"Not in my lifetime": Fr. Schall on Pope John Paul II's legacy of love

"Not in my lifetime" | Fr. James V. Schall, S.J. | Exclusive for Catholic World Report

Pope John Paul II's legacy of love

"The Pope (John Paul II) was praying and he asked God: 'Will Poland regain her freedom and independence some day?' 'Yes,' said God, 'but not in your lifetime.' Then the Pope asked: 'Lord, after I am gone will there be another Polish pope?' 'Not in my lifetime,' said God."
—Cited in André Frossard, Portrait of John Paul II (Ignatius, 1988), 46

"My priestly vocation took definitive shape at the time of the Second World War, during the Nazi occupation. Was this a mere coincidence or was there a more profound connection between what was developing within me and external historical events?"
—John Paul II, Gift and Mystery (Ignatius, 1996), 34

I.

As it watched him die, the world did not know what to do with John Paul II, or really what to do without him. Almost everyone who could make it to Rome for his funeral, from the mighty to the small, was there. Though we all die in private, he also died in public for the whole world to see. And they did see. Pope Wojtyla was the only man in public life in modern times who showed us how to live and how to die, both. He considered his illness as much a part of his papal office as preaching, appointing bishops, or the Sunday Angelus address. A pope is almost the only world figure whose office qualifications include dying as part of the job. When elected, he knows that his only escape is through death.

When I read George Weigel's two-volume account of Karol Wojtyla's life, I realized that this very prayerful man was also one of the most active men who ever lived. He was constantly thinking and often thinking ahead. He was both a man of thought and a man of action, a man of prayer and a man of amusement. The story I recounted above he enjoyed telling to others. Besides his many world trips, he visited more Roman and Italian parishes in his busy life than any Italian pope.

People just wanted to see him. Television executives loved him and hated him—loved him because he was always so remarkably personable and mysterious, hated him because he went right over their heads to say what he, not they, wanted. If he was there, he could not be overlooked. He was the most interesting figure in sight. He had a remarkable capacity—when talking to any one, from children, to young people, to the important, to the old—of shutting the rest of the world out and speaking directly to that person's soul.

I have the impression that every man who ever met John Paul II, especially if he was a man of social, intellectual, or political stature, knew that he was meeting a greater man than he. Many would not admit this fact because of the implications in their own lives and for their own prestige. Everyone knew that here was a man. Women knew it. Youth knew it. The poor knew it. Only the proud did not know it, but they could not afford to know it and remain what they were. His very presence demanded integrity and honor.

Read the entire piece at CatholicWorldReport.com...