Page 53

D uring his first trip as the newly elected pope, Luigi Donati had startled the Vatican press corps by conducting an impromptu news conference in the back of his plane, a practice he continued throughout his papacy.

His failure to address reporters after his emotionally charged visit to Lampedusa was viewed by most of the Vaticanisti as still more evidence that His Holiness was hiding something.

The wily Esteban Rodríguez of the Press Office blamed it on the short duration of the flight—it was less than an hour—and on the fact that the Holy Father was still hard at work on his homily for the open-air mass in Palermo. That much, at least, was true.

There was no crowd on hand when the papal plane touched down at Palermo Airport, and only a small delegation of Sicilian VIPs waited on the tarmac.

Donati greeted them cordially, then squeezed into the back seat of another all-electric Fiat for the twenty-minute drive to the site of the open-air mass.

Gabriel once again sat at his side, though this time he didn’t bother with an inspection of his window.

The supreme pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church, spiritual leader of more than a billion souls, was riding in an unarmored vehicle through one of Western Europe’s most dangerous cities.

“You disapprove?”

“Strenuously, Holiness.”

“I will not travel in a bombproof saloon car like some potentate.”

“But you are a potentate.”

“I’m an absolute monarch. There’s a difference.”

“You are also the only hope in a world gone mad,” said Gabriel. “Someone has to speak for the poorest among us. Someone has to tell those who call themselves Christians that they are behaving in ways that Jesus himself wouldn’t recognize.”

“Do I really make a difference? Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“You were extraordinary in Lampedusa. You changed hearts and minds.”

Donati adopted a confiding tone. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, mio amico . You haven’t seen anything yet.”

***

The grassy park known as the Foro Italico stretched for several hundred meters along Palermo’s picturesque waterfront.

An undulating mass of humanity, some three hundred thousand in number, filled it from stem to stern.

Gabriel walked the perimeter of the esplanade and was pleased to see Italian cops with handheld mags opening backpacks and patting down pilgrims. There were sharpshooters on the rooftops of nearby buildings and Carabinieri patrol boats in the whitecapped bay.

Someone, it seemed, had gotten the message.

The temporary altar was the size of a stage at an outdoor music festival and flanked by jumbotrons.

Gabriel searched the underside of the platform for stray parcels or toolboxes left behind by workmen—anything that might contain a bomb.

Then he headed to the small trailer behind the platform where Father Keegan was placing the pallium over Donati’s gold-embroidered chasuble.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“A little, Holiness.”

“If you’d like to reprise your role as Father Benedetti, I’m sure we can find some vestments for you.”

“I think I’ll watch from the wings with Colonel Metzler.”

“That’s probably for the better. But please try not to assault anyone. We wouldn’t want another ugly incident.”

Gabriel left Donati’s trailer and found Metzler standing on the left side of the altar. The afternoon light was beginning to fade, and the massive crowd was growing restless. His Holiness, as was often the case, was running late.

Metzler checked the time. “When he was the private secretary, he was punctual as a Swiss watch. But now that he’s pope...”

“His Tardiness?”

“We call it Donati time. It’s an hour behind the rest of Rome.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know.”

“Please do.”

Just then one of the Swiss Guards posted outside Donati’s trailer came on the radio to say that His Holiness was on the move.

He processed onto the altar only thirty minutes behind schedule, accompanied by dozens of cardinals, bishops, monsignori, and priests.

After sanctifying the table and the crucifix with incense, he took his place before a simple wooden celebrant’s chair and made the sign of the cross.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Three hundred thousand voices replied, “Amen.”

“Watch this,” said Alois Metzler.

“I’m watching,” replied Gabriel.

***

It occurred to Gabriel during the recitation of the Kyrie that he had never seen his old friend celebrate a mass.

Donati’s own sense was that he was not terribly good at it, that he was an intellectual and a missionary at heart, better suited to the jungles and the favelas than to a parish church.

He was wrong about that, though; with his towering physical presence and warm baritone voice, he commanded the enormous altar as an actor commands the stage.

Even Gabriel, who had known Donati more than twenty years, could scarcely take his eyes off him.

In the Foro Italico, no one stirred. The three hundred thousand Catholic faithful were in his thrall.

When it came time for him to deliver his homily, the sun was dipping below the buildings along the western side of the esplanade.

He was slow in taking to the pulpit, deliberate.

Father Keegan attempted to place a leather portfolio before him, but he returned it with a kindly smile.

The message was unmistakable. On this perfect Saturday afternoon in Palermo, the Vicar of Christ planned to address his flock without aid of a prepared script.

“There is a hill not far from the Sea of Galilee,” he began at last. “One day early in his ministry, Jesus gathered his disciples atop this hill and delivered a sermon. The words he spoke that day were considered so vital to our faith that early Christians were compelled to memorize them. And yet many of us seem to have forgotten them. And so, my brothers and sisters, if you will indulge me, I will recite a few of them now, for I can say with certainty that they were the reason I became a priest.” He paused for what seemed like an eternity, then said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek—”

Three hundred thousand voices supplied the final six words of the verse.

“For they shall inherit the earth.”

Donati cast a glance in Gabriel’s direction, then asked, “Where in the fifth chapter of Matthew does Jesus say that those of unimaginable wealth will be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven? Or those who use political power to serve their own interests rather than the interests of their people? Blessed is the oligarch? Blessed is the tyrant? Blessed is the torturer? The oppressor? The cruel of heart? Forgive me, my brothers and sisters, but my copy of Matthew omitted those lines.”

He waited for a ripple of laughter to die away before continuing.

“Nor did Jesus ever instruct his apostles to build a Church that acquired great wealth of its own. Or a Church that refused to adapt and change. My goodness, it wasn’t until three centuries after Our Lord died on a Roman cross that we settled the most basic tenets of our faith, tenets which we will affirm in a few moments when we recite the words of the Creed.

And time and time again down through the centuries, we convened councils to make additional changes to our doctrine and practice.

Not all of the changes were wise, and some did profound damage to the Church.

But that does not mean change is something to fear.

Sometimes it is necessary. I submit to you, my brothers and sisters, that now is just such a time. ”

For the next twenty minutes, as the sky darkened and the air turned cold, he explained why that was the case.

Because the world, he proclaimed, needed the Church now more than ever.

It needed a healthy Church, a vital Church, a merciful Church, and, yes, a younger Church.

A Church that did not have to go begging for priests.

A Church unafraid to take sides. A Church on the barricades.

A Church that looked after those in harm’s way.

“A Church that follows the simple lessons that Jesus gave to his disciples on that hilltop near the Sea of Galilee.” Donati spread his arms wide as though he were standing on the same hilltop. “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”

“For theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven,” replied the multitude .

“Blessed are they who mourn.”

“For they will be comforted.”

“Blessed are the meek.”

“For they shall inherit the earth.”

He made the sign of the cross. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Three hundred thousand voices thundered, “Amen.”