Viva il Papa!

Only yesterday I grasped the hand of Peter, the vicar of Christ on earth. This was how it happened.

Instead of Roman Perspectives class on Tuesday, Mr. A gave us the game plan, complete with multicolored diagrams (red for the Pope, black for everything else, like the Gospels). I’m afraid that, in the interest of the common good of future Christendom Rome students, I cannot reveal his sacred strategy for touching the Pope. Anyhow, it was remarkably detailed and highly entertaining, and all of us were suitably pumped up about the whole thing by the end. We were prepared too for gypsies with stories of children supposedly suffering from cancer, small nuns with vicious umbrellas, and creepy Italian men. Needless to say, it all involved leaving our residence at no later than 6 a.m., for an audience that begins at 10.

When we arrived at the security gates only on person was there ahead of us, a blonde woman with an Ipod and scarlet scarf. Her Ipod is an upgrade from a boom box that she used previously, according to Mrs. A, and she never fails to be the first in line for any papal audience. I wonder if she is the papal fan-girl whom I had heard of. After waiting for two hours, the gates were opened, and since Kak held the banner and had been smiling a lot at the guards, she was told: “You, prima!” So we all got in first and dashed to our places in the front, despite that guards trying to “piano” us. Then followed two hours of waiting, during which I went hunting for a fountain in the square that wasn’t blocked by barricades or guards. I eventually had to ask a Swiss guard for help. Finally the organ began its solemn prelude, and our dear Papa rode out into the square. I’m not used to seeing the Pope without a zucchetto, but it was windy and it probably would not have stayed on anyways. His hair is so white though, you could hardly tell. The pope mobile drove within feet of us, and we cheered and clapped and waved our banner for him to see.

Pope Benedict’s address for this audience was about St. Justin Martyr, and he spoke of his use of classical Greek philosophy and his incorporation of it into Christian theology. That’s about all I could make out with my very limited Italian. Then the English speaking groups were announced, and, thanks to Fr. N our apologetics professor, Christendom College was finally announced. As we had agreed beforehand, we all shouted, “Amamus te!” The Holy Father waved at us and smiled. Finally, the Pater Noster began, and the crowds began pressing forward. We maintained our places, however, for the remaining 45 min. or so. During this time a Swiss guard was posted directly in front of myself and several other CC girls. I heard several comments about how cute he was, which, I admit, was true, especially since he looked like he was probably our age or younger and kept smirking at us. My friend next to me asked if she could take is picture, and he just rolled his eyes, smirked, and shrugged “sure.” Her audacity, however, did not stop there. I could have sunk through the cobblestone cracks when she asked if he would take our picture for us! He refused, of course, with another smirk, and I was so embarrassed. How undignified would that be if a Swiss guard picked up someone’s camera and took a picture of a bunch of giggling American girls? No, there are just certain things that a Swiss guard is just too dignified for. Speaking of Swiss guards, I think that I am quite ready to join their fan club. I have not, however, descended to such a level of touristiness that I will go up and snap pictures of them. Sometimes it must be embarrassing to be a Swiss guard, to be constantly gawked at by foreign tourists, giggled over by American girls, and photographed countless times.
Finally, the Holy Father came towards us in his pope mobile, and, sadly for most of my friends, did not come close enough for most of us to touch him. Still, I climbed up and leaned out as far as I possible could, and as his hand was passing by, and managed to grasp it quickly in one of my own. My friend next to me was able to hold his hand in both of her own, and her engagement ring touched his hand as well. She was so happy. I felt bad afterwards though, because most people in our group didn’t touch him at all; probably about eight or nine of us did from the group of forty. Still, I think we all agreed that just seeing the Pope and being so close to him was worth all the sacrifices we had made. I know that it inspired in me an even more ardent desire to remain a faithful servant of Peter, and to follow him ever more closely as Christ’s own representative to me on earth.