This is a beautiful and extraordinary reflection on John Paul II and the meaning of prayer and holiness, by the only Polish member of the Pope's Office of Liturgical Celebrations. He served John Paul II as cerimoniere for seven years and has now served Benedict XVI for six.
My experience with John Paul II:
'The center of the world
is wherever one prays to God'
by Mons. KONRAD KRAJEWSKI
Assistant Master of Papal Liturgies
Translated from the 4/2/11 issue of -
We were on our knees around the bed of John Paul II. The Pope lay in shadows. The discreet light of a lamp lit the walls but he was quite visible.
When the time came that a few minutes later the world would learn of, Archbishop Dziwisz suddenly stood up. He turned on the room lights, interrupting the silence of the recent death.
With an emotional but surprisingly firm voice, and with the characteristic prolonged syllables of the Polish highlands where he comes from, he started to sing, "We praise you. God, we proclaim you Lord..."
It sounded like a thunderclap from heaven. We all looked in amazement at don Stanislao. But the light in the room and the words that followed the hymn - "Eternal Father, all the earth adores you..." - brought certainty to all of us. We thought, "And here we are before a completely new reality: John Paul II is dead. It means he now lives forever".
And even if the heart was sobbing and tears tightened the throat, we picked up the hymn and started to sing. And with each word, our voice became more certain and stronger. The hymn proclaimed: "Victor over death, you have opened to believers the Kingdom of heaven..."
Thus with the hymn of the Te Deum, we glorified God who was visible and recognizable in the person of the Pope.
In some way, this, too, was the experience of all who met him in the course of his Pontificate. Whoever came into contact with John Paul II also met Jesus, whom the Pope represented with all of his being.
[The meaning of being the 'Vicar of Christ' - the Pope represents Christ on earth.]
With his words, his silences, his gestures, the way he prayed, the way he occupied the liturgical space, his recollection in the sacristy - in his entire being.
For the world, he had become the visible sign of an invisible reality - even in his body ravaged with illness in his final years.
Often, all it took was to look at him to sense the presence of God and begin to pray. All it took was to go to confession not only to confess my sins but to ask forgiveness for not being a saint as he was.
When he was no longer able to walk, he became totally dependent on his liturgical assistants during the liturgies, and I began to be aware what it meant to touch a holy person.
Perhaps I irritated more than one Vatican confessor when, just before every liturgy, I would first go to confession, following an interior imperative and feeling a great need to do so. I felt I needed absolution before being near him.
When one is next to a holy man, when a man in some way achieves holiness, it irradiates his whole being. But at the same time, one must also experience temptation, since holiness offends the spirit of evil.
When, at 3 o'clock in the morning, I left the papal apartment after he died, there was a multitude of faithful even in the Borgo Pio, everyone silent in their grief. For many, it was as if the world had stopped, and on hearing the news, they had dropped to their knees and wept.
Some wept for losing a beloved person and then went on home as they had earlier arrived in haste. And there were those who, besides the external tears, also wept in their heart, from feeling inadequate and even faithless in front of the Lord.
It was the start of a miracle of conversion. For all the following days, until the Pope's funeral, Rome had become a Cenacle: everyone understood each other even if they spoke different languages.
I had been with the Pope for seven long years - even at the instant when his soul left his body. At the moment of death, all that was left were the mortal remains that would turn into dust: the body disappears, and the person is welcomed into the mystery of God.
Among the tasks of a papal
cerimoniere is also that of tending to the body of the deceased Pope. I did this for seven days until the funeral.
Not long after he died, I assisted the three nurses who had been taking care of him to prepare his body and to put on his vestments. And even if an hour and a half had gone since he breathed his last, they continued to talk to him as they were used to, like talking to their own father.
Before they put on his tunic, his alb and his chasuble, they kissed him tenderly and touched him with love and reverence, as they would have done if was a member of their own family.
They demonstrated not just their devotion to the Pontiff. For me, it represented the timid announcement of a beatification that could not be far off. Perhaps that is why I have never had to devote intense prayer for his beatification, because I felt that I had already begun to participate in it.
Every day, I celebrate the Eucharist in the Vatican Grotto. And I notice how all the staff of the Basilica and all those who come to work in the various offices at the Vatican, the policemen, the gardeners, the chauffeurs, begin the day with a moment of prayer at his tomb. They touch the tombstone and send him a kiss.
Since 2000, the Pope had begun to weaken fast. He could hardly walk. While preparing for the Great Jubilee with Mons. Piero Marini, we all hoped that he would have the strength to open the Holy Door. It was almost impossible to think farther into the future.
Once, when we were in the mountains in Poland, I heard him say to someone: "We do not know each other yet, because we have not suffered together".
For five long years, Mons. Marini and the rest of us at the liturgical staff took part in the Pope's sufferings, and witnessed his heroic struggle with himself in order to bear it all.
I was often reminded of Psalm 51: "Cleanse me with hyssop, that I may be pure", which in this case could mean, "Touch me with suffering and I will be pure".
