Tributes to John Paul II.

The following three articles offer different responses to the celebration of the Holy Father's 25th anniversary as Pope last October. First is a moving editorial from the Globe and Mail of October 18, 2003, discussing the spiritual meaning of John Paul's suffering--which it actually calls a gift from God. "Learn from him," the writer exhorts us. "He is giving us a priceless lesson in how to die." This shows the proper meaning of the Pope's action in denial of those Catholics who are anxious that he resign because he is ill. This tribute is especially unusual because of the Globe's history of anti-life, anti-family, and often anti-Catholic sentiments.

In the second article, Eric Margolis, foreign correspondent of the Toronto Sun (October 19), tells how the Pope reinvigorated the Catholic Church, parts of which had become indifferent to or even rebellious against the papal authority. Margolis uses superlatives to describe John Paul: he is the greatest man of our era, the most remarkable pope since the Middle Ages, and his monumental reforms will perpetuate his memory long after his death. Every time he sees him, Margolis says, his spirit lifts with the knowledge that objective good exists, and "that a man of great heart, courage and deep compassion can change for the better this often sordid world."

In the third article, Bishop Xavier Echevarria, Prelate of Opus Dei, seeks to explain the mystic harmony which exists between the Pope and his people. He decides that the affection for him comes from the fact that he makes us rediscover the best in ourselves. He ends by saying, "Let us pray for him always, as a sign of our filial affection and of our deep and sincere gratitude."

Why John Paul suffers Globe editorial

Does human suffering have some meaning, or is it just senseless pain? Watching Pope John Paul II this week, it was hard not to ponder that ancient question.

It was a severely disabled Pope who celebrated his 25th anniversary as leader of the Roman Catholic Church on Thursday. Once a vigorous man fond of hiking and skiing, he has been hobbled in the winter of his life by arthritis, Parkinson's disease, and the aftereffects of a 1981 assassination attempt. Wheeled into St. Peter's Square on a chair, he often slurred his words as he spoke, and breathed with difficulty. When he was not speaking, his head slumped onto his chest, his face the expression-less mask typical of Parkinson's sufferers. It is easy and natural to feel sorry for the suffering Pope after witnessing a spectacle like that. Many Catholics feel that he should step down rather than continue to put himself through the gruelling round of meetings and ceremonies that are the lot of a pontiff. But John Paul doesn't want us to feel sorry for him. He wants us to learn.

After surgery to replace a hip joint in 1994, he gave thanks for his sufferings which he called "a necessary gift." A showman by nature, he has used his pain to make what he feels are essential points about faith and about nature.

The first is that everyone must suffer, even the Vicar of Christ. Rather than hide his infirmities, as most public figures do, he has let the whole world see what he is going through, pressing on with his crowded schedule of travels and duties with a determination and courage that are hard to fathom. This, he seems to say, is the way of all flesh. In a youth-obsessed world in which people are constantly urged to fight the ravages of time, he reminds us that aging and the suffering that inevitably comes with it are a natural part of being human.

The second point is that suffering can be redemptive. That is not just a Christian lesson, though Christian churches emphasize it. We all know people who have risen to unexpected heights of courage and nobility in a battle against cancer or some other illness. We have all felt the compassion and sense of human solidarity that the suffering of others can stir.

John Paul once wrote in an apostolic letter that suffering "is one of those points in which man is in a certain sense 'destined' to go beyond himself ...". Suffering, he continued, can "unleash love in the human person, that unselfish gift of one's 'I' on behalf of other people." The "world of human suffering" brings out "the world of human love."

If John Paul II sees his cruel public suffering as a gift from God, it is only because he intends to pass it on, showing by his example how the very worst pain can set free the very best in people.

So don't feel sorry for the suffering Pope. Learn from him. He is giving us all a priceless lesson in how to die.

In Pope John Paul II we have seen greatness

Eric Margolis, contributing foreign editor for the Toronto Sun

After covering world affairs for the past 20 years, I (a non-Catholic) believe the greatest man of our era has been His Holiness, Pope John Paul II.

