Why He Is a Saint

by Slawomir Oder

  IN THE SIGN OF SUFFERING

  John Paul II’s distinct mystical inclination found full expression in the manner in which he lived and conceived suffering as a form of expiation and as a gift of himself to mankind. This is revealed clearly by the words that he uttered following his appendectomy in 1996: “In these days of illness I have had an opportunity once again to understand more fully the value of the service that the Lord has summoned me to render to the Church as priest, as bishop, as successor to Peter: it passes as well through the gift of suffering.” In reality, a few years earlier on May 29, 1994, when he returned to the Vatican after being hospitalized for a fractured femur, he had already offered this clear-eyed analysis of his own pain: “I want to give thanks for this gift, I have understood that it is a necessary gift. The pope had to be absent from this window for four weeks, four Sundays, he had to suffer: just as he had to suffer thirteen years ago, so it is again this year.”

  His was truly a pontificate marked by suffering: beginning with that dramatic May 13, 1981, John Paul II spent no fewer than 164 days at the Gemelli Polyclinic, which he ironically dubbed “Vatican Number 3,” after St. Peter’s Square and Castel Gandolfo. Along with the first twenty-two days following the attempted assassination, there were another fifty-six days between June and August of that year, to treat a cytomegalovirus infection and to perform a new round of surgery. There were four more stays in the hospital in succession about ten years later: fifteen days in 1992 for the removal of a benign tumor from the intestine; two days in 1993 for a dislocated right shoulder, which he was obliged to have strapped up for a month; thirty days in 1994 for the fracture of his right femur after a fall in the bathroom; ten days in 1996 for the removal of his appendix. His last two stays in the hospital, for a total of twenty-eight days in February and March 2005, were to perform a tracheotomy when an acute laryngotracheitis made independent breathing very difficult.

  Every physical problem was for him a reason for personal meditation: “I ask myself what God is trying to tell me with this disease,” he replied to a doctor who asked how he was feeling. But aside from the significance to be attributed to his own suffering, it was the suffering of mankind that offered Pope Wojtyła a theme for special reflection, to which he dedicated in February 1984 the apostolic letter Salvifici doloris (The Salvific Power of Pain). In mid-December 1997 in remarks to two papal audiences, the pontiff touched on the same theme, confirming the redeeming value of suffering with the human story of Jesus, whose coming to earth, “with all the joy it involves for humanity, is inseparably linked to suffering,” and declaring that in Christ “pain receives a new light, which elevates it from simple and negative passivity to positive collaboration in the project of salvation,” and that, in the dimension of the Gospel, suffering “is not wasted energy, because it is transformed by divine love.”

  Without ignoring the importance of his own theological reflections on the topic, the words he confided to a friend express his full awareness of the incomparable value that suffering assumes when someone takes it upon himself: “I have written many encyclicals and many apostolic letters, but I realize that it is only with my suffering that I can best help mankind. Think of the value of pain, suffered and offered with love.…” During a celebration in St. Peter’s, one of the cerimonieri noticed the grave expression of pain on the pontiff’s face and asked him, “Your Holiness, can I do anything to help? Is something causing you pain?” And he replied, “By now, everything causes me pain, but that is how it must be.”

  Giving meaning to pain did not mean to Pope Wojtyła that we need not do all we can to alleviate it and bring comfort to those who are suffering. If “the Cross is the first letter of God’s alphabet,” as he stated, that does not mean that the Christian dimension of suffering “is reduced only to its profound significance and its character of redemption.” Pain, in fact, must “generate solidarity, dedication, and generosity in all those who suffer and in all those who hear the summons to attend them and aid them in their suffering”—an appeal intended for all men, inasmuch as “no institution by itself can replace the human heart, human compassion, when one wishes to bring succor to physical suffering.” That is why he decided to attend the World Day of the Sick, instituted at his initiative in 1992 and since then celebrated every February 11, in conjunction with the liturgical commemoration of Our Lady of Lourdes, an opportunity to meditate on pain, but also to urge solidarity with those who suffer.

