Not being a Catholic and having only attended mass a handful of times (and half of those drunk on Christmas eve), I don’t really have much to add to the discussion of the Pope’s life¹. The Catholic Church’s commitment to social justice puts most protestant denominations to shame, yet their strong opposition to contraception in the face of disease and overpopulation is shameful, so count me among those who think it’s pointless for liberals or conservatives to play the “he was one of us” game here.

Anyways, I’m getting sidetracked here. This is a blog, so I should be doing what bloggers do best…talking about myself. As this post’s title says, I’ve seen the Pope before and it was a pretty surreal experience. Since this is probably the last chance I’ll have to milk this story (which, despite the fact that it isn’t that funny or interesting, everyone I know has heard it a hundred times).

Thirteen years ago, I went on a trip to Italy with my high school’s Latin club². While we were there, we saw the standard stuff, Venice, the Spanish Steps, various ruins, the Sistine Chapel, McDonald’s, etc. Of all the things we had a chance to do, my teacher was insistent that we see the Pope deliver his mass on Sunday morning, presumably because the Pope would be speaking Latin.

When we arrived on Sunday morning, I was surprised to hear that we’d be going to St. Peter’s square to see the Pope. I had figured we’d be sitting in pews and doing the standard church thing, but as the crowd gathered, I started to understand why we were outside. In the fifteen minutes that passed between our arrival and the Pope’s, thousands of people arrived, completely filling the square, and began staring at a nondescript building adjacent to where we were standing. After a few minutes of waiting, the Pope was introduced by a cardinal and spoke to the masses from an upper-story window in the building next door.

In order, here are the four reasons I didn’t pay attention to the Pope’s mass :

Though it’s customary for the Pope to speak from his window, the photos you see of him leaning out a window draped with a large red cloth are a bit misleading. From where I was standing, the thousands of people around me were staring at a red dot.

Despite four years of Latin, I wouldn’t be able to translate or speak the language if my life depended upon it

I was fifteen years old and had a hard time showing enthusiasm for anything religious. I would have preferred sitting around the hotel listening to Skid Row’s Slave To The Grind album than go to church.

I didn’t know a damn thing about Catholicism. Not that I know a whole lot about it now, but over the years I’ve picked up just enough to understand why Mel Gibson is a nutcase and Martin Scorsese movies are cool.

Despite these reasons, however, there was one moment that demanded my attention.

In preparing us for the mass, my teacher told us that the Pope would deliver a blessing at some point. I didn’t quite understand what was meant by this, so I wasn’t prepared when at a certain point the proceedings fell silent and suddenly everyone in the square held an object into the air for the Pope to bless. The most popular items being held up for the Pope’s approval were sick babies and rosaries. Since I was a fifteen year old atheist who still hadn’t even kissed a girl yet, I lacked both of these things, so I held up the next best thing I could come up with. I reached into my pocket and held my keys into the air.

After waiting a minute or so for the crowd to get their shit together, the Pope gave the audience his “Mecca-lecca hi, mecca hiney ho” treatment, did the “draw a cross in the air” thing, and shut his window. The crowd dispersed with their necklaces / children infused with God-power and I stood there with my keys making stupid jokes like “Does this mean they’ll open any door now?” Over the years though, I begun to think the joke’s on me. I’m not a religious or superstitious person, but it’s pretty remarkable that I have never lost my keys. Ever.

Thanks John Paul II. You’ve saved me from having to ever call a locksmith or make extra trips to the hardware store to get my keys copied.

^{1: If you’re looking for a good read, Max has a fantastic post about the Pope.}

2: Hands off, ladies. I’m taken.