My three Popes and an Indiana Jones

I had the immense privilege, thanks to my work as a television correspondent in the Vatican, to closely follow three great popes. The first, John Paul II; the second, Benedict XVI; the third, Pope Francis. I followed them around the world and witnessed historical events for the Church and the world, but the most intense and profound human experience was the discovery of the priest that resided in each of them. Moreover, there is the realization that perhaps the ideal priest I envision should embody their three different ways of being in the priesthood.

I would like my “ideal” priest to first have the mysticism that Karol Wojtyła showed from the early years of his vocation, and which were experienced by him in difficult and hostile moments. I would want my “priest”, like Wojtyła, to be deeply in love with God and humanity, to possess his profound and beautiful devotion to Mary, and to have total trust in Providence, which is capable of even changing the course of history. I would like him to immerse himself in prayer as he did. Witnessing him pray, especially in his chapel during private moments, was a spiritual experience that none of those privileged enough to witness it have ever been able to forget. I have seen these moments many times, and his mysticism was palpable. I have never seen anyone pray like him. One had the impression that he completely withdrew from this world and had a direct dialogue with God.

I would like a priest with this ability to speak with God, to find in prayer the strength of his testimony, and to completely surrender to His will.

I would like a priest who knows how to bear the Cross of Christ and the crosses of the world, who can dedicate himself until the end of his days, while being capable of always conveying hope and strength, even in the toughest moments.

I would want a priest with granite-like faith, who is able to bring God closer to humanity and humanity closer to God. A priest who helps us understand that life is a succession of beautiful moments and difficult ones and teaches us to find in ourselves and in our faith the strength to face them.

I would like my ideal priest to have the theological training of Pope Benedict XVI, with his clarity and depth of thought, his love for the truth, his ability to bring faith and reason together, and to help us understand that there is no opposition between them. I would want a priest who, like him, is capable of presiding over Eucharistic adoration ceremonies in today’s turbulent and noisy world, in front of thousands of faithful, in complete silence.

I would like a priest who would not abandon a stage despite a sudden storm and the danger of the rain-filled tarpaulin falling, to remain with the youth from around the world in a vigil of prayer, just as Pope Benedict XVI did in Madrid, at the Cuatro Vientos Airport.

I would like a priest with the courage to go against the tide, one who does not compromise with the trends of the moment, a priest capable of conveying certainties, especially in a world that is increasingly confused and fluid. A priest who understands that the dirt and the enemy are inside the Church, not outside, and who therefore fights from within.

I would like a priest with the humility that only the great possess, the kind of humility that allows one to apologize for the mistakes and sins committed by others, as Benedict XVI did on several occasions. A priest whose humility and awareness of his limitations are so great that he would even step aside for the good of his Church.

I would also like a priest with the humanity and empathy of Pope Francis, a priest who is a true shepherd, who “smells of his sheep” because he is always among his flock and not in luxurious palaces. A priest who approaches everyone, not just perfect Catholics, who knows how to listen to all, who knows how to touch and soothe the wounds of the heart and soul, with arms and heart always open, with the desire to understand, not to judge. A priest endowed with great tenderness and compassion, who seeks to draw near to the men and women of his time, and put them at the center of his mission. A priest who prefers the peripheries to the centers of power, who abandons the superfluous to return to the essence, who understands that the world is in desperate need of mercy, and helps people realize that God forgives everything and everyone, and that it is we who tire of asking for forgiveness. A priest convinced that the Church should be a field hospital with doors always open, where wounds are healed rather than making discouraging prognoses. I would like a priest, as Pope Francis says, who is not “an accountant of the Spirit”, but a good Samaritan seeking those in need, a shepherd and not an inspector of the flock, a man willing to get his hands dirty, “who doesn’t know what gloves are,” who “does not strut like a peacock”, because he is attracted by careerism, vanity, or the seduction of money.

I would also like a priest who loves and respects women, who does not see them merely as insignificant assistants, housekeepers, or caregivers, but as wonderful beings with equal dignity and equal rights. I would like a priest who understands both the greatness and the fragility of women, the challenges they face, the violence they endure simply because they are women, and the humiliations they suffer in many contexts, even within the Church. I would like a priest with such emotional balance and maturity that he could look at, embrace, or kiss a woman with the naturalness of a man and the purity, innocence, and clarity of a child.

This, in fact, was one of the qualities that most fascinated me in the way John Paul II related to women.

I would like a priest who would never commit any form of abuse—physical, moral, or of power—against anyone, whether a minor, a vulnerable adult, or simply an adult. A priest who, when speaking about abuses by churchmen against women, would never say, “after all, it’s not minors,” as if abusing a woman were not serious. A priest who understands with his heart, not just with his mind, that there are no first-class and second-class children in the Church, and that one must have the courage to punish a child who has erred, in the name of truth and justice. I would like a priest who believes his priority must always be the victim, who has the right to be heard and believed first, and then helped to heal.

I would like a priest who understands that the Church must always act with transparency because the faithful can no longer tolerate lies and cover-ups, and because the true mission of the Church is to be a bearer of light, truth, and justice.

In the profile of the priest I would like, I’d also like to remember the “priest friend,” or the “friend priest,” that many of us are fortunate to have. He is not the “ideal” priest, but a priest of flesh and blood, with his strengths and weaknesses, his virtues, and his flaws, his moments of strength and solitude. He listens to us, and we listen to him, and over time, he becomes an integral part of our family.

My priest friend is a kind of Indiana Jones, who travels the world to bring aid to the most vulnerable. From helping needy families by ensuring their children’s sponsorship, to giving prisoners a soccer field, a clinic, or a place where incarcerated mothers can keep their children. He helps AIDS patients by providing them with care. Not to mention the wells, small bridges, lighting systems, and huts that make life more bearable for those less fortunate people.

In short, not a superhero who performs miracles and extraordinary feats, but a priest who smells of his sheep, who gets his hands dirty, touches the flesh of Christ, empathizes, helps, and never stops praying or trying to help drug addicts, prostitutes, human wrecks, women who have been abused and humiliated, understand that behind him and his small acts of kindness, there is always God, because a good priest lives for and with Christ”.

by Valentina Alazraki
Vaticanist, Television correspondent