Osler's Razor

This summer, I taught in Rome.  It wasn't a good summer, marred with tragedy and loneliness, and I am still trying to think of it in a good light.  Still, like most challenging times, there were these moments of wonder that are unforgettable.

Through St. Thomas, I got a ticket to an audience with Pope Francis.  That sounds like sitting around in a room with the Pope and a few others, but it isn't that.  Rather, it means you get to sit in the sun in the piazza in front of the Vatican (St. Peter's Square) with hundreds of others and watch the Pope tour around the crowds before speaking.  People arrived early and pushed to the front, where they would have the best chance of meeting the Pope. 

I didn't do that.  I stood in the back, and never came close to the Pope.  Yet, that morning, I did stand close to God.

In the back, the very back, of the square was a woman hiding behind a pillar, almost as if she did not feel worthy of being there.  I was just behind her, and noticed her immediately, just as the Pope entered the piazza.  She was poor, by choice or circumstance, and wore simple clothes (that is her in the picture above).  Her feet were clad in simple slippers, and she wore a long black dress over pants. 

I don't know if I ever even really saw the Pope for several minutes, because I was so entranced by watching her watch the Pope.  She was captivated, enthralled.  She gave a prayer of thanks, and bowed, then held her hands clutched before her.  Then, there was this moment:  He looked at her.  I know he did, because I was right behind her.  She crumpled, then prayed again.  He went on his way, energetically, reaching out to people and kissing some of them.  He reminded me of the way Phil Steger portrayed Peter-- giddy with excitement at being near to Jesus.

As others have debated back and forth the merits of Pope Francis, I can't get past that one image, the best image of my summer, and of my year.  It was Christmas then, and it is Christmas now.