In Search Of White Smoke
A Reflection on the Papal Election
2005-04-28
Look…up in the sky! It’s a bird...It’s a plane! No…“It’s white smoke, Jeff. I’m telling you it’s white!” my wife Bess exclaimed. I had to admit; it did look a little “lighter” that the first two times.
“Yeah, dad, the other times it turned black by now,” Meagan, my 15 year-old daughter added. She’s very analytical. Emma Grace, my 20 month-old just grinned and clapped with everyone else.
But, I was cautiously optimistic. I refused to commit myself to the growing pandemonium that was St. Peter’s Square. “They said there would be bells.” I blurted out. “They said they would ring the bells.” But, alas…no bells.
“Donde estan las campanas?” (“Where are the bells?”) my newfound Mexican friend asked me, affirming my hesitancy. I think he and I were the only two that refused to believe that the Super-Secret-Conclave-of-Spirit-Guided-Cardinals had come to a decision and elected our next Holy Father…the 265th Pope, number 264 in line behind Peter. After all, he was a vacationing lime-exporter from Vera Cruz, Mexico, he should know. (It’s amazing what you discover and who you meet in the hours of waiting in St. Peter’s Square.)
During those few moments after the third occurrence of Vatican smoke, I took the time to reflect on our previous week’s experiences in Italy. It was a close-encounter with the Divine.
We visited the major basilicas of Rome, and I was awash with awe at the sight. No wonder Europeans think we eat too much, my mouth was constantly wide open in wonder (not just for pizza and pasta…of which I had my fair share).
We gazed upon the lonely Sede Vacante (vacant chair) of Peter at St. John Lateran, the Mother Church of the world. I said a silent prayer that it would be filled before I left town.
We traveled to Assisi to venerate the Holy Relics of St. Francis and St. Clare…and to be inspired by their lives.
We climbed the Holy Steps of Jerusalem on our knees (ouch) praying at each step along the way.
We adored Christ in the Blessed Sacrament at St. Mary Major.
And, we attended Mass…boy, did we attend Mass. One day after another we attended mass in a different, holy place: In the small, humble chapel of the religious house in which we stayed (the Daughters of the Presentation of Mary); At a side altar in the Basilica of St. Peter’s; At a private chapel in the Basilica of St. Francis; At the Chapel of St. Stephen at St. Paul’s Outside the Walls; At Santa Susanna, the second-oldest church and the official American Parish in Rome (Emma Grace was baptized here in 2003); And, at the final two masses of mourning for John Paul II at St. Peter’s Basilica (glorious beyond belief!). The list could go on and on.
Things started getting a little busy on the afternoon of the first day of the Conclave. News media were scurrying about trying to find anyone who spoke their language who they could interview. Cameras were everywhere. ABC New York, Good Morning America, and even some newspaper in Wisconsin interviewed me. I was a popular interviewee because I was holding a camera magnet…my 20 month-old baby girl who is cute as a button (if I do say so myself). I think the only way I would have had more interviews is if I was wearing a t-shirt that said, “We want a woman pope!” (which I didn’t say so myself). Most of the media wanted the same thing…controversy. After one or two softball questions, they always launched into “So…what changes do you want to see in the Church? What do you think about women priests? Should the Church allow gays to get married?” I don’t think they used many of my answers.
But for as many “out-of-Church-experiences” as we had, there were many more spirit-filled moments shared with fellow pilgrims from around the world to make up for it. Emma Grace was our family diplomat. She had absolutely no problem with prancing up to the sisters from Sweden or practically climbing into the laps the family from France, or chasing pigeons with the little girl from Russia. There were so many different languages, customs, cultures and costumes…but, just one common Faith. It was beautiful.
So what was our next Pope going to be like? Where was our Church going? In those few minutes (it seemed like hours) after we saw what my wife claimed was white smoke, I have to admit…I didn’t have an answer that sounded as confident as the answers I gave to all those press folks. But, then it dawned on me. I didn’t have to have an answer. God had already provided for that. He said that when the Spirit of Truth comes, He will guide the Church into all truth (Jn 16:13) and Jesus said, “And lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age” (Mt 28:20). He must have meant it, or He wouldn’t have said it. And in that revelation (pun intended), the bells rang. Yes…they actually rang. I don’t think I could ever describe that moment when they started to peal. The place went nuts. Everyone, and I mean everyone screamed with joy! I don’t think any moment I’ve ever experienced could top that one moment (OK, OK…my wedding day, the birth of each of my eight kids…but, you get the idea). At that moment, we were one Church, no one cared who the pope was, or where the Church was going…only that there WAS a pope and the Church WAS going. Again, it was beautiful. I didn’t think it could get any better. But, as I had experienced throughout our pilgrimage, the next moment topped the last. When Pope Benedict XVI walked out on the balcony, it was electric. In that one quintessential moment, you could see God’s entire plan of Salvation playing out before us. Wrapped up in this Holy Father was all the authority of Christ’s Church on earth. Here was the beauty and the splendor for all to see! After an hour of chanting “Benedicto! Benedicto!” (my daughter Emma still chants that whenever she sees a picture of St. Peter’s Square)…the spectacle may have faded, but the spiritual glow burned on…and continues to this day for me, Bess, Meagan and Emma Grace. And we’ve brought it home with us to share with our family and others in Memphis. After all, Jesus told the apostles to go and preach the Gospel to all nations. We’ll try and do our part (but it is definitely easier with a blessing from Benedict XVI!).
Those few weeks in Rome gave me a chance to experience up-close and personally all that was wonderful about my Church…and my Faith. Coming from Memphis, it was refreshing to see that the rest of the world is not indeed Southern Baptist. I’m not used to seeing so many devoted Sisters, Brothers, Priests and Deacons in so many different habits and religious garb from so many different religious orders from around the world. Imagine being in a place where you hear things like, “Honey…is that a Cardinal?” “No, that’s only a Bishop.” “Rats.” Plus, it’s so easy to get caught up in the latest scandal, the “local scene”, who’s liberal and who’s conservative. Where’s the Church going and who’s going to take us there? It’s wonderful to realize that no matter how hard we try; we are NOT in control, that indeed, we are only a small part (albeit a significant part) of a much bigger thing…the Body of Christ.
And after all my recent experiences in Rome, and as I was staring at the small, seemingly insignificant smoke stack atop the ancient Sistine Chapel, I saw something. In that puffy cloud of white (OK, gray) smoke and in the glorious peal of those big bronze bells of the Vatican, I saw our Church. I saw the authority of Peter and his successors; I saw the poverty of St. Francis and the faith of St. Clare. I saw the doubts of St. Thomas and the charity of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. I saw myself. I saw the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church. I know without a doubt that the Spirit of Truth resides here in this Church and the powers of death shall not prevail against it.