  THE STATIONS OF THE CROSS IN THE HALLWAY

  When it was not some infirmity or other that caused him to experience pain, it was he himself who inflicted discomfort and mortification on his own body. Aside from the prescribed fasting, which he followed with great rigor, especially during Lent, when he reduced his nourishment to one complete meal a day, he also abstained from food before ordaining priests and bishops. And it was not infrequent for him to spend the night lying on the bare floor. His housekeeper in Cracow realized it, even though the archbishop rumpled his bedclothes to conceal it. But he did more. As a number of members of his closest entourage heard with their own ears, in Poland and in the Vatican, Karol Wojtyła flagellated himself. In his bedroom closet, among his cassocks, hanging from a hook was an unusual trouser belt that he used as a whip and always brought to Castel Gandolfo.

  This practice was not an expression of Wojtyła’s wish to inflict punishment on his own body, which was a gift of God. Instead, it fit into a larger Christian tradition, especially into the asceticism of the Carmelite order—they often prayed the Miserere while holding their arms in the sign of the cross, and flogged themselves with the sashes of their monastic cassocks. He remained faithful to that tradition throughout his life. As Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini wrote in response to this same report, “In asceticism, one practices minor acts of penitence, which do not cause lasting bodily harm; therefore, we should not think of them as instances of self-mutilation or masochism.”

  “I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church,” in the words of St. Paul in Colossians 1:24. Karol Wojtyła made these words a foundation of his own testimonial of faith. When he was suffering greatly, for instance in the aftermath of surgery, he said, “Restitution must be made. How much Our Lord Jesus had to suffer.” He said the same words in the final hours of his illness, when he was thirsty but could not be given anything to drink.

  The Calvary of Christ, by the light of which he considered his own suffering, was symbolically renewed by the pontiff every Friday with the practice of the Via Crucis, the Stations of the Cross. In the Vatican, Wojtyła celebrated it in his private chapel, or else on the terrace above the papal apartments, which was transformed over time into an authentic open-air chapel, adorned with flowers and plants. In the chapel at Castel Gandolfo, however, there were no stations and so, during the summer holidays, every Friday the pontiff secretly went to pray before the fourteen lithographs featuring reproductions of the Via Crucis that he had discovered by chance in a hallway near the dining room, not normally in use.

  During a pastoral journey, a person in his entourage realized how deep-seated the pope’s faithfulness was to this practice of devotion: “We were in the helicopter that was taking us from Jerusalem to Galilee, and it was a Friday. I noticed that the pope was not looking out the window, but was holding in his hand a book without a cover. He would read a page and then engage deeply in prayer, then he would read another page and begin praying again. I looked over and realized that he was doing the Via Crucis, because that day, since there was a very heavy schedule ahead, he was afraid he would not be able to do it in the chapel as was his custom.”

  His was a faithfulness that remained solid to the very end. The day before he died, April 1, 2005, around ten in the morning, John Paul II tried to communicate to the people near him something that they could not understand. His raging fever, his difficulty in breathing, made it almost impossible for him to a
rticulate words. And so he was brought a pen and a sheet of paper, upon which the pope wrote that, since it was Friday, he wanted to do the Via Crucis. One of the nuns who was present therefore began to read it aloud while he, with some difficulty, traced the sign of the cross every time that one of the stations began.

  Epilogue

  A TRIBUTE TO THE TRUTH

  On April 2, 2005, I was in St. Peter’s Square, together with thousands of the faithful. When at 9:37 P.M. the news of the death of John Paul II was announced, I felt a growing desire inside myself to shout out, “The saint is dead!” just as the children of Rome had done in the late eighteenth century as they ran through the streets broadcasting the news of the demise of St. Benedict Joseph Labre. Part of me, perhaps, believed that if that shout swelled into a mass chorus, if all the faithful gathered there that day joined me in that outcry, his canonization would simply be accepted by acclamation. The luminous testimony of faith offered to the world over the course of the years by John Paul II, his possession and practice of all the virtues at the highest levels, the decision to bear upon his own shoulders the cross of suffering until the end of his days, his deeply caring love for his fellow man—all these were now intrinsic traits of his figure as a man and as a pastor, and they certainly argued strongly in favor of his immediate induction into the ranks of the saints.

