Sketches from the Synod in Rome

Two weeks ago, after months of wondering about the possibility and anxiously anticipating the moment, I was at long last permitted a 45-minute opportunity to sketch at the Synod in Rome.

Thanks to connections made for me through a good and influential friend who is a synod delegate, I was greeted by a very friendly Vatican official who met me at the entrance gate to Paul VI Hall, where two Swiss guards in their Michelangelo-designed uniforms had refused me entry the day before because I didn’t have an official pass. I had even shared with them the sketch I had done of them, which I’d hoped would impress them so much that they would not only let me in, but personally introduce me to the pope. You can guess how that went!

I was led upstairs to the very narrow and very dark press balcony and shown to my seat behind a large pane of glass. To my right and left were journalists with notepads and photographers with much fancier cameras than the one on my phone. No one spoke to each other and no one shared their name or news outlet. This wasn’t the time to make new friends and meet new colleagues. We were all just anxious and ready, I am sure, to enter our zones and be present to the quickly passing moment. For me, that meant sketching with pen and ink on a new pad of watercolor paper that I had bought just for the occasion. Headphones were distributed and off we went.

Even though I am a natural born sketcher who once even drew while riding on the back of a motorcycle – my sketchpad propped on the driver’s back – I felt the pressure of the already-ticking clock. For a moment, didn’t know where or how to begin. I only have 44 minutes left, what do I do?!

I looked out on the vast auditorium and the 368 synod participants seated at round tables, searching for the one with Pope Francis, who from my vantage point, was blocked by a cassock-clad Greek Orthodox patriarch who was the size of a bear wearing headgear that almost touched the ceiling.

Because I was so intent on my own work, I wasn’t able to concentrate as fully as I would have liked on the words of the homily being spoken by Father Timothy Radcliffe, the British Dominican theologian whose name just the week before appeared on the list of soon-to-be named cardinals by Pope Francis. (He is seen in one of my sketches preaching at the lectern in the distance.)

My sketch was peacefully finished in 30 minutes. And with only 15 minutes to spare, I looked to my right instead of straight ahead and drew the other folks in the very dark press room were who bathed in the heavenly light coming from the great hall below us. As you can detect, I was more relaxed by then, and the lines flowed more freely and swiftly. Before I knew it, we were told the time had come to leave. I stepped outside into the bright Roman sunshine and passed by the colonnade surrounding St. Peter’s Square, where I saw the tents of homeless people for whom Pope Francis has great compassion. It made me feel quite at home – a touch of Camden literally held in the arms of Holy Mother Church.

Brother Mickey McGrath, an Oblate of Saint Francis de Sales, is an award-winning artist and author who lives in Camden.