Freedom through suffering

Years from now, when we reflect on the death of Pope John Paul II, many of us will recall where we were when we heard John Paul the Great had died.

I suspect we’ll also remember the wall-to-wall media coverage, most of it glowing and respectful.

For a change, we can watch the media go about their work, and know that it’s having a largely positive impact on the world, as well as ourselves.

Not that it’s been of uniformly high quality, but journalists are in the unenviable position of having to become an expert on a new subject every day. This week it just happened to be the Catholic Church, and they were forced to learn the difference between Last Rites and last rights, Masses and services, and a litany of other terminologies.

Secular journalists and the faithful speak different languages. The Catholic vernacular involves nuances, and subtleties that amount to a different dialect to someone struggling to explain the Church to a secular audience.

One woman sent a letter to a journalism Web site saying throughout the Terri Schiavo story and the Pope’s death, she had yet to hear the Sacrament of the Sick correctly described.

This is why so much of the way this story is being reported fails to satisfy. The conclave is described in terms of a political convention. The Pope is cast in humanist terms. Catholic doctrine is explained in terminology better suited to government legislation.

Nowhere was this clash of languages and cultures more evident than when describing the fundamental principle that explained this Pope: he was a man of freedom, but this is where the press was least able to convey John Paul to the masses.

For CNN and others, the Pope was a paradox, which he was in some ways, but not when it came to freedom.

The analysts observed the Pope’s role as a liberator and a defender of human rights. Then they contrasted it with his supposed rigidness on abortion, contraception, and women’s ordination. The result was a picture of the Pope as somehow conflicted and inconsistent.

John Paul II was anything but conflicted. He recognized that without freedom there is no fullness of life. A person’s actions define him, and ultimately we must be free to act, so that we are free to be the people we are called to be.

In the world’s eyes, freedom consists of licence to do what one wants. For the Pope, freedom is oriented toward the good, toward God.

The world’s freedom results in shackles and bondage, whether it’s the alcoholic’s bottle, the pain of exploited sexual relationships, or the excesses of materialism.

The Pope’s freedom is the freedom of the apostles who gave all they had and lacked nothing.

The world’s freedom actually clamps down on our understanding of freedom, muzzling it with disapproval, court cases, human rights tribunals, censorship, and sometimes force. Our freedom acknowledges and defends authentic liberty.

Human freedom, says the Pope, is a freedom “wounded by sin.” It is a freedom “which itself needs to be set free.”

Christ is the liberator of that freedom, said the Pope. It was for freedom that Jesus set us free. “Defend that freedom!” he said.

The Pope showed us how to defend that freedom, by portraying it throughout his life, from Nazi-occupied Poland, to his death, carrying crosses too numerous to list.

There’s no paradox in that freedom. He taught us how to live, how to suffer, and how to embrace the cross.

The world wondered why he didn’t just resign, but in his suffering, and in his wondrous death, he was teaching an important lesson about the freedom of joining one’s suffering to the saving power of Christ.

The world’s freedom would have withdrawn his feeding tube, but in his freedom he said that in his brokenness he was closest to God.

Christ reveals Himself in suffering and brokenness. A friend pointed out to me that in the Gospel on Divine Mercy Sunday, the feast on the weekend the Pope died, Thomas recognized Christ by touching His wounds. Similarly, the disciples on the road to Emmaus recognized Christ in the breaking of the bread.

The world doesn’t want to see suffering and wants to get rid of people who suffer. The Pope said we need to suffer with them.

No wonder the world has such difficulty comprehending Pope John Paul II. It’s not the Pope that the world doesn’t understand; it’s suffering and freedom.

* * *

I acknowledge a debt of gratitude to all the individuals, departments, organizations, schools, and parishes who helped us to produce this special edition. Without their help, we could not have done it. Special thanks go to the Youth Ministry Office, to Jeff Graham, Anthea Seles, chancery officials and staff, and of course The B.C. Catholic staff, who went beyond their usual dedication to make this edition possible.