John Paul II
I recently viewed the body of our deceased pope John Paul II and I am constantly amazed at how many people are coming to view his body. I believe that the major reason is that so many people love him. This begs the question to be asked, "Why do so many people love this pope?" I believe that the answer is because he loved us first. Pope John Paul II took the time to love each person individually. He was radiant with the merciful love of the father in the parable of the prodigal son. In addition to his great love, he was a humble man. As St Paul petitions us to do, JPII counted all others as superior to himself. He treated everyone he met as if that person was the most important person in the world. A poor person received the same treatment as a president of a country. John Paul II looked upon each person as Christ looked upon rich young man: with love.
I have been asking myself, "What is the Lord trying to teach me through this experience?" There are many lessons, but I think one of the most important is teaching me how to love and how to be loved. I keep asking, how I am supposed to react to all these blessings, like being in Rome, being at St Peter's with him when he died, being able to view his body, and even the attendance of his upcoming funeral. I often feel helpless and swept away in something out of my control. I feel like a grain of sand on the beach with the tide flowing in and out. Since this all began I have felt one step behind all of the events, mainly due to the fact that I don't speak Italian fluently enough to understand what is going on until after it happens. I have been in shock here in Rome. I feel like I am standing still while the world rushes around me. I have been asking myself, "What should I be doing?" John Paul II gives me my answer, which comes originally from Christ: Love and be loved.
Love is a choice; it is an action. It is something I can do. But who?, how?, where? Once again my answer comes from the life of John Paul II reflecting Christ: love each person individually. I am to meet them where they are at in life. Not to judge them, or to dispense justice, but to look upon them as if they are Christ. To act as if the person in front of me is the only other person in the world, and this person is royalty. I am to devote my whole attention to each person as they come into my life, but even more, I am to seek people out and love them. I am also called to receive the love that the Lord has for me, in whatever form it comes in. The fact that I have to ask "how?" is why the Lord has me here. For here, as I stand in the Saint Peter's square with millions of people moving past me, I find my answer. I must have courage, I must risk rejection, I must let go of my constant attempt to control my life, and let myself be swept away by God's action. For I, on my own, am not able to truly love these people as Jesus calls me to. But God can love them through me and I must let Him. I must give up my desire to control everything in my life, and follow him, even when I do not know where it will take me.
I have fear. I have fear that I will not be happy, and that I will lose myself. Being around John Paul II has taught me that I love myself very much, and the idea of losing myself is frightening to me. What will I become? Will I be rejected? Will I be hated? Will I be despised? Jesus does promise such things for those who follow him, and I am afraid it will all come true. But did these things happen to JPII? Yes: the world rejected, hated and despised him, but billions of people loved him. I seem to want the impossible: to be loved by all. But how can I reasonably ask for this when not even God has that. But against all reason I still want it. I don't like being hated and rejected, so I often try to create a little world around me where the only people I interact with are the ones who love me. Then I can pretend that the whole world would love me, if given a fair chance. I hide in a comfort zone that I created, that I have control over. Doing what JPII and Jesus did, choosing to love unconditionally, makes one a public figure and opens oneself to the ridicule of the world. I have seen the truth in loving unconditionally because I have experience unconditional love. The world and I, in seeing these men, is filled with conviction that often leads to shame because we see where we have fallen short. Thus we all cry out "Crucify him!" as if that will rid us of our shame; as if we would not see our own shortcomings if these men did not exist. I fear people shouting at me, "Crucify him!". I still love my life and fear my death too much.
I have had the great gift of good formation in my life, and I know in my head what is good and right and true. I have been blessed with the ability to understand, a well developed conscience, and good reasoning. However, many of the things that I claim to "know", I know only in my head and not in my heart. I can say, "It is right to mourn and feel sorrow and loss," yet I cannot make myself feel these things. I feel like I have a major disconnect between my head and my heart; my intellect and my will. I believe that am here in Rome to receive the grace from God to finally make this connection; to put into action all the Lord has taught me. I don't like admitting it, but probably the one of the only things in the world that could have jolted me "out of myself" is to be present when a man as great as JPII passes away. It is like a bucket of cold water dumped on my face to wake me up. It is no coincidence that I am here in Rome this semester and that I went to St Peter's square that Saturday of John Paul II's death. The Lord led me here to be present for all of this so that He might change me; that I might let Him change me.
I have told myself many times, and have encouraged others, "Don't leave here unchanged." Only seldom in history does the Lord raise up men like John Paul II . We need to reflect on his life and let ourselves be changed. We must commit to change. I must take action; I must love. But I must love not just one time or for nine days of mourning, and then go back to my "normal" life. I am called make a promise to the Lord: the promise to be changed forever; to love forever. For me this means stepping out blind and afraid into the unknown. I have heard it said that risk is closely linked with love; to love much is to risk much, but to risk little is to love little. So I must take courage and strength from the Lord and risk much. John Paul II was human just like me, and if he could do it, so can I.