This past week, the most remarkable pope since the Middle Ages commemorated his 25th anniversary as both leader of the world's Roman Catholics and the defender of the world's oppressed peoples--no matter what their religion.

The first pope since the 16th century who was not Italian, Polish-born Karol Wojtyla quickly confirmed his countrymen's deserved reputation for courage and audacity by shaking up and revitalizing the Vatican bureaucracy and the worldwide Catholic priesthood, which were afflicted by low morale, loss of faith, poor leadership, and often shocking corruption.

John Paul purged the Church, notably its Latin American branches, of Marxist priests preaching "liberation theology," one of the graver recent challenges to Catholicism. The Polish Pope reasserted the authority of Rome over the Church, parts of which, in many nations, had grown unresponsive, indifferent or outright rebellious to papal authority.

In short, John Paul reinvigorated the Catholic faith by insisting its tenets be faithfully observed, even when strictures against contraception, abortion, or divorce ran sharply counter to social trends. The cost of this dogmatic rigour was high, particularly in Europe: large numbers of Catholics dropped from the Church. But the alternative was worse: to become like Britain's Anglican Church, which, by embracing every trend, from tambourine playing services to homosexual clergy, has ended up standing for nothing, becoming meaningless and irrelevant.

John Paul was also a modern warrior pope. Branding communism the greatest evil the world had seen, he launched a personal crusade against the Soviet Union in secret alliance with the United States. Vatican money, channeled through Latin America, funded Poland's Solidarity Movement, which ignited the rebellion against Soviet rule that led to the final collapse of what was truly an evil empire.

The Kremlin knew the Polish Pope was its most dangerous enemy: he commanded no divisions, but he inspired the hearts and minds of Eastern Europe's peoples, and ignited their uprising against Soviet imperial rule. John Paul became their liberator. As a result, the Soviets tried to assassinate him.

But John Paul was not just the spiritual father of East Europeans. He raised his mighty voice and mobilized the Church to defend the world's oppressed, voiceless peoples. No one became a stronger defender of the five million suffering Palestinians than John Paul II.

Called for a just peace

When the Muslim world forgot the Palestinians' plight, the Catholic Pope reminded them. He ceaselessly called for a just peace between Arabs and Jews based on a viable Palestinian homeland.

When the Muslim world turned its back on the slaughter and rape of Bosnia's Muslims by savages calling themselves Christians, John Paul demanded the Western powers rescue the Bosnians.

John Paul ceaselessly commanded Catholics to purge their faith and minds of that two-millennium-old evil, anti-Semitism, calling for true amity between Catholics and Jews, and between Catholics and Muslims.

As soon as the Cold War ended, John Paul urged the victorious West to temper its capitalist system by protecting the poor, the downtrodden, the helpless. Unbridled capitalism could be as great a danger as communism, warned the Pope. But in the post-Cold War get-rich-quick scramble, few in the West heeded his pleas for social justice.

When President George Bush and British PM Tony Blair decided to invade Iraq, Pope John Paul repeatedly accused them of preparing to wage an immoral war of aggression. In this, the Pope spoke for much of the world, urging the U.S. and U.K. to work through the United Nations and enhance the power and authority of the world body. But Bush and Blair ignored him, and are now paying the price for their arrogance, folly, and greed.

Critics of Pope John Paul charge he failed to adapt the Church to the times. But no great institution can long survive that shifts course to every change in the social winds. Under John Paul, the Roman Catholic Church has declined in adherents, but it has grown stronger and more vital. The Pope's sweeping reforms and newly appointed cardinals will perpetuate his monumental works long after his death, and maintain the Church as a rock of faith in the stormy seas of life. The Church will survive its recent shameful sex scandals, as it has survived so many past disasters.

Ironically, orthodox Muslims and Jews understand much better than many Western Christians how important it is for a great, cardinal faith that spans mankind's history to keep firm its moorings and resist the siren calls of modernization and accommodation, no matter how inconvenient.

