Habemus Papam: The Day Algebra Took a Backseat to History

During the lunch hour on Monday, October 16, 1978, word quickly spread on campus that a new pope had been elected. He would be the third pope that year, for Pope St. Paul VI had died on August 6 after a fifteen-year reign. His successor, Pope Blessed John Paul I, died unexpectedly on September 28, only thirty-three days after ascending to the Chair of St. Peter. I calculated that sometime during fifth period of the school day, the new pontiff would appear on the central balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica. Thanks to SJET and the TVs in each classroom, we could watch the live transmission from Vatican City. While those old black-and-white TVs weren’t ideal, they’d suffice. But, then, suddenly, I remembered to my great disappointment that I had Fr. J.B. Leininger, S.J., for Algebra II & Trigonometry fifth period. Fr. Leininger had never missed a day of school in his life. He apparently never got sick. The election of the 263rd successor of the Apostle St. Peter would not stop him from teaching. I gave up all hope of seeing the event.

As I approached my locker in the 200 building at the end of the lunch period, I was shocked not to find Fr. Leininger in his long, black Jesuit cassock with his hands tucked snuggly into his black cincture standing outside his classroom door. Fr. Leininger, only recently christened “Darth Vader” since the previous year’s release of the first Star Wars movie, always waited outside his classroom until the school bell rang. Where was he? To make matters even more curious, his classroom was completely dark, the Venetian blinds closed, and the lights turned off. How could this be? Was the world coming to an end? When I walked into the classroom, I discovered to my great surprise that Fr. Leininger had turned on the television and was leaning against a wall facing the screen. Perhaps for the first time and, no doubt, the last time in his teaching career, he ignored the school bell when it rang and did not lead us in the Our Father. Rather, we watched the cardinals process out onto the balcony.

“Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum. Habemus papam!” said a red-robed cardinal.

“I announce to you great joy,” translated Fr. Leininger. “We have a pope!”

The cardinal then said the new pope’s baptismal name, Karol Wojytła (pronounced Vo-ee-tí-wa).

“They’ve elected an African!” Fr. Leininger blurted out. We all looked at him in amazement.

The cardinal continued, “The Archbishop of Kraków.”

“No, no,” Fr. Leininger immediately added, “he’s a Pole!”

There hadn’t been a non-Italian pope in four and a half centuries. But didn’t the pope have to be an Italian? Apparently not.

After Pope St. John Paul II had given his first papal blessing, urbi et orbi, to the city and to the world, Fr. Leininger turned off the TV, led us in prayer, checked that we had done our homework, and then promptly called one of us to the board where our unfortunate classmate was obliged to solve an algebra problem in front of the entire class. For the rest of the academic year, our section, it seemed, always remained about a day behind the others. No other world event merited delaying the other sections so that we could catch up.