The Notebook
I remember the night Pope Francis walked out on the balcony overlooking St Peter’s. My heart sank. He looked old to me and a little lost in his new clothes. I don’t know what I expected but somewhere, in the back of my mind, I had an image of a younger man with a broader smile, stronger shoulders and quicker step. I have nothing but respect for older people and realise with the passing of each day, I am getting closer to being numbered among them!
I also am very aware that so much of the support I receive and the kindness I am shown comes from people who have travelled the road longer than I. Then he spoke! “Buona Sera”/“Good evening,” he said and the crowd erupted and his smile found him. He asked us to pray for him, blessed us and wished us a good night’s sleep. My heart melted and my spirit lifted.
Francis has never caused my heart to sink since that evening. I don’t pretend to read every word he writes or listen to every word he says, but I read enough and hear enough to know he has a vision. He is moving at a pace that belies his age and, at times reminds me of James Horan telling Jim Fahy as a digger bulldozed Barr Na Cuige: “I am an old man in a hurry”.
His pace does not suit everyone. For some, he is not moving fast enough and, for others, they fear the steps he takes and want him to slow down and leave “well enough alone”.
That’s part of it for him, I think. “Well enough” isn’t enough and can’t be left alone. He sees there’s more to church than buildings and preservation and much more to Jesus than being remembered as a good and holy man who died for us. He also rose for us and, like all risings, a new light emerged and a new hope. I’m convinced Francis has been dazzled by that light and, like Paul on the Damascus Road, feels duty bound to go where directed, say what he has been told and call people not just to follow but also to lead.
His message
This is the man who visits Ireland next month. He comes to share something of his vision and to walk our streets. His visit is short and already divisive with some looking forward to it and others objecting to it. Even among our own faithful, there are some who have no welcome in their hearts for him because his message is out of step with a vision of Church they cling to.
There are even more, described as “mean-spirited” who have secured tickets, we are told, to events they do not plan on attending with the sole purpose of preventing others who want to attend from doing so. This goes to the core of mean-spiritedness.
The logistics of his visit – the costs, the disruptions, the walking, the delays – are all thrashed out in print and sound to a point where you wonder why? Why is it that a good news story, people wanting to meet the Pope – even if not totally sure why – in their hundreds of thousands is knocked head over heels with negativity? It baffles me. Were some band or entertainer to pack out the Phoenix Park, it would be lauded and the quicker the tickets sold out the better. Record-breaking!
So let us welcome the man on the balcony. He has come down the steps to meet us, to ask us to pray for him and to let us know he’s praying with and for us. He will celebrate faith with us, share Eucharist and lead us in prayer.
The word we’re looking for is “welcome”!
There was a wonderful story told of Pope St John Paul’s Mass in the Phoenix Park. He had a gift around languages and tried to use as many as possible. At the beginning of the Mass, he blessed himself in Irish and the echo ran from speaker to speaker among the million or so gathered. “In ainm an Athar (Athar, Athar, Athar…) agus an Mhic (Mhic, Mhic, Mhic…) agus and Spioraid Naoimh (naoimh, naoimh, naoimh…) and one woman turned to those around her and said: “Lord, save us, I hope he’s not going to do the whole thing in Polish.”
He hadn’t seen me!
l A few weeks ago as I left one of the churches in the parish, I noticed an articulated truck parked across the road. The driver blessed himself and sat in the truck. He hadn’t seen me and a second either way, I’d not have seen this happen but I did. As I got to my car, he waved to me and me to him. “I stop here every time I pass,” he told me, “to have a chat with him.”
My spirit lifted – I like when that happens to my Spirit! He didn’t need to leave the truck but he had made a conscious decision to break the journey, take a minute and say “hello to him”. Ah, there seemed something so right about it. Thanks be to God!