Call Me by My Name

John Paul II’s nonfiction writings aren’t your typical papal sermons or dusty theological treatises. Instead, they’re a surprisingly human exploration of identity, love, and the ethical challenges of being a person in a complex world. While “Call Me by My Name” isn’t actually his book, his works like “Love and Responsibility” and “The Acting Person” dig into what it means to truly know and respect the self and the other, a theme that might well inspire a title like that.

At the heart of John Paul II’s thought is the insistence that every human being deserves to be called by their name—not as a label, but as an acknowledgment of their unique dignity and personhood. He challenges the impersonal forces of modern life—be it ideology, consumerism, or cold bureaucracy—that reduce people to numbers or roles. For him, to call someone “by their name” is to see them fully, to recognize their freedom, responsibility, and capacity for love.

His approach isn’t sentimental fluff either. He grounds his ideas in philosophy and ethics, wrestling with the messy realities of human sexuality, freedom, and moral responsibility. For example, in “Love and Responsibility,” he tackles the awkward and often taboo topic of human sexuality with a disarming mix of rigor and respect. He argues that love isn’t just a feeling or a momentary attraction but a deliberate choice to seek the good of the other, a responsibility that demands honesty and self-control.

Similarly, “The Acting Person” digs into what it means to be an agent in the world—someone who acts with intention and purpose. John Paul II doesn’t shy away from the complexity here. He sees human action as a mix of freedom, conscience, and openness to transcendence (whatever you want to call that). The person isn’t just reacting to stimuli but is fundamentally oriented toward meaning and truth.

What makes his work stand out is this blend of philosophical seriousness and pastoral warmth. He’s not writing for the ivory tower but for real people trying to figure out how to live with integrity in a world that often encourages shortcuts and easy answers. His insistence on personal dignity and responsibility feels surprisingly fresh in an era where identity politics and relativism often drown out deeper questions about what it means to be human.

But don’t expect John Paul II to hand you a neat, modern self-help formula. His style can be dense, and his references sometimes feel like a throwback to mid-20th-century Catholic philosophy. Also, his views on sexuality and morality are firmly rooted in traditional Catholic teaching, which might feel limiting or outdated to some readers. Still, even if you don’t buy every argument, his insistence on the sacredness of the person and the seriousness of love challenges the casual attitudes of today.

In short, if you want a nonfiction read that wrestles with the big questions of identity, love, and moral responsibility without sugarcoating, John Paul II’s work is worth a look. It’s not for the faint-hearted or those looking for quick answers, but for anyone willing to sit with complexity and nuance—and maybe rethink what it means to truly call someone by their name.