  Instead, I remained silent, and I admit that now I regret it somewhat. Still, I am convinced that going through the process has been very useful: it was quite different from a bureaucratic examination of a life, certainly not a dull “reckoning” of his merits under a chilly and inquisitorial glare. Quite the contrary: it allowed us to restore the intensity and vigor of the already well-known aspects of the human life of Pope Wojtyła, inlaying it with the weave of previously unknown episodes offered to the rest of us by those who have preserved them in memory.

  Many of the faithful felt they were summoned by the message of the edict promulgated by Cardinal Camillo Ruini on May 18, 2005, the day that Wojtyła would have turned eighty-five if he had lived. With that appeal, His Holiness’s vicar for the diocese of Rome invited the faithful to “communicate all reports from which it is possible to determine evidence favorable or contrary to the reputation for saintliness of the Servant of God” and “to submit any and all writings that were authored by the Servant of God.” On June 28 of that year, the eve of the feast day of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles, the opening session was held of the diocesan investigation into the life, virtues, and reputation for saintliness of Pope Wojtyła. A few months later, the new archbishop of Cracow, Cardinal Stanisław Dziwisz, offered to the Polish faithful the same opportunity to provide testimony, inaugurating the rogatory phase of the diocesan process on November 4, the feast day of St. Charles Borromeo and therefore the name day of the pope. To the rogatory processes of Rome and Cracow was added another in New York, to gather the testimony of a United States citizen.

  A total of 114 persons were heard: 35 cardinals, 20 archbishops and bishops, 11 priests, 5 religious, 3 nuns, 36 lay Catholics, 3 non-Catholics, and a Jew. Their declarations, along with other documents and writings, filled the thousands of pages of the so-called Copia Pubblica, from which were drawn the four condensed volumes of the Positio. These are substantial numbers. Besides the statements gathered in the context of the tribunal, there were also the declarations made in countless letters sent by the faithful to the Postulatio. Many of these, especially those written in the immediate aftermath of the death of John Paul II, express sincere gratitude to God for the gift of this great pope. Others contain moving attestations to graces received, setting forth cases of spiritual or physical healing attributed to the intercession of Pope Wojtyła.

  To gather and evaluate all this material, as well as to listen to the witnesses who took part in this process, has been for me and for my colleagues a truly demanding job. Without doubt, it was also indispensable, for it allowed us to corroborate the reputation for saintliness of John Paul II, providing a precious tribute to the truth. A truth that, thanks to the voices of those who have helped to preserve it intact, now shines incontestable and brilliant.

  For further information and to organize meetings on the topic, the authors can be contacted at the e-mail addresses papa-gp2@virgilio.it and papa-gp2@libero.it.

  CONCISE CHRONOLOGY OF

  THE LIFE OF KAROL WOJTYŁA—

  JOHN PAUL II

  On May 18, 1920, Karol Józef Wojtyła is born in Wadowice, Cracow Province, Poland, to the forty-year-old army officer Karol Wojtyła and Emilia Kaczorowska, a thirty-six-year-old housewife. He has a brother, Edmund, fourteen years older, while a sister, Olga, died in infancy six years before. He is baptized on June 20, 1920.

  On September 15, 1926, he begins attending elementary school.

  On April 13, 1929, his mother dies of heart disease, and on December 5, 1932, his brother, now a doctor, also dies, victim of a scarlet fever epidemic.

  On May 3, 1938, he receives confirmation, and in the same month he passes the final exams of the liceum. On June 22, he enrolls in the Department of Philosophy at the Jagiellonian University, and he and his father soon move to Cracow. Here, in February 1940, he makes the acquaintance of Jan Tyranowski, who puts him in contact with the Living Rosary group and introduces him to the study of mysticism. On November 1 of that year, he begins working in the Zakrzówek stone quarry to avoid deportation to Germany, which has occupied Poland for the past year.

