Doris Donnelly Director Cardinal Suenens Center for Theology & Church Life April 7, 2005

Once in a while we say about an athlete that he or she changed the way the game is played. We don’t say it often and we don’t say it only about stats – although stats matter. We say it when style and substance combine. We say it when an athlete has strength, commitment, confidence, charisma and sometimes (we gravitate to this most of all) a touch of humility as if to say what I can do better, faster, more creatively than anyone else is a “gift” from somewhere else and all I do is work hard at it and give thanks for it every day. Michael Jordan. Tiger. Martina. Lance Armstrong. Annika Sorenstam. Ali. Mia Hamm. Some people think they changed the way the game is played. It’s a little after 6 pm in Rome right now and the city is still teeming with people wanting to be near the body of John Paul II, wanting to say goodbye, there for many reasons but all of them aware that John Paul II changed the papacy. He changed the way the game, so to speak, is played. He did that from his first week as Pope when he said “Get me out of here. I want to hit the road.” (That might be a loose translation but it was the gist of what he said.) “I want to be near the people not only in Rome but all over the world.” So he traveled far more often and to far more places than any Pope in history -- to Zambia, Brazil, Sweden, Madagascar, New Zealand, Mexico and on and on. He came to the United Nations and to nations devastated by war. As soon as he de-planed, he kissed the ground as if to say, "I’m glad to be with you." And in the last weeks of his life when antibiotics failed to halt a life threatening infection, he not only decided against hospital but also against secrecy and allowed – for the very first time – medical reports of his failing body to be broadcast as the world watched. Watched him die. He changed the way the game was played. If I were to single out three out of many ways he changed the way the game was played, I’d offer these: He did it by affirming young people. They and their culture may have been under siege and "dissed" elsewhere but never by the Pope. John Paul II trusted young people. He loved being near their energy, their enthusiasm, their optimism. They in turn loved being near him. He knew the future was in their hands and he encouraged them to shape it into a peaceful kingdom of God. He didn’t scold, nag, accuse or berate – he embraced them as a grandfather, provided wisdom, told them to be true to themselves, to dream big dreams for the world, to correct injustice wherever they found it, to follow the path of the Gospel, and then he set them free. No wonder young people responded. It delighted him at Madison Square Garden when a team of cheerleaders from Harlem greeted him this way: “Rack ‘em up, stack ‘em up, bust ‘em in two: John Paul the Second we’re here for you!” And if Vatican officials thought the Pope might spend more time doing other things, his gut told him that investing time with young people would pay dividends for the future of our planet. He changed the way the game was played. He did it with eyes focused always on the poor, the dispossessed, the persecuted and he knew that prayers without action were empty. He may not have berated young people but he didn’t mince words with adults. In 1979 he told a packed Yankee Stadium that it is unfair for the developed world to lap up luxuries that deprive some of our brothers and sisters food and shelter for survival. Those expecting a pep talk should have been disappointed – some were, although reports say that most went back to business as usual -- but the Pope was never interested in polls or personality contests. He represented a Jesus who came to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and he traveled around the world to remind rich nations that the work of Jesus is still to be done and poor nations to hold on tight until the rich nations got their act together. As we know, he ignored the implorings of the White House to sanction war the Gulf war and the war in Iraq and through his most trusted staff made his disapproval crystal clear. At the same time he held every soldier in action in his heart. He was on message all the time: Love not war is the way. The only way. He changed the way the game was played. He did it by admitting mistakes – his and those of the Church – and he asked forgiveness many times but most significantly at a Service of Pardon in March 2000, in preparation for the millennial year. In this, he certainly changed the way the game was played because Popes, we may have been led to believe, don’t make mistakes and don’t need to ask forgiveness. We have documented information that some cardinals on staff at the Curia balked at the Pope’s planned service but the Pope won out. One by one, cardinals representing offices that dealt with Jews, Muslims, peace and justice, women asked pardon for sins of the past committed against these constituencies. Some critics said they didn’t go far enough and that’s probably true but it was a powerful, impressive, touching and historic beginning. It came from a papacy that never lost the human touch, that knew suffering, that knew what oppression felt like, that understood how valuable are healing the words “We are sorry. We ask your forgiveness.” And maybe also, although they were not said, “We won’t do it again.” If Pope John Paul changed the way the game is played, the fact is that there are still innings to go, the shot clock is still ticking – there is lots of work to do, crucial issues to be faced, new approaches to be tried, listening to be done, and action on behalf of the suffering to be taken. A new play book will be written by the next Pope but let’s trust that it will always be turned to the acute needs of the world with the moral force that was part of John Paul’s legacy -- moral principled force. That’s one part of John Paul II’s play book we don’t want to lose – ever.