I'm sure I'll have more to say about the Pope Francis' just concluded visit in the days to come, but here are a few "post-pilgrimage" first impressions.
While there is more to Francis' homilies and speeches than meets the eye (for someone who speaks so plainly he leaves a lot to be read between the lines), it was the simple gestures, his steady joyful presence on our shores that made the greatest impression. At times I could tell that he was in real discomfort, if not pain, as he was being shuffled from one event to the next. News outlets reported that his sciatica was acting up, and it's well documented that he has had to endure most of his adult life with one lung. At the same time I got the feeling that he wouldn't have wanted to miss a moment. The joy he exuded as he was driven through the streets of Manhattan couldn't be faked, considering his condition. He wanted tomb with the school children in East Harlem, the homeless in Washington and the prisoners in Philadelphia. In throwing away the script at the World Meeting of Families Saturday night and speaking off the cuff he showed himself to be a simple pastor who simply wanted to have a chat with his parishioners.
There were two very small, quiet gestures of the pope that stuck out for me. The first was when he blessed the food for the homeless at Catholic Charities in Washington. What struck me was that he didn't make a big show of it, extemporizing some long winded benediction to show how spiritually profound he is. He simply, quickly, yet reverently, with only the most essential words and simplest of hand gestures blessed the meal so the hungry crowds could eat. It showed a practical man who's worked "in the trenches" of pastoral ministry. He understood why he was there; not for himself, not to make himself the center of attention, but rather to serve others. His simple blessing said: these people 've been waiting. They're hungry. Bless the food, we should: it's right and just. But let's not make a grand stand play out of it. Let's get these people fed.
The second happened in New York later that evening. As Cardinal Dolan gave the pope a brief walk through of St. Patrick's Cathedral before the Thursday night vesper service they stopped in the Lady Chapel, where the Blessed Sacrament is reserved. A prie-dieu was placed in front of the tabernacle, and my guess is Francis didn't use it because of the aforementioned sciatica. This does not mean a lack of reverence or recognition on the Holy Father's part. As he approached the tabernacle he seemed to me to stop short, dead in his tracks, as if an invisible force had grabbed him. He just stood there gazing at the Blessed Sacrament with a steady, peaceful but intense gaze. In that moment it was he and the Eucharistic Lord, and the rest of the 2,500 odd people crowded into the cathedral seemed to fade away.
It had been a day lived at a pace that would have tiered a much younger person: meeting with law makers, a speech before Congress, the Catholic Charities visit, flight to New York, a parade through the crowed streets of Manhattan, and now a vesper service at St. Pat's. And while he was there for prayer, the very public setting and the need to make yet another address, whether he liked or not, made him the center of attention. Surely all this frenetic activity was distracting from the recollection and devout focus on the Lord that should accompany any prayer. In that brief moment of adoration Francis was united in mind, heart and body with the Lord who gives him the strength to fulfill the huge responsibilities he carries. In the midst of the noise and activity, rushing from one location to the next, hurried along by handlers and pushed upon by crowds, in these few brief moments I got the sense that Francis was looking into the eyes of the Master, giving thanks, paying homage, asking for strength. At that moment he was speaking heart to heart with an old friend who he knows well, who he loves and who he know loves him.
Like the simple blessing before meals revealed an experienced pastor, this brief prayer encounter shows us a man for whom prayer is a daily habit. An article I read over the weekend mentioned that the pope rises between four and five in the morning to get a head start on his heavy work load. Not exactly. He rises before dawn to get in about two hours of prayer before facing his daily administrative, ceremonial, diplomatic and pastoral responsibilities. He knows where the source of his "power" comes, and it isn't from a human engine, but rather divine fuel.
I'll have more to write about the pope's visit, specifically two of his addresses: the one he made to the joint session of Congress and the other on religious liberty given at Independence Hall in Philadelphia on Saturday. Both are eliminating both for what he said and how he appeared to omit certain "hot button" topics, but really didn't.
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