Honoring John Paul II
HONORING JOHN PAUL II -- (Senate - April 05, 2005)
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Mr. DURBIN. Mr. President, Zbibniew Brzezinski, the Polish-born national security advisor to President Jimmy Carter, tells a story about how the news of Cardinal Karol Wojtyla's election as Pope was received by the communist rulers of Poland.
On that day in October 1978, Mr. Brzezinski said, a group of communist writers and party leaders were meeting in Krakow. A police colonel was speaking, complaining about the opposition of the church, when a woman ran into the room and said, ``Wojtyla has been elected Pope!''
The second secretary of the party, not realizing his microphone was still on, turned to the first secretary and said, ``My God, my God, now we will have to kiss his''--and he did not say ``ring.''
The first party secretary, understanding the enormity of the moment, replied, ``Only if he lets us.''
In neighboring Czechoslovakia, a dissident playwright was with friends when news of the new Polish Pope came. Vaclav Havel, who would go on to become the first elected president of the Czech Republic, said he and his friends literally danced with joy when they heard the news. ``We felt,'' he said, ``that he was a great and charismatic man who will open the door to an unprecedented renaissance in Christianity and through it, to human spirituality in general, and who will fundamentally influence the future destiny and political order of the world.''
More than 26 years later, those stories seem prophetic. Karol Wojtyla, Pope John Paul II, did indeed change the world.
Today, he is being mourned not only in his beloved Poland, and not only by Catholics, but by people throughout the world: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, people from every faith tradition, and many with no religious connections.
Last Friday, when it was clear the Pope was dying, a man in Havana, a self-described communist, told an Associated Press reporter, ``I don't believe in God. But if there is a God, let him send us a Pope as good as this one.''
In Istanbul, Turkey, the brother of the man who nearly killed the Pope said his brother is grieving. ``He loved the Pope,'' his brother said.
Among the places in this country where this Pope's death has left many with an aching sadness is the Five Holy Martyrs Church on the southwest side of Chicago, the historic heart of Chicago's large Polish community. More Poles live in Chicago, IL, than any other city in the world, other than Warsaw.
In October 1979, when Pope John Paul II made his first visit to America as Pope, he said Mass at the Five Holy Martyrs Church, where the Eucharist is still celebrated in Polish, on an altar in the church parking lot, surrounded by more than 17,000 people.
Today, the altar still stands in the parking lot; it is used once a year for a special commemorative Mass. A portion of 43rd Street near the Five Holy Martyrs Church has been renamed in the Pope's honor. And many who saw him still recall it as one of the greatest days of their lives.
Think of this: half the people in the world today were not even born when Karol Wojtyla became Pope John Paul II. Most people under 40 have no memory of any other Pope, and remember John Paul only as an elderly and frail man.
Those of us who are a little older, though, remember just as clearly what a strong, athletic man he was before age and Parkinson's disease began to take their toll. ``God's athlete,'' some called him, and he showed in his life how much strength he had.
He was a traditionalist and a revolutionary, a son of Poland, and a citizen of the world. He was a mystic and a man of prayer, but he was also a man of action and seemingly inexhaustible energy. Reporters decades younger who accompanied him on his travels even in recent years, said they returned home exhausted. But John Paul never stopped.
He was more than a spiritual leader; he was a major player on the world diplomatic stage.
He visited more than 100 nations and every continent except Antarctica. All told, he traveled more than three times the distance from the Earth to the Moon.
He spoke more languages than many people can name. In 1993, he visited Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia--his first trip as Pope to the former Soviet Union. For that trip, he learned his 14th language, Lithuanian, which I am sure my Lithuanian-born mother was very happy to hear.
Everywhere, his message was the same. It is what he told his fellow Poles on his first visit home as Pope in 1979: ``Be not afraid.'' There is more to this life than what you can see here and now. ``The moral arc of the universe is long,'' as another great moral leader told us, ``but it bends toward justice.''
He sided always with the oppressed, the marginalized, the voiceless, the victims of war and injustice.
He was fearless and unflinching in the face of leaders of governments that suppressed human rights and crushed human hopes. He defied the Nazis who occupied Poland when he was a young man, and the communists who followed them. He showed real strength that all of us admire.
His role in ending communism in Poland and bringing about the end of the Soviet empire is well documented and rightly praised. He also helped to bring an end to apartheid by refusing to visit South Africa until that repugnant form of government was abolished.
Peace, non-violence, the sanctity of life, the dignity of work, the realization that we are all part of one human family and that every person on earth shares ``a common dignity and a common destiny,'' the belief that those who have much owe those who have less true justice, not mere charity, these are the lessons John Paul preached.
He taught us about reconciliation. He apologized for the Church for the Crusades, the Inquisition and the persecution of the Jews.
He showed us how to ask for forgiveness on his first trip home to Poland, when he visited the Nazi death camp at Auschwitz and knelt in prayer before a memorial to Holocaust victims. He showed us again on his first visit to Israel, in 2000, when he reached out his shaking hand to touch the Western Wall and leave a written prayer, a plea for forgiveness.
He showed us how to grant forgiveness when he visited the prison cell of the man who tried to kill him, and prayed with him.
He was the first Pope ever to visit a synagogue, or visit a mosque in an Islamic nation.
In his final days, he taught us another lesson: how to die with dignity.
John Paul II lived his life to try to heal the wounds that divide humanity. It is a measure of this extraordinary man's success that he has been praised in death by both Israeli Vice Premier Shimon Peres and Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas.
Karol Wojtyla had tears in his eyes when he became Pope. Many of us have tears in our eyes as he leaves the papacy and this world.
Those of us who are Catholic feel a special connection to this Pope. Many of us did not always agree with him on matters of Church teaching and practice. That is not unusual. In every family, there are disputes. But there is also great love. Even when we differed with him, we believe the Pope tried to do what he believed was right, and that is all we can ask of anyone.
During his visit to Chicago more than 25 years ago, the Pope said mass in Chicago's Grant Park. Many business closed that day to let their workers attend the mass. People stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the park.
Later that night, thousands of Chicagoans gathered at the Cardinal's mansion to sing ``good night'' to the Pope. It was late, but they weren't ready to let him go. He smiled as the crowd sang--and sang some more. Finally, with that huge smile and that big, booming voice, the Pope told them, ``Now you must go sleep.'' When no one moved, he smiled again and repeated, like a stern but loving father, ``You must go sleep.''
All these years later, many of us still wish he could have stayed with us just a little longer. But it was time for him to sleep.
So let us treasure the memory of this good man. And if we are moved to pay tribute to him, let us do our best to try to live the lessons he taught us with his own extraordinary life.
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