The Crying Room

I have been inside the “Room of Tears”, known as the “Crying Room”. That’s the first stop a newly elected Pope makes within minutes of being elected in Conclave.  It’s the new Pope’s last minute of freedom.  There are many Crying Room pictures showing up on up on social media these days of Conclave. It’s described as a secret Vatican room.  And it is.  I was standing right next to it and didn’t see the door, until I walked through it to this well-kept secret.  All social media has the one, same picture, but no one tells of their experience in the room.  This is my story.

          Let me start from the beginning, thirty years ago.  I had survived living two years in Rome while studying Canon Law at The Angelicum.  It was the Vatican Museums that helped me keep balanced.  I often went there when the work was heaviest.  After I was back home in the U.S. making a living again, I became a patron of the Vatican Museums.  It was the least I could do for the place where I spent most of my free time in Rome. Of course, the Sistine Chapel was my favorite place in the Museum. 

          As a Patron, one of the benefits I had was a private tour of the Museum before it opened.  To see the Sistine Chapel without the crowds was a dream come true.  The first time I took a tour as a Patron, my volunteer guide was a retired art history professor.  I told her I wanted to go the Sistine Chapel only, and off we went.  The Sistine is the last thing to see when visiting the Museums.  It’s a long walk, but worth it.  The professor and I spent an hour alone in the Chapel and it was obviously a favorite place of hers.  She knew every nook and cranny as if she was Mrs. Michaelangelo.  She shared it all and I lapped it up.  When my tour was ended, I knew all I could about the art of the Sistine Chapel. 

          A few years later, I was back doing Canon Law work in Rome.  I took a break so off I went for another Patron tour.  This time my tour guide was Sam.  Her father was Italian and her mother was British. She really enjoyed being a guide at the Museum.  She was extremely knowledgeable of the Museums and was surprised that I just wanted to go directly to the Sistine Chapel to sit on one of the benches around the walls and look up in quiet. As we made our way through to the Chapel, it was plain that everyone on staff and security knew Sam and liked her. She was also a stunning blonde. Put her among the Italian security guards and it was like having a get-out-of-jail-free card for anything unusual we did there.

          Once we got to the Sistine Chapel, Sam told me she wanted me to remember my time with her there.  She strolled over to the security guard before “The Last Judgment” and gave him her most dazzling smile.  They talked excitedly with their hands for a few minutes, then Sam ambled on back to me.  “Follow me”, she said, “I’m getting you into the Crying Room.  Don’t talk or stop.  Just stay close to me until we’re inside”.  And I did just that.

          The guard looked away and took a couple of steps from his spot.  It was a door that fit into the painting. You could not tell it was there.  We passed inside and the door shut quickly behind us.  “We’ve got five minutes”, Sam said, “but let’s try for ten”.  Suddenly the realization of where I was became overwhelming.  I stood still and let it sink in.  I couldn’t move.  I didn’t run my fingers over the gray walls; I didn’t kneel on the Pope’s kneeler in the center of the room; I didn’t run onto that famous balcony. I just stood there frozen and overwhelmed.  Sam, ever the tour guide, was talking about the history and drama of this room, but I couldn’t hear her, I was just looking around every inch of that room and breathing deeply to take it all in. It was a moment I will never forget.  It was one of the most spiritual moments of my life.

          When there was an impatient knock on the door, we hurried out.  I have been to the Sistine Chapel many times since then.  Each time I just look at that door, close my eyes and bring it all back in my mind.  It is probably the closest any woman will get to the papacy.  I could feel that fateful moment every new Pope has after he says yes and accepts his fate as Pope.  After he has a few moments to take it all in, and maybe cry, he steps out onto that balcony to meet the world in a new way.

          I remember my thought running back out that door. It must have been ok for me to have that experience because God didn’t strike me dead.  Thanks God, and thank you for that experience. Thank you, too, Sam!