one present received a copy of it in written form. We then sang the Salve Regina, "Hail, Holy Queen" the Pope's favorite hymn it is said, to honor Mary, the mother of Jesus, whose name was always on the lips of John Paul, wherever he went and whatever the theme of his message might be. And as he was leaving, I watched his retreating form and tried to fix it in my memory, knowing that I would probably never share such a personal moment with him again. It turned out that the first official viewing of the Pope after his death took place in that same room, and on the very spot where he had greeted us. After we had returned to the monastery where we were holding our meeting, we read the Pope's message together. And this is part of what he said to us as Augustinian Recollect friars. "I want to express the thanks of the Church for the testimony of your lives as consecrated religious, and for the pastoral service that you carry out in the 18 countries, and on the three continents where you are present. I urge you that in your reflections and discussions you keep in mind what I consider to be the origin of every pastoral and spiritual effort: Starting Afresh from Christ: this is always to be our way of moving ahead in the new millennium. You know well what this means for the religious life, and how it connects you to the sacrifice of Christ in a special manner. The essential element of the spiritual life, so identified in your tradition with fidelity and contemplation, with interiority and the untiring search for God, is always the point of departure for every genuine renewal and the soul of every apostolic effort. Nothing can take the place of a profound life of faith in order to fulfill your vocation of being prophets of the Reign of God. In effect, what will move the people of our times is precisely the spiritual quality of the consecrated life, which becomes a powerful testimony to others. At the beginning of the new millennium, it is this testimony of your lives of faith that will bring clarity to the confusion that can come about in an increasingly interdependent world, that will shed peace and hope in the face of so much conflict, that will manifest the inexhaustible beauty of God in the face of a lack of firm commitments, and give signs of God's love for every human being, created in his image, although so often disfigured and oppressed by an atmosphere of violence, by a lack of unity, and by prejudice toward others. Reflecting in your lives and making real the One who is the "light of the world", you will truly serve the church and humanity, which always hungers for the presence of God." The Holy Father was encouraging us to remain faithful to our calling as Augustinian Recollects, and in that very fidelity to help our broken and divided world, to help each person wounded by sin to make a new beginning by Starting Afresh From Christ. It is very appropriate that Pope John Paul II died on the eve of "Divine Mercy Sunday," a tradition which he himself helped create through the canonization of St. Faustina Kawalska, that Polish saint who dared to proclaim a God who was truly merciful in the face of the holocaust of World War II, and who portrayed this merciful God through the image of Jesus with arms outstretched in welcome and heart pierced, so that the rays of divine life might be poured out, cleansing us through the waters of Baptism, and feeding us with his body and blood in the Eucharist. It was this Jesus who appeared to the first disciples in our Gospel reading today and spoke to them a word of peace in their time of sadness and fear, who forgave them their betrayal even as he bestowed on them the power to forgive others, and who sent them forth as messengers of hope and joy to a world darkened by injustice and selfishness. For twenty-six years Pope John Paul II has carried out this same work with energy and with conviction. He was not perfect, but he came as close as anyone I know to modeling Jesus Christ, who came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life for the salvation of all. We are reminded by the image of the doubting Thomas, the principal figure in today's Gospel other than Jesus himself, that Christian faith does not come automatically, and trust in others does not come easily. These things are not achieved solely by human efforts, but through the grace of God freely available to each one of us, if we only ask for it in humility and sincerity of heart: "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believed!" When I first came to St. Anthony's Church as a newly ordained priest and stopped by the rectory for a cup of coffee between Masses, I would always notice a little statue of Pope Pius XII standing like a guard in the entrance way, and whose image I always had to pass before seeing Fr. Ed Netter or Fr. Bill Reynolds, your pastors for so many years. The shepherds of the church come and go, they carry out their work over the brief span of their lives, and others follow to take their place. In an age in which few are entering God's service as priests, brothers, and sisters, we must pray and work seriously for vocations. But we must always remember that we -- all of us and each one of us -- are the Catholic Church, and that united with our shepherds -- our Pope, bishop, and pastor -- we are called to make real through our own lives what Jesus proclaimed so many centuries ago. This parish community of St. Anthony can and must survive and continue to grow, no matter who occupies the rectory next door or the papal apartments in Rome. And our ultimate assurance of this lies not in our own power or planning, but in the mercy of God, personified in Jesus, who is always our hope and our joy. May he reward Pope John Paul II and all of those who sincerely strive to carry out his will with peace in this life, and the privilege, when life draws to an end, of hearing those wonderful words of Jesus: "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of your Lord and God." for other stories, visit our news archive |
)
)
