St. John Paul II

And that is why I came to Rome. To sing, above all, Song For Karol, which I penned the day John Paul II died. As I stood on the stage two nights ago and looked out into a sea of mostly Polish faces, I realized I was standing among the dearest of the late Pope’s friends. The nuns who cooked his meals, the priests and bishops whom he fathered, the unknown faces of the elderly and young who shared private and precious moments with him.

And I heard in my heart the words, “I want you to meet my best friends.” And one by one, I began to meet them.

At the end of the concert, all the artists and musicians filled the stage to sing one last song. I was standing at the back, hiding behind the saxophone player who delighted me all evening with his jazz riffs. I looked behind me, and the floor directors were frantically motioning me to move forward. As I began to step forward, the group suddenly parted in the middle for no reason, and I had no choice but to move to the front — center stage. Oy. That’s when the Polish Papal Nuncio came up and gave a few remarks. And then we began to sing. As we did, he stood beside me, grabbed my hand, and raised it in the air as we all sang “Abba, Father” in three languages. What a moment! You have not experienced singing until you have experienced the intense faith, nationalism, and loyalty to John Paul II of the Polish people! And here I was, singing alongside the Polish Papal Nuncio!

THE TOMB OF JOHN PAUL II

Because I am staying so close to the Vatican, I have been able to pray at John Paul II’s tomb four times thus far. There is a tangible grace and presence there which has moved more than myself to tears.

I knelt down behind a cordoned area, and began to pray the Rosary beside a group of nuns with the Sacred Heart emblazoned on their habits. Later on, a gentleman came up to me and said, “Did you see those nuns?” Yes, I replied. “Those were the nuns who served John Paul II.”

PREPARING TO MEET “PETER”

I woke up early in the morning the day after the concert, and felt the need to immerse myself in prayer. After breakfast, I entered St. Peter’s Basilica and attended Mass perhaps seventy meters from the tomb of Peter, and at an altar that John Paul II was sure to have said Mass at several times in his 28 year reign.

After visiting John Paul II’s tomb and St. Peter’s sepulcher once more, I headed to St. Peter’s Square to meet with my Polish contacts. We were about to enter the Vatican for a papal audience with Pope Benedict XVI, one of John Paul II’s dear friends and allies. Keep in mind, a papal audience can be anything from a few individuals to a few hundred. There were several hundred of us heading to the square that morning.

While waiting for all the pilgrims to gather, I saw a face I knew I recognized. Then it struck me—it was the young actor who played John Paul II in the recent movie of his life, Karol: A Man Who Became Pope. I had just watched his movie the week before. I went up to Piotr Adamczyk and embraced him. He had also been at the concert the night before. So I gave him a copy of Song for Karol, which he asked me to sign. Here was John Paul II’s cinematic character wanting my little autograph—I had to laugh! And with that, we entered the Vatican.

A PAPAL AUDIENCE

After passing several stern-faced Swiss Guards, we entered a long, narrow hall lined with old wooden chairs on either side of a central aisle. At the front were white steps leading up to a white chair. That is where Pope Benedict was soon to sit.

We were not expecting to meet Pope Benedict personally by now. As one priest told me, “Mother Teresa’s successor and many Cardinals are still waiting to see him.” True, it isn’t Pope Benedict’s style to meet and greet as extensively as his predecessor. So an American seminarian and I took a seat near the back of the hall. “At least we’d get a brief up-close glance at Peter’s successor as he entered,” we reasoned.

The anticipation grew as we neared 12 o’clock when the Holy Father would arrive. The air was electric. Singers dressed in traditional Polish clothing began to belt out ethnic tunes. The joy in the room was palpable — and hearts were palpitating.

Just then, I caught a glance of Monsignor Stefan of the John Paul II Foundation, the man who had invited me to come to Rome. He had been hurriedly walking up and down the center aisle as if he was looking for someone. Catching my eye, he pointed at me and said, “You! Yes, come with me!” He motioned for me to walk around the barricades and follow him. Suddenly, I was walking up the aisle towards that white chair! Monsignor led me to the first few rows, where I found myself sitting near several other artists, including the fiery American Franciscan, Fr. Stan Fortuna.

BENEDICTO!

Suddenly, the entire room rose to its feet. Amidst song and the chanting of “Benedicto!”, the small frame of a very large soul began to walk along the wooden barricade on our side of the room.

My thoughts drifted back to the day he was elected. I had slept in that morning after working all night in the studio on Let the Lord Know, my recent CD to commemorate the “Year of the Eucharist”, which John Paul II proclaimed. My wife suddenly burst through the bedroom door, bounded onto the bed and exclaimed, “We have a pope!!” I sat up, instantly awake. “Who is it!?”

“Cardinal Ratzinger!”

I began to weep with joy. In fact, for three days, I was filled with a supernatural joy. Yes, this new pope would not only lead us, but lead us well. In fact, I had also made a point of finding his quotes as well. Little did I know that he would become the next successor of Peter.

“There he is,” said Bozena, a friend and Polish Canadian whom I was now standing beside. She had met John Paul II four times, and was largely responsible for getting my music into the hands of officials in Rome. Now she was standing a mere foot away from Pope Benedict. I watched as the 79 year old pontiff met each person within his reach. His hair is thick and perfectly white. He never stopped smiling, but said little. He would bless pictures or Rosaries as he went along, shaking hands, quietly acknowledging with his eyes each lamb before him.

Many people were standing on chairs and pushing toward the barricade (to the chagrin of Vatican officials). If I stuck my hand in between the people beside me, he may have taken it. But something inside told me not too. Again, I sensed John Paul II’s presence with me.

“Go on, it’s not too late!” said one woman, pushing me toward the pontiff. “No,” I said. “It is enough to see Peter.”

THE UNEXPECTED