Saint JPII--Polka-Dancing Fool

Nota Bene: This is a long one because I found an essay that is worth massive quoting. :)

Here goes:

Saint John Paul II burst onto the international scene when I was ten, in 1978. I remember the furor, the collective world amazement, to this day; I still have a picture in my head of him out on the balcony...and all this is interesting, because I didn't even know what balcony it was, nor much about the Catholic Church. It was as if the Church suddenly burst in upon the world consciousness once again in the person of this handsome, young, Polish pope. 

Over the years, especially after becoming Catholic, I continued to just like this man, like so many billions of others...and I also heard criticisms. Sometimes I heard he wasn't even the real pope and was actually a syncretist-heretic; sometimes I heard he was well-meaning but steering the barque wrong; overall, whether misguided or not, I think everyone agreed that he opened his arms to the world and served all nations through a difficult and public death. 

His scandal, I found, was the scandal of of justice versus mercy, of 'eating with sinners'--perhaps to the point, for some, of blurring the line between what can appear to be evangelization and what can appear to be condoning what should not be condoned. It is perhaps, the same question the Jews faced when they found the supposed Messiah eating with tax collector-thieves and letting prostitutes wash His feet.Yet we know now what Christ was really about: do we know about this Pope?

Was he the rock-star, softy Polka Fool Pope who watered down the two-edged sword of Christianity to gain more shallow fans for Christ, or a scandal the way Christ was a scandal? 

I have always struggled with this--images flood me now of a man shot in the public square, a bent-over old man holding the hand of the Blessed Mother, the young Pope presiding over Assisi with witch doctors from Africa, the supposed poster-boy for Liberation Theology who surprised everyone by the smack-down of this movement gone wrong on an airport tarmac--images that seem to leave me with conflicted feelings. 

My first real introduction to the man himself was when I read Theology of the Body, a collection of Wednesday audiences. This was a man who had the humility of a phenomenology (not assuming immediate grasp of the essences of things) married with a strong, disciplined Thomism (rigorous discussion with the belief that reason can indeed come to essence, or truth). His writing on the body as a sign midwifed me into a love of semiotics, and showed me a loving, delightful order in the universe that is both mythological in the best sense, and yet also reasonable. He showed me a beautiful dynamic hierarchy, not a static, dead hierarchy, where the highest lends itself in servanthood to the lower; where God mirrors His own Trinitarian love in the poor and simple conjugal act, thus raising it to the level of Sacrament. 

I watched him, like everyone else, die a slow and difficult death. I could almost see the spirit in him dragging the body along. My beloved Uncle Andrea Freccia died of the same condition, and so I know therefore something about the suffering of a death, over years, where the muscles simply stop working...my uncle drowned, because he could no longer move fluids out of the lungs, and I imagine JPII died the same way, but in a room with a billion eyes on it. And he worked almost until he could no longer function. He was a sign of life in the years just after euthanasia was becoming more prevalent; he was a sign that suffering has meaning: the penultimate emblem his knocking on the door of St. Peter's on the 2000 Jubiliee, a pitiful, weak, old man who had no longer any worldly comeliness, but whose spirit in that act affirmed the life-beyond-biology that must be remembered...this Pope seemed to affirm the things a world of 'isms' would call foolish. He was not only supportive of the weakest of us, but also allowed himself to become an emblem of that weakness as he lost his vigor, his looks, even his ability to look at you in the eye on equal footing. He died as one of the pathetic, the weak, a person the princes of this world would deem useless. 

But how, how, do you match all this up with Assisi scandals, or the rot of pedophilia in the Church that was festering as he administered? His pontificate, perhaps, had a specific purpose, that the promise of hope must come before the Lord began to clean out the house; perhaps it was the dismantling of the fortress-mentality that allowed, in time, for the bats to be swept out. Perhaps he was one man with a certain mission, that the excoriation of the Lord's house has its time; perhaps he did indeed fail and did his penance through Parkinson's. 

Imperfect as he was, and would readily admit to being, I am sure, it is clear that he had a mission. But what was it? To re-popularize the Church? 

I do not think that was it. I think the clue to his mission lies in his Polish identity--I think this now after reading a wonderful essay, written in 2003, by Fr. Raymond Gawronski, SJ. His thesis is that John Paul II carried within him the spirit of Poland, and universalized it: and that the world needed a certain Polish spirit to bring hope and mercy, and to make the scandal of Christ real once again. Fr. Gawronski says, moreover, that JP II was not a Pope serving Polish interests; he was a Polish Pope who served the Church and through her, the world. He was the spark lit in Poland that was meant to set the world on fire; much like the spark lit in Jerusalem that was meant to set the world on fire.

