With more than a million people
expected to descend on Rome for Pope John Paul II's beatification May 1,
the event is being described as yet another pilgrim "invasion" of the
Eternal City.
Because the beatification falls on a public holiday, some have predicted
a massive exodus by Rome residents eager to escape the logistical
problems caused by such a big crowd.
But church officials say that Romans, in fact, may represent the biggest
group at the beatification, for a very good reason: For them, Pope John
Paul was not only a pope but also a pastor.
The late pope took the title "bishop of Rome" seriously, visiting the
city's parishes, prisons, schools, hospitals and soup kitchens. He even
held an annual audience with Rome's garbage collectors.
"John Paul II managed to get close to the Roman people, and he's still
very much present in their minds. Even Romans who were not great
believers were touched by him," said Giancarlo Distante, who works in a
bookstore near the Vatican.
"Sure, it's tempting to escape the city May 1. But I think the joy of
seeing this man beatified is going to keep a lot of people here,"
Distante said.
The Diocese of Rome has even organized its own special event, a prayer
vigil the night before the beatification, which will take place in the
open area that was once the ancient Circus Maximus. Hundreds of
thousands are expected to attend.
When Pope John Paul II was elected in 1978, Romans flocked to St.
Peter's Square and were shocked to hear that a certain "Karol Wojtyla"
would be the new pontiff -- the first non-Italian pope in more than 450
years. But the new pope quickly won the crowd over when he gave his
first speech in Italian and invited people to correct him if he made any
linguistic mistakes.
The Polish pope worked hard to build bridges in Rome, carrying on with
the pastoral work that he had enjoyed so much as archbishop of Krakow.
In an effort to better know his flock, he visited more than 300 of
Rome's 334 parishes, providing every Roman neighborhood with moments of
celebration and excitement.
Those visits were not limited to a papal Mass. Typically, the pope met
with parish groups, chatted with young people and toured the facilities.
Romans had the sense that this pope had come to learn about them as
well as preach to them.
Pope John Paul met routinely with Rome city officials, and he did not
hesitate to weigh in on social and moral problems. He often did so from
places that had rarely, if ever, seen a pope: a Rome prison, for
example, where prisoners served at the papal altar, read prayers and
sang hymns.
He not only visited Rome's homeless shelters and soup kitchens, but
opened a 74-bed hostel for the poor inside the Vatican and, more than
once, personally visited with people there.
His annual encounters with the street sweepers and garbage collectors
near the Vatican never made headlines, but always gave Romans a sense
that this pope stood with the "little people."
In 1998, Pope John Paul personally kicked off a city-wide evangelization
campaign, knocking on the door of a fifth-floor apartment in Rome and
casually visiting with the family that lived there.
In the neighborhood of Rome's ancient Jewish ghetto, Pope John Paul's
photo still hangs in some shops. Residents there say they'll never
forget when he made history by visiting their synagogue in 1986.
Even more than with special groups, Pope John Paul made connections with
a whole generation of young people in Rome. As pope for more than 26
years, he hosted Roman schoolchildren on dozens of occasions at the
Vatican, in encounters that often included song, dance and testimonies
by the young. As he grew older and frailer, these meetings had a special
poignancy.
When the pope lay dying, Rome's young people were the first to arrive in
St. Peter's Square. They came by the hundreds and then by the
thousands, serenading and praying for the pope beneath his window.
Eventually they were joined by more than 3 million people who arrived in
Rome for the pope's death and funeral.
Romans were proud of themselves in 2005 for absorbing and hosting such a
huge crowd with little or no problem. They want to do the same for the
beatification, but there are some unusual practical problems.
For one thing, May 1 is Europe's "labor day" holiday, which means a
shutdown of most businesses, shops, coffee bars, restaurants and public
transportation. Store owners have already petitioned for an exemption
from the closure rules, and say if no permission is granted they may
open anyway.
"Such a great mass of people cannot arrive here and find a city without
services," said Cesare Pambianchi, the president of Rome's Confcommercio
retailers' association. "The image of Rome is at stake."