Jetlag worked in my favor this trip: I was awake early and already headed out of my hostel in order to get in line by 4am.
|In the wee dark hours of Sept. 4, there was no one else on the streets of Rome. |
It was just me and the astronomy van...
|others did not bother to get a hotel room for the night. I actually|
saw one guy from the overnight-ing group out jogging at 3:45am.
When the barricades were finally opened, the press of the crowd was intense. There were two search points before entering the Square: one was by hand, and we only got through one at a time. The second used a metal detector and x-ray machines like at an airport. There were a lot of people, and we all had to be funneled into just a few lines so it took quite a long time (understatement).
The fascinating part was that, although it was still early in the morning and the sun wasn't quite on us yet, people got to grumbling pretty quickly. But not everyone: what I began to notice was that the folks who were most bothered by the elbows and the poking and the shoving seemed to originate from places on the globe where being in confined places, uncomfortable and on insufficient sleep is not a common everyday occurrence. I can't say that I heard a single Filipino or Indian even squawk about it, but even the New Yorkers did!
Inconvenience, discomfort, long and disorderly lines, standing with no possibility of resting your feet for an absurdly long amount of time--maybe it's no biggie when it is already part of the lifestyle.
I don't have any great moral conclusions to draw from this except to say that I suspect perhaps there is something stamina-building about regular and consistent exposure to administrative inefficiency and physical inconveniences.
|One day later, back again in the Square, a few rows further back|
from where I was the day before
The gentleman in the photo below was 110 years old, according to his daughter who had accompanied him. Born in 1906, according to her. If that's true, I figured that he was most likely the most senior attendee by several decades, and by the way he would have been 4 years older than Mother Teresa herself.
I was early enough to grab a seat, on the center aisle right up close to several folks who had known Mother during her lifetime and who were eager to reminisce.
|Like the Tuareg under all their layers out there in the Sahara, |
the Swiss Guards didn't even break a sweat
|Why, hello there again, Papa Francesco!|
Then this happened:
This was the exit line from the Square, where the MC Sisters were directed to meet up with their respective groups. Some of us were inspired to try and spot a familiar face or two in the crowd, and when we made it over there discovered that we weren't the first ones to have had that idea.
Like so many large human gatherings in this moment in history when the personal camera is such a prized possession, a certain number of "celebrities" often end up being hounded by the paparazzi.
This time, the hounded and sought after were the M.C. Sisters and that just made me smile.
A few more misc. thoughts to share from the weekend:
-The entire weekend provided a sort of primer in the spirituality of "Mother" Teresa of Kolkata. The divine image in the face and bodies of the hungry, the sick and the suffering... How service to others, rich and poor alike, is as if directed to Jesus himself, as Mother summarized in her favorite slogan: "You Did It To Me"...The spiritual "darkness" she carried with her while spreading hope to others.
"Give until it hurts." "Give without counting the cost." Lots of good stuff.
It would have been hard to go home after this event without a strong sense that any small or large sacrifice or deprivation for a cause that demands sacrifice and is worthy of it, is ever wasted. No doubt Mother Teresa would have naturally wondered at times if anything she was doing was making any kind of difference whatsoever; she probably had plenty of opportunities and reasons to become discouraged. The relatively small gathering out there in the Square was evidence of the much greater number of people around the world who took note of the course of her life and came away convinced that she, and her contributions, were well worth celebrating.
I think this is one of my favorite photos of the trip. (And yes, Sly, I asked
the mama's permission first.)
-The variety of languages in the presentations and in the liturgies was very extremely cool: Albanian and Bengali were included for prayers and readings, along with Italian, French, Portuguese, English, Spanish and of course, Latin. The Gospel reading during the Canonization Mass was read through twice: once in Italian and a second time in Greek--or rather, I should say that it was chanted by a cantor.
The universality of this gathering cannot be overstated: folks from the Congo, Brazil and Mexico, Serbia the Czech Republic, Germany and Canada, India and Korea, and Australia, and even that tiny unknown place called Saipan.*
There was energetic enthusiasm from all corners of the Square, but I especially loved seeing the many Indian flags out there. I read a news report that said that Archbishop D'Souza would be in attendance, along with 300 others from Bengal, but I suspect that plenty of folks from other parts of India were also present.
It was fun to imagine the kind of party that must have been happening back in Kolkata at the Mother House and other places in that proud city.
|St. Teresa of Kolkata, pray for us!|