It all sounds too insane, as the words leave my typing fingers.
I met the Pope. I spoke to the Pope, and he answered me back. We shook hands, and looked into each others’ eyes. He blessed me. We smiled. I freaked out.
The last three days here in Rome, part of an insanely quick trip, probably – nah, definitely – will stay with me for the rest of my life.
I was invited by the Vatican to be a delegate to their Sport for All conference, a gathering of 250 people from 40 countries to discuss the future of sports. How can we, the athletes, coaches, management, academics, and media, create more opportunities to allow more humans to simply play? The need for physical activity for health, valuable mental health aspects, and clear outcomes of personal development stemming from sports are paramount.
The Vatican has its own athletic department, a small but growing enterprise, and the Holy See decided to take the lead in bringing us all together to learn and discuss things. The head of the International Olympic Committee (Thomas Bach), the head of the International Paralympic Committee (Andrew Parsons), and many other champion athletes (able-bodied and para), ethicists and clergy with interest in sports, presented to us.
The concept of “Sport for Good” is not new. But the urgency, predicated by a world with big dark spots of war, 100 million and growing refugees, climate change, so many post-pandemic bumps, and economic/political uncertainty, mean we need to find positive things to help build community. Sports can certainly do that, from the lost little ones in a refugee center bonding over soccer, to the impact of our biggest sports leagues as economic engines and serious social influencers. The power is unlimited, because at its best, it is the harnesses the human spirit.
I learned a lot, and was left with have much to think about. I will state the obvious, the conference was predominantly white male. So being a small minority in the room where it happens, HELLO HAMILTON, was important representation that I was proud to provide. I was there as a former college athlete, a current busted adult athlete, woman in a male dominated field of sports journalism, and representing my amazing people at Michigan State’s School of Journalism.
But yeah, I hear you – WHEN IS SHE GETTING TO THE GOOD STUFF?
Oh. You mean the hour-long private tour of the Sistine Chapel, with the head of the Vatican Museum explaining everything? Or the fact that I laid down on the steps of the Sistine’s altar and looked up for a long time to absorb the mastery of Michelangelo’s color explosion? The fact there were photos taken inside of the chapel that I am not allowed to show you ever ever ever? Hee hee. I did a serious Musei Vaticani pinky swear to keep that cool. Sorry tourists, the no photo, no talking rules got suspended. Been there, done that. (Oh, they know you are sneaking photos on your cell phones. Y’all not the slicksters you think you are.) I almost felt like the first female Cardinal, came in the front door like a VIP. I vote that they include women in the sequel (another Hamilton reference. Google it.)
That was cool.
Or the amazing dinner in the closed Vatican Museum, just for us, with the dreamiest mushroom risotto I have ever eaten? We had nice guys from Chile at our table serving us all the wine.
Maybe it was the private Mass, in a roped-off part of St. Peter’s, with like 10 priests and a Cardinal? It was in French, Italian, English and Spanish, so I was balling at a 75 percent language clip. (The Italian is getting better, un poco de Espanol.) I’ve never seen behind the main altar, as the public is not allowed in that area. I’ve peeked around the barrier, hoping to check it out. This time, I was sitting right there, staring at the most beautiful altar of gold. Humbling to turn around and see all of St. Peter’s behind you.
And now we get to the Pope. Yeah, Il Papa.
We knew there was a strong possibility we would meet him, thanks to the conference program, but things took a turn when things started on Thursday. Pope Francis, 85, is in fragile health. The conference organizers warned us that he may not be able to make our meeting, because he was not feeling well. I was bummed, but clearly understood. Getting to even see him from afar would be a bonus round on an already intense 48 hours. I did not want them dragging out an ill old man to meet me. I don’t need him to be a show. That’s not right.
Thursday afternoon rolled around, and I noticed the security started seriously ramping up in and around our conference center. I peeked into the huge auditorium/church by us, and indeed, they were setting up the Pope’s visit with us. The big white chair was out. The big boy was coming to us!
The final word after lunch came from the conference organizer, that yes, we will be seeing Pope Francis. They were not sure how strong he was, so perhaps he will only shake the hands of a few people. It would be all up to him.
We were told two things: think of what you want to say to the Pope, before your brain freezes, and NO SELFIES. The Pope is not down with the selfies.
We went down into the auditorium space, and it was like WHOA. THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING. THE POPE IS COMING.
For a little context, I am not really actively religious. I grew up with 13 years of Catholic schooling, in a Catholic family. I have relatives that are nuns. My uncle is a journalist who writes a lot about Catholic issues.
I made my own decision, a long time ago, not to actively support something that does not support me as a woman in a modern world or has amends to make for abuse. You can still believe in things and be spiritual without being into the corporation.
Every school I went to had a picture of the Pope hanging somewhere in our eye-space. John Paul II being shot was a seriously scary event in my childhood.
So I know the Pope stuff. I never had meeting or seeing the Pope on my bucket list, but c’mon, I was never going to turn it down. He is one of the most important leaders in the world, and words from him can rock the planet.
