Growing up, the first pope I ever heard of was Pius XII. He was elected when I was six years old.
I never dreamed that I would ever see him, yet eleven years later I found myself in Rome, part of a student pilgrimage during the 1950 Holy Year.
We were crowded together in St. Peter’s Basilica as he was carried down the center aisle on the Seda Gestatoria, a kind of throne-like seat carried on the shoulders of its bearers.
He was ascetic in his appearance, and he would lean way over the arm of his throne, from one side to the other, as though to reach out to each of us, making the sign of the cross in blessing.
It was unforgettable!
During our few days in Rome, I was in the basilica on my own, I knelt before the altar of one of his saintly predecessors and was moved to make a sort of vow—to commit my life to serving the pope.
Little did I imagine how that teenage inspiration would play out.
I was next in Rome in 1962, a priest of four year of parish experience, sent to get a doctorate in Canon Law. I had just seen John XXIII in Assist the day after my arrival in Italy and a week later I was once again in St. Peter’s basilica for the Holy Father’s Mass opening the second Vatican Council.
For me, a very moving moment was the recitation of the Creed. There was the pope, on his knees at the tomb of St. Peter professing in Latin our common faith, starting with the familiar words we all knew so well, “I believe…”
There were funny moments, too. He was a relatively short man, and somewhat chubby. When he sat back on his large chair, his feet would pop up, not reaching the ground—and, of course, immediately a kind of pillowed footrest would be placed underneath them.
I never got to meet him personally, but less than a year later I was praying for him in St. Peter’s square, as the great bells began to toll his passing. I also attended his funeral, after viewing his body in the papal apartment.
Not long after, I was in the corridor outside the Sistine Chapel as the cardinals entered to choose his successor. As Cardinal Montini walked by, many of the bystanders began to acclaim him as “il Papa”—shocked, he motioned them to silence.
The day after he was elected, Cardinal Spellman arranged for an audience with Paul VI for the New York priests and seminarians in Rome. We knelt in a row in the small room as he spoke briefly to all of us and then walked over to greet and bless each.
He was wearing an ill-fitting white cassock, one of those readied in a few sizes for the newly elected pope to put on after his election in the Sistine Chapel.
I can still see him, walking to leave the room and then turning back to make a heartfelt plea to each of us, “Pray for me!”
When Cardinal O’Connor nominated me in 1985 to the Catholic Near East Welfare Association, the papal aid agency for the Eastern Churches, it was a curious fulfillment of that long ago pledge. I was now working full-time for the pope, and it lasted until my retirement 26 years later.
During those days, I had many audiences with John Paul II and Benedict XVI, and now with Francis. I was in the Holy Land with John Paul, sharing in Masses and events with him there. I was a member of one of the sessions of the Synod of Bishops with Benedict.
God took my teenage vow very seriously!
17 March 2021