Habemus Papam!

This Divine Mercy Sunday marks exactly four years since we heard those blessed words that marked the election of Pope Benedict XVI. It was a special day for all of us; and coming as it did after one of the longest papacies in Church history, it was the first papal conclave experienced by an entire generation of Catholics.

It was, for me, technically the third conclave of my life; but since I was only a year and a half old during the two fateful conclaves separated by a month in 1978, it was the first conclave of which I have any memory.

It seems like just yesterday. Here we were, still reeling from the news of the sanctioned murder of Terri Schiavo, only to learn that Pope John Paul II - our Holy Father for more than half a century - was now in the last days of his amazing life. For any Catholic, it was a "Where were you?" moment in history.

I was living in a rented house in Steubenville at the time, and was keeping up with the live broadcasts on FOX News and EWTN from home. In the early afternoon of Friday, April 1, reports circulated that the Pope had breathed his last. It proved to be a false rumor, and for once not an intentional April Fools' joke. The man born Karol Wojtyla would actually live for another day. Then, at approximately 3 PM on Saturday, April 2, after days of round-the-clock vigil, I saw the news bulletin that an official press release had been issued by the Vatican - our Holy Father had gone to his eternal reward.

It was a day of mourning for the entire world as well as the Church. That said, it is difficult to explain to anyone who was not in a similar situation what effect the death of a Pope has in a heavily Catholic environment like Franciscan University and its surrounding community. My roommate and I decided to go to the 4 PM Saturday vigil Mass at St. Peter's Catholic Church in downtown Steubenville. It was painful walking into the Church and seeing the tears flowing on so many faces. The celebrant priest broke the news to those that had not yet heard. It was one of the most solemn occasions I've ever been part of.

After the Mass, my roommate and I remained in prayer for some time. I finished my prayers first, and as I rose from my knees and looked around the Church I spotted a young lady in the back of the Church who was obviously trying to get my attention. Leaving my roommate to his prayers, I walked towards the vestibule to meet her. It turned out she was a photographer for the local newspaper, the Steubenville Herald Star. She had come to the Church to get some images for the story that would be in the paper the next day concerning the Pope's death, and had taken some photos of us as we knelt in prayer. She asked for permission to use the photos. After speaking with my roommate, I agreed, and thought nothing more of the matter. She had, after all, taken a number of photos, and I imagined she had more photogenic images than the back side of an overweight balding man kneeling in prayer. At worst, I figured it would end up as a grainy black and white photo on page 8 of the metro section of the paper. Imagine my surprise, then, when our neighbor showed up at our doorstep the next afternoon with a copy of the Sunday paper. There, in a gigantic color photo that took up half of the front page of the paper, where my roommate and I, kneeling in prayer after Mass the day before. On the one hand, it is humbling to be forever associated with such an important piece of history in such a manner. On the other hand, there were a number of lovelier images to which I would much more gladly have subjected the readers of the Herald Star in relation to such a memorable event.

The next few weeks were a somber affair on campus. Masses, Vespers, prayer services, and a large number of other activities all featured prominent images of our dearly departed Holy Father in the prime of his papacy, with a bouquet of flowers next to the image and votive candles and kneelers available for those who wanted to offer up prayers for the repose of the Holy Father's soul. Classes went on as usual, with the occasional speculation of who the next Pope might be, but largely focusing on the theological issues at hand. One morning, Dr. Mark Miravalle walked into our Christian Spirituality class, and prefaced the lecture with a rendering of the interview he'd had that morning on the FOX News program Fox and Friends with Steve Doocy and Kiran Chetry. On live national television he was asked, among other things, if the new Pope might "soften" the Church's stance on the use of condoms in Africa to "combat" the AIDS epidemic (reminding us that, despite FOX News' clear superiority as a news source relative to its sorry competitors in the cable news business, it is still very much owned and operated by secular interests).

The conclave to elect a new Pope began on Monday, April 18. Everyone expected a long, drawn out affair, what with all the apparent political intrigue going on among the members of the Church's hierarchy (seriously, non-Catholic news sources - and many self-professed Catholic news sources, for that matter - are absolutely worthless when it comes to learning anything worthwhile about Catholic matters not already addressed by the Vatican).

That Tuesday, I went to class as usual, and the first two classes of the day came and went without incident. As I was getting ready to leave Dr. Miravalle's Christian Spirituality class, I spied my friend Mikhail in the hallway, and he motioned at me to get my attention. I stepped into the hallway, only to have him mouth something incoherent at me. I asked him to speak up, and he said in a quiet voice, "We have a Pope!" From that moment on, the campus of Franciscan University was in an absolute state of chaos. I rushed back into my classroom, told the 15-20 students still lingering that an as-yet unnamed man had been elected Pope, waited for the seconds it took for the classroom to clear, collected my friend Bob (blind since birth and celebrating his birthday on that fateful day - Happy Birthday, Bob!), and made for the nearest source of cable, the J.C. Williams center, as quickly as possible.

The half-walk, half-run from the classroom building to the Williams Center is something I will never forget. There was an absolute stampede of bodies rushing from our direction and from the direction of the dorms to the Center. Clearly, no one wanted to be late for the announcement. Even Bob, who usually let me lead the way any time we walked anywhere together, was urging me to go faster down a relatively steep hill so we could be there on time. The scene reminded me of those old Gateway computer commercials where all the deliverymen, computer boxes in tow, were running in an open grass field to their respective destinations. This sort of thing only happens in places like Steubenville, and I imagine that only the scene in Rome - where people were getting out of their stalled cars in rush hour traffic to make it to the Vatican in time for the announcement - was more chaotic.

When we made it into the center, there were easily 500+ people crowded around 3 medium-sized TVs, intently watching the images of white smoke coming from the chimney and the empty balcony from which the announcement would be made. The conversation level was what you would expect for a relatively small room containing so many people. It continued that way for about 10-15 minutes, until Cardinal Protodeacon Jorge Medina Estevez appeared on the balcony, at which point the entire room became deathly quiet. The Cardinal recited the usual lines associated with the election of a new Pope, and spoke in Italian for the benefit of the masses gathered in St. Peter's Square. The moment he uttered the words "Habemus Papam!" the room quickly went berserk, and then just as quickly went quiet to hear the rest of the announcement. I wouldn't have believed it possible had I not been there myself.

I had, for my part, hoped to hear the name of Francis Cardinal Arinze, thinking that Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, at the age of 78, would be deemed too old to be a candidate. I'm not sure why I thought that, exactly; but I know I wasn't the only one. Nevertheless, when Cardinal Estevez uttered the name "Josephum", I raised my hand in glee. When the name "Ratzinger" was uttered shortly thereafter, that tiny room of 500 people nearly caused me permanent hearing loss. Uncontrolled jubilation, absolute pandemonium, unrestrained joy...none of these things can do justice to the mood in that room at that moment. I will forever be glad that I was there to raise voice in union with my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ in joyful celebration at having a Holy Father once again.

The deafening volume lowered just enough to allow us to hear the name "Benedictum" to be heard. I saw some people jogging their memories, then whispers of "Benedict XVI" went around, and then the onslaught of joyous noise resumed. I would be very surprised if anyone in that room was able to speak above a conversational tone for the rest of the day. The only concern I had that day was whether or not I would still have enough of a voice to deliver my presentation in Dr. Alan Schreck's Historical Foundations class the following Thursday.

I left the J.C. William center that day about as giddy as I have ever felt (Bob went home with another friend who lived nearby. On my birthdays I get a few phone calls and a few cards. On Bob's birthday, he gets a new Pope. Ah well, you can't begrudge a man the accident of his birth :-). As I was walking back in the general direction of the classrooms, I ran into my friend and classmate Alan, one of the finest Englishmen I have ever known (a fact that I doubt will change if and when I get to meet very many Englishmen). I think my giddy Daffy Duck impersonation (hoo hoo! hoo hoo! hoo hoo!) entertained him immensely. Or maybe it was the suddenly jubilant mood of the day. Hard to say. Few of us had room at that moment for anything resembling rational thought.

I wondered if classes would be taught the rest of the day in light of the new cause for celebration. It turned out that they were. My only remaining class that day was Theological Foundations, taught by none other than Dr. Scott Hahn (I promise, no more name-dropping for the remainder of this post. It was a joy to see him again yesterday at the Catholic Men's Conference, by the way). I am eternally grateful that class was not cancelled that day. Dr. Hahn was no more in the mood for a lecture than any of the rest of us. Instead, he asked us for our reactions to the day's events, then proceeded to tell us the story of the two times he got to meet Cardinal Ratzinger in person. At the time, Dr. Hahn had written the forewords to the English translations to two of Cardinal Ratzinger's books. Each time one of those books was published, Dr. Hahn happened to take his personal copy with him to Rome (where he always went during Franciscan University's spring break to teach a week-long course). In both cases, Dr. Hahn had been assigned the same liaison. In both cases, he and his liaison were dining in the same restaurant during a relatively slow hour for business. In both cases, Cardinal Ratzinger came into the same restaurant with an entourage. In both cases, Dr. Hahn's liaison - who knew Cardinal Ratzinger personally - introduced them (the second time, Kimberly Hahn was present for the introductions). And in both cases, the future Pope signed copies of the books he wrote and which contained Dr. Hahn's forewords.

Dr. Hahn credits the man who is now Pope Benedict XVI with being the single greatest influence in his own theological studies. It was evident in his face that day as he told us of the two different chance meetings. The look on Dr. Hahn's face was childlike, just what you would expect from someone telling the story of when he got to meet one of his personal heroes. It added a personal touch to the day's events. Of the many joyous events I had in three years of living in Steubenville, only the joy felt on the day of my graduation can rival the joy that I felt on the day when, through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, we were given a new Pope.

Thank you for four wonderful years, Papa Benedetto. Your flock loves you. God bless!


In Jesus and Mary,
Gerald