Brushes with greatness are sometimes borne in the most mundane of circumstances, and that evening in Athens, Ohio, we were feeling particularly mundane.
It was a humid early autumn evening in Athens, 1979, and we had started our cocktail hours early that afternoon at one of the popular campus watering holes. It was Friday, and missing afternoon classes had already become the established ritual.
Someone with a newspaper was checking the movie schedule and made a jocular remark about reading that the new pope, John Paul II, was coming to the Washington Mall for the weekend to hold a public Mass. One of the females in our group indicated that we should all go see him. At first, we dismissed the ludicrous idea and suggested that she ought not mix her tequila with something out of the tap.
About ten minutes later, feeling the pleasant effects of our beers, someone went to a pay phone outside the Varsity Theatre and made a call to the then-existing Athens AmTrack station. We found that it was quite possible to go to D.C. and see the pope, but we only had two hours to get ready. Call it being free and young, and with not much else planned to fill our weekends, we decided to do it. It would cost $55 bucks apiece, round-trip, from Athens to D.C.'s main Station and then to the Mall. There was no time for a hotel -as the trip took the better part of Friday evening and Saturday. We decided to wing it. What the heck -it wasn't often that the spiritual leader of one billion people made a trip to the U.S., and besides, there wasn't anything particularly interesting at the movies that weekend.
The press had indicated that the mass was to be open to the public -all we needed to do was show up in Washington and go to the appropriate gates set up on the Mall. Yep, we were gonna go see the pope. We couldn't afford sleeper cars -so we stayed in coach all the way. We eventually got there. Tired and disheveled ... but we did get there.
When we got to the Mall itself, I was a bit shocked at the way it was orchestrated. I expected seeing solemn praying folks, with somber faces and formal clothing, much like the black-and-white newsreels of the former popes who held audience in St. Peter's Square. Instead, what I found was much like a rock-concert atmosphere. Hundreds of trash containers, folks selling ice-cream, balloons and buttons featuring the face of John Paul II, postcards, official programs and even portable toilets lined the mall. There were priests in shorts and multi-colored collars. Young nuns in T-shirts and tennis shoes. Old and young. Poor and not so poor. Christians and non-Christians I had remembered seeing the Beach Boys on the Washington Mall several years before, but they had nothing on this man. The sea of humanity was incredible. We were hundreds of feet away, but the view was clear. There were sharpshooters on the top of the Smithsonian and cops everywhere. After waiting in the morning sun for about an hour-and-a-half, John Paul II finally arrived. There was an authentic electricity that went through the crowd.
The pope had entered from the right side of the mall and was waving to the crowds. This was before the popemobile. The entire mall immediately erupted into cheers, and the applauding crowd began chanting Pope John Paul in a rhythmic staccato chant. The pope took his long pastoral staff from a nearby priest and suddenly started tapping it on the floor of the makeshift altar in perfect rhythm accompanying the crowd. He finally stopped his own tapping and broke into a wide smile -and the crowd, quite bewildered at this pontiff's unusual gesture, again applauded. They were enamored by this curious person -a man showing a certain vulnerable humanity that seemed to have eluded the previous men who'd held the title of 'pope.' This man -a poet, an actor, a priest, had something very special and very uncommon. For some inexplicable reason, this one individual had truly riveted the people. Call it charisma, call it mass hysteria -whatever it was, it was very real and touched everyone on the mall that day. He walked briskly across the makeshift altar, his olive-green robes billowing in the wind, his staff now in his right hand. John Paul II then said mass, did some readings, addressed the crowd at length and even made a few humorous comments. It was an incredible experience. This was truly a special man. A great man. Yet little did we know what far-reaching impact this individual would have on the world in the next quarter century. The train trip home to Athens was equally long. We were tired, but happy ... The whole trip and event was rather surreal and remains so to this day.
In retrospect, it was not just another mundane weekend for this bunch of students. It was special. We knew that we had been touched by someone very great, even if from afar, that sultry first weekend in October.
-Michael Massa, a 1982 OU graduate, currently resides in Columbus. Send him an e-mail at michael.massa@msn.com.
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