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Pope
John Paul II: “A tough act to follow”
By Shevawn O’Connor
’77
The last five hours
in line were mostly wonderful—inspirational, moving, spiritual,
exhilarating. Via della Conciliazione had several huge screens and a
great stereo audio system with films of JPII, of us in line, of the
inside of the basilica, live, all accompanied by various kinds of religious
music and prayers and readings in various languages, in addition to
what we, in line, were doing. (Singing, meditating, praying—I
hadn’t said the rosary in 40 years until last night, and boy,
did I make up for lost time.) Seeing the lit façade of St. Peter’s
against the black sky at the end of the route, getting closer and closer
gave us the strength to continue. It was the first 11 hours, before
seeing St. Peter’s, that were really hard—the forward movements
happened inches at a time, and then we would be stuck in the sun for
30 to 40 minutes before moving a few inches forward once again. There
were four separate lines that converged into the final line towards
the basilica, and the bottleneck was of cosmic proportions, given the
numbers of people involved. If someone had told me beforehand that we
would be in line for 16 hours to walk 500 yards, I would have said,
“No, thanks!” We had brought a portable CD player, books,
diaries, homework, even, but used none of it, in addition to food and
water, sunglasses, hats and an umbrella for the sun, which we did use.
We talked, prayed, and mostly were there.
We got inside the Basilica just minutes before the three-hour closing
between 2 and 5 a.m. We had been in line since 10:30 a.m. and some people
we knew who were just yards behind us didn’t make it inside before
it closed, and gave up and went home after the 15-hour-ordeal.
Once inside the basilica, I gave myself over to the experience. I’ve
been to St. Peter’s several times before, and while the place
is always physically impressive, the ambiance is usually that of a train
station—tour guides simultaneously speaking several foreign languages,
thousands of tourists, there for various reasons, in various moods,
constituting an obstacle course between me and where I want to go. Last
night, though, we were as one—a silent, slow procession down the
center aisle with the voice of a priest praying over the speakers. I
had plenty of time to take in the mind-dazzling quantity of sculptures
along both sides (including Michelangelo’s Pieta’), the
flooring and the ceiling work. I had memorized the façade during
my five hours on Via della Conciliazione and did my best to do the same
for the artwork in the interior. In spite of the physical immensity,
the atmosphere was that of an intimate chapel, filled with friends,
there for a common purpose. Pope John Paul’s body was at the end
of this procession, lying in state.
There were several million of us who went there over the three-day period,
from many countries, age-brackets (huge numbers in the under-25 age
group), religious backgrounds (including no religious background) and
representing many world views. We decided to face back pain, leg cramps,
headaches, heat, exhaustion, boredom and frustration. Why? This man
didn’t attempt to stop the hierarchy from continuing to wear medieval
garb, refused to discuss allowing women into the priesthood, wouldn’t
budge on traditional Church teachings such as artificial birth control,
reinforced centralized authority rather than collegiality, to name some
of the issues dear to those of us who would call ourselves “progressive
Catholics.” I still think that the Catholic Church needs to fully
practice what it preaches within its institutional reality in order
to be fully consistent and credible. But the fact remains that this
pope’s immediate “progressive” predecessors never
elicited anywhere near this kind of a post-death response. And aside
from the fact that a lot of other Catholics are ecstatic that the pope
held the positions he did on those issues, I realize that the rest of
humanity doesn’t care about them. But his consistent and steadfast
dedication to his mission as he understood it, what he chose to say
over the past 27 years, and how he said it and how in the end he offered
up his suffering to God in public, impressed and touched people all
over the globe. He probably got more mainstream media coverage here
than in the U.S. There was always a small space dedicated to his weekly
blessings and speeches in St. Peter’s Square, to his trips, to
his writings.