To be with John Paul II meant to live the Gospel, to be within the Gospel.
In the last years of serving him, I became aware that beauty is always linked to suffering. One cannot touch Jesus without touching the Cross: The Pontiff was so sorely tried - one could even say, tormented - by his suffering, but he was extremely beautiful in the joy with which he offered all he had received from God, and gave back everything that he had.
Indeed, as Mother Teresa said, holiness does not consist only in offering everything we have to God, but also that God takes from us everything he has given us.
The athlete who used to stride and ski on mountain heights could now no longer walk. The actor had lost his voice. Little by little, everything was being taken away from him.
Before the funeral Mass began, Mons. Dziwisz and Mons. Marini had covered the face of the Pope with a silk cloth - a very profound symbol that all his life was now covered and hidden in God.
While they did this, I stood next to the coffin, holding the Evangelarium, another powerful symbol. John Paul II was never ashamed of teh Gospel. He lived according to the Gospel. It was according to the Gospel that he had constructed his entire life, external and interior.
The mystery of John Paul II, the beauty of his life, is well expressed in the prayer of Pope Clement XI which was found in the older breviaries: "I want everything you want, I want them because you want them, and I want them how and when you want".
If these words are said with the heart, then one can be like Jesus who humbly hides himself in the Eucharist and offers himself to be consumed. Saying the prayer means to start living in the spirit of adoration of the Most Blessed Sacrament.
In travelling with the Pope during his apostolic visits, during those long flights, I often asked myself, "Where is the center of the world?
Thirteen days after he became Pope, with some of his close associates, he went to the shrine of Our Lady of Graces in Mentorella near Rome. It is recounted that he asked his companions: "What is the most important thing for a Pope in his life and in his work?"
They said, "Maybe Christian unity... peace in the Middle East... bringing down the Iron Curtain..."
He said to them: "For a Pope, the most important thing is prayer".
In Poland, there is a saying that the king is naked to his servants. The more we got to know John Paul II, the more we were convinced of his holiness - we saw it in every moment of his life. He never obscured God.
If I had to say what is most important to the life of a priest and to the life of everyone, I would say, looking at his example: "Never to cover or obscure God with yourself, but to show him to all and become the visible sign of his presence. No one has seen God, but John Paul II made him visible through his life.
When he prayed, I had the impression he threw himself at the feet of Christ. When he prayed, his total trust in God was visible on his face. He was truly transparent. To use a poetic image, he was like a rainbow that linked earth to heaven, as though his soul was climbing the steps from earth to heaven,
So I come back to the question: Where is the center of the world? Slowly, it dawned on me that the center of the world was always where I found myself with the Pope, not because I was with him, but because wherever he was, he was always praying.
I came to understand that the center of the world is where I pray, where I am together with God, in the most intimate union there is - in prayer. I am in the center of the world when I walk in the presence of God, when "In him we live and move and have our being" (cfr Acts 17,28).
When I celebrate or take part in the Eucharist, I am in the center of the world. When I hear confession or go to confession myself, the center of the world is the confessional.
The place and the time when I pray constitute the center of the world because when I pray, God breathes within me.
The Pope let God breathe into the world through him, as every day he passed so much time in front of the Tabernacle. The Most Blessed Sacrament was the sun that illuminated his life. And before that sun, he warmed himself with the light of God.
John Paul II's life was woven in prayer. he was never without his rosary, addressing Mary and confirming his slogan,
Totus tuus - I am all yours.
Once after the assassination attempt in 1981, it is said Cardinal Deskur brought him a container of holy water from Lourdes, saying: "Holiness, when you wash the ailing part with the water, you must say an Ave Maria". He answered: "Dear cardinal, I am always saying the Ave Maria".
My work in the Office of Liturgical Celebrations is to attend to the Pope's liturgies, under the guidance of the master of papal ceremonies, not to write articles or prepare lectures. It has been that way for 13 years now.
After April 2, 2005, whenever anyone asked me if I would like to share my testimony about John Paul II, I have always said, "Gladly!" I invite the faithful to attend the Mass every Thursday at his tomb in the Vatican Grottoes
[soon to be transferred to the chapel next to the Pieta in the Basilica].
Just as I invite everyone to go to the Church of Santo Spirito in Sassia, where every afternoon, there is a recitation of the Divine Mercy chaplet followed by the Via Crucis.
Every Thursday evening, Polish priests, sisters and laymen who study and work in Rome gather at my apartment, where we say Vespers, pray and break bread together. To gather in prayer and be together in the center of the world: that I have learned from John Paul II.
I am not surprised that he will be beatified on the Sunday of Divine Mercy, but it is providential that it falls this year on May 1.
On that day, the topic will be principally prayer. Benedict XVI and John Paul II will transform that secular holiday into a religious event that is unprecedented: a May procession towards holiness and prayer.
[Modificato da TERESA BENEDETTA 03/04/2011 00:59]