I had just completed writing The Integral Person in a Fractured World, which centered on Pope John Paul II’s theology of the body. All that was left to do was to do was type in the dedication: “This book is dedicated with humility and gratitude to His Holiness John Paul II: witness to Hope, embodiment of Faith, ambassador of Love.”  

While I was writing this dedication, the doorbell rang. I was visited by a young man whose name is John Paul. It was an unexpected visit and the only one he ever made to my home. I could not pass off this unlikely occurrence as being a matter of chance, for I had experienced other remarkable occurrences involved the now canonized saint. 

It was April 2, 2005. I had been invited to speak at a conference. During an intermission, I was chatting with a former student of mine who was, at that time, studying law. I was recounting several remarkable occurrences I had had involving the Pope. Our conversation was interrupted by the announcement that Pope John Paul II had died. We looked at each other somewhat startled, though also saddened. I said to him, “You see what I mean.” 

It is said that a saint makes the Gospel luminous. I believe that on several occasions, I felt John Paul’s luminosity. John Paul was said to have “charisma.” This word is derived from charis, the Greek word for grace. Romano Guardini refers to this as meaning, “the release of loveliness.” Another word that the media used to describe John Paul’s character was amiability. 

In 1994, when Time magazine named Pope John Paul II “Man of the Year,” a small group of its editors and correspondents flew to Rome to meet and honor him. After a private audience, Thomas Sancton, chief of correspondents, made the following comment: “I felt something very special in his presence. One does sense that this is no ordinary mortal. There is something about him that surpasses charisma and personality. You don’t have to be a Roman Catholic, or even a believer in God, to feel something almost mystical in his presence.” 

John Paul was a man of remarkable versatility. He was a world-class philosopher, a theologian, a poet, an actor, a playwright, linguist, and skier. He was more than the Man of the Millennium (to cite the title of Luigi Accottoli’s book on the Pope). He is a man for all ages.  

George Weigel, author of the definitive biography of the Pope, Witness to Hope, has predicted that John Paul’s theology of the body is “a kind of time bomb set to go off, with dramatic consequences sometime in the third millennium of the Church.” Though he died 20 years ago, John Paul remains a pope of the future.  

We would be remiss if we did not mention his extraordinary sense of humor. He could joke in whatever language he happened to be speaking.  

On Nov. 11, 1993, after addressing a group of workers in Rome, he slipped on a newly installed piece of carpeting in St. Peter’s Basilica and fell several steps. Although he was in pain, he said to the crowd on his way out of the hall, “Sono caduto ma non sono scaduto (I have fallen, but I have not been promoted).  

The late Sir John Gielgud, considered Britain’s pre-eminent Hamlet, remarked that John Paul has a perfect sense of timing. Others have likened his sense of timing with that of Jack Benny. At a synod in October 1994, his artificial hip joint was giving him problems. He tried to reassure the assembled bishops by citing the comment that Galileo allegedly muttered, “Eppur’ si muove” (and yet it moves). 

His writings have lasting value. Consider the following passage that unites the finite with the infinite in the context of truth: “The body, and it alone, is capable of making visible what is invisible: the spiritual and the divine. It was created to transfer into the visible reality of the world the mystery hidden since time immemorial with God, and thus be a sign of truth.”  

How important it is for people to realize the implications of this statement. John Paul’s theology of the body and his anthropological realism is more relevant today than when he was alive. His contribution to posterity remains in potency to be more fully understood. 

In 1976, during the Eucharistic Congress in Philadelphia, a certain man got up and gave a little speech that embarrassed everyone present. This man from a Second World country suggested that the hour is ripe for the final confrontation between God and Satan, between the Word and the Anti-Word. Everyone coughed a little and the man left. Two years later he appeared on the balcony of St. Peter’s in Rome, introducing himself to the world as Pope John Paul II. 

Being a witness to hope, St. John Paul will continue to serve the people of the world far into the future. He left the earth 20 years ago. Twenty years from now he may be better known than he is today.  

The many schools and institutions that bear his name will continue to study and promulgate his work. The abundance of books about him will ensure a lasting legacy. His pastoral visits to 124 countries planted seeds that will bear fruit in the next generation. The future will not see another like him. He was sent to earth by God not for a mere 27 years, the length of his pontificate, but for time immemorial. 

Editor’s Note: This column was updated after posting to correct the year John Paul II was recognized by Time.