The legacy of John Paul II and the global human face of suffering

B. Herry-Priyono, Jakarta

The attention paid to Pope John Paul II during the last days of his life was extraordinary. It is always tempting to ask whether such worldwide attention is a creation of the media, in the sense that the emotional outpouring is a product of media simulacra.

Through the work of the media, it was indeed the first time in history that the events surrounding the last days of a pope were seen on screen in real time. CNN, for instance, gave nonstop live coverage of the pontiff's last few days. And the coverage opened all sorts of stories behind the man, past and present, as well as the world in which he lived and exercised his leadership.

The reason John Paul II's last days commanded such worldwide attention no doubt will never be a clear-cut issue. But any claim that the media that gave rise to such global attention is bound to reveal only part of the story. What we have witnessed in the popular outpouring of affection for the pope is more likely something visceral, and for the most part unconscious. It seems less about the Catholic Church or a pope, than about the place of human suffering in the visceral and unconscious realm of today's world. It is here that much of the media coverage seems to miss the point.

Reports on the pope's ill health have been public for several months now. As expected, his poor health sparked a series of controversies about the problem of succession, as well as the day-to-day running of an institution as colossal as the Catholic Church. No doubt, the politics of succession has been part of the controversy.

Not a few good-willed observers also raised the question of administrative practicalities, particularly with regard to the need of clear rules normalizing the method of succession in times of a pope's incapacity. Indeed, this issue is likely to be one of the most daunting tasks in the bureaucratic reform of the Catholic Church in the decades ahead.

As for now, a cloak of silence is wrapped around John Paul II. It is a death typical of a great person that gives rise to big questions. Even if it was possible only through the genius of media technology, what was the pope trying to show the world in those agonizing months, days and hours before his departure? Was he trying to cling to the pontifical throne? Was he too obdurate to let things go? Is the display of his personal suffering not a form of media cannibalism?

These and other administrative questions, while important, are likely to pale compared to the profound message that may not be intentionally pursued by any of the parties involved, whether it be the pope himself, his staff, the media mandarins or the Catholic communities.

It is the enigma of human suffering. There may be such a thing as the politics, psychology, sociology or economy of suffering, but despite all these sophistic categories, suffering presents itself in the reality of loneliness, extreme poverty, voicelessness, being refugees, being marginalized, etc.

It is interesting to observe the opposing attitudes of today's world toward human suffering. On the one hand, and apparently due to a peculiar ideology propagated by popular psychology and modern consumerism, human suffering has become taboo, an undeniable fact that is increasingly being denied. It may look like a heroic wish for immortality, but in fact it conceals a bizarre narcissism. On the other hand, there seems to be a new public culture in which an uncouth orgy of suffering is being played out in the most cannibalistic manner. It is almost like a collective masochistic wish.

Either way, human suffering then appears in its raw face, violently imposing itself upon the human condition as an eternity of evil. And the more we deny suffering as part of the human condition, the coarser it becomes. It is this tendency that has led us into a blind alley. This is precisely the world we have fashioned. But then, as we stretch further for the ever-elusive possibilities for getting rid of ever-new forms of suffering, things start to bog down. It is an enigma whose message rings so loud: suffering is an ineradicable part of human condition.

What use then of our relentless efforts to eradicate poverty, struggle against injustice, heal victims and alleviate other forms of suffering? No thoughtful mortal will disagree that this enigma has constantly been used and abused by tyrants, both political and economic, in their attempt to keep their subjects in the dark. No sane and sensible mortal deems suffering as something desirable. Indeed, any religious leader who valorizes and glorifies suffering is bound to lead his or her followers into the darkest abyss.

John Paul II has certainly sparked many bitter moral controversies. The Catholic Church's ban on contraception amid the blazing spread of AIDS in Africa is one, the problem of abortion is another. In doctrinal matters, John Paul II banned some respected theologians like Hans Kung and Tissa Balasurya. Yet it is certain that a man who tirelessly struggled against political, economic and cultural injustice was far from valorizing suffering. The paradox of his political progressiveness and moral medievalism will remain a puzzle.

His most profound message is perhaps loudest in the last days of his life, a message that is now traveling across the globe. In his personally embodied suffering during these last few days, the pope seemed to show, and show with gravitas, that if the wall of vitality inescapably crumbles, it is possible to embrace suffering not as a coarse and raw fact, but as a passage of redemptive compassion in the human condition. This certainly is a message most unpalatable to a culture with a penchant for turning human suffering into a taboo and simultaneously cannibalizing it. The message is so visceral and subtle, which is why examples of it are so rare.

Now, as the curtain comes down, the messenger's corpus is there lying in stillness, no longer aware that his departure has left many in tears, feeling like orphaned selves in the mirror of history.

The writer is a postgraduate lecturer at the Driyarkara School of Philosophy, Jakarta.