I was talking with a missionary priest this evening and we mentioned Vatican city in our conversation. It made me think of a run-in that I and some friends had with the Swiss Guard. I have to tell you that the only pleasant thing about the entire episode is the telling of it. It was not caused because we were perceived as a threat to the Pope's security. It was caused by the fact that we had taken advantage of a crowd crush and went for a stroll behind St. Peter's Basilica and were making our way to the gardens. Of course we never made it. Because it was a festive occasion, the guard was decked out in the ceremonial uniform that you see here. Most often, on weekdays, the uniform is a dull, bluish grey. When they are in their work-a-day bluish greys they lose their boyish, sweetie-pie aspect and look just like the tough New York, no nonsense street patrol. The baby faced crowd-control patsy shown above is very noticeably armed with a well honed, very pointy sword. He knows that you know that he knows how to use it. So, that's why he can be polite, even downright charming. Pose with you for pictures, say a few words in well formed English syllables and then move on to the next cluster.
We got stopped by one of the gate guards whom we thought we had snookered. When his partner returned to the gate after a snooping round, our man came to greet us, yes, halberd in hand. The business end stayed up and away from the line of sight, but the shaft running down alongside his pretty knicker uniform pants, gently resting on the ground said all we had to know. The business end of his person was drilling holes through us. The fierce blue eyes in this guy spoke the only language we had to know. He was so polite, respectful, speaking softly but firmly in Italian, powdered lightly with a Frenchy accent. We feigned ignorance. He gently tried French. Blank. Feigned, of course. He smiled. Shifted his feet. Sharpened his eyes. Returned to Italian. "Reverends, this is not a joke. You are leaving now, and I will follow you to the perimeter." He moved aside, halberd still up, thank God. As we passed before him, we muttered deeply felt "Thank you's" [in Italian, of course] and walked with purposefulness to the neutral zone. When we got to the end of the line, he said, "Reverend Fathers, do not play games with the Swiss Guard."
In really, really nice English. We all laughed nervously while he and his partner were victoriously smiling.
If you are ever in Vatican City, enjoy the sight of the uniforms. Do not be fooled by them. They are covering a small but tough and dedicated army that serves the Kingdom of God. Death in the line of duty would be a reward for them. They are Swiss, but in Vatican City they are more than Swiss, they are Catholic, they are tough and they are fearless.
The photo on the right is what they look like most of the time.
No comments:
Post a Comment