Essay 23 Bringing In A Pope

Essay 23
BRINGING IN A POPE
In the fall of 1978 I was to attend a scientific meeting in Bad Urach, Germany, and did so after visiting England and France. Addie Leah and daughter Wenda were with me, and after the meeting we visited Switzerland and Italy.
Planning for the trip really began in August, and I discovered that it was possible to stay in Rome at a hotel just outside the Vatican gates that was built as a Cardinal’s Palace in the 1400’s. The plan was to find a vacancy there when we arrived, and enjoy seeing the Vatican.
On August 26 there was a new pope in Rome, and we were dashed that we had missed this big event. But when Pope John Paul I died on September 28, we were just ready to leave for Europe. What might it be like to find some place to stay in Rome? We arrived at the railroad station just as the Cardinals were being locked up in the Sistine Chapel to select yet another Pope, on October 14. Rome had been filled with Catholics and Cardinals from all over the world just one month earlier, but most could not make it back for yet another great moment in history. Thus, when from the railroad station I called the hotel that was once a palace to ask about a vacancy, I was told there was one room available, for three people. Imagine that! We immediately signed on. What a tremendous piece of luck! We could now make the very short distance to the Vatican plaza to participate as we chose to enjoy this moment in history.
This hotel was the usual choice for visiting Bishops and Archbishops from all over the world. It was Catholic beyond all imagining, and not exactly where one could find three visiting Presbyterians. Furthermore, visiting prelates frequently brought young priests with them, and that is how we met such a man from Minneapolis who was making his first trip outside the US. He was completely dazzled. The guests ate family style. We had time to talk!
The Cardinals were unable to select the new Pope on the first seven votes taken over two days. After each one everyone waited to see the color of the smoke rising from the chimney of the Sistine Chapel. If it was black—no Pope yet. The Vatican crowds were quite enthusiastic, different parts cheering the name of their Cardinal candidate. Enthusiasm reigned. The difficulty was that whoever controlled the smoke’s color was not at all practiced at it, and the smoke color would vary from black to almost white, alternating several times, so that each vote elicited cheers and groans, and laughter.
On October 16 the smoke appeared nearly white, but we were not quite sure about it until there was an announcement that the smoke was white. A huge cheer went up.
For this particular moment we had managed to be well to the front in the crowd, standing remarkably close, almost directly under the balcony from which the Cardinal of choice would be announced. A very excited senior cardinal deacon appeared, the huge Vatican Banner was unfurled, releasing many birds (pigeons?) that flew in all directions, and in Latin he gave the new Pope’s name, slowly, Karol-Cardinal-Wojtyla. After the word “Karol” a huge roar began for Carlo Confalonieri, Dean of the College of Cardinals. Cheers faltered and died when they heard “Wojtyla”. The people around us began going through the Vatican newspaper’s list of Cardinals, printed alphabetically of course. Finally we began to hear repeated all around us, over and over, “Polacco, Polacco!” (The Pole). But that word was translated by many to mean that the new pope was Cardinal Ugo Poletti. It was maybe a minute or so before the truth finally dawned—the first non-Italian Pope in four hundred fifty five years! The crowd was obviously stunned. The L’Observatore Romano, the Vatican’s newspaper, that day had published that there was no chance at all of a non-Italian Pope and there was a zero chance that the paper could be wrong. The news was very big, and crowd behaved like it! A full moon rose in a clear sky, and it was blood red! (The atmosphere in Rome is makes it hard to determine if the sky is clear). I thought perhaps that explained everything but was unable to communicate this opinion in the Italians surrounding us.
About an hour passed, and we were told that was necessary to give all of Rome the time to be present. Then Pope John Paul II appeared on the balcony, spoke in Italian, mispronounced a word, said the right thing, and then the roar of about a quarter of a million people was just what we expected to hear. What a moment!
Returning to our hotel we had a late dinner, and with us was the young priest from Minneapolis. He asked me if I had heard of the Pope’s first miracle. I had not. “He made a blind man lame!” Thus began our collection of Polish Pope’s jokes—jokes to be treasured for the next 27 years.
We spent a day at Pompeii, enjoyed the ruins immensely, but here’s advice to the reader—be present in Rome for the selection of a new Pope if you want to have unique memories.