Inside My Head
A Papal Easter Sunday Mass In Rome
I woke up to the rumbling of thunder shaking the Bernardi house. I reach for my phone hoping that it is later than it feels. I’m exhausted from exploring Assisi yesterday. 6:53 AM. Earlier than I had hoped, but close enough to my 7:34 alarm I figure. I lay in bed listening to the rain hit the window right next to me as I listen to the steady breathing of my roommates as they continue to sleep. It’s Easter Sunday, I am in Rome, yet I am still in bed. The rain is slowly washing me of every motivation to get out of bed. Most of those motivations relating to the fact that I have a ticket to the Papal Easter Sunday Mass.
I was going to wear a skirt, but the rain and cold wind have convinced me that I should just wear jeans. Yes, jeans to Easter Sunday Mass and need I add that I am also going to where a beautiful plain black wind breaker from Wal-Mart. Breakfast is quiet as my two roommates and I chew on the realization that we appear to be the only 3 who “slept in”, instead of waking up early to get in line at the Vatican. “We’ll still get just fine seats”, we say to each other, which is that same comment we said last night as we set our alarms 2 hours later than everyone else.
Wind tugs at my umbrella the second I step outside the door raising it above my head, only to remind myself that umbrellas don’t help that much when the rain is controlled by wind. And so my journey to getting soaked starts. Thoughts whirl in my mind like the wind whirling the rain all around me. “Papal mass will be worth this little sacrifice. Seeing Pope Francis will be amazing! I’m so cold already. I have to go to Mass today, I might as well go have mass with the pope. Well I could go to Mass somewhere else and be inside. But I have a ticket to the Papal Easter Sunday Mass. It is outside and you will being getting there two hours early, plus Mass will take almost two hours. That’s four hours in the rain not including the hour to walk to and from there. Well churches are cold in Rome anyways, you might as well freeze at the Papal Mass. But I probably wouldn’t freeze as long.” My thoughts fight it out, while my feet refuse to listen and walk me to St. Peter’s Square.
“I wish I had more layers on” is basically the only thing I can focus on as the Rosary is being monotoned over the loud speakers in Italian or is this Latin? Focus Jo, come on. You know if you really concentrate you can say the English prayer in your head at the same time. Also my fingers are cold. “Hail Mary full of grace”. This umbrella must have a tiny hole in it. “now and at the hour of our”. Ohh another drip on my face! Where is the hole?!
As the Italian Rosary comes to an end it leaves the four of us looking at each other-all with the question in our eyes, “do you want to go to a different church?”. But none of us say it. We have nothing to talk about since all of us are thinking about how cold we are, and wet, and cold, and getting wetter. Mass is starting, and the rain is starting to pour again too. I strain my ears, there is no hope for my eyes to see over all the bright colors of umbrella tops creating a sky right above my head. I can understand very little, but I know what is going on. There is a slight pause as the crowd waits for the 1st reader to get to the microphone. I’m saying a real quick mini prayer that it will be in English. I’ll except the 2nd reading in English as an answer to my prayer too. Sure enough, sweet sweet beautiful English rings out over the crowd for the second reading! I’m back.
I zoning out during the homily after about 2 minutes. Man my feet are really wet. I look at the poor wet toddler in front of my. Actually he looks like he is having a good time on his dads shoulders, and I think he is dry. Wow good idea toddlers dad. Then there is silence. Whoa short homily for Easter Sunday. The pope knows how we feel! I’m back into Mass, the rest is by the book and I know it basically like the back of my hand. Until communion, that is not like the books. As the priest start coming down from the alter, the three of us who are left and haven’t given in to the cold all finally speak what we have been feeling. “We’ll meet out by the East entrance. Our mission: Get communion, get out, find the group”. It’ll take us so long to get out of the crowd that we will still be hear for the blessing. The chance of this plan going perfectly is very slim, but separate we have a better chance of getting communion.
I can just see the tops of the yellow and white striped umbrellas that are being held over the priests who are distributing communion. As soon as the umbrellas draw near to the crowd every person suddenly becomes a practicing Catholic and happen to be in a proper state to receive communion, and do they ever desire to receive. I feel like I am in a concert mosh pit. I’m being moved faster and harder than I want to towards the nearest priest. And then I stop still. People funnel all around me. I am the eye of the storm. In the calm, but not for long. The crowd is merging so close together that there is no way to get out of this area; even the people who have just received can’t leave. I can see a slight give in the crowd two people over and towards a different striped umbrella. I go with my shoulder and squirm through. I’m here, right next to the priest, I’m next in line. I reach out and the priest starts distributing in the other direction. Ok, new plan. Where is the next nearest priest? I scan the aisle as I’m being pushed up against the wooden white gate. I hardly feel it though since I’m numb all over from the cold. About 7 feet away I see a priest, now to get to him. I leave the gate and start shimmying in and out through people. It is good that we separated because there was no way we would be able to stay together. I see a bright blue raincoat and know that my friend Frances has completed the first part of the mission. She is on her way out.
I’m closing in on the priest she received from, I feel someone grab my arm. I pull away and flash my eyes behind me. Ohh its just Michael, he squeezes right behind me. Ok, we’re both going to get communion any second. Both of our hands are thrust forward. Out of the corner of my eye I see an official looking man coming down toward my priest. I am one feet away from them now. They exchange Italian and then my priest is hauled off to a different group.
Ohh where now? Michael and I look at each other. I stand at the gate and lean my head over. Before my brain can decide the next logical place to go or to give up, my feet at taking me along the gate slowly but surely. At times I maneuver around people, but I am always keeping the gate close to the right side of me. Then I spot the first priest that left me. He is making his way back and I’m so close. This time I’m not waiting to be next in line. I’m sticking my hand over two other people who also have their hands out. The priest stops, puts the saran wrap back over the hosts and the man holding the umbrella says something in Italian that equals, “we have to stop at some point”. I turn and am pushing through the little mob that is forming. These people still think there is communion being distributed. I see Michael and am continuing in his little path that the crowd tries to engulf the moment he steps even a full step ahead of me.
I can finally breath and no one is touching me. I am looking for Frances’s bright blue coat or dark hair as we head closer to the exit. It is still pretty crowded here, but good amounts of people are slowly trickling out of St. Peter’s as the sun decides that now is the best time to start shining.
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