Friends, how can one not like this pope? I’m not Catholic, but I am a human being, and I am completely in favor of anyone who inspires anyone to be more charitable and less judgmental of our fellow human beings. For me, this is not religious leadership, it’s leadership – period.

The last time I saw Pope Francis in person it was a much more exciting day for him than it was for me. I was there in Piazza San Pietro along with thousands and thousands of others the day they picked him. I didn’t know much about him but he opened his speech with a joke, which I always appreciate.

So the day before yesterday, I had a chance to attend his general audience in Saint Peter’s Square. A friend of mine had extra tickets so I didn’t have to get it the usual way. However, I have researched this for you readers and here is how to get tickets.

The amount of effort they put into checking these at the gate was equal to the amount of effort it took to print them.

The front door to my apartment is only about half a football field from the entrance to St. Peter’s Square. So I rolled out of bed, made a coffee, intelligently grabbed an umbrella and walked about 60 seconds to the international border with Vatican City. I was two hours early, which I thought would be plenty of time to get a good seat.

The gateway between the Vatican and my little street.

These people have the right idea.

Only, first of all, it wasn’t early enough, and second of all, there were no seats. There was already a giant line outside the square, which I got in, and watched entire groups of people cutting in front of me for the next fifteen minutes. Entire groups. Families, friends, old people, you name it. SEVERAL of them were priests from other countries. They knew they were doing it, too. I loudly said, making eye contact, “What do you think you’re doing?” Blank stare. “Che cosa credete di fare?” Still nothing. What a shame.

I got into the Square and saw that the standing-room-only crowd was already an ocean of humans, crowding elbow to elbow as far in front or as close to the pathways as possible, designated for his golf cart tour, as they could. I had no chance of getting close to either, but I did have my zoom lens.

Two hours before showtime…and before the rain.

Well, here’s what happens at a papal audience. Before the 10:30 start time, Pope Francis, does his tour of the piazza and Via della Concilazione (the long, straight, wide street leading perpendicularly up to the Basilica, built by none other than Mussolini himself) in his golf cart. He doesn’t protect himself with glass like other recent posts, and he shakes hands, smiles, and kisses lots of babies. It started to rain a minute before he got to my square, and umbrellas snapped up like popcorn exploding all at once. Some people behind me started screaming, like horror movie screaming, for everyone to put their umbrellas down. It was startling to hear, but I figure these people have come from all over the world to see the pope, not other people’s umbrellas. No one did put the umbrellas down, which was really beyond inconsiderate, and so I stood there with my camera aimed between two umbrellas waiting, hoping, that he would pause just between them. AND THEN HE DID! And just as my finger touched the trigger on my camera, some imbecile decided to wave. So, ladies and gentlemen, this is my picture of the pope, riding by me in the golf cart:

As good as it got. Oof!

See him?

During his tour, another priest or something like that reads off a long list of special groups who are there, delegations from churches around the world. They do it language by language. “And now for our Portugese-speaking visitors from….” “And now for our German-speaking visitors from….”

I kind of thought it was a little insulting to include visitors from Denmark and Holland in the “English-speaking” group (I know they all speak great English up there, but isn’t that kind of like calling Canada the 51st state?”). But maybe I don’t have standing to feel insulted. Oh well.

Then the pope, remaining seated, gives his blessing. He extended his blessing to all of our relatives at home who were not there today, especially sick ones. He said that if anyone had brought a special object to be blessed by him, consider it blessed. Herein lies the main difference between the Protestant church I grew up in and the Catholic church.

He gives his blessing in Italian.

Anyway, after that blessing, other priests get up to do it in other languages, including in English so that the Danish can understand.

The blessing in all other languages is given by these guys.

And that’s it! Everyone goes home. It took me about 60 seconds to get home, and I was up on my terrace while the others were still streaming out. Here’s a picture of that.

Already home, already on my terrace, everyone else is still trying to get out of the square. No sarcasm here; I’m so lucky to live in this place.

I must say, religious or not, it’s a unique experience that I highly recommend if you’re in Rome. And you can’t beat the price.

More pics of the event, and of St. Peter’s, taken that day:

This guy had been screaming at everyone to put down their umbrellas. Once it stopped raining and everyone did, he took selfies the whole time.

They look like cupcake sprinkles!

I thought the umbrellas were really beautiful.