Praying for the Pope

The Pope has asked me to pray for him. Not me personally, you understand: he was speaking to several million others at the same time. But if God has (presumably) already given a chap all he could possibly want what could I ask for on his behalf? Fortunately, I don’t understand ‘praying for’ someone as asking for things on their behalf – ‘praying with’ them would come nearer the mark. But even that is difficult to grasp imaginatively. The Pope’s life (not to mention his personal, psychological formation) must be about as far from mine as one human being can get from another.

Or is it? Somewhere under there, under all the flummery, all the media hype and the ecstatic adoring crowds, under all the theological training and expertise, under the deeply assimilated assumptions of the Roman Catholic church, under the Vatican bureaucracy (and presumably the personal attentions of private secretaries and serving nuns), somewhere under all that is a simple human being. He, Joseph Ratzinger, born of a woman, is exactly like me. We were both born. We shall both die. Now I am getting close to someone I can feel compassion for and with: someone sharing oxygen with the rest of the planet, made of the same stuff that originated with the Big Bang.

Giles Frazer, the Canon Chancellor of St. Paul’s Cathedral (London UK) said in a radio interview this morning:

“Ecumenical relationships work in practice but they don’t work in theory”.

He was referring to the fact that, in the Vatican’s eyes, he is not a priest (being of the Church of England) but that doesn’t stop him having good relationships with Roman Catholic clergy. It strikes me that in theory lots of relationships should not work but they just do because we ignore the theory.

I think I can confidently say, I am never going to meet the Pope but I can feel compassion for and with him because I can ignore the theory that the Roman Catholic church possesses unchallengeable truth. May we both know the peace that passes all theoretical understanding.