We're better for his having lived among us

As you almost certainly know by now, John Paul II has died, quietly, bravely, in his own bed, with hope in his heart and after leaving gentle chidings that we should not mourn too much.

Allow me a few tears. I am old enough to vaguely remember other popes, and other popes always seemed to draw sharp lines between their flock and the rest of the world, leaving people like myself on the outside wondering why they were so stand-offish, so exasperating.

John Paul II spread his arms wide open and shouted ‘let us stop our quibbling - you don’t have to be Catholic to be good, or to be beloved of heaven.’ Of course, he made it very clear that he thought to be Catholic was best, and good for him. (Why be a leader of a church you do not think is right?) But he embraced us all, and somewhere along the way I embraced him back.

A great man has died. I hope Catholic teaching is right – that he now joins a gathering of saints, standing by, waiting for someone to call up to them, ‘I don’t quite see my way out of this – can you lend me a little advice or help from where you stand?’

We already know he is a great listener, with the whole world in his heart. We already know he sees people for what they are, and isn’t afraid to say what they need to hear instead of what they want to hear.

He will be a tough act to follow. I almost feel sorry for the next pope. Almost. The good news is that John Paul II hands over a world where no small measure of Jews and Muslims and Catholics and Protestants and members of the Orthodox church, among others (including a cheerfully unaligned theist or two that I know about), have found common ground, in large part because this one man insisted upon finding common ground.

Part of his genius, a portion of his legacy, is that he could find common ground without searching for or accepting the lowest common denominator.

Let us lift up the world together, he said, perhaps not in exactly those words.

We can do better, he said.

This is how to do better, he said.

I am hardly perfect, but I’m here for you, he said.

Some of the people in the media keep trying to portray Catholics as quaint or backward or as unthinking sheep. Yet here was this man, this remarkable man, calling out, ‘use your heads – think’, and the silly sophisticates could not bury his message. He went to great lengths to make sure that people heard what he had to say.

Thank goodness.

Open your eyes, he said. Look around you, he said.

I am looking. And today I am seeing a world that is that much better because one man from Poland lived among us, and stood up and spoke clearly when others inched away toward handy exits, or mumbled excuses.

A good man has died. I toast his life and mourn his passing.