I Can Do All Things

Yesterday was the third anniversary of the death of Pope John Paul II. I would like to share some thoughts about this man who, though I only saw once for a few brief moments, affected my faith life in ways I am only now beginning to understand.

I will never forget Saturday, April 2, 2005. I was sitting at my computer when the news came over the wires that his earthly journey was complete. I had joined in spirit with the multitudes who had kept a long vigil in St. Peter’s Square that night, and when it was over, I cried. No, I sobbed. The one time I had seen the Holy Father in Rome in 2004 had such a profound impact on me that when he died, I felt like I’d lost a member of my own family. Indeed, I – and the world – had lost a spiritual father.

This simple man, during his last hours that April night and in the days leading up to his funeral, brought the whole world together! So often we excuse ourselves from work or situations we want to avoid, protesting, “But I’m just one person. What can I possibly do?” JP2, as we lovingly called him, had his own answer to that question. He clearly understood what St. Paul had written centuries before: I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me (Phil. 4:13). One person described him as a Pope who “makes decisions on his knees.” And from that strength came a sense of deep and utter conviction from which he was able to speak to kings and paupers, to people of great faith and to those with no faith at all. In his last days, when even his voice had left him, his dignity in the face of suffering preached one of the most eloquent sermons ever given.

The book of the prophet Hosea speaks of God leading His people Israel into the desert where He will speak to her heart (cf. Hos. 2:16). The Lord called Moses to converse with Him on Mount Sinai. Jesus, the Gospels tell us, often went off by Himself to pray. It is there in that blessed communion with our Lord and Savior that we find what we need to do all things. It’s all so simple, and yet we humans have a tremendous capacity for making our lives so very complicated. But Jesus reminds us that it is the meek and the pure of heart and the poor in spirit who are blessed (see Mt. 5) because their vision is not blurred and obscured by all the extraneous minutia that too often takes over our lives.

John Paul II, for all his greatness, remained a simple, humble man who saw God in everyone, especially in the children. I remember vividly the Ash Wednesday service I attended at St. Peter’s Basilica in 2004 (which, as it turned out, was the last one at which he presided). There was a group of pilgrims from Mexico seated behind us. As the Pope and his entourage were processing out at the conclusion of the liturgy, the people behind us started passing a baby across the row toward the main aisle. When JP2 caught sight of the little one, he lit up like a Christmas tree, in spite of his age and obvious infirmities. I will never forget the sweetness on his face as he held and blessed that child. Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven (Lk. 18:15).

I would like to end this reflection with some of Pope John Paul’s own words from a collection of his poetry called The Place Within.

I often think of that day of vision:
It will be filled with amazement
at the Simplicity
that can hold
the world.
And the world dwells in it, untouched
until now, and beyond.

And then the simple necessity grows
to a still greater yearning
for that one day
embracing all things
with the immeasurable Simplicity
that love’s breathing can bring.

(Shores of Silence, Stanza 16)

John Paul II, requiescat in pacem, et ora pro nobis.

Prayer Request: For all those bogged down with busy schedules.

Prayer: Lord, we thank You for calling us away from the clamor and bustle of our lives to come away with You to be refreshed in Your presence. Help us to find joy in the simple things, and to see Your face in everyone we meet. We make this prayer through Christ our Lord. Amen.