A first time pilgrim recalls journey to see Pope Francis in DC
Monday, October 5, 2015
*Cristina Cabrera Jarro
When I was invited to cover the journey to Washington, D.C. by a group of pilgrims from the Archdiocese of Miami, my initial thought was “Great!” When I found out that we would be travelling by bus for over 20 hours, I thought “Ok. This is going to be a killer commute for my back and bottom.”
As with all pilgrimages, some kind of sacrifice is required to attain the ultimate reward. While I was concerned about a long and uncomfortable bus ride, I began to think about the pilgrims of the past; the ones who really roughed it outdoors and set off on journeys by foot. I thought of Jesus and his apostles travelling throughout the Holy Land; I thought of the pilgrims who walk the Camino de Santiago in Spain (which is on my bucket list of pilgrimages); I recalled my college days and even thought of the pilgrims in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.
We weren’t walking from Miami to D.C., so what was I concerned about? True, going beyond our comfort zone makes all of us uneasy. But a little sacrifice also goes a long way. So I packed a small suitcase, a backpack with all of my reporting gear (camera, lenses, laptop, pens, notepad, etc.), a neck pillow, and my St. Christopher (patron saint of travelers) pendant.
Leaving Miami was a lot simpler than I imagined; getting out of Florida, however, while adhering to the legal speed limit on I-95, takes anywhere between six and seven hours. Coming from so far away, we worried about a hiccup in security or a minor change in the pope’s itinerary. So we decided we would have to arrive even earlier at our destination, just to make sure we saw Pope Francis. Our pilgrims were troopers: More than willing to take shorter pit stops, we shrank a 40-minute stop at Port St. Lucie to a little over 30 minutes.
The time we bought was precious, especially when the first road signs mentioning Washington D.C. appeared as early as 2:20 a.m. At around 4:30 a.m., we spotted the Washington Monument, poking in the air like a beacon welcoming those who had come from so far.
What happened next caught me by surprise. It was cold! For native Miamians, anything below 70 degrees is winter, and D.C. welcomed us with temperatures in the upper 60s. The wind chill made my hands feel a little numb as I held onto my camera and stood by the fence bordering the papal parade route on the Ellipse.
But interacting with fellow pilgrims, some of them bundled for a winter blizzard, made me forget how cold I was and how tired I felt. Watching pilgrims pray, sing, embrace for selfies, chase down vendors with papal memorabilia, chant “Que viva el Papa,” and interact with other pilgrims they did not even know, I realized how blessed I was to live this moment and share it with so many.
This was my first time seeing Pope Francis — in fact my first time ever seeing a pope. I was not born when St. John Paul II visited Miami, but my family speaks fondly of that experience, especially because my grandfather was working at the Archdiocese of Miami at the time. I was a little disappointed that I could not share this papal experience with them now, but I pray that this will not be our only opportunity to see a pope up close.
After the pope passed in his Americanized Jeep Wrangler popemobile, at less than 10 miles per hour and less than 30 feet away, I felt calm and soothed — not exactly the feeling you’d expect while standing in a crowd of several thousand who had just pushed up behind you to catch a glimpse of the pope.
Throughout this entire journey, I remember thinking of how much change Pope Francis is bringing to the world by being such a simple, amiable man who wants to reach out to the crowd, regardless of the risk.
I was also grateful because among his priorities in coming to the United States was the World Meeting of Families in Philadelphia. And although I did not cover Philly, I celebrated a meeting with my own family after the archdiocesan pilgrims journeyed home. Instead of getting back on the bus, I ventured to Spotsylvania, Virginia, to spend time with family members that I only see once a year. I felt like a pioneer, hoping to blaze a trail for the rest of my family to come and visit in the future.
That night, after all I had endured with my fellow pilgrims during the last 72 hours, I groggily browsed through social media and headlines to catch coverage of the pope while trying to stay awake to see Archbishop Thomas Wenski on the Late Show with Stephen Colbert.
It was then that my cousin showed me a video of Speaker of the House John Boehner crying as Pope Francis addressed the crowd behind the Capitol building. Because we were about the length of a football field away, I had not noticed his emotion as I was taking pictures. I pulled out my camera and browsed through photos I had taken, and sure enough: Boehner was in tears. He announced his retirement from Congress the next morning.
For a holy man to bring about tears and a change of heart in a politician is a sure sign that change is happening — the kind that I pray will make us a better America, and a better world.
Comments from readers