Canon in D (english): Pope Benedict's Farewell

Behold me!

Hello everybody, I am glad I have the time and the opportunity to share with you all that is happening here in Rome these days.

I feel very fortunate to be here to live the historical moment of a conclave. However, I would like to set the disclaimer that I am neither a news reporter nor a journalist and less a sensationalist historian. We all can get that much from the media itself, which has been very active on the matter. What you will find here is my own reflection of what I am living, on what the Church is living.

Last night at 8:00 pm, time when the Sede Vacante begun, I was getting on the public bus 64 to come back from the North American College Seminary to Casa Santa Maria where I live. I went up to the seminary to watch from the rooftop the Holy Father leaving the Vatican. Once I got back to Casa Santa Maria, I passed by the sacristy where I heard the news of his resignation three weeks ago. There, I had the feeling that the time has not passed ever since noontime of February 11^th. I was putting on the vestments to celebrate the daily Mass that we have normally at 12:30PM after classes in the University. The only news I was expecting that day about the consistory was the date of Madre Laura’s canonization, our first Colombian saint. The still white as my alb face of the herald transmitted me a certain air of confusion and terror. But really, what I first thought was of the rare and uniqueness of the occasion and that I was in Rome to live it.

The pope’s resignation did not mean to me a cataclysm. It was there when I contrasted my reaction to my interlocutor’s. Maybe it was a consequence of my juridical mind already full of law. It was a fact that we had previously discussed formally in our school desks in class and in a more relaxed way by sharing a meal in the house. Those discussions were there not so much because it was a possibility from the Canon law perspective, but also because His Emeritus Holiness Benedict XVI had a profile of someone who would take that option. The true is that I was hoping to live something like this and what a better way to have dreams come true of a conclave without anyone having to die.

After such shocking news, everything was in order to follow according to the calendar so that I could enjoy Benedict XVI on his last days as a pontiff. It was then, already with sentiments of nostalgia that I went to celebrate the Ash Wednesday Mass at St Peter’s basilica with him. Then, I went to his last Sunday Angelus. Then, I attend his last general audience; finally, the vigil on that same night and his departure in helicopter to Castelgandolfo yesterday.

If he is a happy retired man, I am happy for him. But I miss him already. And if you have felt today as if something is missing, then you are a good Catholic because you feel you are Church.

In the Seminary rooftop, I was glad to see that I was not the only one with the idea of going up there to look up to the sky for a helicopter between the sun and the clouds. Up there, I shared the view with some seminarians, priests and even with Cardinal Dolan of New York. And of course, photographers from Reuters didn’t miss it either.

It was possible for us to follow with our naked eyes the 15 minutes helicopter flight between the Vatican and Castelgandolfo. It seemed as if he was looking down at us and telling us: “men of Rome, why are you standing there looking at the sky? This vicar of Christ will return in glory”. This Vicar of Christ has taught us that this Church is as yours as mine, as mine as she is of Christ’s!

Passed 6pm, we met up in the seminary’s auditorium to listen to a press conference given by cardinals O’Malley of Boston, DiNardo of Houston and George of Chicago, my father. There I noticed something else right on the spot: media mediocrity. We heard questions from journalists like: and now, what are you three going to do after 8pm tonight? Do you have any plans? … Well now we must get dinner, go home, pray night prayer and go to bed.

Then, I went out, took bus number 64 and I heard from a nearby church’s tower the eight strokes of the clock. St Peter’s chair became vacant.