It is heartbreaking to see this redoubtable Pope and profound humanist, this "great spirit," as Hindus would say, increasingly crippled by grave ailments and nearing his end. But each time I see Pope John Paul, my spirit lifts with the knowledge there is indeed objective good, and that a man of great heart, courage, and deep compassion can change for the better this often sordid world.

Eric can be reached: [e-mail].

John Paul II: twenty-five years as Pope

Bishop Javier Echevarria, prelate of Opus Dei

Photos of the Pope from the last few years show one thing that has changed, and another that has not. As time passes, we see a man's body slowly but surely breaking down. But what comes home just as clearly and even more forcefully is the image of the same crowds with the same fervour, pressing about him every place he goes.

Many have tried to explain the mystery of John Paul II's magnetism. In general they have sought for an answer in the hopes that move so many people to turn to him. For example, with all the conflicts bloodying the world, there is a widespread desire for peace, and John Paul II has continually declared that the path to true peace lies in practising a forgiveness that outlasts division. Others say that what moves us to look to the Pope is the keen thirst for truth felt by a society tired of lies and fleeting trends. The voice of the Pope fearlessly proclaims a perennial truth, an incorruptible morality, which rises up in defence of the dignity of man.

But we must go deeper if we wish to truly under stand John Paul II's extraordinary attraction. We must look at what theology calls the sensus fidei, a sort of instinct of faith permeating the minds and hearts of Catholics.

From this perspective, we see a Church clustered around the Pope, a Church unable to distance itself from its supreme Shepherd, a Church that grasps the impossibility of conceiving of itself without him. And we see a Pope who lives for the Church, a Pope in whom the Church seeks the face of Christ.

Anyone who listens to him can sense that he speaks with an authority from above--from that Gospel which will not disappear "till heaven and earth pass away" (Mt 5:18). Close to the successor of Peter we feel a bond of communion stronger than any tie based on history or culture. We touch the mystery that makes the Church the family of God and makes each person a daughter or son of God.

Age and physical suffering are weakening his strength but strengthening his will, as he becomes ever more united to the cross of Jesus, the one whom he loves with such obvious and exemplary generosity.

The Pope has called us to contemplate the face of Christ, so that the Church can "take up with new impetus its evangelizing mission" in this new millennium (Apostolic letter Novo millennio ineunte, 2). And we cannot help but think of the Pope's own example in his mission as Shepherd of the Universal Church, when we read these other words of his: "The men and women of our own day--often perhaps unconsciously--ask believers not only to 'speak' of Christ, but in a certain sense to 'show' Him to them. And is it not the Church's task to reflect the light of Christ in every historical period, to make his face shine also before the generations of the new millennium?" (16).

This "contact" with Our Lord is produced especially through pain: "The Church is constantly invited by Christ to touch his wounds, to recognize, that is, the fullness of his humanity taken from Mary, given up to death, transfigured by the Resurrection: 'Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side' (Jn 20:27). Like Thomas, the Church bows down in adoration before the Risen One, clothed in the fullness of his divine splendour, and never ceases to exclaim: 'My Lord and my God!' (Jn 20:28)" (21).

In the union between Peter's successor and Jesus Christ, which everyone senses to one degree or another, we find another explanation of the mysterious harmony between Pope and people. The natural sentiment of affection and gratitude which Catholics have for John Paul II is, fundamentally, a recognition that the Pope has made us rediscover the best in ourselves: our personal relationship with God, who created us and saved us in His love.

In his first encyclical, the Pope wrote that man "is the primary route that the Church must travel in fulfilling her mission." The final reason for the connection he makes with the hearts of believers is the fact that his passion for man has its roots in the God-become-man. We feel close to John Paul II because he reminds us that Christ is close to us, that he lives with us, that he gives meaning to our lives. Certainty of Christ's closeness needs no more evidence than that of the cross, the cross to which the Pope is also fastened.

It is only logical then for us to commemorate John Paul II's 25th anniversary by considering his importance, the profundity of his teachings, and the consequences of his decisions. And it is also quite natural for us to feel the need to express our gratitude with our whole heart. As he recently requested in Pompeii on the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary (October 7), let us pray for him always, as a sign of our filial affection and of our deep and sincere gratitude.