  On February 18, 1941, his father dies, and in August he welcomes into his house the family of Mieczysłwa Kotlarczyk, the founder of the Theater of the Living Word. During the spring of 1942, Karol takes a job at the Solvay plant, and in October he begins to attend the clandestine courses of the Department of Theology at the Jagiellonian University as a seminarian. In March 1943, he makes his last appearance on the stage, as the star of Juliusz Slowacki’s play Samuel Zborowski. On February 29, 1944, he is hit by a truck and admitted to the hospital. In August of that year, Archbishop Sapieha has him move, together with the other clandestine seminarians, to the archbishop’s palace in Cracow.

  On November 1, 1946, he is ordained a priest in the private chapel of Cardinal Sapieha. On November 15, he leaves for Rome to continue his theological studies at the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas (Angelicum). On July 3, 1947, he passes his final examination in theology, and during the summer he travels to France, Belgium, and the Netherlands. On June 19, 1948, he defends his dissertation, “Doctrina de fide apud S. Ioannem a Cruce” (The Doctrine of Faith According to St. John of the Cross), and a couple of weeks later he returns to Cracow.

  On July 8, 1948, he is assigned to the parish of Niegowić as assistant parish priest. On December 16, the Jagiellonian University officially awards him the academic title of doctor in theology. In August 1949, he is appointed assistant parish priest at St. Florian’s in Cracow.

  On September 1, 1951, the archbishop of Cracow, Eugeniusz Baziak, gives him a two-year leave of absence to study and qualify as a university professor. In October 1953, he begins teaching Catholic social ethics in the Department of Theology at Jagiellonian University, and in December he is certified for teaching. In 1954, he becomes a professor at the Cracow seminary and at the Catholic University of Lublin. On November 15, 1957, he is appointed a full professor by the Central Credentials Commission.

  On July 4, 1958, he is appointed auxiliary bishop in Cracow, and on September 28 he receives the episcopal consecration as bishop.

  In 1960, he publishes his book Love and Responsibility.

  Following the death of Archbishop Baziak, on July 16, 1962, he is elected vicar capitular. On October 5, he leaves for Rome, where from October 11 to December 8 he participates in the first session of the Second Vatican Council. Again, in Rome, from October 6 to December 4, 1963, he participates in the second session of the Second Vatican Council, and from December 5 to 15 he makes a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

  On December 30, 1963, he is appointed archbishop of Cracow. On Januar
y 13, 1964, the official bull is published with his appointment, and on March 8 his solemn installation is celebrated in the Wawel Cathedral. From September 14 to November 21, he participates in the third session of the Second Vatican Council in Rome, and immediately afterward goes again on a two-week pilgrimage to the Holy Land. From September 14 to December 8, 1965, he participates in Rome in the fourth and final session of the Second Vatican Council. From April 13 to 20, 1967, he takes part in Rome in the first meeting of the Council for the Laity.

  On June 28, 1967, he receives the title of cardinal from Pope Paul VI.

  In 1969, he publishes the essay The Acting Person, and from October 11 to 28 he takes part in Rome in the first extraordinary general assembly of the Synod of Bishops. In 1972, he publishes his study of the implementation of the Second Vatican Council, Sources of Renewal, and on May 8 he opens the Synod of the Archdiocese of Cracow. From March 2 to 9, 1973, he participates in the Eucharistic Congress in Australia, and also visits the Philippines and New Guinea. That same year, he travels in May to Belgium and in November to France.

  From September 27 to October 26, 1974, he takes part in Rome in the third ordinary general assembly of the Synod of Bishops, at which he is the speaker for the doctrinal section. From March 3 to 8, 1975, in Rome, he participates in the first meeting of the Council of the General Secretariat of the Synod of Bishops, and in September he travels to the German Democratic Republic. From March 7 to 13, 1976, he preaches the spiritual exercises in the Vatican in the presence of Pope Paul VI; the meditations will be published in the volume Sign of Contradiction. From July 23 to September 5, 1976, he travels in the United States and Canada, delivering a number of lectures as well.