A Pope's Farewell

摘要

Patience is hardly the signal virtue of our age. But somehow the ceremony to mark the passing of Pope John Paul II would not have felt right without the wait; standing still for so long was part of the journey. You could listen closely to the swelling crowd and hear songs and stories and prayers and memories shared in every language—everything, except complaint. Maybe it takes such a death for patience to be born. Some pilgrims came with little more than the clothes on their backs, because this was not a logical undertaking, it was a leap of faith. The population of Rome doubled in a matter of days, including an estimated 2 million Poles who descended on the Eternal City to honor their native son. There was no room at any inn, so people camped in the streets and squares, while the city tested its gift for hospitality. Romans were urged to open their doors, take people in; the government set up thousands of cots in soccer stadiums, the convention center and makeshift tent cities, handed out bottles of water and blankets and pillows that had been stockpiled in anticipation of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.