Fr. Gawronski says:

"Poland has a history which in many ways has more in common with the colonized and marginalized countries of the Third World than with the colonizing and empire building traditions of the main European nations. And because of this history, Polish Catholics in Europe and America have much more in common with the oppressed than with ruling elites in state or in Church."

...and:

"And so, in a sense, if less technologically competitive the Slavs retained some of the advantages of a more “primitive” level. Strongly emotional natures and a love of expression - music, poetry, the arts - characterizes them, more than technological prowess. A striking love for and closeness to nature, combines with a cultural ideal of “childlikeness”, perhaps most famously portrayed in Dostoyevsky’s The Idiot.  Having had firsthand historical experience of slavery, both in ancient and modern times, a passion for freedom has tended to favor a certain tendency toward anarchism, and a distrust of too much order.  Largely peopled by farming villagers, a certain sense of human solidarity is strong."

Thus, Poland as a people are the part of the poor of the world--poor especially in terms of influence and technological prowess. The Polish people are made fun of throughout the world because they are 'migrant workers' and 'stupid' and 'simple' and 'How many Poles does it take to unscrew a lightbulb?' Thaddeus' grandmother changed "Kozinski" to "Kosens" to escape the soft persecution of Poles in '40s New York, for example.

The Poles have been the laughingstock of the nations, especially in the West. But why?

Fr. Gawronski:

"Though there is plenty of joy in Poland and the Polish soul, it is not a lighthearted spiritual culture. It has known more than its share of conquest, exile - and even worse, betrayal by perfidious allies and, alas, traitors within. One could go on at great length about the horrible destruction of WWII. But perhaps even worse was the treatment of Poland at the end of the War, by the world, and by the Church, where the nation was left to barely survive, its borders shifted 150 miles West, handed over to  deadly enemies, the Soviet regime, often pawns in a too diplomatic Vatican “Ostpolitik.”  Through those forty five years, it was the faith of the Poles, yes, tied to Rome in spite of any particular Roman lack of support or enthusiasm, that kept the Poles alive."

Also, Fr. Gawronski claims that the Polish nation, not being truly Western nor Eastern, did not follow the West into Enlightenment-ism and secularism...it remained a Catholic nation at heart, with a great devotion to the suffering of Christ, and to the Mother of God "torn and yet most whole." It also never completely gave in to Communism, but kept something alive that the Russians did not.

Thus, in some sense, though not perfect, Poland has been a crucified nation, a byword, abandoned by the West and abused by the Russians. It seems to be, according to Fr. Gawronski, because Poland has a childlike nature, easily victimized, easily oppressed, easily dismissed. They are like 'fools' in a wise world, Polka-dancing victims who follow the Cross. 

One source of the Polish Catholic heart is that, "During the Reformation, the Jesuits were very powerful in Poland, keeping her from going the way of Calvinism - or more likely, into a kind of pious religious indifferentism. Poland was a stranger to the religious wars so formative of modern Western Europe."

Edumund Campion himself studied and taught in Poland for many years, one of the Jesuits who both helped immunize Poland from religious wars and received an education in a thriving Catholic culture. 

But perhaps the greatest key to Poland's identity, and to John Paul II, whose motto was "Totus Tuus" ("All Yours," the cry of a son addressed to the Theotokos, the Mother of God), is this:

"In the 17th century...something unique had occurred: the King of Poland “betrothed” Poland to Mary as the Queen of the country. This happened in Lwow, at the time, a great Polish city, in a Ukrainian countryside.  Shortly thereafter, at the time of the Swedish invasion, at the other end of the country, Mary was crowned queen of Poland at  Czestochowa. And it was there that she is believed to have saved Poland from the invading Swedish forces and so entered into the national story.  The Polish tie to Catholicism was anchored in her devotion to Mary. Indeed, the earliest document we have in Polish is a hymn to the Mother of God armies would sing as they went into battle.

"...the Queen of Belgium or France might favor the Catholic Church and further its cause; Mary, the Mother of God was the Queen of Poland.  Contrast her for a second with other rulers - Catherine the Great comes to mind - and one sees quickly why the Poles had a revulsion against absolute rulers.

"It is a thick tangle, the web of Polish religion and nationalism.  Not everything about it has been noble.  But because the Faith was focused on the Cross, the spiritual struggle was intensified in a way which purified.

 "One key to untangling this web, I propose, is through understanding the consecration of the nation to Mary. For one thing, the Marian character of the faith spoke to the Slavic soul. St. Maximilian Kolbe, the martyr at Auschwitz, was emphatically Marian in his spirituality.  The feminine is strong in the Polish character, and this has led to differences with the West - e.g., the Pope’s allowing altar girls, a shocking thing to his conservative Western supporters. Poland does not have a strong male culture. Defeated in numerous wars and uprisings, male bonding is not geared to aggression as it is with other nations who have produced proud teams and armies. Rather, it is the women of Poland who kept the culture alive, nurturing their men who invariably were being killed or exiled at a young age. In return, the feminine was revered - motherhood a very high ideal in Poland. All this is contained “under Mary’s cloak.”

