OSV STORY FOR OCT. 27

How the Pope inspires my priesthood

Though the two have never spoken, Pope John Paul II and the author are supernaturally connected at the altar

By Father Richard Antall

The only time I saw Pope John Paul II in person was in Mexico in May 1990. I was lucky enough to get a ticket for the Mass at which the Holy Father beatified Juan Diego, the Indian whose cloak has the image of our Blessed Mother.

By chance, I was able to change my ticket to one that permitted me to concelebrate with about 500 other priests and what seemed like all the bishops of Mexico.

On the Pope's procession out of the Mass, he passed within 10 yards of me. As a joke, when I tell people of when I saw the Pope, I usually say that I doubt that the Holy Fathers remembers much of our encounter. But I cannot forget it.

After the beautiful Mass -- Placido Domingo sang the responsorial psalm -- the Pope made an appearance in a special balcony overlooking the side square of the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

There were probably 1 million Mexicans outside the basilica. When they caught sight of the Pope, their applause was so thunderous that the thousands of us within the basilica could feel its vibrations.

The Pope had come straight from the plane to the Mass. I remember how tired he looked at first, and then how the prayer refreshed him. From the balcony, he joked to the crowd about the Mexican talent for shouting, and there was an explosion of laughter.

I kept thinking what a grace it was. The beatification of Juan Diego and a closeup look at a man whom I pray for every day at Mass, whose prayer card marks my Bible and whose picture adorns my room. He had no clue as to who I was or what I was feeling, and that was as it should be. Who would want to take up his precious time? But seeing him was thrilling.

Yet, how much does a parish priest have to do with the Pope? During the sturm und drang 1970s, while I was a seminarian, I remember a professor saying that it was a matter of complete indifference to him who was the Bishop of Rome, it would affect him in no way at all.

Perhaps a supposed indifference in the other direction was what bothered him. I am reminded of a priest-friend who showed a pious Salvadoran a picture of himself with the Pope, and the man said, "Que emocion!"

The priest replied, "No, the Holy Father meets famous people every day; he tends not to get very excited."

Spiritually joined

Simple priest and Pope are at opposite ends of the spectrum. But what of the connection between the two? Wasn't the professor right that one's priesthood is independent of the Pope?

Obviously, a priest has his work to do no matter who is residing in the Vatican. Also self-evident is that the person of the Pope is not more important than his ministry. One would have to say the same prayers and have the same respect for whoever would be the successor of St. Peter. But to say that it would be a matter of "indifference" is another thing.

Humanity is naturally sympathetic -- that is one sign of our spiritual nature. We identify with others and are able to relate anonymously with many, sometimes in a strange intimacy, in fact. In the case of this Pope, untold millions are able to see him as a sympathetic figure.

My personal identification with him is rooted in the fact that we share the gift of priesthood. As he celebrates 50 years of priesthood, my thoughts go to the fact that he was once a parish priest, like me.

Although sent to Rome for studies directly after ordination, on his return he was assigned to a poor country parish where he heard confessions, visited the sick and dying, baptized babies and said Mass -- just like the priest at your parish.

When I saw him energize himself while praying the Mass, I reflected that, at the altar, both of us have the same power to offer the sacrifice and make Christ present to His people.

No matter what else the Pope is, he is a priest first of all. In fact, his title Pastor Pastorum refers not only to the bishops, I think, but also to their assistants, the priests.

This is so clear in the letters that Pope John Paul writes every Holy Thursday to the priests of the world. In these are passage of intense sympathy and sincerity.

I was at the Chrism Mass one Holy Thursday in El Salvador, and Archbishop Arturo Damas Rivera of San Salvador read the Pope's letter to us instead of a homily, when I had a sort of epiphany.

There we were, priests of all sorts, as different as the countries we came from and the parishes we served, and we sat listening to a kind old man read the words of another kind old priest from Rome.

The Pope cared about us. He spoke sincerely of the struggle of celibacy, and he encouraged us to pray. We were his brothers. Our relationship, which some claim to be as institutional as that between the commander in chief and the private first class, was really spiritual and revolved around the sacrifice Catholics offer around the world.

That is what I hope we can see in Pope John Paul's anniversary.

Six of the Popes of this century celebrated their golden jubilees in the Vatican. The celebration I regard as the most impressive was that for Pope Pius XII's golden jubilee. Talk about the glory that was Rome: on April 2, 1949, bishops ordained priests all over the world to commemorate the Pope's anniversary.

My first pastor was one priest so ordained, and in fact, his ordination was moved up to meet the date.

When I first heard of the idea, I thought of how triumphal it sounded. All over the world, priests kneeling to receive the grace of holy orders, the universal Church coordinating a massive celebration emphasizing the papal primacy and showing how organized Catholics can be.

But now, I think that the convergent ordinations did something much more important, illustrating the unity of the priestly ministry in the Church.

It was a brilliant idea, really, associating the priesthood of Pope Pius XII with that of priests everywhere in the world by something as simple as a common anniversary.

There is considerably less formal celebration for Pope John Paul's anniversary, but we are still called to think back to 50 years ago, when a young man lay prostrate in prayer as they sang the litany. He received the laying on of hands by his bishop and was anointed with chrism. He became configured in a new way to Christ, the High Priest.

The next day, he would pray for his deceased parents and only brother in his first Mass on All Souls Day. It is that young man we think of especially on this anniversary.

However you might measure the long way his life has taken him, no matter how many millions he has helped, the power of this man is the mystery of the sacrament he received that most auspicious day for the Church.

From that day to this, he has been called upon to absolve and consecrate, correct and counsel. He has for 50 years been a living image of our only High Priest.

In his case, as in the case of the humblest and most forgotten of the clergy, Dominican Father Jean Baptiste Henri Lacordaire's meditation echoes in our consciousness: "What a glorious life is yours, O priest of God!"

"Ad multos annos!" God grant him many more years of fruitful ministry.

Father Antall writes from Painesville, Ohio

Copyright Our Sunday Visitor, 1996; from the 10-27-96 edition

HEADLINES FOR OCT. 27

Our representative before God (editorial)

The priestly class of '46 heads to Rome

'A priest forever'

The Pope's example to priests

'The Holy Mass is the absolute center of my life'

Three priests anticipate a party with the Pope