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The Pope and Me

Written by Eric Mathurin

Tuesday, 01 September 1998

In August of 1997 I went to World Youth Day in Paris to celebrate mass with the Pope and one million others at Longchamps. The following year I travelled to Rome with two friends and had the incredible opportunity to celebrate mass with the Pope and about a dozen others. These is a reflection on those two pilgrimages.

John Paul II’s twentieth anniversary as Pope—as head of the Church—was celebrated recently all over the world; they celebrated for an entire week in Rome. With the spotlight on him and the many great things that he’s done over the years, some people within the Church found a glow in that light to sound off on their views of the Church and the Pope himself: That he’s out of touch. That the Church must change with the times as we move into the next millenium, and the Pope with it. That the People need a say in how the Church operates. “After all,” they point out, “the People are the Church.”

My brief encounter with the Pope: The Ottawa Challenge Movement now has his personal blessing.

As a ‘returning’ Catholic, the Pope, to me, was an enigma for much of my life. Never thought about him much. Never quite knew what this man was all about, or even what he did. In fact, I can tell you about the first time that I ever, seriously, thought about the Pope. It was in France during World Youth Day, on August 17, 1997. I was standing in the midst of a few hundred thousand people at Champ de Mars, waiting to catch a glimpse of Pope John Paul II gliding down the road in the Canadian-made PopeMobile. My feet were covered in a film of white dust and sweat drained from every pore in my body while I stood in the blistering heat of the sun. As I tried to watch the nearby big screen TV among the throngs of people pushing by me, treading on my feet, crowding me, one thought stuck in my mind. “What makes him any more important than anyone else here?”

While I freely admit my mood was greatly affected by the heat, lack of food and a total inability to escape the dense crowds to save my sanity, I knew I should be thrilled, as the others were, at the opportunity to be even near the Pope. And though the trip affected me on many different levels and touched me in many ways, I left still not quite comprehending the significance of ‘an old guy in a white dress,’ as one of the ‘faithful’ referred to the Holy Father in the media recently.

A small group of us celebrating Mass with the Holy Father.

In the summer of 1998 I had the chance to travel to Europe with my good friends Richard Bernier and Ryan Larose. We spent nearly a week in Rome, and our hostel was only a couple of blocks away from St. Peters. It was there that I had my first ‘big clue’ of who exactly the Pope was. Somewhere in the huge, ornate cathedral is a high, stone slab that takes up an entire wall. At the top is the name of St. Peter, followed by the name of every Pope since Peter for the last two thousand years. Suddenly, standing there, looking up at it, those two millenniums didn’t seem so far away. Even though it was only a list of names in rock, the reality of who the Pope was became quite clear to me. It was suddenly easy to see Jesus’ hand through the entire selection process. It was Ryan who crystallized the thought in my head when he referred to the Pope as the vicar of Christ. Servant of servants. Jesus’ representative on Earth.

During that trip we a most incredible thing happened: we were invited to celebrate mass with the pope at his summer residence, Castel Gondolfo. One early morning that summer, the three of us and thirteen others knelt down in the small chapel as the pope prayed at the altar. Afterwards, we even had the opportunity to meet him one-on-one. (Many ask how it was we were chosen. I say, “God must have had a hand in it,” but for some reason many need a better explanation. As if!) I’d go into details, but that is neither here nor there, so I’ll cut to what struck me about our encounter with the Pope: His humanity. How accessible he was—after all, out of one billion Catholics, he had time for us. (And if he, who is one man, has even a bit of time for us—how much time God must have for us, who is all powerful and ever living!) And—how physically weak he looked. But in that, the determination and will to carry on. That he, like Jesus, was too a man. That he, too, needs God as much—likely more—than the rest of it.

One million youth gathered at Longchamps, Paris in 1997 to celebrate World Youth Day with the Pope.

But, despite that most memorable incident, it was while I was inside a small gift short inside the church of Santa Maria Goretti in Nettuno, Italy that the complete “puzzle” came together. On one of the racks of postcards I was drawn to one in particular; It was a portrait of John Paul II when he hadn’t been Pope for very long, taken by the famous Ottawa photographer, Yousef Karsh. And in it he was smiling, so strong and agile and confident, I could scarcely believe that this was the same man that I had touched hands with only days before. But the reality of who he was and how much he had gone through started to sink in. All those years. All the knowledge. All the praying. All the service.

Now who, you may ask, is the Pope to me? I can tell you he is a man who, through the grace of God, has had the strength, courage, faith and hope to serve the Church for twenty years as Peter’s successor. He is a man who loves, forgives, laughs, suffers and is moved. John Paul II, like any of us, isn’t perfect. He makes mistakes; he sins. Even Jesus needed to pray to God; so does the Pope. And he certainly needs our prayers and support: The Church encompasses the world, and as we know, there’s a big variety in cultures and attitudes in the Church. It isn’t an easy calling.

Most people will never have the chance to get to know the Pope except through books or television, or maybe in a crowd of thousands. But they still need to have faith in him. Why? Because Jesus chose him to lead the Church. And why is there such dissent in some reaches of the Church? The lack of faith in him isn’t the problem; it’s a symptom. The real lack of faith at the roots—in Jesus. In God. In the Holy Spirit.

Ryan, Richard and myself standing outside the papal summer residence, Castel Gondolfo.

We’re talking about faith that Jesus knew what He was doing. It’s common belief among theologians that God exists outside of time; Jesus could see the beginning and end of his Church, and everything in between when He chose Peter as His successor. It is not for the People to run the Church—it is for Christ to run the Church. And the Church is the People, as they say. Thus, Christ runs us—not the other way around. And He does that through the Pope, whom He chose.

The Church follows His Word, and His Word is for all time. But more than that—Jesus is alive within the Church. Do we not believe so? And can He not do anything? If He thinks it’s time for the Church to change her ways, change her doctrines—to conform to society—He will do so. Through the Pope. In unity—not through division in the ranks. In fact, before Jesus was arrested He prayed for unity in the Church. Does anyone truly believe He’s changed his mind?

We must have our faith in Jesus first and foremost. Without that we cannot have faith in the Pope, and without that, no faith in the Church. And we must have faith in that, or we have no faith at all, because we are all to be saved through the Church. Jesus prayed for unity for His Church—unity in His Word—not our words and how we feel it should be.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I can’t judge the hearts and souls of those who doubt the Pope’s authority. But I do ask this: are they seeking Truth, or putting themselves in the place of God, ready to change the Word to suit them, instead of themselves to suit the Word. As the words go in a popular song (61), “Do not allow your minds to be conformed to this age, but let your heart be ruled by His spirit.” The Word is for all time. John Paul II isn’t, but he knows the Word, lives it, and rules by it. We don’t rule by it—it’s not our calling—but we can know it and live it.

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