Lucia Silecchia: My Close Non-Encounter with Pope Francis

One of my great privileges here at Catholic University’s law school is to direct our International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome. Our three weeks of study are enhanced by Rome’s rich legal, historic, cultural and religious life, often including the opportunity to gather with the Pope at his weekly audiences, Papal Masses, or other special events, depending on his schedule and the point in the liturgical year.

Lucia Silecchia

In 2013, our stay in Rome coincided with the great Feast of Corpus Christi. By Roman tradition, the Pope celebrates Mass at Rome’s cathedral, the Basilica of St. John Lateran, and then processes in a traditional Corpus Christi procession up Via Merulana, a street connecting St. John Lateran with another great basilica of Rome, St. Mary Major. Via Merulana was, literally, the street on which my students and I were living and I looked forward to the chance to see Pope Francis up close. Via Merulana is only about as wide as Michigan Avenue in D.C., and with a spot to stand right at the curb, I was sure that I would get to see Pope Francis much more closely than I ever had in the enormity of St. Peter’s Square.

As the procession got under way, the crowd fell into that blend of reverence and excitement that is unique to Rome. On this occasion, I was surprised that reverence prevailed. But recognizing the sacred events that were unfolding, bystanders like me and the thousands of clergy, religious, and lay people in the procession were more quietly, prayerfully reflective and contemplative than one would ever expect could be possible when so many gathered on a beautiful summer evening in Rome.

After the monstrance holding its sacred contents passed by, the most solemn part of the procession was over and I was certain that the Pope would pass next. And then …. the procession was over, and I had missed him. As it turned out, Pope Francis had walked behind the Blessed Sacrament with a small group of others, and in the crowd I hadn’t even noticed him. I had waited a couple of hours, given up dinnertime in Rome (something no one does lightly!), had a great vantage point … and I missed him.

My initial reaction was great disappointment. But, I had it wrong. I’m not sure that I would have waited so long, prayed with so many strangers, meditated about the great gift of the Eucharist, and shared the joy of pilgrims (both the curious and the devout) if I hadn’t been enticed to come by the possibility of seeing the Pope. If I truly believed what I say I believe, the chance to have seen the Pope should have paled in comparison to the excitement of having been so close to God in the Holy Eucharist — a closeness certainly to be found in Rome, but also to be found in any of our campus chapels, in my parish church, and in the smallest tabernacles in the smallest corner of the world. Yet, there was something about the promise of having a Pope present that drew a crowd together — a crowd of people who otherwise would not have joined together in such prayerful joy.

And maybe that same mystery lies at the heart of a papal visit. The excitement of a visit by the Holy Father and the chance to be with him at Mass here on campus will unite so many of us in prayer and celebration when we otherwise would not be together. Yet, my reminder to myself is that a visit from the Pope — as joyous and privileged as it is — is not the end in itself. Instead, as it was for me in Rome, it is an enticing invitation that beckons us back to God.

– Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America’s Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.