I’ve always identified as being Catholic, mostly because I was raised as such. I was baptized and confirmed in the church, and attended Catholic high school; however, many years have passed since I’ve even attended a Mass that was not part of a wedding or funeral.
I’m not sure it would be fair to say that I ever officially “left” the church because my association was primarily as a child and involuntary (I can still recall the vocal protests I’d stage every Sunday begging to forgo CCD class). And, there was little pressure to continue practicing following my parents’ schism from Catholicism around the time I turned 18. As such, I have never felt a strong connection to my given religion. I am probably what is considered a “cultural Catholic” -- the teachings influence my behavior and most holiday celebrations -- but I no longer practice my faith.
Bearing this in mind, it came as a great surprise to me that I was excited to receive an e-mail last month from Congressman Seth Moulton’s office regarding Pope Francis’ upcoming visit to Washington, D.C. The congressman’s office had been allocated a limited number of tickets to the west lawn of the U.S. Capitol where the Pope’s Sept. 24 address to a joint meeting of Congress – the first ever by a sitting leader of the Holy See – would be broadcast on several large video screens.
While the prospect of partaking in such an historic event with His Holiness was certainly appealing, I was just as intrigued by the vehicle through which the Congressman was determining the distribution of tickets – a lottery.
Before joining the Item in July, I had served as executive director of the Massachusetts Lottery. While working there I had handed over thousands of prizes to players, each of whom seemed more excited than the previous. I loved sharing in their excitement, but never experienced it firsthand because as a lottery employee I was prohibited from buying tickets. And, in the months since I resigned, I haven’t been willing to part with a dollar (or $30) to take a chance. Truth be told, I was itching (or should I say scratching?) to win a lottery – and my sights were set on the papal lottery.
Determined to win, I filled out a form on the Congressman’s website and then waited for the drawing on Sept. 1. There was no planned televised to-do announcing the ticket numbers or a ceremony with Congressman Moulton flocked by balloons handing over the winning tickets. Just an e-mail notifying entrants of their win. The e-mail was far less grandiose -- just a short message letting me know that I didn’t win. I was disappointed, but not crushed. I simply moved on to dreaming of a Powerball jackpot win.
A week later, I received another e-mail from the Congressman’s office, this with the subject line “Pope Tickets.” Ever the cynic, my immediate thought was they were following up with a reminder that I didn’t win and to try again next time the Pope comes to visit; however, I was surprised to read that the office was now able to meet my request for two tickets for the west lawn viewing of the address.
I was beyond excited. I was actually giddy -- and it didn’t stem from the actual win (though admittedly it did feel good to finally be receiving, and not handing over, a lottery prize).
As the media coverage escalated around his forthcoming six-day U.S. tour, I, like many, started to pay a lot more attention to Pope Francis. His strong emphasis on inclusiveness and forgiveness extended beyond the typical boundaries of religion and into the realm of social justice, politics and common causes that we as a society should share. The more I read/watched, I had a better grasp why he was not only mesmerizing devout and lapsed Catholics alike, but capturing hearts across religious lines. The latter was demonstrated to me by the fact that my best friend, who is Jewish and typically has little praise for the Catholic Church, was the first (and only) of my friends interested in joining me for the historic event. Many thought we, two “non-Catholics,” were crazy to travel nearly 800 miles in a single day to essentially watch an event on a screen when we’d have a similar experience with a better vantage point from our living rooms.
They were probably right about us being crazy, but were definitely wrong about the experience.
After a 6 a.m. flight, a quick trip on the Metro (which is by far the cleanest subway system I’ve ever ridden), and a walk through a maze of security checkpoints, we found ourselves on the west lawn outside the Capitol building. We joined tens of thousands of others who had made the pilgrimage from cities and towns across the United States. We all listened to the Pope’s 50-minute speech in the House chamber in reverent silence as he addressed a host of issues, including immigration, the environment, global hunger and caring for our most vulnerable.
Following his speech to Congress, the Pope emerged on a balcony facing the west lawn. The deafening silence quickly turned to enormous cheers louder than any rock star could ever command as he exclaimed, “Buenos dias!” I softly replied with my own, “Buenos dias.”
While he was clearly addressing the masses, for that moment I felt like he was speaking directly to me. I essentially talked to the Pope.
It was the most meaningful win I will ever be awarded.
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