4/4/05 RM Newsletter: A Light Extinguished....A Life Lighting Others

Saturday brought the news of Pope John Paul II's passing. During
a papal reign of twenty-six years, he ministered to not only
millions of Catholics around the globe; he proved a living
testimony to the power of faith to those not even in his flock.


Although I am not Catholic, I appreciate all too well the example
of his life. A life extraordinarily lived-with passion and
purpose-it will have reach in corners not yet measured, and life-
changing influence in hearts and souls not yet fully alive. I
watched with others around the world, the light streaming from
his apartment in St. Peter's Square, and of it being extinguished
at his parting. A life of light..filled with messages and images
of hope and love.



Indeed, his determination to make the world his parish
transcended geological boundaries. Ideologically and
theologically as well, his ministry knew practically no end. He
desired, quite simply, to minister to the deeply troubled. The
disenfranchised. Those living at the fringes of society because
of cultural or economic oppression. Regardless of race. Or
nationality. Or religious background or understanding.


He desired for people to come to grips with their innately
spiritual nature. Unabashedly-through not only his spirit and the
call placed on his life for evangelism-but through his intensely
physical and charismatic nature, his razor-sharp intellect, and
his brilliant command of language, he issued unapologetic
testimonies of man's place in God's creation. He said: "It is not
the church's task to teach unbelievers." Nor did he feel that the
church should "cry over the lamentable state of the world" or
"pretend that it had all the answers to all the problems in it."
(1) He simply provided those in his immense flock with wisdom on
how to lead godly lives in spite of the terrible conditions in
which we so frequently found ourselves.


As did most people on the planet, I had a grasp of the role he
played in the drama of the Catholic church over these past couple
of decades. In fact, as with most of us "boomers," he is the only
pope I ever really "knew." He commanded a sometimes unruly
following, through trials, controversies, and challenges to his
judgment and authority. And certainly, not being Catholic, I
disagreed with some of his mandates. But I always respected the
call on his life, and admired his convictions, regardless of the
controversy they sometimes played out in my own spirit.


Because I was only a casual observer of his life, I had no idea
of his intellectual-and creative-genius. Being extraordinarily
prolific, authoring seven books and over 300 hundred articles and
essays, he was the only sitting pope to have ever written a
commercially successful book. Before "Crossing the Threshold of
Hope" was released in 1994, it was unheard of for a pope to
author a book for the masses. Yet his book went on to become a
best-seller in America for months. One of the defining
characteristics of genius is sheer production. All true geniuses
produce. Period. And Pope John Paul II certainly did just that.


He was also a poet, playwright, philosopher, debater, actor (some
say that the theatre was his first love), and a linguist, with
fluency in seven languages and proficiency in a dozen. It is
believed that it was his ability to converse with people in all
parts of the world in their native language that contributed to
the dramatic strength and scope of his ministry. A Renaissance
man, he was highly creative, and immensely, profoundly moved by
art, literature, music and drama.


He possessed an intensely physical stature. Going against
commonly accepted papal protocol, he hugged, kissed, smiled,
winked, sang, and grabbed people when he spoke to them. He was
truly a people person. He loved to joke around, and had a hearty
laugh, with ruddy cheeks to match. Thomas E. Cook, the director
of Harvard's summer school, remarked in 1976 when he met the pope
that he was "floored by the sheer physical presence of the
man"."He exuded such a combination of power and acceptance. He
had this smile on his face and a look in his eye that said
'You're wonderful. And I'm wonderful, too.'" Late that evening,
after sharing dinner with him, Cook said to himself: "This man
ought to be pope." (2)


An athlete, one apparently knew it when he walked into a room. He
was a strappingly rigorous man. He played soccer in his youth,
and loved the outdoors. Backpacking, camping and boating were
favorite pastimes. He loved swimming laps, and refused to stop
when he entered the papacy, insisting that a pool be built so
that he could continue the vigorous schedule to which he had
become so accustomed. A lap swimmer myself, I thoroughly
understand not only the physical-but the emotional-addiction the
sport affords. It is generally in the pool, when I swim one
monotonous lap after another, that I solve the problems of my own
little world.


It was certainly part of God's eternal drama that this man would
take center stage for so many throughout the world. Gifted beyond
the norm, he clearly recognized that his gifts were God-given,
and he proved to be a wise and generous steward. For those of us
touched and blessed by any one of his gifts, we are the better
for it. I couldn't help but wonder, as I read more intently of
his life, how the world might be shaped differently had he not
had the position of authority, and an international platform with
which to share it.


Many of us have life messages as well. Perhaps not as dramatic.
Or as grandiose. But we may have felt a call to impart an
important message, or have a desire to change a tiny part of the
world. Yet we feel discouraged by our inability to spread it. By
our lack of celebrity or stature. Our lack of depth or breadth.
No international stage. Just a teeny tiny audience. (I feel like
that most days.) Take heart: God never returns His message void.
If He wants the message out there and has chosen you to have some
part in its delivery, the time will come. In His time.


Perhaps you have never felt a call on your life. Never been
touched by an angel. Never felt purpose, not to mention passion.
You muddle along, getting up each morning, putting one foot in
front of the other. The days come and they go. That's okay, too.
Your light is still shining.


The light of a life is a beautiful-and good-thing. Let your own
light shine. Regardless of the magnitude of its illumination.
Live your life such that, even after you're gone, your
light-like Pope John Paul II's-is not fully extinguished. Live
so that your light will live on in the lives of those whom you
touched in one way or another. I mourn with those of you who
mourn this week over the passing of your pope. But I have
experienced joy in the awareness of the impact of his life. Well
done, good and faithful servant!



NOTES:
1.McFadden, Robert D., "Pope John Paul II, Church Shepherd
And a Catalyst for World Change," New York Times, April 3,
2005, p. 43

2. Ibid.

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A Nick Note

Nick had an unusually rough week. After chemo treatments on Monday and Tuesday, he was thoroughly whipped, despite fantastic counts in his blood and great exams both days. Tuesday brought vomiting and total lethargy. A short visit to school on Wednesday, followed by a quick match of tennis for varsity team tryouts, left us all feeling pretty good about his recovery from the chemo but proved to be a mistake: by that night, he was feeling absolutely miserable, and has not felt much better since. As always, we covet your prayers. If you feel led to join others in the canopy of intercession for Nick's total and complete healing, we thank you. A visit to the doctor Monday morning will hopefully bring some much-needed relief.