"Have you seen him? Have you seen the Pope? Were you able to touch him?" These are the few questions of my siblings after knowing that I was able to attend the Youth Encounter with the Pope in UST on January 18, 2015. It seemed the entire country was on fire during the five-day Papal Visit. The Pope was received by Filipinos in a phenomenal way. He had been welcomed by the Filipino faithful from all walks of life, in frenzy and festive atmosphere. All seemed to be star struck by the Rockstar Pope, but not in my case.
When I first laid my eyes to Pope Francis, in UST at the Arch of the Centuries, I was not really moved by the sight of a man in white cassock, surrounded by people in wild excitement. I was intrigued and interested more by the faithful's reaction shouting "Papa Francisco" and running after him (I was worried too by the possibility of a stampede). I thought of the story of Zaccheus ((Luke 19:1-10) who kept on calling Jesus who was passing-by, despite all the odds against his lot. He is short in physical stature. He is seen by many as a sinner being was a superintendent of customs; a chief tax-gatherer at Jericho. Tax collectors were often corrupt, and hated by many of their fellow Jews, who saw them as traitors for working for the Roman Empire. I saw in UST a lot of Zaccheus climbing the trees, the barricades, pushing their way towards the Pope's direction, shouting they would say "Papa Francisco" as if calling a long lost friend who had returned from a far distant land. Seeing this, I asked myself "Why am I not dumbfounded as these people are?" I saw in Pope Francis a fellow human person no any divine creature as others may seem to perceive him to be.
While the popemobile approaches the UST grandstand, the cheers became louder and louder "Pope Francis, we love you!" In spirit of solidarity and in order not to be tagged as KJ (Kill Joy), I shouted and clamp my hands, one with the crowd, but to no avail. No spirit of euphoria or of any kind touched my heart. When the popemobile was almost 30 meters away from us, I saw some brothers who went the grandstand to secure a spot for a closer encounter with the Pope. I joined these brothers, thinking that closeness and proximity between me and the Pope would bridge the gap between my seeming insensitivity and the faithful's overjoy. I kept shouting and calling out the Pope: "Pope Francis." As the Pope nears to us in his mobile, I shouted "Pope, we love you!" He look at our direction, waved his hand and asked us "Dominicans?" Almost spontaneously I answered back "Yes, Holy Father, Dominicans!" He continued waving towards the members of the clergy who were at the grandstand, while his mobile parks. As the Pope prepared to go down from his mobile, I thought he would spare some time for us and approach us to shake our hands, for we were almost 5 meters away from him. We kept calling out his name, hoping he would approach us, but to our disappointment. He was directed by the Swiss guards towards the grandstand, and so the ceremonies and rites began.
We when back to our respective seats with the other friars and the members of the Hierarchy. Several times I attempted to listen on the program which was then going-on at the center stage (we were at the right side of the stage), but I could not really understand what was being said. There were no monitor speakers emplaced. I barely understood any single word from what was said. Instead of listening, I unintentionally fell asleep, for the relative silence in our area, the cold blow of wind set such rest even in the middle of so great an event, and the fact that we were already awake by three in the morning just to go to UST from Santo Domingo. I thought I saw some of the bishops and friars sleeping too that very occasion.
When the encounter came to the conclusion, the campus youth ministers led the rejoicing youth in singing and acting the song "Tell the World of His Love." I joined them, together with my brothers as the song prove to be more touching and appealing than the other Papal Visit's songs. I was moved by the sounds and site of the young people singing, holding their hands together, under the rain and dark clouds. As the song ends, a question still lingered in my mind "Why am I not touched by the sight of the Pope as these young people are?" I was very near to the Pope and able to see him from a very close distance and relatively long time. How fortunate I was, I thought. Others would simply have a 3-4 second encounter with him and they were already happy for that. As the Pope bid the youth a goodbye and walked towards his mobile, other brothers went down the stage. I did not bother to join them and have a closer look of the Pope for the last time. Anyway, I thought, I already had my chance.
Going back to Santo Domingo from the whole day affair with the Pope, I had the opportunity of watching the replay coverage of the Youth Encounter in UST, as it was being broadcasted coincidentally by a TV network. I viewed and listened the program which I missed in UST. As I take my seat in front of the TV set, I watched a little girl named Glyzlle, addressing to the Pope a question on suffering and pain. She is a former street dweller rescued by Tulay ng Kabataan Foundation. She ask the Pope "Why does God allow these things (Rape, prostitution, drugs etc.) to happen to children?" She was not able to finish her prepared address intended to the Pope. She broke down in tears. She approached the Pope while crying and the Pope embraced her tightly. Watching this, I too was not able to control my tears. I too cried. I was moved. I was touched by the Pope.
Looking back, at my moments with the Pope, the Pope inspired me not by his mere presence as a human person, as Mario Bergoglio. I am inspired by him as the representative of Christ here on earth. Such responsibility and vocation, he carried out whenever he addressed the people of God, whether in words, actions, or simply in silence, the way God would have do.
