Early Sunday morning brought a surge of relief: the Vatican’s Airbus 320, carrying Pope Leo XIV and his delegation from Turkey, was cleared for takeoff. A crucial software update had been completed, and our flight to Lebanon was finally a go. After days of uncertainty, a collective “Hallelujah!” echoed among the traveling journalists.
This wasn’t just another papal trip. Having covered nearly a dozen, I can say with certainty that Pope Leo’s first international pilgrimage was unlike any other. It began with an unexpected, heartwarming touch – the aroma of home. Fellow passengers gifted the Chicago-born Pope with lovingly baked pumpkin pies, eliciting genuine delight.
Thanksgiving Day unfolded with a surprisingly festive meal served with real silverware and cloth napkins, a small comfort amidst the intensity of the journey. But the true weight of the trip settled in during a massive Mass in Istanbul, attended by 4,000 members of Turkey’s tiny Catholic community. The history of this land, marked by the tragic loss of over a million Christians in the early 20th century, hung heavy in the air.
Sitting beside Elise Harris, the American journalist granted the Pope’s first interview, I witnessed a quiet moment of grace. As Pope Leo passed, he offered a nearly imperceptible nod and blessing, a gesture that felt profoundly personal and moving. It was a small act, yet it spoke volumes about his humility.
Throughout his time in Turkey, Pope Leo consistently emphasized the urgent need for peace and unity. He delivered this message to President Erdogan in Ankara, to Jewish religious leaders in Istanbul, and alongside Orthodox patriarchs at the 1,700th anniversary commemoration of the Council of Nicaea. A joint declaration signed with Patriarch Bartholomew symbolized a powerful display of Christian solidarity.
His words resonated with a plea for understanding beyond religious boundaries. “We live in a world where religion is too often used to justify wars and atrocities,” he declared, urging everyone to “break down the walls of prejudices and mistrust” and become instruments of peace. It was a message desperately needed in a region steeped in conflict.
A shadow loomed over the proceedings – the presence of Mehmet Ali Agca, the man who attempted to assassinate Pope John Paul II in 1981. Now living in Iznik, Agca had expressed a desire to meet Pope Leo, a request that was firmly denied. He was quietly escorted out of town, a stark reminder of past violence.
Istanbul held echoes of previous papal visits. I recalled covering Pope Benedict XVI in 2006, navigating the delicate aftermath of controversial remarks about Islam. His visit to the Blue Mosque, a gesture of respect and reconciliation, had been a pivotal moment.
Pope Francis also prayed at the Blue Mosque in 2014, and expectations were high that Pope Leo would follow suit. The Vatican press office initially indicated he had, but a closer look revealed a different reality. We, the “vaticanisti,” observed that the Pope’s visit was one of silent reflection, a respectful pause rather than a public prayer.
The Vatican spokesman clarified that the Pope had spent his time “in silence, in the spirit of reflection and listening.” This quiet contemplation, this profound respect for others, perfectly encapsulates the essence of this 70-year-old leader. His first words upon being elected – “Peace be with you” – set the tone for his papacy.
Yet, despite the hopeful signs and powerful messages, the ultimate impact of Pope Leo’s call for unity in the Middle East remains to be seen. The path to peace is long and arduous, and the region’s complexities are immense. But the journey, and the message, are undeniably vital.
