This week, the world is pontificating about Pope John Paul II. It is the Silver Anniversary of his papacy. Many Catholics, now with children of their own, have known him as their only leader.
And the good wishes have been flowing in.
Some are calling the pope a voice of reason in an irrational world. Others see him as a great statesman, a great writer, a protector of the poor. Most see him as a future saint.
I covered the pope's visit to Denver for World Youth Day 10 years ago. And that trip gave me another take on the pontiff.
In my mind, he will forever be John Paul II, teen idol.
Then, it was as if Denver were awaiting the arrival of another John and Paul: The Beatles.
Billboards showed the pope listening to rock music on headphones and riding in-line skates. There was a "Pope on a rope" for the shower, key chains, pens. And when the pope arrived to speak at McNichols Arena, it was as if Elvis had returned from the dead.
Thousands of kids screamed and cried as the security guards rushed from the tunnel ahead of the pontiff's entourage. When the pope got to the basketball floor, well, it was pandemonium.
He moved along the rows, touching as many heads, hands and arms as he could reach. A choir sang its heart out. Young girls screamed and wept.
The pope looked the scene over, and decided to go with it.
The old stage actor from Warsaw let them have a taste of what they'd come for. He grew playful — at least as playful as aging East European leaders get.
At the microphone, he'd finish a sentence, walk away, then return to more cheers.
On one return trip to the mike he took a verbal swipe at the trash on television, then, pointing a finger at the camera, said: "Yes, the pope condemns the very camera shows his picture."
The Catholic Church has thousands of icons, but for the kids in Denver, the pope was a living, breathing icon. And though he did look uncomfortable being a celebrity, he had also come to grips with it.
I got the impression he was trying to use his stardom as a tool. If he could somehow reflect all that adulation directed at him toward God, perhaps God would use him to reflect love and joy back on the kids.
After his last teasing trip back to the microphone, the crowd began to chant: "J.P. Two, We love you! J.P. Two, We love you!"
He raised his hands.
"I know, I know," he said. "You want to dance. But first . . . this!"
Then he laid it on the line. He told them who they were and what they needed to do. He let them know they were loved.
The teenagers soaked it up like living water in a desert.
And then, he was gone, touching people as he left. I half expected an announcer to say, "Ladies and Gentleman, the pope has left the building."
The kids refused to leave. I don't know how long they stayed. Perhaps, in spirit, they are still there.
And so, Your Holiness, let me wish you happy 25th anniversary.
You touched many heads, hands and arms that day in Denver.
And along with them, you touched my heart.
E-MAIL: jerjohn@desnews.com