Oh-Wrong Red Shoes!
I got the same feeling as Dorothy in the wonderful world of Oz as I watched the Papal Mass.
It was almost otherworldly. Love those red Prada Papal shoes!
I watched on the church basement big screen. I felt a little guilty eating almond croissants provided by the nice church ladies in violation of the no eating an hour earlier rule until I reminded myself-it's just TV! But it wasn't just TV. It was almost like being there. I bowed to the ground for the Papal blessing in front of his face like he was three inches in front of me. And I actually knew a few characters I saw. My favorite Federal Judge was carrying a yellow umbrella in the front for the Priest closest to the Pope at communion. There was a Cardinal McCarrick spotting behind the prayer in many languages. Archbishop Wuerl was magnificently poised and jubilant in a subdued way. A priest who has said a few masses at my local church who is secretary to Wuerl was visible also. A guy I saw sing at a local joint called The Kennedy Center closed with the stirring Pannis Angelicus named Placido. Nice. Really Nice.
This has been an unbelievably exciting week! First I got a glimpse of the speeding Popemobile waiving yellow roses and a small Papal flag. Then I felt lifted by Dorothy's hurricaine of dramatic turmoil into the land of Fuscia Yamulkas and embroidered cone-head kingdom kindness. For all the cynicism about various church doctrines and speculation about this Pope, one thing that came across beautifully is that he is a really Sweet Man. Really. He clearly has been battered by the sort of demonic assaults you would expect of anyone in that position holding down the fort for the Lord, and the dark circles under his eyes show it, but his eyes speak a rare gentle sweetness that has seen both deep suffering and joy. I think he actually cares.
He's a straight talker of few words. He isn't a flowerly speaker-he gets to the point. He doesn't mince words. When he is disdainful of something you can tell. He said he was chagrined at those who take/espouse views outside their baptismal covenantal promises and obligations. That was the only possibly thinly veiled reference to the pro-choice legislators who came. But it also could mean those in the current administration off the ranch on adherence to the "Way, Truth and the Life" in the manifold complexity of all that means.
He mourned with the victims of sexual abuse and actually had a moment praying with them later in the evening I understand. He tipped his hat to the suffering of African Americans brought here against their will and the harms inflicted on the Native Americans. He and Archbishop Wuerl spoke of a great immigrant nation of people who came with the virtue of Hope.
Isn't Wuerl photogenic? He should do more TV.
The Pope's homily was diplomatically crafted to convey something deeper than the doctrinal divisions that have us spinning in the blogosphere. He conveyed quite simply, that he is the Pastor of this adoring American flock, and he loves us back. He loves you back.
Did you cry? I cried more than once. And I am a hard nosed cynical Presbyterian convert. For anyone worried about that old catholic buggaboo-over the top Mary idolotry, none of it was there- Jesus is Lord was all over the Stadium in song and verse. No Ave Maria, No Regina Coeli (all of which I love)- nothing an old Presbyterian couldn't love.
If you missed him here- catch him at Yankee Stadium.
He's here to give you his Peace. My Peace I give to you, not as the world gives you Peace. Next stop the UN.
Long Live the Pope. Viva Il Papa
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