Il Papa!

Note: In case you are confused, I am behind on blogging and am just now posting the Italy postings from early April.

Today, we attended the Pope's weekly Wednesday service. It was a day I won't soon forget.

We woke up early so we could get to the Vatican to get a good seat in anticipation of the Papal service at 11. Sandy had exchanged emails with the Vatican to get tickets to his weekly service in St. Peter’s Square at 11 on Wednesday mornings. I’m SO glad she put all that work into planning this.
We dressed up, all of us coincidentally in black dresses and black tights, and took a taxi over to Vatican City. We grabbed some seats just behind one area that was partitioned, but was in the central part of St. Peter’s Square. I am so glad we did, bc after about 30 minutes of waiting this nun informed us that the little area right in front of us was where the Pope-mobile drives! AWESOME.

The statues of the saints provide a nice welcome to St. Peter's.

We arrived early, but by about 10:30 St. Peter’s was FULL. I was very eagerly awaiting the Pope’s arrival, as were the thousands of other people in the square. There were lots of school groups and church groups.

Here is the partition, with  one of the Pope's swiss guards.

While waiting, I thought about the importance of where I was and about the office of the man I was about to see. I love the history of the Catholic Church. So rich in its complexities…at times so messy but at times so inspiring.

I thought about the role of the Papacy and how it has evolved since Christ declared, to Peter (petra, meaning rock in Greek), “On this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it” (Book of Matthew). St. Peter is considered the first Pope, the holder of the “keys” to the Church and to Heaven. Statues of Sts. Peter and Paul, who were martyred in Rome, flank either side of the papal basilica. St. Peter is featured holding the keys to the church, and St. Paul with a sword. It is believed that Peter was sentenced to death by crucifixion in 64AD during the festivities celebrating Emperor Nero’s tenth year of rule. He is believed to be buried directly under the altar in St. Peter’s (hence the reason for the Vatican’s location… In the 1950s and 1960s excavations underneath St. Peter’s unearthed the bones of a man, in his early 60s, from the first century, prompting the Popes of the 1950s and 1960s to declare that the bones were the likely relics of St. Peter).

All other Popes are considered successors to St. Peter. Popes wear a ring with the symbol of a fisherman, representing Peter’s occupation. Pope Benedict is the 265th Pope.

So, I was thinking about the importance of this place, when suddenly there was lots of commotion, and then I saw the Pope-mobile, a white Mercedes golf-cart-like structure with glass that I’m sure provides some serious Papal protection. The crowd went crazy!

The sounds reminded me of a rock concert, but the enthusiasm and sincerety on the peoples’ faces clearly conveyed that this experience meant much more.

The Pope-mobile came through some of the columns and then began to move down the path right in front of us. The Pope-mobile proceeded slowly, which was so nice bc it meant that those of us close to him were able to feel like we really had a good look at him. I appreciated the fact that his handlers did not make him fly by the crowds for security reasons; he is the Pope, after all, and it would be a shame if security concerns ever deemed that the Pope was unable to be this close to the church’s followers.

The Pope-mobile came closer and closer to where I was standing.

Then, he was right there in front of me, not 6 feet away. I took this picture below and have not doctored it in any way.

When this man looks at you, you feel the weight of that look. He doesn’t seem to glance, he almost seems to fixate. I felt like he was looking right at me for a moment, although I’m totally sure I’m not the only one who felt this way.

Incredible.

Then, when we all thought he was about to go up the steps for the service, his Pope-mobile proceeded to take another loop through the crowd! This time he was looking the other direction as he passed right in front of us.

Then he went up onto the platform.

The service itself focused on a reading from St. Mark that was repeated in German, French, English, Spanish and Italian. The Pope read a blessing in each language after the gospel was read in that same language by one of the men in the black robes. Then, school groups and church groups and other groups (nuns, etc.) were recognized by the men in black robes. When the name of that group was called, they usually cheered, and the Pope would wave at them. I loved it when he would raise both of his hands at the same time. I wasn’t able to get a photo of it, but it just struck me as the warmest expression. Often some of the groups performed…singing, playing instruments, etc. The whole things lasted about an hour and a half.

It was a beautiful day. The weather really was beautiful, yes. But, more importantly, it was a beautiful day in the sense that it felt so joyful to be in this place and to spend some time in the company of this man who represents something that is frankly, overwhelming.

Seeing him and attending a service in which he blessed us and blessed religious items we had brought with us was truly one of the highlights of my life up to this point. Mom and I had a family photo, some rosary beads, a wooden cross, and our gold crosses blessed.

It is hard not to become somewhat emotional thinking about the significance of this man’s position and the Catholic Church. When Pope Benedict blessed us and these items, he also said that by blessing us he was blessing our families and those we hold dear. Such a comforting thought.

If I return to Rome one day, and I hope I do, I will definitely try to return to the Vatican on a Wednesday. I left feeling centered, strong, and full of joy. I hope the memory of this day and how it made me feel will remain in my head, which is far too often crammed with meaningless junk, for a long time.

Just before the Pope exited the square, I heard one voice cry out very clearly above the noise of the crowd. It was a man’s voice and it was the happiest-sounding voice I think I’ve ever heard. It resonated with childlike joy. I can still hear it in my head, weeks later. He yelled, “Papaaaaaaa!!!” Papa is Italian for Pope. I didn’t see this man, but I can imagine that his face was about to tear from the overpowering smile on his face. I loved it, and every time I think of it, it brings back powerful, ebullient memories of that day.