Getting Some Looks!

Of course when we got to our hotel there was no missing luggage waiting for me.
My stuff was off having a good time somewhere in Amsterdam.
But, I was again assured, it would probably be joining me when we got back from dinner.
Which it did not!
"But don't worry," more words of assurance poured forth, first thing tomorrow morning.
Again it did not!
And so on the 29th of December, 1999, the formal pilgrimage began with me far less than formal in my jeans, sweatshirt and hiking boots.
First stop - Papal Audience.
Long before leaving on this trip, I had made a request of Edmund Cardinal Szoka. At that time the former Archbishop of Detroit was now head of the Vatican City State. With his connections in Rome I asked that he provide our group with some really good admissions - to the Audience, to New Year's Eve Evening Prayer in St. Peter's Basilica and to the Papal New Years Day Mass. His response was that I could have two but not three, so I opted for the later two.
Then I proceeded to contact Detroit's then current Archbishop, Adam Cardinal Maida. (Pays to have "friends" in high places.) Could he provide Audience tickets?
He did.
And they were hand delivered to me at our hotel the evening that we arrived in Rome.
And shortly after that came a surprise hand delivery of another set of Audience tickets, compliments of Cardinal Szoka. He relented after all.
And these two sets of tickets came as a surprise to our tour guide who had worked to procure for us tickets to the Audience!
We were definitely going to the Audience! And we would have our choice of seats!
I wasn't too concerned about my all too casual attire for this event because I knew that, even with all of our tickets, we would still be among another ten thousand or so, lost in the crowd. That's standard for an Audience.
Audience time came and we took our seats, just far enough away so as not to be too noticeable.
Next to me sat a young Italian man. He was part of a special project that had been undertaken especially for the Jubilee Year under the inspiration of Pope John Paul II. Volunteers were recruited throughout all of Italy to serve some time in Rome as hospitality ministers, guiding, aiding in whatever way they could, answering questions and the like.
This gentleman sitting next to me was one of these volunteers.
So he welcomed us.
And looked at me.
And looked again.
I know - not exactly dressed for the occasion.
We got talking before the Holy Father arrived.
Eventually, he asked what I did for a living.
And I told him.
And he looked again.
He really looked!
"Priest!" He exclaimed.
"You are a priest?"
I explained the missing luggage.
He smiled, and nodded and looked still again. Several more times.
Guess priests in Italy don't wear jeans, or maybe sweatshirts, or likely hiking boots.
Oh well!
When the Audience ended, we had time for some lunch and then it was back to the bus for a drive out into the Roman countryside for a visit to a catacomb. It would be there that we would gather for our daily Mass, there among the memories of martyrs who had witnessed their faith through the sacrifice of their lives.
I would, of course, preside.
And I would still be clad in those . . . well, I suspect you are getting the routine by now.
There was still no other choice.
And the very helpful sacristan who set everything up for us?
Well, he did a look and then still another.
"Priest?"
I had my papers testifying to such but I certainly did not look dressed for the part.
The tour guide backed my story up, verifying that I could put those vestments on, even with those hiking boots evidently visible below that alb.
Catacomb tour over, we headed back to our hotel. Again I was given that increasingly familiar assurance.
My luggage would probably be waiting back there at the hotel.
It wasn't!


(More will be coming!)