Pope passes on Sister Mary's Knotted Grotto

Was Pope Francis still inside the basilica? Sister Mary Scullion of Philadelphia wasn't sure. The Mass had ended. She had gotten a ticket at the last minute, from some friends. She had stood along a side wall.

So Scullion waited. Standing amid her now famous Knotted Grotto installation, the longtime advocate for the homeless folded her arms, wondering if Francis might yet walk out and go into the grotto to bless it. She'd heard he wasn't feeling well.

Rey Mendez, 52, of Second and Girard, waited, too. He was waiting for the pope, waiting to see Francis walk into the grotto, push those 100,000 prayers written on strips of paper closer to fulfillment with a blessing, maybe turn and wave, who knows? - but wait, who was that?

"Father John!" Mendez shouted at the line of priests outside the Cathedral Basilica of SS. Peter and Paul, where Francis celebrated Mass. It was Mendez's priest, the Rev. John Olenik of Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary Church in Kensington. Olenik turned and waved back. There were shouts back and forth. "That was Father John!"

"That was so cool," said Mendez, a program manager with Jewish Employment and Vocational Services. "So cool. So cool."

So, as the day unfolded, not all pope dreams came true. Not all intentions were realized, not all knots unraveled.

The pope did not visit the Knotted Grotto, so joyously and emotionally embraced by the visiting pilgrims last week, so lovingly commissioned by Sister Mary's Project HOME, so successfully realized by artist Meg Seligman.

The temporary art installation was inspired by one of Francis' favorite religious images and prayers, "Mary, Undoer of Knots," which he encountered in Bavaria when he was a graduate student.

Saturday morning, many Philadelphia police officers did visit the grotto. They took pictures, some wrote their own messages on strips, adding their own hopes that the Virgin Mary would loosen the knots of their lives. The FBI appeared to do a security sweep, raising hopes of a papal grotto stop. But most officers took pictures and wandered inside, where a fountain and pool created a tranquil cocoon to protect any fragile spirit. Some likened the white strips to feeling enveloped by snow.

And just seeing uniformed Philadelphia police officers standing in front of those fluttering ribbons of intentions deeply moved people such as Jodene Dunphy, 42, visiting from California, who saw in that a vision of church and state that was not divided at all, that was mutually respectful and embracing. She said she had written a prayer for her marriage on a strip earlier in the week.

Mendez started to drift away, no true pope moment to speak of. He posted a picture on Facebook of Father John waving to him. "Father John of Visitation Church is in the house!" he captioned it. It would have to do.

His wife, Iris, a parking-ticket adjudicator, was with him. And really, their prayers had already made it to the finish line. Iris has been four years breast cancer-free, that time when her head was as bald as his a fading memory. Daughter Anjelica, 19, who had earlier pronounced herself willing to give up her boyfriend for the pope, left for her job at Jo-Ann Fabrics in the Northeast. Uncle Pablo Diaz, at 72, the youngest altar boy (man?) at Visitation, would have to settle for having a great wave back and forth with Father John, a view of the papal Fiat, and maybe a hint of papal white.

Across the security zone, it became clear the pope was no longer there. Scullion processed the disappointment, felt only because the moment had been so very possible, so very imminent, so very prayed and longed for. "We were told there was a decent chance" the pope would take a grotto detour just past the basilica entrance, she said.

But 100,000 other people have. And Scullion, too, was moved by the police officers and others who took a moment to enter that space, which perhaps would have been made more holy with a papal blessing but which already felt more and more holy all the time.

The locals who gathered across from the grotto to cheer and watch for a grotto blessing felt bad for her. "I'm brokenhearted for Sister Mary," said Florence Sturm, 57, of Bryn Mawr, who has been following the work of Scullion since she began coaxing homeless women off the street.

Scullion finally left and walked to the Embassy Suites, where an interview awaited. People recognized her, called out, hugged her.

"Did the pope get to see it?" asked Karen Duppel, 44, of Wilmington.

"He didn't," Scullion said with her slight smile. He didn't. "You know what? He still might."

Duppel hadn't seen the pope either. "This is just as good," she said, of running into Scullion. "This is our local pope."

Scullion was philosophical. Or maybe that's not the right word. She truly and deeply had hoped the pope would bless the grotto. She and others had arrived at 6:30 a.m. to straighten up the grotto, smooth out the ribbons, put tables out.

And what happened was what has happened all along. "More people tied knots," she said. Truly, she said, this has been one of the best times of her life. "It's all OK."

And so a humble grotto of ribbons blowing in the wind, north to south on this Saturday morning, Vine Street toward the Parkway, accumulates more prayers, expanding outward and upward to the roof of the basilica, awaiting its blessing.

"I still hold on to that hope," Scullion said. "God hears all our prayers. There's 100,000 prayers there. We've kept the Blessed Mother busy."

arosenberg@phillynews.com

609-823-0453 @amysrosenberg