We heard his voice speaking Italian. I feel like I knew him…his
accent, his laugh, his interactions with toddlers, his criticism of
communism and capitalism, his devotion to Mary, his insistence on social
justice and the importance of forgiveness, his opposition to capital
punishment, and his constant encouragement to “open the doors
to Christ” and to “be not afraid.” I have loved this
Church for a long time, often in spite of its hierarchy. And popes are
another matter altogether. I was, however, nothing less than seduced
by this pontiff over the course of his 27-year papacy, in spite of the
above-mentioned differences regarding issues I still consider important
for the Church’s future. Nonetheless, his will be a tough act
to follow.
A
Rome Program alumna, O’Connor lives in Viareggio, Italy, and teaches
English as a Foreign Language to economics and tourism science majors
at the University of Pisa. She wrote this letter to her family and friends
in the U.S. three days after the pope’s death.
 Once
in a blue moon
By Portia Prebys ’66
“Once in a blue moon” would be our equivalent to an Italian
saying, “a ogni morte di papa,” literally meaning “at
the death of the pope,” which describes the justification for
the double salary paid by the Roman Curia to Vatican employees, lay
and clergy alike, during the month in which a pope dies. This custom
was introduced centuries ago to avoid theft and sacking in the Papal
apartments on the death of the reigning ruler. For the three and a half
million citizens of Rome, the saying wishfully indicates the timing
hoped for before another papal funeral takes place in the Eternal City.
On Friday, April 8th, the day of John Paul II’s funeral, for every
single inhabitant of Italy’s capital, there was a pilgrim entering
or leaving town on his way to or from the Vatican to pay respects to
the deceased pope. When the Mass began at 10 o’clock on that sunny
but windy morning, over 200 government delegations were present; as
for almost 3,000 years, Rome was the meeting place for all the great
of the earth. Pilgrims have gathered at the tomb of St. Peter for two
millennia, but never have so many congregated there at one time.
The day before the funeral, the popular Italian daily, La Repubblica,
headlined the problem: “Pellegrini, emergenza a Roma” –
“Pilgrims, emergency in Rome.” For several days, Rome was
on the edge of collapse! Five million pilgrims passed through the city
in five days; seven out of 10 people were Italian and spent at least
one night in town. Even the Jubilee Year of 2000 attracted far fewer
than a million people.
Twenty thousand city workers set up 3,500 portable toilets, installed
25 maxi screens all over downtown, distributed more than two million
bottles of mineral water and over 5,000 blankets that had been in storage
for an eventual eruption of Vesuvius, and assisted over 600 fallen ill.
It took 1,000 municipal police officers and 800 motorcycle police to
accompany the delegations, another 1,000 sharpshooters to protect them,
with yet another 6,500 agents and 100 firemen to keep order, in general.
The municipal airports of Urbe and Ciampino were shut down for 48 hours,
and the traffic at the Leonardo da Vinci airport at Fiumicino was cut
by 30 percent, with only intercontinental flights being guaranteed.
Life
for the average Roman rolled to a standstill on the day of John Paul’s
funeral: no traffic was allowed within the ring road—the raccordo
anulare—from 2:00 a.m. on Friday to 6:00 p.m.: a 23-kilometer
radius from Vatican City. All public and private schools were closed,
as were all public offices. Mayor Walter Veltroni pleaded with shopkeepers
and bar and restaurant owners to stay open for the event and invited
Roman families to take pilgrims—perfect strangers—into their
homes, and many did.
Our students witnessed a generous and patient Eternal City. Thanks are
due to every single Roman citizen who accepted the sundry inconveniences
of not being free to use their city with a shrug of their shoulders
and a smile. It all turned out well in the end; curiosity won out when
the conclave opened and Benedict XVI was inaugurated.
Portia
Prebys '66 is director of the Rome Program
In
the presence of the pope
By Sarah Budd ’07
 April
6 Tuesday night eight other SMC girls and I walked
over to St. Peter’s. We got in line at 10:15 p.m. It was the longest
night of my life. About an hour into the wait, our group got separated
into a group of three and a group of six. I was in the group of six.
