Our
trip to Rome had been planned nearly a year in advance but my husband
Blair and I never imagined we would be there during one of the most
historic moments of the modern Catholic Church. Pope John Paul II died
just 12 days before we left for Rome, and we spent the week prior to our
visit watching the events of his funeral unfold on TV. We pondered what
it would be like the following week while we would be there. When would
the Conclave start? Would the new pope be chosen during our visit?
Would Rome be crowded? Our friends and family shared our excitement as
departure day approached.
Arriving in Rome, I
could actually sense something different from the last time I had been
there. Right away, we heard murmurings about the impending papal
election. All TVs were tuned to news stations discussing the event. The
talk among our own international group was often about the pope, the
Church, and the future of Catholicism.
On Monday, April 18,
we went to Vatican City to visit St. Peter’s Basilica. Our scheduled
private tour of the Sistine Chapel had been cancelled because the
College of Cardinals was beginning its Conclave. Instead, we were to
have a private tour of the Vatican Museum that evening. Upon arriving
at the Square, there was a palpable excitement in the air. Long lines
were inching toward the Basilica, as the movement through the very
stringent security checks was slow.
Hundreds of
television news crews were set up in stands around the Vatican, with
huge TV lights in every corner. Cameramen lingered everywhere. Our
guide Guarina (which means “warrior”) spoke in Italian to a guard. She
then excitedly told us in English that we would be allowed to enter the
subterranean crypts below St. Peter’s to see John Paul II’s tomb!
My heart was beating
rapidly as we silently wended our way through the doors, down the stairs
and through the long hallway. Guarina breathlessly whispered to me that
she herself had not yet been down to the tomb and was in awe. She
appeared to be praying silently as we walked slowly through the
corridor, flanked on each side by tombs of other popes. As we finally
came upon John Paul’s tomb, I blinked back the tears and felt goose
bumps ripple down my arms. I was looking down at a simple grave covered
in a marble slab, under which lay the holiest man of my lifetime. It
was an incredible moment.
After touring the
Basilica, we heard organ music as we headed outside toward the square.
We looked out across the square and saw that while we had been inside, a
large crowd had been gathering to watch, wait and pray while the
Cardinals met in the Chapel. Huge TV screens, erected during John Paul
II’s funeral, showed the procession of Cardinals resplendent in their
rich red robes. There were young people everywhere — teens and young
adults from all over the world.
I saw quite a few
Americans and many, many young priests from various nations. People
were singing, praying rosaries, and some were clapping and chanting
softly. All eyes drifted upward from the TV screens every few moments,
first to the smoke stack above the Sistine Chapel, and then to the
balcony above the entrance to St. Peter’s, where a red drape was hanging
and where a new pope would soon appear.
We toured the
Vatican Museum until 8:00 p.m. when we peered out a window looking for
the smoke from the Chapel. The guards told us we couldn’t stay inside
to watch, and they hustled us out. By the time we got to the other side
of the Vatican, the black smoke had come and gone and the crowd had
begun to disperse. We had just missed a part of history.
The following day,
we took a planned trip to Florence. After a long, rainy day, we
returned to Rome on the train. As we approached the station, a voice
from the back of the train called out in broken English, “They have a
pope!” I jumped from my seat, asking, “Who is it? Who is it?” Cell
phones were whipped out, calls were made, but no one knew yet who had
been chosen. It was electric!
Outside the train
station, Rome was on fire with excitement. Swarms of people were
running through the streets as we made our way toward our buses.
Rushing toward shops, stores and Internet cafes, the crowd peered
through windows — six people deep — trying to catch a glimpse of
televisions or computer screens carrying the event live just a few miles
away. I could hear excited chatter in Italian but couldn’t understand
what people were saying. As our tour guides herded us through the
throng, I kept asking everyone, “Who is it? Who is the new pope?”
Finally, someone
said that Joseph Ratzinger had been elected! I wanted to shout out with
joy but by now we were aboard our bus and on our way to our hotel. I
could barely contain my excitement.
Back at our hotel,
my husband and I said prayers of thanks to God for this great gift — a
new pope. And so quickly! We wanted to go immediately to the Vatican
but were warned not to go. By now the crowd in and around St. Peter’s
had swelled to nearly a million people. Just getting there would have
been extremely difficult. Then we heard that Pope Benedict XVI had
already come to the balcony and greeted the crowds. I felt a strong
pang of disappointment. I was so close, yet so far away!
On Wednesday we met
our guide Guarina again, who told us how she had been home when the
white smoke had appeared. Roman born and bred, and having been baptized
at St. Peter’s Basilica, she wanted to be there when the new pope walked
onto the balcony. She rode quickly to the Vatican on her motor
scooter. When the bells started to ring, she said that thousands of
people, young and old, priests, nuns, and laity poured into the streets,
running at full speed toward St. Peter’s Square — nuns in traditional
garb hiking up their skirts as they raced.
“I’ve lived in Rome
all my life, but I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said.
When the new pope
came to the balcony, a roar came from the crowd. Then chants of “Benedetto!”
rose up and the crowd was wild with joy.
Blair and I returned
to the Vatican that afternoon, and the thrill of the previous day’s
events still lingered in the now smaller crowd. Many of the people
gathered there were praying the rosary, presumably for our new pope.
Signs still hung in windows proclaiming “Giovanni Paulo-Santo,” but the
hearts of the faithful were now moving forward with hopes and prayers
for our new leader. The whole week was overwhelming! Even without
actually seeing our new pope, it was a thrill and a blessing to be part
of it all.
