Homily by H.E. Archbishop Migliore,

Apostolic Nuncio, Permanent Observer of the Holy See to the United Nations

Memorial Mass Pope John Paul II

Cathedral of St. Patrick

 New York, 5 April 2005


Not just for Catholics, these last few days have been ones of sadness at the death of Pope John Paul the Second.  At his passing we are sad, and at the same time we share the sentiments of Saint Augustine who, upon his mother’s death prayed: “God, I do not ask why you took her; rather I thank you for having given her to me”. So we say today, “God, we do not ask why you took Pope John Paul II, rather we do thank you for having given him to us”.

John Paul II has now gone to the place prepared for him.  While he was among us, he kept us for more than 26 years focused on the subtle frontier between the transcendent and the here and now, a fine line that the daily life often blurs. His long agony confirmed in a powerful way this very message. We witnessed an apparently  helpless man who was telling us that no moment of our lives is without value or meaning if we constantly focus on laying down our lives for others. 

The sadness we feel is perhaps something more akin to what we feel when we have lost a wise and good friend, a companion along life’s way. I saw a Polish woman quoted the other day, saying: “He was like Moses – he led us through the Red Sea of Communism”.   It’s an extraordinary image – as well as a pretty bold statement – but it does appear that we have seen the passing of someone who marked the history of his time. 

We all felt we knew him too, this priest, philosopher, mystic, poet, and world-class pilgrim.  Those who did have the chance to meet him never forgot that encounter. I had the privilege to live and work for seven years at his side in the Vatican, and one thing that was striking was that his charism did not leave anyone indifferent after meeting with him.

Two things seem to characterise John Paul II in a special way: first of all, the sheer length of time that he led the Church, guiding its direction, uniting it and unifying it and bringing together the multiple strands of thought and activity that make up today’s Catholic Church.  The second thing he did was to transmit fresh courage and hope to those who are oppressed, the poorest and the weakest throughout the world, at the four points of the compass: in the West, he confronted unbridled capitalism; in the East he confronted the repressive communist system.  In the south he spoke up for those condemned to live on less than a dollar a day; in the north he spoke in favour of a renewed culture of life. All over the world, he witnessed to the greatness and fecundity of man who lives creatively his relationship with God.

A pope as versatile and active as John Paul II cannot be encapsulated in a few words.  Some speak of him as a globetrotting missionary, others as a teacher or scholar, still others as a pope of social justice and of the poor.  Someone once said: “Of his ten fingers, pope John Paul has used nine to preach the gospel and one to govern the Church”.

In my diplomatic mission, I like to consider the pope as a world leader, one who never ceased to inspire admiration and respect, because his leadership was not one of power, but rather of moral authority. His political impact did not come from deploying what political realists recognise as the instruments of political power; his power lay in the charism of moral persuasion capable of being translated into political effectiveness. 

The world has not yet been transformed by all his words and activity – that is a huge task that will require the good will of the whole concert of nations and peoples working in unison for many years to come – but what we can say is that John Paul clearly took his place among those who would have the United Nations fulfill its high calling – on the side of peace, and on the side of the poorest and the weakest.

We have repeated today the gospel text used in Masses throughout the world on Easter Saturday, the day the pope died.  I understand that Mass was said in the hearing of the Holy Father, although he was by then unable to concelebrate.  In this text, the words of the Risen Lord to his hesitant and fearful disciples are: “Go into the whole world and proclaim the good news to all creation”.  These are perhaps the last words that John Paul heard on this earth from the gospel, before the Lord by his own voice called him to himself.  He started his pontificate with that liberating cry: “Be not afraid”! Yesterday a colleague of ours told me: “That motto was both a word of healing and an electrifying spur for us who had to live beyond the Iron Curtain”.  Those same words come to mind again now, at his death, in today’s world.  Fear darkens our horizons, but audacity can give wings to wise decisions. 

He is now at rest after a full and dedicated life.  We salute his extraordinary legacy and we thank God that we knew this mighty man of peace.  And let us be encouraged to take up where he left off, in the struggle for the betterment of our world, with respect for ourselves and respect for each other, in truth, justice and peace.