No matter how humble we try to be, I think it’s safe to say all of us have our moments. Ego can take over, and we feel some sense, some rush of something that feels like power. When that happens, we feel sort of big.

For the past three days, I’ve been in the midst of something much bigger than me. I’m not talking about the crowds, although they have been large.

I’m not talking about the security, although it has been, at times, overwhelming. And I’m not talking about the celebrity of this event, although it is evident throughout Manhattan.

I’m talking about the pure largesse of the history and spirituality enveloping, not only this event, but what Roman Catholics are confident is the living proof of Apostolic Succession. Ever since Jesus turned to Peter, who had run away the night of the crucifixion, and instead of saying “I told you so,” looked him in the eye and said, “Build my church,” there has been someone in charge.

That person is now Benedict XVI.

It’s bigger than me.

I used to fight this. Authority seemed too restrictive, and I was too smart for someone who differed from my thoughts. Now I’ve begun to see the authority is far more freeing than I could have ever imagined.

It’s bigger than me.

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Mass has just ended. I got a peek inside St. Patrick’s before the service began. A hundred thousand people surrounded the Cathedral and are lined on 5th Avenue. All of this is amazing. I am thankful to be here.

Hopefully, Benedict’s message of hope will soon take root.

It is bigger than me.

Peace.