"Poland understood her sorrows, her sufferings, in terms of the sufferings of Pan Jezus, the “Lord Jesus.”  It is no coincidence that the peak of Polish popular devotion are the “Gorzkie Zale,” the “bitter sorrows,” Lenten devotions to the sufferings of Christ. It is Christ wounded that found resonance in the Polish heart, statues of Jezus Frasobliwy dotting the countryside. Mary, with scars on her cheeks, “torn and most whole,” was the Mother of the nation and her soul."

Thus, like a flower out of a long-tended tree, John Paul II perhaps, had a mission to re-assert the scandal of Christ and a Polish version of fatherhood, a fatherhood that deeply values and serves motherhood, the feminine reception of the weakest among us. The scandal of Christ is also the scandal of Mary, His mother. Fr. Gawronski: 

"As has often been observed, John Paul is very Polish, and, I would add, very fatherly.  It is perhaps that to which people respond, or react. Polish fatherhood would be different from others, in that it headed into great sorrow, powerlessness while retaining a patriarchal authority built into the very nature of things.  In his election a seed from the Polish nation had been selected - and to bear fruit, that seed must leave its home and must fall into the ground.  The hopes aroused among Poles by his election were tremendous: at last, the voiceless would have a voice; there would be someone in a position of earthly power who at the very least understood our hurts, our great injustices, and the little “bolaczki” which are the daily reminders of those who have no power, those hurts to which the powerless cling and with which they wound themselves as their only weapons in life’s battle.

"...he is of the flower of that first generation of the Polish nation’s survival and return to statehood. Poland survived in the face of all the forces which created the modern world as a place in which the Catholic Church was to be destroyed (in the words of Voltaire: “ecrasez l’Infame”).   And the Church, in the process, has been being purified - to emerge a “Servant Church” and, like her Lord, it is the “Suffering Servant” and John Paul II is His Vicar.

 "...Underneath all this, is a strong sense of identification with all victims of injustice, while he is also realistic enough - what Pole isn’t? - to know that victimhood alone is no guarantee of goodness. His strong insistence on an objective moral order points to this.  As a result he does not see the world from the point of view of those who are, and have always been, comfortable - with money, with power. Rather, he sees the world from the point of view of the have-nots.

"The ancient Polish kingdom became, over the centuries, spiritualized and was transformed into a kingdom of the heart, where Jesus is Lord.  St. Faustina Kowalska reported hearing Jesus tell her: “I have particularly fallen in love with Poland” and that He promises great things for Poland if Poland will remain faithful to Him; moreover, “from Poland will come a spark that will prepare the world for my Final Coming.” Jesus tells her these things in His  great mission to her, the message of mercy, and the fate of her message - initially rejected, then gradually rehabilitated as the Polish Church began to gain influence in Rome - mirrors and anticipates the influence of that church in the global Church.

"Of course, people are all sinners; weak, prone to corruption by power. What one can discern in John Paul II’s pontificate is a light, a spark, a vision of hope of justice, and a justice which opens to new perspectives, notably, a mercy earlier utopian movements singularly lacked.

"In effect, John Paul proposes a “liberation theology” founded on faith in God, formed by the Cross. The “preferential option for the poor” is something he has experienced as “God’s preferential option.” In him whose motto is “Totus Tuus” the Queenship of Mary as experienced by the Poles in a unique way is more deeply shared with the Church throughout the world, whose earthly center has been moving away from Western Europe, in a new “springtime for the Church.”

"Karol Wojtyla, the seed, fell into the earth and died. He ceased being the ideal Polish figure, and had to become, as John Paul II, a Pope for the entire world. He had to let his particular experience die, for there is no such thing as a “Polish Pope.” There is only one Pope, and that is the Vicar of Christ for His world. And yet even as His Master was incarnate in one time, one place, among one people, and He knew their hurts, their history, from inside - and rose above them, and challenged them to the point of total alienation - so JP II has had a most difficult mission. How to be a member of a victim nation who has happened to come to a pinnacle of power? How to govern, when one comes from a people who are always characterized as “ungovernable”? How to be a member of a “chosen people” and, dying to that, to be a man for everyone?"

So after reading Fr. Gawronski's essay, I am thinking of my original question: what is the proper tension between mercy and justice, between loving and receiving and forgiving others but yet not condoning sin? Was the Polka-dancing fool for Christ a clear sign of this tension? How does radical mercy and openness to the pain in the world address injustice, and heal it? What is the scandal of Christ who said, "I do not condemn you...go and sin no more..."--how do we resolve the eating with sinners in the light of God's justice?

