Optional Memorial of Saint John Paul II, Pope

 Lectionary: 474

For he is our peace, he made both one
and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, through his Flesh,
abolishing the law with its commandments and legal claims,
that he might create in himself one new person in place of the two,
thus establishing peace,
and might reconcile both with God,
in one Body, through the cross,

For several years, as a pastor in Jennings, Louisiana I visited the city and parish jails. The inmates invariably welcomed me, complaining only when, for whatever reason, I could not visit. They proved to me the insight and wisdom of Paul's observation, the Lord has broken down the dividing wall of enmity that kept us apart.  

During these troubled times, many of our elected legislators in federal and state offices fear to visit one another. President Biden, attending the funeral of his friend John McCain, told how their partisan allies urged them not to visit, talk with, or be seen with one another. The very reason for living in Washington DC had been obviated by an irrational partisanship which forbade conversation, the sharing of ideas, and compromise; much less agreement and concord. 

It is certainly easy to object to Saint Paul's teaching by saying "they" won't agree to meet "us" halfway. But that supposes peace is some kind of external event when, in fact, we must find it within our own hearts and within the presence of the Lord. The "dividing wall" is in my own heart, that place where my will governs and breeds suspicion, fear, resentment, and hostility. In that unfortunate place, I make war on my own need for reassurance, companionship, and love. If I admit that I want these gifts, I tell myself I am justified in my unhappiness by the righteousness of my cause. It's all nonsense, of course. 

By our Eucharist -- that is, by our Communion -- the Lord creates in himself one new person in place of the two. As we eat his flesh, drink his blood, and imbibe his spirit, a new, unexpected but most welcome, person appears. This new one recognizes and honors the fear but is not controlled by it; it remembers the hurt of betrayal but the sting is gone. It's just not that important anymore. 

I am sure there are many who, with me, remember the setbacks we suffered under the leadership of Pope Saint John Paul II. We had expected progress and had strong opinions about the course that progress would take. At some point, during his pontificate, I realized "my future is past. The opportunity evaporated, and will never return." Future developments which seemed certain in the 1960's disappeared in the 1990's. The real world, stripped of illusory promises, seems unfamiliar. 

I know some of my colleagues still hold on to them. Others complain that the sainted pope's "conservative" vision was frustrated; and they live in dread of Pope Francis's leadership. Both parties cling to a romantic illusion, like the love stories that always end in death. Perhaps they do not notice the new growth and vitality that is happening in the Church in Africa, South America, or Asia. 

The old self must be nailed to the cross and left there to die. It may take time. But the promise of redemption remains where the expectations disappeared.