09-30-2015, 11:10 AM
I put this together in the hopes the magazine for Serra International will publish it.
Excitement in DC
My father, Greg Lynch, and I returned from a great dinner at the Capital grill to find reporters standing in front of the Hyatt Regency. NBC10 from Philadelphia had sent Rosemary Connors to Washington, DC to get some background reports on the visitors thoughts about the Pope’s visit.
Ms. Connors beckoned us both over when she found we had come for the Mass. I demurred and let my father do the interview by himself. I figured it was his time to wax prosaic about his journey to the Canonization Mass for St. Serra.
As I stood to the side filming the interview with my cel phone, I realized that none of it would ever reach the air. Connors mission was to get stories about the sense of excitement people felt during the Pope’s visit to Washington. Several times she asked my father directly about his excitement.
That wasn’t going to happen. My father is a stoic Yankee from Massachusetts. He is not going to stand on the corner and trumpet his emotions. He talked about St. Serra. He talked about Serra International and it’s importance. All important subjects, but not ones that fit into the story template Connors was building.
After my father finished his stand-up interview and Connors moved on to Greg Schweitz, all I could think was that if Connors had seen what my father had gone through to get here and what he would have to do to actually get to Wednesday’s Mass, he would be the lead story.
In January, when Pope Francis announced his plans to Canonize St. Serra on the flight back from the Philippines, my father immediately made his intentions clear that he would be attending the mass. At this point, there were no clear plans about the Mass, but my father knew without a doubt he would be in attendance.
By June a place and a date had been announced. The mass would be at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC. My father immediately went on line and made hotel reservations for the week when Pope Francis was to be in Washington. At this point, Serra International didn’t even have confirmation that they would be given any tickets to the ceremony. Didn’t matter. My father would be in attendance.
To be honest, my father shouldn’t travel by air. His back pain makes it uncomfortable for him to sit for any length of time. He also has a wound in his posterior which makes it equally painful to sit. He carries an oxygen concentrator so he can breathe. Carrying the concentrator requires an extra round of security that the ticket agents don’t fully understand. And yet, still without tickets to the mass, my father was making airline reservations. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind he would be going.
As if it were pre-ordained or simply my father’s faith paying off, he obtained his ticket to the Mass. On Wednesday September 23 at 1 o’clock, we boarded the bus for the National Shrine. If you were thinking that it would be smooth sailing from here on in, you would be mistaken.
Washington, DC seemed to be pretty much on lock down. If you were out wandering the streets, the police presence was constant. Everywhere, there were police cars, secret service men patrolling on bicycles, and soldiers standing on street corners. Barricades were going up around every monument. The main mall and the grounds of the Capitol Building had been completely fenced off. Tour bus operators were canceling their tours for the next two days because it was impossible to move around the many blocked of streets. If you asked the locals, this was an unprecedented level of security.
It was about a 3 mile journey from the Hyatt Regency to the Basilica. In normal times, the journey shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. Forty minutes later we were still at the barricade waiting to go on to the Basilica grounds. The bus driver inform us that he is not getting beyond the barricade. We will pull off to the right, park and walk in.
My father can’t walk long distances. He’s good for about a hundred feet on his best health day. The place where we disembark from the bus lies 3/4’s of a mile from the Basilica. Renting a wheel chair would have been excellent idea, but at the time, we didn’t realize we would be this far away.
My father must have been in agony as we walked up the hill towards the beginning of the security line. We tried to get him on the golf carts but they informed us they could only take us as far as the end of the security line. We would still have to walk from there.
My father took multiple breaks along the way. We passed an empty parking lot that could have conveniently held our bus and was only a hundred yards from the Mass site.
On one side, a man constantly harangued us with his bull horn about what was wrong with the church and in particular the priesthood. He yelled insults despite the fact the priests he besmirched walked only a few feet in front of us. Signs on the hill on the other side of the line questioned whether Pope Francis was the antichrist.
Despite this negativity, people in the line continued to cheer for Il Papa, at times overwhelming the man and his obnoxious bullhorn.