I pray that I may never regret a day, or even a moment in my life, from this moment forward.
May all glory be given to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.
I have been asking myself, "What is the Lord trying to teach me through this experience?" There are many lessons, but I think one of the most important is teaching me how to love and how to be loved. I keep asking, how I am supposed to react to all these blessings, like being in Rome, being at St Peter's with him when he died, being able to view his body, and even the attendance of his upcoming funeral. I often feel helpless and swept away in something out of my control. I feel like a grain of sand on the beach with the tide flowing in and out. Since this all began I have felt one step behind all of the events, mainly due to the fact that I don't speak Italian fluently enough to understand what is going on until after it happens. I have been in shock here in Rome. I feel like I am standing still while the world rushes around me. I have been asking myself, "What should I be doing?" John Paul II gives me my answer, which comes originally from Christ: Love and be loved.
Love is a choice; it is an action. It is something I can do. But who?, how?, where? Once again my answer comes from the life of John Paul II reflecting Christ: love each person individually. I am to meet them where they are at in life. Not to judge them, or to dispense justice, but to look upon them as if they are Christ. To act as if the person in front of me is the only other person in the world, and this person is royalty. I am to devote my whole attention to each person as they come into my life, but even more, I am to seek people out and love them. I am also called to receive the love that the Lord has for me, in whatever form it comes in. The fact that I have to ask "how?" is why the Lord has me here. For here, as I stand in the Saint Peter's square with millions of people moving past me, I find my answer. I must have courage, I must risk rejection, I must let go of my constant attempt to control my life, and let myself be swept away by God's action. For I, on my own, am not able to truly love these people as Jesus calls me to. But God can love them through me and I must let Him. I must give up my desire to control everything in my life, and follow him, even when I do not know where it will take me.
I have fear. I have fear that I will not be happy, and that I will lose myself. Being around John Paul II has taught me that I love myself very much, and the idea of losing myself is frightening to me. What will I become? Will I be rejected? Will I be hated? Will I be despised? Jesus does promise such things for those who follow him, and I am afraid it will all come true. But did these things happen to JPII? Yes: the world rejected, hated and despised him, but billions of people loved him. I seem to want the impossible: to be loved by all. But how can I reasonably ask for this when not even God has that. But against all reason I still want it. I don't like being hated and rejected, so I often try to create a little world around me where the only people I interact with are the ones who love me. Then I can pretend that the whole world would love me, if given a fair chance. I hide in a comfort zone that I created, that I have control over. Doing what JPII and Jesus did, choosing to love unconditionally, makes one a public figure and opens oneself to the ridicule of the world. I have seen the truth in loving unconditionally because I have experience unconditional love. The world and I, in seeing these men, is filled with conviction that often leads to shame because we see where we have fallen short. Thus we all cry out "Crucify him!" as if that will rid us of our shame; as if we would not see our own shortcomings if these men did not exist. I fear people shouting at me, "Crucify him!". I still love my life and fear my death too much.
I have had the great gift of good formation in my life, and I know in my head what is good and right and true. I have been blessed with the ability to understand, a well developed conscience, and good reasoning. However, many of the things that I claim to "know", I know only in my head and not in my heart. I can say, "It is right to mourn and feel sorrow and loss," yet I cannot make myself feel these things. I feel like I have a major disconnect between my head and my heart; my intellect and my will. I believe that am here in Rome to receive the grace from God to finally make this connection; to put into action all the Lord has taught me. I don't like admitting it, but probably the one of the only things in the world that could have jolted me "out of myself" is to be present when a man as great as JPII passes away. It is like a bucket of cold water dumped on my face to wake me up. It is no coincidence that I am here in Rome this semester and that I went to St Peter's square that Saturday of John Paul II's death. The Lord led me here to be present for all of this so that He might change me; that I might let Him change me.
I have told myself many times, and have encouraged others, "Don't leave here unchanged." Only seldom in history does the Lord raise up men like John Paul II . We need to reflect on his life and let ourselves be changed. We must commit to change. I must take action; I must love. But I must love not just one time or for nine days of mourning, and then go back to my "normal" life. I am called make a promise to the Lord: the promise to be changed forever; to love forever. For me this means stepping out blind and afraid into the unknown. I have heard it said that risk is closely linked with love; to love much is to risk much, but to risk little is to love little. So I must take courage and strength from the Lord and risk much. John Paul II was human just like me, and if he could do it, so can I.
I pray that I may never regret a day, or even a moment in my life, from this moment forward.
May all glory be given to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.
posted by Christopher DeMars at 10:59 PM
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