Inside the synod hall -- for morning prayer
only
By THOMAS C. FOX
The synod is closed to the media, which gets daily summaries of
its work from Vatican officials. Accredited journalists are allowed to enter
the synod hall upon written request to observe morning prayers. The synod takes
place within Vatican walls in the Pope Paul VI chambers. I petitioned one day
last week and was told to arrive at the Vatican gates at 8:30 in the morning.
The synod begins at nine.
Precisely at 8:30, I approached two Swiss guards standing at the
designated gate. Neither spoke English nor seemed to understand why I wanted to
enter the Vatican. After some minor negotiations, one walked to a small
guardhouse and returned with a piece of paper with my name on it. I was told to
walk through the gate and up a road to the synod chamber.
Some 30 yards up a road that runs adjacent to St. Peters
basilica, two Vatican security guards dressed in suits and wearing earphones
stopped me. Neither spoke English, but they seemed to understand my intent.
They then asked me to walk to and stand in the middle of a parking lot. I
did.
I waited for 20 minutes before three women, two in suits and one
in a dress down to her ankles, approached me. Tom Fox, one said.
They did not introduce themselves or appear welcoming in any way.
Follow us, one said. I followed. As we entered the
building, two Swiss Guards who stood at the doorway saluted me. One of the
women pointed to a stairway and told me to accompany them up the narrow stairs.
On the second floor we walked down a hallway and turned a corner, entering the
synod hall, which seats about 300. Its a steep room. Rows descend as one
moves to the front. Facing the seats is a long desk behind which the pope sits
with synod officials on each side.
The seats are equipped with earphones for translations. When I
arrived, the room was about half filled with bishops mingling. The atmosphere
was friendly. I spoke to several bishops as we waited for the morning session
to begin. Nearly 10 minutes past the hour, one of the women called me to my
designated seat in the back row on the far end. It was roped off at one end.
She told me to enter from the other end and sat next to me. I had the feeling
of being fenced in.
All the bishops were in their seats as Pope John Paul II arrived.
He shuffled slowly into the hall, hardly lifting his feet, stooped and
balancing himself with his cane, which he held in his right hand. I am told he
gets stronger in the afternoon, but this morning he looked very weak. The
bishops began to clap gently and reverently. He is not only the pope, but he is
an old man approaching his eighth decade -- the decade of life of highest
wisdom in the traditional cultures of much of Asia.
The pope usually says something to begin the day, a sentence or a
quip. Leaning forward toward the microphone he said something in Latin about
St. Mark, whose feast was being celebrated. His words are barely audible, and
most of the bishops do not understand spoken Latin. It is doubtful that most
understood his words, but the bishops responded with laughter. These bishops
are nothing if not polite. (The Associated Press later reported that the pope
jokingly had made a play on the words St. Mark and St. Martha, the latter being
the name of the facility where the next papal consistory will be held.) Two
seconds later, John Paul began morning prayers in Latin with the sign of the
cross.
The bishops, reading from small prayer books, prayed in Latin. It
was a dialogue, the prayers of the day. The popes voice was weak,
shallow, his words at times slurred. Dressed in white, his broad, once strong
shoulders stooped, he was still imposing. He almost always looked down as he
stood behind the desk.
He looks old, but everyone describes him as determined to lead the
church into the next millennium. They have just announced that he will visit
St. Louis next year. A Vatican official told me he doubts the pope will make
the trip. By then he will be bedridden, the official said. One
wonders.
Pope John Paul clearly enjoys being with the bishops. He dines
with small groups of synod delegates each evening. A Japanese bishop who ate
with him affectionately called him a grandfather figure, meaning
not one to change his ways.
Within a few minutes the prayer was over, and my escorts were
signaling me with hand gestures that it was time to leave the room. The work of
the day was to begin.
One of the primary themes of the gathering is evangelization. The
irony is that, without broadcasting the meeting to the corners of the earth,
without using the good will and technologies at their disposal, those gathered
are missing a superb opportunity to evangelize. But journalists are forbidden.
It was time for my exit.
National Catholic Reporter, May 8, 1998
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