The line to actually get through the metal detectors seemed interminable. Either they were understaffed or they didn’t have enough people to do the searches. And yet, everywhere you looked there were people in uniform. Even the TSA was in the house. The crowd for an Arena event such as basketball game or a concert would have been about the same size for the Canonization Mass. Yet, it would never take this long to get inside those arenas. And they would do a similar frisk and scan.
A passing volunteer pushing a wheelchair through the crowd allowed my father to follow behind him through the check-point. What a relief to see my father finally get that much closer to his seat.
By the time I caught up to my father in his seat, the oppressive mood of the security line had lightened considerably. Anticipation for Pope Francis’s arrival was rising. Security started to block off the seated area from the standing area to create a small road between the two groups. People jammed both sides of this aisle in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the Holy Father.
Before you new it, Pope Francis drove by in his custom made Jeep Popemobile. The crowds cheered. Everyone jockeyed to get there camera up to snap a picture of the Pope. Pope Francis waved and smiled as he drove by. When he reached the end of the drive, he turned around and came back again. More photos were taken. The cheers grew louder.
It was with great expectation, that the crowd waited to hear what Pope Francis had to say about St. Serra. Here is part of what the Holy Father had to say about the newly minted Saint.
Smiling, my father rose to attend communion. I haven’t seen a smile that big on his face in quite some time. All the work he had done in the name of St. Serra had come to fruition and he was overjoyed to be a party to this celebration.
An hour later as we tried to find our bus, which was blocked to us by security, my father still wore his smile. Long after the tribulations of getting to and from the Basilica have faded, I’m sure the memory of Pope Francis canonizing St. Serra will burn bright in his mind.
I only wish Rosemary Connors from NBC Philadelphia were there to film those moments, to see my Father’s actions in pursuit of his long held dream. Certainly his struggles were no walk from Vera Cruz to Mexico City, but they showed his devotion to see a resolution to his dream. If they wanted to talk about excitement, they would have shown that.
Excitement in DC
My father, Greg Lynch, and I returned from a great dinner at the Capital grill to find reporters standing in front of the Hyatt Regency. NBC10 from Philadelphia had sent Rosemary Connors to Washington, DC to get some background reports on the visitors thoughts about the Pope’s visit.
Ms. Connors beckoned us both over when she found we had come for the Mass. I demurred and let my father do the interview by himself. I figured it was his time to wax prosaic about his journey to the Canonization Mass for St. Serra.
As I stood to the side filming the interview with my cel phone, I realized that none of it would ever reach the air. Connors mission was to get stories about the sense of excitement people felt during the Pope’s visit to Washington. Several times she asked my father directly about his excitement.
That wasn’t going to happen. My father is a stoic Yankee from Massachusetts. He is not going to stand on the corner and trumpet his emotions. He talked about St. Serra. He talked about Serra International and it’s importance. All important subjects, but not ones that fit into the story template Connors was building.
After my father finished his stand-up interview and Connors moved on to Greg Schweitz, all I could think was that if Connors had seen what my father had gone through to get here and what he would have to do to actually get to Wednesday’s Mass, he would be the lead story.
In January, when Pope Francis announced his plans to Canonize St. Serra on the flight back from the Philippines, my father immediately made his intentions clear that he would be attending the mass. At this point, there were no clear plans about the Mass, but my father knew without a doubt he would be in attendance.
By June a place and a date had been announced. The mass would be at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC. My father immediately went on line and made hotel reservations for the week when Pope Francis was to be in Washington. At this point, Serra International didn’t even have confirmation that they would be given any tickets to the ceremony. Didn’t matter. My father would be in attendance.
To be honest, my father shouldn’t travel by air. His back pain makes it uncomfortable for him to sit for any length of time. He also has a wound in his posterior which makes it equally painful to sit. He carries an oxygen concentrator so he can breathe. Carrying the concentrator requires an extra round of security that the ticket agents don’t fully understand. And yet, still without tickets to the mass, my father was making airline reservations. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind he would be going.
As if it were pre-ordained or simply my father’s faith paying off, he obtained his ticket to the Mass. On Wednesday September 23 at 1 o’clock, we boarded the bus for the National Shrine. If you were thinking that it would be smooth sailing from here on in, you would be mistaken.
