I was thrilled to represent the Centre for Catholic Studies and the Diocese of Hexham and Newcastle at the consistory in Rome this week. It was a particularly exciting time for the Catholic Church in England and Wales, as the archbishop of Westminster, Vincent Nichols, was given the red hat and a number of events were held honoring him at the Pontifical Beda College and the Venerable English College.
It was a remarkable trip for me personally as I had received a letter regarding my tickets from Archbishop Georg Ganswein, the Prefect of the Papal Household, most famous for serving as Benedict XVI’s personal secretary for many years. When I presented the letter to the Swiss Guards, they saluted me and escorted me into San Pietro to give me my tickets which had been set aside inside the Apostolic Palace.
For the consistory itself, I was seated four rows behind the incoming cardinals and attending bishops with an incredible view of the Holy Father.
The week was an excellent reminder of the catholicity of the church, meaning its truly universal character. I became friendly with the others around me, as some of the events are rather long when you take into account security and lines waiting to get in and out of buildings. I met a delightful Polish woman in Rome for the first time who burst into tears when she saw Pope Emeritus Benedict enter the basilica not far from us. (I must admit the ecclesiologist in me did not fail to appreciate the significance of that moment in the 2,000 year old history of the papacy). Another wonderful conversation partner was a gregarious and quite hilarious Irish monsignor who had worked in the Vatican for many years. He and I discussed life and careerism in the Holy See, which Francis condemned in every possible part of every ceremony.
I think the most moving moment of the entire week was when the pope approached the Madonna and the entire congregation, people of every conceivable nation and language, sang the Salve Regina in one voice in Latin. I have been to St. Peter’s many times, but the splendor and magnificence of it never fails to take my breath away, especially in moments like that.
I was also able to attend Mass at San Paolo fuori le Mura (St Paul’s Outside the Walls), the site of the tomb of the body of St. Paul (his head is in the Lateran).
I love the U.K. and Spain, having spent quite a bit of time in both, but the Vatican could be nowhere else but in Italy (though of course it’s technically its own country after the Lateran Treaty in 1929). Rome is simply “home” to every Catholic, in a similar, but imperfectly analogous, way that Jerusalem is to Jews.
The locals are arrogant and pushy and loud and have utter disdain for everything non-Roman, but they are passionate and pious and friendly once you get to know them. A few words of Italian open doors and hearts. I was also stunned at how generous they are, as I saw so many of the locals (and relatively few tourists) give Euro’s to beggars or the infirmed or children with accordions which are simply everywhere. Perhaps it is the “Francis effect” or the sense of the Virgin watching from icons on nearly every corner.
Lastly, if you find yourself in a Roman restaurant with more than three pages of options, or see someone next to you ordering a cappuccino after mid-morning, or watch a hungry customer ladle heaping spoon-fulls of parmigiano cheese on a seafood dish, or eat a dessert consisting of more than an “amaro” liquor and a few tozzetti cookies, expect to be gouged as a clueless visitor.
Michael M. Canaris, Ph.D., of Collingswood, is a Research Associate at Durham University’s Centre for Catholic Studies in Northeast England.
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