Pope John Paul II: A Personal Remembrance

[Flabbergasted]

Dennis with Pope John Paul II in 1991 Dennis Kucinich, April 5, 2005 Rome 1991. I knew the City. Except for the machine-gun carrying Carbineri at Rome Fumicino Airport, and the cars whizzing by me on the autostrada at 150 kilometers per hour, Rome seemed strangely familiar. Perhaps it was the ten years studying Latin, following the exploits of Caesar, Veni, Vedi, Vici, except Caesar never had to drive his chariots in rush hour. Nor did anyone dare crowd his style along the Appian Way. Everywhere I looked cars were bumper on bumper; I did a sidewalk survey and noticed that about seven of ten cars parked along any given street had body damage. Rome was very personal like that. My friend Judy and I had come to visit the Eternal City to study the cradle of our faith. As we toured, it became clear that just as Washington is a monument to Presidents, Rome is a celebration of the Papacy. Prior to leaving for Rome I had lunch with an old friend, Dr. Robert White, the famed neurosurgeon and physician to the Pope. I to the Pope. I told him I was soon going to be visiting Rome. He made a call to his friend at the Jesuits' headquarters in Rome and was able to arrange for a special visit to the Vatican, including attendance at a general Papal audience, Judy and I, and about five thousand other persons. Minutes before we left the hotel for our Vatican tour, I received a call that there had been a change of plans. Judy and I were to come immediately to a certain entrance off St. Peter's Square. Just in case I was going to meet someone I always wanted to meet, I brought with me a ceremonial presentation of a Key to the City of Cleveland, although they changed the locks when I left the Mayor's office. When we arrived, we were greeted by Swiss guards. Then we were ushered into the large hall where the general audience was held. It had the air of Carnival - colorful, noisy, boisterous. Slowly we were escorted past one jammed pew after another to the front pew, et introibo ad altare Dei. A priest in a simple black cassock, a former resident of Milwaukee, who followed American politics, approached smilingly, "Mayor Kucinich?" I accepted the honorific through it had been thirteen years since I left Cleveland City Hall, concluding my own personal experience of a Manichean struggle with the forces of power and light. The years after City Hall were, well, different. Except for brief service in City Council, filling an unexpired term, I could not win an election to save (or lose) my soul. "Yes. We're very excited to be here," I said. The priest, a personal assistant to the Pope, responded: "We're really glad you could make it." Wait a minute. I waited my whole life just to get into close proximity to the Pope and one of his assistants is telling me he's glad? "The Holy Father will be here shortly. There will be a general audience. Afterwards, people will file out and then he will come over to talk with you." That is the moment I knew I was about to meet Pope John Paul II. I was lost in thought. Judy (feigned?) panic; "Omigosh," she kept saying over and over. The General Audience is something like Cleveland's West Side Market on a Saturday morning, except many pilgrims are dancing, playing music and singing, while wearing the colorful costumes of their native lands. The Pope enters to wild applause. He sits on a simple throne and after about an hour and a half his right hand is supporting his head. I thought how physically demanding it was for him. The General Audience ended. The Pope had brief discussions with a group of clergy. He then walked in our direction. He stopped and spoke to two other couples. Then he approached. He looked at Judy, and greeted her first. He then turned to me. "Is this your wife?" he asked, in English. She wasn't. Neither of us were married. I wasn't going to lie to the Pope. Talk about setting yourself up to go to Hell... "A friend, Holy Father," He nodded. "Holy Father, I come from Cleveland." "Yes, we were talking about you earlier, about your public service," he said. "I remember Cleveland." Indeed the Pope had visited Cleveland, as Karol Cardinal Wojtyla, at St. Stanislaus Church in the Slavic Village Neighborhood. One of his closest friends was John Cardinal Krol, whose family came from St. Stanislaus Parish. There was a great joy in Cleveland when Cardinal Wojtyla was chosen Pope. The Polish community brought together 10,000 people in Public Hall to celebrate in prayer and song. We spoke for a few minutes about how the same Polish community was instrumental in my election as Mayor in 1977. "Holy Father, I have a special gift I would like to give you, a Key to the City of Cleveland." It was one of the last Keys from my Administration. I supposed he received a thousand like it, but he accepted it and an accompanying certificate graciously as several cameras flashed around us. He turned to Judy and he thanked her for coming. Then my life changed. John Paul II put his hand on my head. He looked into my eyes and said in a Polish-accented English I have come to know so well in my own neighborhood: "My son, I give you my special blessing." I felt something at that moment. Whether it was a connection with his charisma or grace, I felt something, a different energy field, a buzz, my imagination? A sense of peace? I felt something. Later I would mark that bright encounter as one when conditions began to change for the better in my own life. I thanked him in Polish. He smiled. He invited us to visit again. Ever the altar boy, as he was about to leave, I offered to him a prayer in Latin: "Emitte lucem tuam et veritatem tuam." Send forth your light and your truth. It was said as an affirmation of his spiritual leadership, his own quest to bring peace to the world. He said goodbye. Judy and I were suddenly alone in the pew. The Audience had ended. There are millions of people the world over who felt a personal connection to John Paul II. Yet his passing may become significant not for that aspect of him which died in us, but for something within each of us that was reborn through his life. It was the only time I would ever meet him. I have often thought back to that moment when he gave me his blessing.