10: The pope, in the flesh

by Gunther Simmermacher · Published September 29, 2006 · Updated October 6, 2017

At breakfast on Wednesday morning in Rome, our group of 45 pilgrims seemed a little more animated than usual. This was the day we were going to see the pope.

The Wednesday general audiences have become a huge event. In summer these affairs are staged outdoors in St Peter’s Square, in cooler weather in the Paul VI hall. Entrance is free, though it is advisable to obtain a ticket in advance. Normally a general audience attracts 40,000 people or more, all hoping to get a good view of the pontiff from their unreserved seats.

Prompted by our excellent guide, Laura Bollati, we set off early for St Peter’s Square in a bid avoid the crush and rush for the good seats. Her efforts paid off as our group turned out to be among first to enter the huge audience enclosure. We secured seats right in front of one of the paths that two hours or so later the popemobile would follow by way of transporting the Holy Father to the canopied stage in front of St Peter’s basilica.

While our group waited for the pope, spiritual director Fr Emil Blaser who founded and heads Radio Veritas and I took the opportunity of a little idle time to visit our media colleagues at Vatican Radio, whose studios are just down the road from St Peter’s. Vatican Radio is an immense undertaking. It broadcasts in 47 languages all around the world, on shortwave radio and on the Internet. I have had the frequent honour of being interviewed on its English Service on Southern African affairs, and was delighted to meet some of the journalists whose voices I knew only over the telephone.

Our visit was cut short when we overheard one of these journalists saying that the time for the general audience had been brought forward by half an hour. Fr Emil and I re-joined our group with good time to spare, allowing us to imbibe the expectant ambience. Behind us sat an American family whose children took turns to sleep on their parents laps. Everywhere people were waving the flags of their country or displaying banners bearing the name of their parish or a message to the pope. All that was missing was a Mexican Wave.

Finally the pope appeared. The closer he came to our section, the more electric the atmosphere became. As he finally passed us, the crowd in our section exploded: the pope, vicar of Christ and elusive superstar in the flesh just a couple of metres away from us. Those who entertained the idea of verbally conveying a message to the pope at this point did not seem to be discouraged by the futility of the endeavour. Their screams merely added to the polyglottal cacophony.

Pope John Paul II used to revel in this kind of adulation, and knew how to communicate with the crowd. Pope Benedict is a more reserved man, but the outpouring of affection from 40,000 people must warm his heart immensely. He certainly seemed to enjoy greeting the crowds.

After the pope had passed us, I observed the American father behind us and a member of our group comparing goose bumps. For most Catholics seeing the pope up-close is an experience of a lifetime. I suspect that most in our group were still basking in the afterglow of seeing Il Papa, not really listening to the rather long sequence of the papal address delivered in several languages until the Holy Father greeted the groups from anglophone countries, including South Africa, to loud cheers.

The subject of Pope Benedict’s address was the apostle Andrew, the first disciple to be called by Jesus. Andrew, of course, was the brother of Simon Peter, to whom our pilgrimage was dedicated and in whose square we were sitting. As the Holy Father was speaking, I contemplated the statue of St Peter that towered above one of the giant monitors that transmitted the papal address the first and our current pope symbolically coming together, here at the heart of the Catholic Church.

After the papal audience, we had the opportunity to go shopping, have lunch or a gelato (or all three of these). There were many desirable items for sale, but one alarmed me: a black t-shirt depicting the fascist dictator Benito Mussolini in all his pomp, sold among all manner of football shirts at a stall opposite Rome’s central station. What a disturbing notion that Il Duce is enjoying some sort of political rehabilitation and social acceptance in some Italian quarters.

In the afternoon, we travelled along the Via Appia to the St Sebastian catacombs, just outside Rome. The Catacombe di San Sebastiano were the first Christian catacombs to be rediscovered. They are significant because it was here, as an ancient inscription proves, that the bones of Ss Peter and Paul were kept from the time of Valerian’s persecution in 257-8 until the Christians emancipation under Constantine almost a century later. Once Christians were free to practise their religion, the use of catacombs as an underground cemetery gradually declined. By the 10th century the catacombs were forgotten until their rediscovery in the 16th century. It is fascinating and eerie to walk through these underground passages where 17 centuries ago our ancestors in faith laid their loved ones to rest often, as inscriptions indicate, their little children.

We had our daily Mass in the elegant basilica of St Sebastian Outside the Walls, above the catacombs. This structure was built in 1610, replacing an earlier one that was built in 397. As the name suggests, it houses the tomb of St Sebastian, a Roman soldier who was martyred in about 298 after he was exposed as a Christian.

And that was Rome. Next day we would travel to Assisi, town of Ss Francis and Clare.