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Rome, April 25 St. Paul Outside the Walls Pope Benedict and I went to St. Paul Outside the Walls tonight. It is the place where the bones of the Apostle Paul are buried and reverenced. The basilica has suffered fires and been rebuilt, but the bones and bronze door have survived. Benedict came here to take possession of this major basilica (one of four in Rome) and to pray. I came to pray and to see him. As it happened, I caught a spot very near where the papal car parked. White and yellow flags are flying in the slight breeze of this delightful Roman evening. The car pulled into a side entrance of the basilica at 6:20 local time, 10 minutes ahead of the service's scheduled time. After all, Germans are prompt. The closed car is a Lincoln not the open-air popemobile used at Sunday's installation ceremony. St. Paul Outside the Walls is located two miles outside the City of Rome. The license is one of distinction. In red, it reads SCV 1. The letters stand for Stato Citta del Vaticano 1, in Italian. Translated into English, it is Vatican City State 1. Pope Benedict XVI is slight of frame. This means that when the barriers are put up to form an aisle in any of the Roman churches, St. Peter's included, they nearly come to his shoulders. It is difficult for people to see him. On his coming and his leave taking, the crowds applaud and take pictures. There is still a “getting to know you” feel to his appearances - on both sides. He seems surprised to see so many people and they seemed surprised to see him instead of Pope John Paul II. Today, as at the first balcony appearance and the Mass of Installation, he raises his hands over his head and clasps them together in a sign of recognizing the crowd. It makes it more difficult to see him. He probably doesn't realize this. Then he extends his hands in a greeting. At his leave taking, there are shouts in Italian for him to “come out” of the car. They are ineffective. The people near the car are the luckiest on this night. The thousands that wait in front of the basilica see him only through the car window. He raised his hand in blessing as he passes. People look for a totally white garb. This night he wears the red short cape whose name sounds musical in Italian - mozetta. It makes him look bigger. Inside the Basilica, he wears the same stole as the one he wore on the night of the announcement of his election. After the ceremony, he lifts it off and an aide carries it as the pope greets the crowds. After he leaves, I move closer to the altar of Paul's grave. Surrounding it are floral bouquets that are exquisite. In the Italian fashion there are about 20 bouquets made of white, red and pink roses, six to a bouquet. All are accented with stephanotis, baby's breath and a small yellow flower unfamiliar to me. They are the size of a small dinner table arrangement and they line the balustrade of the altar that contains Paul's bones. Italians eschew the American-style funeral arrangements that appear on most altars in the United States. These arrangements have life, vitality and exude much beauty. Surreptitiously, I take a piece of the baby's breath and greenery as a tangible sign that we were here. It is my intent to press and preserve it for our archives. I believe I need a piece of a rose and while I think it should be martyr's red, I am drawn to the white. I walk around to the other side of the altar and take a piece of a red rose. I lay the letters I carry from survivors of sexual abuse by clergy. I ask Paul to raise his indignation and sear it into bishops who were complicit in this tragedy. A blinding light is needed, I tell him. I remind him of his tone with the Corinthians and I tell him it is needed to once again put the Church back on track. We must have, I argue before his bones, a speedy resolution of the defrocking cases at the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith. Then, I apologize to him for knowing that if he and I had lived at the same time in the earliest days of the Christian community, I would never have trusted him. I know I would have argued with both Peter and Mary Magdalene at the first sign of acceptance of him -no matter what his stories of lightning on the road and no matter how much money he collected and brought to Jerusalem. I would have said to them “How can we trust him - the little runt - he was killing us.” And so I bow my head at his grace and apologize. I go out to the gardens. They are simple but striking. Into them on both the right and left of the dominating statute of St. Paul, I mix dirt brought on this trip from our beginnings at St. John the Evangelist's, Wellesley - the good earth. I pray that it and we will find good soil. |
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