By Tilly Walder
When in Rome? Visit the Colosseum; eat your bodyweight in carbonara and gelato; butcher your way through the most simple Italian phrases. All of these I was prepared for; with Colosseum tickets in hand, euros in purse, and a hurried Google search on Italian pronunciation in mind, I was raring to go. What I wasn’t prepared for, and no one else was for that matter, was the passing of one of the most influential spiritual leaders of our time, Pope Francis.
As a tourist in Italy, you coin some of the most irritating, cliche phrases known to man: “This pizza/pasta is life-changing” (cue the dramatic sigh). “You can really feel the history!” (usually when standing near something ancient, even if it’s just a random stone wall). “Why don’t we have this back home?” (said while gesturing wildly at a cobblestone street or a simple espresso). Try as you might to avoid it, this stereotype engulfs you as soon as you step foot out of that airport.
However, I never expected to find myself clutching my friend’s arm in the heart of the Pantheon, whispering, “Mia, the Pope has just died”, whilst between us my phone screen flickered with the breaking news.
News crews lined streets, journalists with sound equipment hidden in backpacks caught unsuspecting tourists for soundbites, and Mia and I, peach iced teas in hand, couldn’t for the life of us figure out how such an impactful man, whose vehicular entourage we had seen following him through the crowded streets just two days prior, could now be dead.
Being at the location of such a large part of history can only be described as a mind-boggling contradiction. Flags are lowered to a respectful half mast, yet people smile for selfies. Crowds still stand in street-long lines for infamous focaccia sandwiches, whilst souvenir shopkeepers move their Pope-related stock to the front of the storefront. Google searches for ‘How will the Pope’s death affect my holiday in Rome’ become trending, at the same time as people peruse menus, Aperols in hand, like they have all the time in the world. People continue business as usual in their own bubbles, whilst a storm of shock and grief swarms the globe around them.
It was surreal, to say the least, to wander down the now-familiar streets of Rome – roads I’d grown so used to over the past three days – only to be met by his face at every turn, staring back from postcards, tote bags, and calendars touted in countless souvenir shops. One of the most revered men in the Catholic world, now both everywhere and gone all at once, immortalised in ink while the city quietly mourned.
Though not Catholic, I myself am a deeply religious person, and the broadcasting of the mass grief shown at the Vatican City touched my heart. It’s one of life’s most heart-breaking truths; that we yearn to remedy our ignorance of a person only after they have died. In the days subsequent to his death, I poured over article after article on-line, absorbing knowledge of this venerable man I sadly knew very little about.
What immediately stood out to me was his humility; a quality that is glaringly missing in many of today’s influential figures and spiritual leaders. He chose not to live in the papal apartments in Vatican City, but instead to reside in the guest-house. Throughout his life, he sought out those who suffer: the unemployed and sick, the disabled and homeless, the elderly and imprisoned. He consistently visited poor countries where Christians were often persecuted minorities, rather than centres of global Catholicism.
Pope Francis’ coffin will be sealed during a liturgical rite held in St. Peter’s Basilica today (Friday), at 8pm. The following morning, his funeral Mass will take place at 10am in St. Peter’s Square, marking the beginning of the Novemdiales – an ancient tradition of nine days of mourning and Masses offered for the repose of the late Pope’s soul.
And in that moment, I realised I wasn’t just visiting Rome for a weekend; I was witnessing a moment of history unfold around me.
Isle of Wight Observer