I think in this of Michaelangelo's Pieta, or the image from The Passion of the Christ, where Mary holds her son. To those of us who have been victimized, the expression on Mary's face as she holds the Dead God, her son, is inexplicable and almost foreign. In Michaelanglo's portrait, the expression is one of sorrow, and this strange peace and beauty that holds within it no resentment--from her who had, besides the Father, the most right to resent, for revenge. In Gibson's portrait, Mary looks at us, calling us to something, but not to revenge. I saw this look in the writings of JPII, who could have grown out of the death of his family and the years of occupied Poland into a resentful man. It is perhaps a kind of Polish look at the West and Russia as well.

By not having resentment in the face of injustice, we are merciful...if we are indeed the victim of injustice, then, as Socrates said, the truly pitiful one in the scenario is the person committing the injustice...for it hurts the soul, and the soul is the highest part of us.

Thus, if one can see the situation from the point of view of the soul, one sees a person scarring themselves, committing spiritual suicide, while the person receiving the injustice becomes poor, the poor who God prefers: He has an opportunity for humility and penance and for becoming part of Christ's suffering on the Cross. Indeed, Christ was perpetually a victim of injustice, for just as He was 'not received by His own' (a serious injustice), every sin is also a terrible injustice to the gifts God has given us freely.

The victim of injustice has, then, like Christ, in the court of God the upper hand, the right to recourse. If this victim chooses not to resent, to take revenge, then he is actually having mercy upon the unjust person...and this is the deepest recourse, the deepest justice, because within it is carried hope for redemption. Revenge destroys this open door to new relationship, new life.

Does this mean that people should let others hurt them? No. Protection of the weak from injury is paramount. But when we happen to be victims, the way to life is that of non-resentment, non-revenge, of disciplining with pity and forgiveness, shedding a light on a path for the perpetrator, a path leading to God's forgiveness.

Christ ate with sinners and reached out to them because He loved them, just like any parent would reach out, attempt to rescue, where at all possible, a lost child, even one who has caused destruction. Mercy is also doing what one can, even at cost to oneself, to lovingly prevent a destructive person from causing more destruction. This is courage. The mercy, the reaching out, is the only condition upon which justice can be received and benefited from. Justice without mercy is like truth without charity (from Von Balthasar)--they can each become evil without their "furious opposites" (Chesterton). And I think the mercy and the charity must be the expression, especially of the victim, because truth and justice cannot be shaken, really. They exist, they are, they are reality. As one spiritual director told me once, "You do not need to convince that person that they are in the wrong way of life...they know it, deep inside, because we are all part of a natural law, because justice just--is."

Because we don't often live in accordance with reality, due to pride and fear and selfishness and wounding, formation becomes one of the major duties of the Church...thus, mercy without articulation of reality to those who are unjust is truly no mercy--and this includes some of the disciplinary issues within the Church Herself: liturgy, crimes of the clergy, questionable theology, etc.. Perhaps here is where JPII fell short in truth.

On the other hand, the very aggiornamento that JPII seemed to support, which required a new openness to the other and an attempt to dialogue amidst the huge sea changes in modern culture, may also have broken open the dehabilitating silence and covering over of mistakes. The pre-conciliar Church was no Eden, and matched the cultural 'sweeping under the rug' that seemed to characterize, to me, the years produced by the absolutes of the Enlightenment. I have also thought, as a convert, that huge and sometimes devastating shifts are like the refining fire: Do you really love the Church, even if you can't understand what is happening? Will you sit as Christ does, through a liturgy that seems to de-form rather than form? Will you fight for what is real, what is the essence of Christianity, even as the things that you were attached to and formed by are blown apart?

It seems to me that part of the papacy of JPII was a kind of winnowing; those who had no charity or mercy and were simply attached to being a remnant, an elite, or who were tempted to idolize a liturgy rather than worship Christ in humility fell off one side of the barque; those who were in it for an emotional fix or to promote their own relativistic, amoral ends, were in a sense, given free rein--to hang themselves.

Yet, in all this, JPII was one man, I believe, a flawed human being, who was called to live mercy, to challenge the Church once again to eat with sinners.

When a person lives like this, however imperfectly but with absolute dependence on Christ, he or she has then become a stumbling block, a crushing stone, and a doorway into redemption, all at the same time, for the unjust in this world.

It is thus the work of a Christ-fool to acknowledge the necessity of the prison, but then to go inside and wash the feet of the prisoners.

I believe this was--and is--the mission of John Paul II. To be a sign, a phenomena, of the eternal Pelican King, to show that the scandal of Christ is the way to redemption and that mercy is worth the risk of scandalizing some. I don't know how to answer the witch doctor-Assisi stuff, or the other problems...but this was one man in a huge institution with a mission. He was a sign, not the savior. The Savior, of course, who will clean the house, is Christ.