LORD, TO WHOM SHALL WE GO?

Vivid Memories of the Holy Father’s Visit

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I couldn’t quite keep a diary during those exhilarating hours of the Holy Father’s visit to us, because I was a bit preoccupied!

But images, words, and events are branded in my memory forever, and they come back vividly as I watch the splendid television coverage and go through the colorful newspaper reports. Reading this edition of Catholic New York will remind me of that “Mount Tabor experience” all over again.

  • To greet Pope Francis, as he came off the plane to be welcomed by Bishop DiMarzio and me, “Welcome, Holy Father! New York has been looking forward to your visit!” and to hear him reply, “Not as much as I have!”;
  • As we took the helicopter in from JFK to the Wall Street heliport, to see hundreds, thousands of folks on rooftops, waving to the Pope, hoping he would see them...he did!;

  • Then I had to squeeze into the backseat of his now renowned Fiat, only to have him tease, “This car will now tilt to one side—yours!”;
  • To see him “light up” at the thousands who stood along the route just to get a glimpse of him, and seeing him constantly turning to make sure he could look at and wave to as many people as possible;
  • When we switched to the open Popemobile for the last six blocks on Fifth Avenue to St. Patrick’s, he invited me to sit behind him, and then quipped, “How much did you pay for that seat?”;
  • “So this is Fifth Avenue!” he exclaimed, as he beamed at the thousands who cheered him on;

  • “It is as magnificent as I have heard!” he remarked to me as we both looked up at the restored façade of St. Patrick’s;
  • When I introduced him to our five active auxiliary bishops, he joked, “But you have too many!” By this time I figured I better start ribbing him back, so I replied, “not as many as you have in Rome!” He liked it:
  • Up that main aisle, as he took it all in, he tried to touch as many hands as he could, especially attentive to the babies, elders, and sick;
  • “Can I hug you?” asked Na Na Fatseh in the first pew...and hug she did, to the Holy Father’s delight;
  • My duty was to bring him to pray before the Blessed Sacrament, but he would not pass by without stopping at the Pieta behind the altar, as he stood in silent prayer before Our Sorrowful Mother holding the body of her son at the foot of the cross;
  • Can we forget the moving vespers, or his words of gratitude to our sisters and priests?;
  • We had to pay a quick visit to my residence behind the Cathedral so that he could use the facilities after evening prayer. “You mean this beautiful cathedral doesn’t have a bathroom? Was it built for angels or human beings?” he teased.
  • back down the aisle again to the same acclaim, an image of joyful serenity as so many were frantic just to reach out to him;
  • In the Fiat again on Friday morning, after the U.N., driving down to the 9/11 Memorial, again passing thousands he blessed from the backseat, but taking the city in, asking me the name of the river, the bridges, the buildings;
  • To watch him so still in prayer at the reflecting pool and waterfall, reading the names, greeting families of first responders and Twin Tower workers who had died, blessing their photographs, embracing their children;
  • Mesmerized in the museum, especially by the recovered Bible—found open to the Sermon on the Mount—and the famous “cross” forged by two melting iron beams;
  • fascinated by the colorful diversity of religions represented at the interfaith prayer;
  • the ride (again in the Fiat!) to Harlem, with hundreds of thousands enthusiastic as he passed;
  • not to be rushed as he walked outside along the line greeting as many of our schoolchildren as he could;
  • listening like a parish priest as each of the children in the classroom at Our Lady Queen of Angels School explained their projects;
  • Giving the students a “homework assignment” as he told them “pray for me!”;
  • chatting with the immigrants and hearing how Catholic Charities had helped them find jobs, get their documents, and learn English;
  • then to Central Park, for a tumultuous welcome from hundreds of thousands as he waved from the Popemobile;
  • and the highlight, to have the Successor of Peter renew for us the Last Supper and the Sacrifice of the Cross at Mass in an exuberant yet reverent packed house at Madison Square Garden;
  • and then on Saturday morning, when I thought all my emotions were drained, to have my eyes tear up as he asked the pilot of the President’s own Marine One helicopter to circle the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island;
  • His last words to me before he went up the steps to the jet for Philadelphia? On the helicopter ride out, he had offered me a bottle of water. I thanked him, and confessed, “I need it, Papa Francesco, because, since you’ve been here, I’ve been afraid to drink a lot of water, since there might not be time to stop at a bathroom.”

“But,” he replied, concerned, “you had to drink something!”

I grinned and answered, “Well, I took a drop of Irish Whiskey.”

He laughed...

But his last words to me as we embraced at the foot of the stairs up to the plane, “Take two drops today...you, and New York, deserve it!”

We do! Thanks!

And...pray for Pope Francis!