Letter to the Elderly
His Holiness Pope John Paul II

Following are excerpts from Pope John Paul II’s "Letter to the Elderly," dated October 1, 1999. The complete text can be viewed by clicking here.

To my elderly brothers and sisters!

"Seventy is the sum of our years, or 80 if we are strong, and most of them are fruitless toil, for they pass quickly and we drift away" (Ps. 90:10).

Seventy years was an advanced age when the psalmist wrote these words, and few people lived beyond it. Nowadays, thanks to medical progress and improved social and economic conditions, life expectancy has increased significantly in many parts of the world. Still, it remains true that the years pass quickly, and the gift of life, for all the effort and pain it involves, is too beautiful and precious for us ever to grow tired of it.

As an older person myself, I have felt the desire to engage in a conversation with you. I do so first of all by thanking God for the gifts and the opportunities which He has abundantly bestowed upon me up to now. I recall the stages of my life, which is bound up with the history of much of this century, and I see before me the faces of countless people, some particularly dear to me: They remind me of ordinary and extraordinary events, of happy times, and of situations touched by suffering. Above all else, though, I see outstretched the provident and merciful hand of God the Father. With the psalmist, I say to Him: "You have taught me, O God, from my youth, and till the present I proclaim your wondrous deeds. And now that I am old and gray, O God, forsake me not, till I proclaim your strength to every generation that is to come" (Ps. 71:17-18).

I wish simply to express my spiritual closeness to you as someone who with the passing of the years has come to a deeper personal understanding of this phase of life and consequently feels a need for closer contact with other people of his own age, so that we can reflect together on the things we have in common. I place all this before the eyes of God, who embraces us with His love and who sustains us and guides us by His providence.

Dear brothers and sisters, at our age it is natural to revisit the past in order to attempt a sort of assessment. This retrospective gaze makes possible a more serene and objective evaluation of persons and situations we have met along the way. The passage of time helps us to see our experiences in a clearer light and softens their painful side. Sadly, struggles and tribulations are very much a part of everyone’s life. Sometimes it is a matter of problems and sufferings which can sorely test our mental and physical resistance, and perhaps even shake our faith. But experience teaches that daily difficulties, by God’s grace, often contribute to people’s growth and to the forging of their character.

Beyond single events, the reflection which first comes to mind has to do with the inexorable passage of time. "Time flies irretrievably" as the ancient Latin poet put it. Man is immersed in time; he is born, lives, and dies within time. Birth establishes one date, the first of his life, and death another, the last: the alpha and the omega, the beginning and end of his history on earth. The Christian tradition has emphasized this by inscribing these two letters of the Greek alphabet on tombstones.

But if the life of each of us is limited and fragile, we are consoled by the thought that by virtue of our spiritual souls we will survive beyond death itself. Moreover, faith opens us to a "hope that does not disappoint" (cf. Rom. 5:5), placing us before the perspective of the final resurrection. It is no coincidence that the Church at the solemn Easter Vigil uses the same two Greek letters in reference to Christ, who lives yesterday, today, and forever: He is "the beginning and the end, Alpha and Omega. All time belongs to Him and all the ages."

It is natural that as the years pass we should increasingly consider our "twilight." If nothing else, we are reminded of it by the very fact that the ranks of our family members, friends, and acquaintances grow ever thinner. We become aware of this in a number of ways, when for example we attend family reunions, gatherings of our childhood friends, classmates from school and university, or former colleagues from the military or the seminary. The line separating life and death runs through our communities and moves inexorably nearer to each of us. If life is a pilgrimage toward our heavenly home, then old age is the most natural time to look toward the threshold of eternity.

And yet, even we elderly people find it hard to resign ourselves to the prospect of making this passage. In our human condition touched by sin, death presents a certain dark side which cannot but bring sadness and fear. How could it be otherwise? Man has been made for life, whereas death—as Scripture tells us from its very first pages—was not a part of God’s original plan but came about as a consequence of sin, as a result of "the devil’s envy" (Wis. 2:24). It is thus understandable why when faced with this dark reality man instinctively rebels. In this regard it is significant that Jesus, "who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sinning" (Heb. 4:15), also experienced fear in the face of death: "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me" (Mt. 26:39). How can we forget His tears at the tomb of His friend Lazarus, despite the fact that He was about to raise him from the dead?

However rationally comprehensible death may be from a biological standpoint, it is not possible to experience it as something "natural." This would contradict man’s deepest instincts. As Vatican II observed: "It is in the face of death that the riddle of human existence becomes most acute. Not only is man tormented by pain and by the advancing deterioration of his body, but even more so by a dread of perpetual extinction." This anguish would indeed be inconsolable were death complete destruction, the end of everything. Death thus forces men and women to ask themselves fundamental questions about the meaning of life itself. What is on the other side of the shadowy wall of death? Does death represent the definitive end of life or does something lie beyond it?

Human history, from the most ancient times down to our own day, has provided a number of simplistic answers which limit life to what we experience on earth. But precisely against the backdrop of these pessimistic attitudes there shines forth the hope-filled outlook present in revelation as a whole and particularly in the Gospel: "God is not God of the dead, but of the living" (cf. Lk. 20:38). St. Paul affirms that God, who gives life to the dead, will also give life to our mortal bodies. And Jesus says of Himself: "I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die" (Jn. 11:25-26).

Christ, having crossed the threshold of death, has revealed the life which lies beyond this frontier in that uncharted "territory" which is eternity. He is the first witness of eternal life; in Him human hope is shown to be filled with immortality. In Christ, death—tragic and disconcerting as it is—is redeemed and transformed; it is even revealed as a "sister" who leads us to the arms of Our Father.

Faith thus illuminates the mystery of death and brings serenity to old age, now no longer considered and lived passively as the expectation of a calamity but rather as a promise-filled approach to the goal of full maturity. These are years to be lived with a sense of trusting abandonment into the hands of God, our provident and merciful Father. It is a time to be used creatively for deepening our spiritual life through more fervent prayer and commitment to the service of our brothers and sisters in charity.

Dear elderly brothers and sisters, I feel a spontaneous desire to share fully with you my own feelings at this point of my life after more than 20 years of ministry on the throne of Peter and as we await the arrival, now imminent, of the third millennium. Despite the limitations brought on by age, I continue to enjoy life. For this I thank the Lord. It is wonderful to be able to give oneself to the very end for the sake of the kingdom of God!

At the same time, I find great peace in thinking of the time when the Lord will call me: from life to life! And so I often find myself saying, with no trace of melancholy, a prayer recited by priests after the celebration of the Eucharist: "At the hour of my death, call me and bid me to come to you." This is the prayer of Christian hope, which in no way detracts from the joy of the present while entrusting the future to God’s gracious and loving care.

"Bid me to come to you!": This is the deepest yearning of the human heart, even in those who are not conscious of it.

Grant, O Lord of life, that we may be ever vividly aware of this and that we may savor every season of our lives as a gift filled with promise for the future.

Grant that we may lovingly accept Your will and place ourselves each day in Your merciful hands.

And when the moment of our definitive "passage" comes, grant that we may face it with serenity, without regret for what we shall leave behind. For in meeting You, after having sought You for so long, we shall find once more every authentic good which we have known here on earth, in the company of all who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith and hope.

Mary, mother of pilgrim humanity, pray for us "now and at the hour of our death." Keep us ever close to Jesus, your beloved Son and our brother, the Lord of life and glory.

Amen!

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