It is only then I understand what Abp. Soc said: Every step he (Pope Francis) makes, every car ride he takes, every moment he stays with us is precious for us. Seeing him pass by is a grace. Waving our hands at him in loving welcome is an experience of a lifetime. Watch the Pope passing by. Christ is passing by. Be blessed as he passes by.” Indeed I am blessed by the Pope; I am blessed by Christ.
When I first laid my eyes to Pope Francis, in UST at the Arch of the Centuries, I was not really moved by the sight of a man in white cassock, surrounded by people in wild excitement. I was intrigued and interested more by the faithful's reaction shouting "Papa Francisco" and running after him (I was worried too by the possibility of a stampede). I thought of the story of Zaccheus ((Luke 19:1-10) who kept on calling Jesus who was passing-by, despite all the odds against his lot. He is short in physical stature. He is seen by many as a sinner being was a superintendent of customs; a chief tax-gatherer at Jericho. Tax collectors were often corrupt, and hated by many of their fellow Jews, who saw them as traitors for working for the Roman Empire. I saw in UST a lot of Zaccheus climbing the trees, the barricades, pushing their way towards the Pope's direction, shouting they would say "Papa Francisco" as if calling a long lost friend who had returned from a far distant land. Seeing this, I asked myself "Why am I not dumbfounded as these people are?" I saw in Pope Francis a fellow human person no any divine creature as others may seem to perceive him to be.
While the popemobile approaches the UST grandstand, the cheers became louder and louder "Pope Francis, we love you!" In spirit of solidarity and in order not to be tagged as KJ (Kill Joy), I shouted and clamp my hands, one with the crowd, but to no avail. No spirit of euphoria or of any kind touched my heart. When the popemobile was almost 30 meters away from us, I saw some brothers who went the grandstand to secure a spot for a closer encounter with the Pope. I joined these brothers, thinking that closeness and proximity between me and the Pope would bridge the gap between my seeming insensitivity and the faithful's overjoy. I kept shouting and calling out the Pope: "Pope Francis." As the Pope nears to us in his mobile, I shouted "Pope, we love you!" He look at our direction, waved his hand and asked us "Dominicans?" Almost spontaneously I answered back "Yes, Holy Father, Dominicans!" He continued waving towards the members of the clergy who were at the grandstand, while his mobile parks. As the Pope prepared to go down from his mobile, I thought he would spare some time for us and approach us to shake our hands, for we were almost 5 meters away from him. We kept calling out his name, hoping he would approach us, but to our disappointment. He was directed by the Swiss guards towards the grandstand, and so the ceremonies and rites began.
We when back to our respective seats with the other friars and the members of the Hierarchy. Several times I attempted to listen on the program which was then going-on at the center stage (we were at the right side of the stage), but I could not really understand what was being said. There were no monitor speakers emplaced. I barely understood any single word from what was said. Instead of listening, I unintentionally fell asleep, for the relative silence in our area, the cold blow of wind set such rest even in the middle of so great an event, and the fact that we were already awake by three in the morning just to go to UST from Santo Domingo. I thought I saw some of the bishops and friars sleeping too that very occasion.
When the encounter came to the conclusion, the campus youth ministers led the rejoicing youth in singing and acting the song "Tell the World of His Love." I joined them, together with my brothers as the song prove to be more touching and appealing than the other Papal Visit's songs. I was moved by the sounds and site of the young people singing, holding their hands together, under the rain and dark clouds. As the song ends, a question still lingered in my mind "Why am I not touched by the sight of the Pope as these young people are?" I was very near to the Pope and able to see him from a very close distance and relatively long time. How fortunate I was, I thought. Others would simply have a 3-4 second encounter with him and they were already happy for that. As the Pope bid the youth a goodbye and walked towards his mobile, other brothers went down the stage. I did not bother to join them and have a closer look of the Pope for the last time. Anyway, I thought, I already had my chance.
Going back to Santo Domingo from the whole day affair with the Pope, I had the opportunity of watching the replay coverage of the Youth Encounter in UST, as it was being broadcasted coincidentally by a TV network. I viewed and listened the program which I missed in UST. As I take my seat in front of the TV set, I watched a little girl named Glyzlle, addressing to the Pope a question on suffering and pain. She is a former street dweller rescued by Tulay ng Kabataan Foundation. She ask the Pope "Why does God allow these things (Rape, prostitution, drugs etc.) to happen to children?" She was not able to finish her prepared address intended to the Pope. She broke down in tears. She approached the Pope while crying and the Pope embraced her tightly. Watching this, I too was not able to control my tears. I too cried. I was moved. I was touched by the Pope.
Looking back, at my moments with the Pope, the Pope inspired me not by his mere presence as a human person, as Mario Bergoglio. I am inspired by him as the representative of Christ here on earth. Such responsibility and vocation, he carried out whenever he addressed the people of God, whether in words, actions, or simply in silence, the way God would have do.
It is only then I understand what Abp. Soc said: Every step he (Pope Francis) makes, every car ride he takes, every moment he stays with us is precious for us. Seeing him pass by is a grace. Waving our hands at him in loving welcome is an experience of a lifetime. Watch the Pope passing by. Christ is passing by. Be blessed as he passes by.” Indeed I am blessed by the Pope; I am blessed by Christ.
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