Washington, DC seemed to be pretty much on lock down. If you were out wandering the streets, the police presence was constant. Everywhere, there were police cars, secret service men patrolling on bicycles, and soldiers standing on street corners. Barricades were going up around every monument. The main mall and the grounds of the Capitol Building had been completely fenced off. Tour bus operators were canceling their tours for the next two days because it was impossible to move around the many blocked of streets. If you asked the locals, this was an unprecedented level of security.
It was about a 3 mile journey from the Hyatt Regency to the Basilica. In normal times, the journey shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. Forty minutes later we were still at the barricade waiting to go on to the Basilica grounds. The bus driver inform us that he is not getting beyond the barricade. We will pull off to the right, park and walk in.
My father can’t walk long distances. He’s good for about a hundred feet on his best health day. The place where we disembark from the bus lies 3/4’s of a mile from the Basilica. Renting a wheel chair would have been excellent idea, but at the time, we didn’t realize we would be this far away.
My father must have been in agony as we walked up the hill towards the beginning of the security line. We tried to get him on the golf carts but they informed us they could only take us as far as the end of the security line. We would still have to walk from there.
My father took multiple breaks along the way. We passed an empty parking lot that could have conveniently held our bus and was only a hundred yards from the Mass site.
On one side, a man constantly harangued us with his bull horn about what was wrong with the church and in particular the priesthood. He yelled insults despite the fact the priests he besmirched walked only a few feet in front of us. Signs on the hill on the other side of the line questioned whether Pope Francis was the antichrist.
Despite this negativity, people in the line continued to cheer for Il Papa, at times overwhelming the man and his obnoxious bullhorn.
The line to actually get through the metal detectors seemed interminable. Either they were understaffed or they didn’t have enough people to do the searches. And yet, everywhere you looked there were people in uniform. Even the TSA was in the house. The crowd for an Arena event such as basketball game or a concert would have been about the same size for the Canonization Mass. Yet, it would never take this long to get inside those arenas. And they would do a similar frisk and scan.
A passing volunteer pushing a wheelchair through the crowd allowed my father to follow behind him through the check-point. What a relief to see my father finally get that much closer to his seat.
By the time I caught up to my father in his seat, the oppressive mood of the security line had lightened considerably. Anticipation for Pope Francis’s arrival was rising. Security started to block off the seated area from the standing area to create a small road between the two groups. People jammed both sides of this aisle in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the Holy Father.
Before you new it, Pope Francis drove by in his custom made Jeep Popemobile. The crowds cheered. Everyone jockeyed to get there camera up to snap a picture of the Pope. Pope Francis waved and smiled as he drove by. When he reached the end of the drive, he turned around and came back again. More photos were taken. The cheers grew louder.
It was with great expectation, that the crowd waited to hear what Pope Francis had to say about St. Serra. Here is part of what the Holy Father had to say about the newly minted Saint.
Pope Francis Wrote:Today we remember one of those witnesses who testified to the joy of the Gospel in these lands, Father Junípero Serra. He was the embodiment of “a Church which goes forth”, a Church which sets out to bring everywhere the reconciling tenderness of God. Junípero Serra left his native land and its way of life. He was excited about blazing trails, going forth to meet many people, learning and valuing their particular customs and ways of life. He learned how to bring to birth and nurture God’s life in the faces of everyone he met; he made them his brothers and sisters. Junípero sought to defend the dignity of the native community, to protect it from those who had mistreated and abused it. Mistreatment and wrongs which today still trouble us, especially because of the hurt which they cause in the lives of many people.
Smiling, my father rose to attend communion. I haven’t seen a smile that big on his face in quite some time. All the work he had done in the name of St. Serra had come to fruition and he was overjoyed to be a party to this celebration.
An hour later as we tried to find our bus, which was blocked to us by security, my father still wore his smile. Long after the tribulations of getting to and from the Basilica have faded, I’m sure the memory of Pope Francis canonizing St. Serra will burn bright in his mind.
I only wish Rosemary Connors from NBC Philadelphia were there to film those moments, to see my Father’s actions in pursuit of his long held dream. Certainly his struggles were no walk from Vera Cruz to Mexico City, but they showed his devotion to see a resolution to his dream. If they wanted to talk about excitement, they would have shown that.
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit
