Pope Francis has today made his last journey from Casa Santa Marta, the spartan Vatican lodge he chose to live in for 12 years.
Casa Santa Marta is the Vatican’s hotel. It is located across a gently sloping cobbled piazza close to the splendid dome of St Peter’s basilica.
I stayed there when moderating World Water Day for the Vatican and Carl Ganter of Circle of Blue on 22 March 2017. The Holy See’s ambition was to highlight the fast growing stress on global water supplies. I moderated a gruelling day of debate which overran considerably because so many delegates insisted on speaking.
But to this day I remember how my two nights at Casa Santa Marta gave me an insight into the simple life Pope Francis insisted on living. They also brought me face to face with the pontiff unexpectedly.
First an observation. The rooms – often occupied by cardinals, clergy and Vatican visitors – were large, airy and simple with a writing desk, TV and WiFi. Like the room assigned to me, all the rooms I saw had double beds and en suite showers. I was told that Pope Francis’s “quarters” were equally simple. As he made clear from the start of his papacy, that was the way he wanted to live.
Our first breakfast was a simple Italian style buffet. Nothing fancy in any way. And there across the dining room sat the Pope eating and chatting with staff having returned from leading first prayers of the day.
We were due to attend an outside audience with the Pope later that morning. So I thought it inappropriate to intervene. In any case my Spanish and Italian were too rusty to be reliable!
I watched Francis eat a light breakfast and leave alone.
In mid morning we gathered outside in St Peter’s Square in glorious spring weather for the audience. It was Rome at its most lovely. The terraced seating was not full. The Pope preached from his dais, then walked energetically among the crowd – including us – as he was always determined to do. He was an unmistakable figure whose physical presence was calm, focused and unassuming.
When we dispersed I needed to retrieve the backpack of conference briefing documents from my room in the Casa Santa Marta. This meant returning through Vatican security, including the rather stern and suspicious Swiss Guards.
Casa Santa Marta was empty. I moved through the corridors to my room, and I still remember the rather ghostly sounds as I shuffled across the tiles. Then I headed back to the elevator and the lobby.
The lift doors parted and there in front of me was the Pope. He stood alone in his usual white vestments as if waiting to greet me – which could not have been the case!. There were no aides, no cameras, no fanfare. Just the Pope alone, in the quiet hallway.
Only once before had I been lost for words and struck by being speechless. I had got into a lift in a Geneva hotel during the negotiations on the former Yugoslavia and found myself travelling briefly alone with Princess Diana.
I remember Pope Francis smiling and pausing to bow his head. Then he raised his hand as an acknowledgement of warmth but with no ceremony. What should I say? Once again my limited Spanish and Italian failed me.
It was unthinkable. I was not prepared as I should have been.
But it is a story I have told frequently in the past eight years. The memory of Pope Francis’s simplicity, humility, moral strength and quiet authority endures vividly to this day, along with another snatched sight: of Pope Francis in his tiny Fiat 500 car.
This legacy will endure well beyond his passing.
