Farewell to the Pope of unity

Conclusion

The media has made much of the part of the Pope’s sermon where he said, “I think in particular of sins against the unity of the Church, and divisions within the body of the Church. To experience Lent in a more intense and manifest ecclesial communion, overcoming individualism and rivalry, is a humble and valuable sign for those who are distant from the faith or indifferent.”

While these statements may or may not indicate factionalism among the hierarchy of the Catholic Church, it is childish prattle to reduce them to nothing more than a rebuke of a handful of politicking priests. Throughout his pontificate, the Pope has reached out to the Orthodox, the Anglicans and disgruntled Catholics like the members of the traditionalist Society of Saint Pius X.

His Lenten call for unity can be better read in the context of the long-term project of reuniting a Church fractured first in the Great Schism of the 11th century, a thousand times over since the era of the Reformation and yet again following the Second Vatican Council.

At the very least, the Pope’s holy act of resignation united us journalists of various religious traditions in a lightning pilgrimage to the Vatican. (Nebiat is Ethiopian Orthodox, Nevena Bulgarian Orthodox and Dana Maronite Catholic. I have been privileged to listen to their stories about their faith.)

Sermon over, the Pope blessed the ashes. Then as the choir sang, he sprinkled the gray remains of 2012’s Palm Sunday fronds on the heads of a select group of priests, religious and lay people.

Before the Pope gave us his final blessing, Tarcisio Cardinal Bertone, the Vatican’s Secretary of State, went up the altar to speak. Understanding some of his Latin-inspired Italian, I could tell he was expressing sadness over the Pope’s decision to resign. Cardinal Bertone thanked the Pope for his love for the Church, for his good example of humble service in the vineyard of the Lord.

Applause erupted at the end of the cardinal’s speech. Our clapping turned louder as the screen showed cardinals taking off their miters out of respect for the Pope and a clergyman wiping away his tears.

When the camera returned to Pope Benedict, Dana and I exclaimed, “He’s crying!” We spotted the glint of a teardrop in his right eye while he stood, still holding his crozier.

“Grazie,” the Pope said, thanking everyone as he called them back to prayer.

The clapping resumed after Mass. The Pope and his court left the main altar. The Pontiff did not walk but rode a wheeled platform down the aisle.

In the piazza, the air felt colder. A crescent moon made grave silhouettes of the sentinels; not the Swiss Guard but those statues of the saints perched atop San Pietro’s facade and colonnade. Ever flowing, the square’s lamp-lighted pair of fountains that night signified the city’s weeping.

As we looked on, grandfatherly Pope Benedict XVI, in his purple robe and white miter left the nave of San Pietro and receded into the chapel of that mournful Madonna and Child: Michaelangelo’s Pieta. /Jason A. Baguia