All of that was running through my mind when we were anxiously waiting for him to come. I was still debating what I was going to say to him. I was jokingly thinking I should have laid odds on me personally meeting the Pope ahead of BTS. Both snowballs in hell, but I did have the RJ keychain on my work backpack in the building, so Bangtan did make it to the Vatican. Kept it #NamJin with Koya on my suitcase. (Inside BTS drop for my chingus.)
It got quiet. And then we all stood – he was here. He walked in slowly, bent over, on a sturdy cane. He was all in plain white robes. There were Swiss Guards, and other security, everywhere. He looked both frail, yet super strong. His body is not strong, but his spirit is huge.
He was 30 feet from me. Francis sat down on the big white chair – and smiled. His eyes were twinkling. He seemed truly happy to see us. I could feel his energy and vibes. He almost seemed like he wanted you to tell him a joke. He wanted to play.
The room became electric, a mix of all of us being excited, nervous, and straight up freaked out. I was thinking about it from his perspective – how does it feel to have that kind of impact on people? How does he handle being the focus of all of these big emotions?
Francis seemed unbothered. He’s just a sweet old man, chilling on his big chair, getting ready to give us a speech. He spoke in Italian, with a big video screen giving us the English version of his remarks. It was a well-written and strongly-delivered speech, talking about the good of sports, and how we all need to fight against the dehumanization of athletes and abuse stemming from greed. He spoke clearly and we got the message.
After the speech, the line to meet him started up. The VIPs, such as Bach from the IOC, went first. We were in the fourth row, so I figured he would meet them and then peace out. Some humans, who clearly are getting massive negative karma points, chose to bum-rush the line to cut ahead. They got sent back with a stern not today pal by the Swiss Guards. No mess would be had.
The Pope told the main guard, after the VIP’s rolled through, that he wanted to greet every single one of us. OH BOY. That is when I realized this was really going down. I finalized my thoughts – I was going to ask him to pray for me, my family and my friends. And thank him. Others in my row were preparing longer intentions or comments, but I thought I needed to keep it short, simple and frankly, in a place where I would not screw it up. Keep it simple, and not try to get crazy in the Italian, German, Spanish that he speaks/understands. Went with English, thinking like a Tweet.
The moments we were in the queue, shuffling ahead one by one, were like a surreal movie. The Pope was getting closer and closer. I could see his happy eyes. I heard his laugh. I saw every person, right after the interaction look like they were mentally gone. Some were emotional. Reminded me of the scene in Indiana Jones where people had their hearts snatched out of their chests. Minus the blood, paganism, and Spielberg. But you get it.
People gave him soccer balls, books, pins, and other stuff. He accepted the gifts, and then handed it all off. PRO TIP: Don’t give the Pope stuff. He really doesn’t want it. He is going to humor you, because he is a good guy. But be cool.
I snapped photos on the way up, getting my friends from behind with the Pope. Our deal was I would get their photos, and they would get me because they would be off to the side and done.
Well dear Open Courter, I did my job, and yeah, they totally melted down and forgot to get my photo. They had the worst brain crash of all time. They feel terrible. I forgive them, because the Pope would want that – hah. But, !!!!!!!!!!!
My friend Jane was done with the Pope, stepped aside, and then there he was. Glowing in perfect white, right in front of me. Smiling, big dark brown eyes, and reaching his hand out. I literally could feel him with every part of my being.
There is no bowing or all the other weird stuff people did. Francis wants you to treat him like a normal human being. Just a person to person, he’s trying to be accessible and not a deity.
I stepped forward, and as soon as his hand touched mine, I choked up. I was totally good until he touched me. I literally felt my throat closing and I was going to cry. Emotionally overwhelmed. I’ve been through a lot of big good and bad things over the past year, and it all hit me like a truck. I was struck by lightning, I was having the Pope hold my hand. The photos from the Vatican photographer are epic. I look like an idiot in all of them, freaking out.
I got my words out, getting better as I went. He nodded, smiled, said he blesses me and my family. And thanked me. Smiled again.
And then it was over. The Pope’s staff gave us an official rosary, blessed by him, on the way back from his area.
We all sat down…did that really happen?
It did. I regained my senses, and started beating myself up for not being cooler. If I can talk to Roger Federer, Tiger Woods, Paul Newman and every other big star in the world and be totally cool – why did I go into ARRRRGH! with the Pope?
I needed a day or two to process, but I think I figured it out. I cannot describe it fully, but I have never met anybody with a literal aura. You can feel his goodness. He seems like an incredibly kind, sweet man, somebody who wants to laugh, and is genuinely invested in getting to know you. He was fully present for each person. We all felt like we connected – hard – with him.
You could not help but smile. He left you feeling like you mattered. Like you could hang with him and have a good chat and a laugh. He is open and warm.
Think of how many people meet the Pope. He waves to audiences of hundreds of thousands around the world. Hundreds get private audiences. People faint and cry at the sight of him.
But few get an intimate meet and greet. I am in rare company, and I know it is a big deal. Even for a kid on the run from his organization.
He is the master of making people feel important, even though he is the most important guy in the room. That is an amazing skill.
So that’s the Rome report. I am blessed and holy now. Proceed with caution!