We got separated because each time there was a corner to turn, there
was a row of carabiniere (Italian police) who would let a certain number
of people through and then wait 10 to 15 minutes before letting the
next group proceed. After being separated, the remaining six of us went
through the rest of the line with linked arms so we would not be separated.
Each time the line moved, we would link arms and push forward together.
The line was huge. I was surrounded by thousands of people. The line
was scary at times because the crowd entirely covered the street from
the buildings on one side of the street to the buildings on the other.
The Red Cross had set up stations giving out free water, and near St.
Peter’s square they also gave out blankets. The bottles of water
were passed from the Red Cross volunteers standing on platforms through
the crowd to people with their hands up. These Red Cross members would
also direct the medical staff in the correct direction when needed.
Every so often I would hear people yelling “Medico!” because
someone in the crowd had fainted or needed medical attention. When this
happened, men in orange clothes would hold a stretcher above their head
yelling “Permesso!” (“Excuse me!”), and the
crowd would squish even farther together to let them through to the
person that needed help. The crowd had pretty good spirits, but there
was pushing and absolutely no room to move. I frequently had to pull
my friend behind me through the crowd, so that we would all stay together.
We moved a few feet every 10 to 15 minutes, but once St. Peter’s
closed from 3 to 5 a.m. for cleaning, we just stood. It got very cold
that night, so the girls and I huddled up; there was no room to sit,
so we did not sleep. Finally, around 5:30 a.m. we began to move again,
and I warmed up a little. I knew that we would make it there.
There
were prayers and songs played over a sound system; this set the tone
for everyone in line. I entered the front doors of St. Peter’s
at 9:45 a.m. (111⁄2 hours after we had gotten in line the night
before). The church was brighter than normal and everyone was very respectful.
I walked past Pope John Paul II quickly because the Vatican workers
were trying to keep everyone moving. Just to be in the pope’s
presence was amazing; it made the entire night worth the wait. Since
we had not eaten, had anything to drink or used a bathroom in almost
12 hours, we did not remain at the church very long. I was there long
enough to see the man who led the Catholic Church for so many years,
for my entire lifetime, and to pray in his presence.
April 8 Since
there were so many people in Rome for the funeral, huge TV screens were
set up in different piazzas around Rome. Most of the SMC girls opted
to watch the funeral on TV in the SMC classroom building, but Anne Cusack
’07 and I wanted to go to one of the piazzas. We woke up early
and found out that the nearest TV screen was at Piazza del Popolo, so
that is where we went for the funeral. The square was not too crowded
at 8 a.m., but there were still a lot of people. We sat down on a blanket
and watched the events of the pope’s life that were shown on the
huge screen. By 10 a.m. the square was full of people.
It was amazing to be in the square for the funeral. It was wonderful
to see the flags of the different nationalities that were present in
the square (mostly Polish). We said the prayers and even applauded and
cheered along with the crowd in St. Peter’s Square in order to
show our love and appreciation for the pope. The homily/eulogy was in
Italian, and I understood most of what was said. It was a beautiful
tribute to all that Pope John Paul II had accomplished and worked toward
during his years as the pope. The crowd was emotional, and it was apparent
just how popular and loved Pope John Paul II was. The funeral lasted
almost three hours and the time flew by. I am so glad that Anne and
I went there for the funeral. I will always remember what it felt like
to share that event with the crowd and so many different people.
Sarah
Budd is an elementary education major from Dayton, Ohio.
 “He
makes me have faith and hope for the future”
By Kathryn Nussbaum
It is difficult to express my feelings over the past week. I returned
to Rome on Sunday from Ireland not knowing what to expect. When I went
to Saint Peter’s Square to pay my respects to such a great leader
I felt unity and faith. I was one of the lucky ones that only had to
wait five and a half hours to have a glimpse of a man who has done so
much for society.
As I waited in line, I was able to see the lives Pope John Paul II touched
so deeply. There were people of all ages. When my feet started to hurt,
and I felt as if I could not wait any longer, all I had to do was look
to my right and see a little child or an old man waiting patiently.
To my left, I was surprised to see so many young people. I now have
a new appreciation for my faith.
The streets were very crowded of all types of people. It is amazing
how some people dropped everything to see their leader. The television
cannot do justice to the emotion on the streets of Rome.
It is astonishing to me to see what an impact one man can make. Pope
John Paul II did so much for people of all kinds. He makes me have faith
and hope for the future. I feel very lucky to have been part of history.
Kathryn Nussbaum is an Elementary Education major from South Bend, IN
who studied in Rome, Spring of 2005
The
only pope they had ever known
By Peter Gardner
At different times and in different parts of the world, the news of
the death of John Paul II reached the Rome Program students. They
hurriedly returned from spring break and began visiting the Vatican.
Some waited patiently for more than 20 hours to pay their respects
to the only pope they had ever known.
The only pope they had ever known. Intellectually I had understood
this. When I told them how I had been in St. Peter’s Square
when John Paul II was elected, more than one murmured that she had
not been born yet. Emotionally, I had not been aware of what the end
of this long pontificate meant. For some it was an exciting moment
spent as an eyewitness to an historical event. For others the world
was suddenly less certain. Still others had lost a lifelong friend.
As I watched our students go from denial to acceptance, I knew they
felt connected to Rome in ways that I could not teach. In the 21 days
that elapsed between Rome’s mourning its loss to celebrating
its new bishop, our students matured in unexpected ways.
They also, perhaps
in ways they have yet to grasp, became Romans.
In
the Rome Program, Peter Gardner teaches World Writers in Italy, Italian
Writers in Translation, and Classical Mythology
A
media event of the first order
By Linnea Vacca
All of us at Saint Mary‘s Rome Program faced some extraordinary
challenges during the final weeks of this year’s program, well
beyond the ordinary challenges of semester’s end. John Paul’s
death on April 3 and the election of his successor Benedict XVI on
April 24 almost exactly bracketed the post-break end of the semester,
with exams running from the 22nd to the 28th. Our students were particularly
fortunate to be in Rome to witness significant historic events. It
seems to me that what happened in Rome in April 2005 will probably
never happen again in anything like the same way in these students’
lifetime. The experience was more challenging, in more ways, than
those not on the scene could easily imagine.
This was the first papal death to have occurred in a media-savvy,
media-interconnected world. Not only here in Rome but globally, the
death and funeral took on the quality of a media event of the first
order. I was in a waiting room at Chicago’s O’Hare airport,
about to board my return flight to Rome after the Easter break, when
the news came to us over the airport intercom that the pope had died.
No surprise, really; we had all been exposed to frequent, sometimes
wincingly intimate, reports on a valiant pontiff’s declining
health. Evidently in anticipation of the death, many news-people had
arranged to go to Rome to report on events. The flight was booked
to capacity. From my restricted viewing point in mid-steerage, I watched
as five separate, very large, shoulder-mount television cameras were
heaved into the overhead bins.
 Our
students too were en route to Rome at the time of the pope’s
death, just returning from the Easter break during which most of them
put on so many travel miles that it was exhausting just to contemplate
their odysseys. They came back to the last month of classes and final
exams, to a city virtually under siege by pilgrims from every corner
of the globe. Here too the reality of the modern world did its part
to create an occasion unparalleled even in this historically pilgrim-attracting
city. Huge numbers of people had the cash and the desire to get to
Rome (if not to equip themselves well with food, clothing and shelter).
Tens of thousands of very young people surged into Rome, along with
the millions of more conventional and more obviously religious pilgrims.
There was a little tinge of Woodstock here as well as of a religious
convocation.
Everyone acknowledges that Pope John Paul II was beloved by the young.
So, too, he was loved by our students, who were profoundly emotionally
affected by the pope’s death. They knew of course that the pope’s
death had been imminent, but one is never prepared for the death of
an icon—John Paul was the sole pope of their lifetime, a co-resident
of Rome, a pontiff whose audiences they had attended as a part of
their stay with the Rome Program.
Program students knew that they were present in the Eternal City at
an epochal moment. They wanted to participate in Vatican events as
fully as possible, and here they had an advantage over many pilgrims.
Our students had city lodgings a short walk from Saint Peter’s.
But they also had commitments to their academic work, always particularly
intense at the end of the semester. Saint Mary’s students work
hard and they aim to do well. The clash of desires and commitments
was enormous and unnerving, especially as combined with the draining
realization that they would soon be leaving this city they had so
come to love.
We in the Rome Program tried to help students cope with the pressure-packed
circumstances of their lives. We kept on top of Vatican events so
students could try to schedule their days as sensibly as possible.
Thanks to the research efforts of James Zarr, program secretary, students
were provided accurate information about relevant events and procedures.
It was high season for rumors during those first days, not only here
but worldwide, and much of what television reported was idle speculation.
Listening to the official voice of the Vatican on radio and consulting
the most recent updates of the Vatican Web site, James Zarr posted
times and dates and “how to’s” for those wishing
to attend the viewing, either in person or via one of the many enormous
screens erected throughout the city. Some of our women stood in line
at the Vatican for hours and hours; some watched events unfold on
the television sets in the classroom building. Yet others went to
the Coliseum or Piazza Navona to mingle with other pilgrims and view
the gigantic schermi.
What the Rome Program did not do, because of our obligation to our
educational mission, was to cancel classes. An emergency plan was
prepared, with various contingencies plotted out, for rescheduling
any classes that might have conflicted with John Paul’s funeral
itself. As it turned out, the funeral took place on a date not in
conflict with any classes. Had there been a conflict, we would have
postponed class and then run make-up classes on the weekend. Since
the city was virtually immobilized, any professors involved would
have needed to call out their most inventive solutions to reach campus.
It was fortunate indeed that the timing worked out, because rescheduling
would have been a nightmare. We never seriously considered canceling
class. Even in times of high emotional pitch, and despite the substantial
degree of “You Are There” fervor generated at the time,
Saint Mary’s is an educational institution first and foremost.
Our job is to provide opportunities for learning in whatever situations
face us.
Although few students could easily disregard the eyewitness allure
of their on-the-spot situation, we could all follow Vatican events
through the media. Everything up to and including the funeral, and
all of the events around the new pope’s election and inauguration,
were fully covered live and through repeated rebroadcasts on Vatican
television. In our classroom conversations about decision-making,
I was impressed by students’ maturity. They understood that
they were free agents with choices to make, not children in grade
school who get a day off when something big happens (say, a visit
by the bishop). Through all of the highly-charged month of April,
with its multiple challenges, students worked hard at thinking about
what was really important for them. In my class, like others, we certainly
did not ignore contemporary events and plod on with business as usual
in the face of the extraordinary. On the contrary, all courses that
I know of fostered discussion about unfolding events at the Vatican,
putting them into wider contexts often specific to the course’s
subject matter. In my class, our last three weeks were spent with
Puccini’s Tosca and historical and cultural studies of the times
(1800 the historical moment, 1900 the composition of the opera). Our
materials offered rich perspectives for understanding the Rome around
us, its religious dimensions, its multi-nationalism, the drama of
its ecclesiastical presentation, and the political currents running
through every other element. Considerations like these linked the
historic moment of April 2005 in Rome to what we were learning about
Rome and Tosca in class.
Linnea
Vacca has taught English at Saint Mary’s College since 1969.
For the past dozen years she has spent the spring semester with the
Rome Program.
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