Pope's visit to Philly, a year later: Effects are personal

Pope Francis' visit to Philadelphia a year ago marked one of the largest events ever hosted in the city. The popular pontiff told 800,000 parishioners on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway to be kinder to one another, preached mercy for immigrants, rehabilitation for prisoners, and blessed at least a dozen babies thrust into his embrace.

And then he left.

The city hasn't changed too much since the historic weekend in Philadelphia, and people - here and around the country - have much work to do on being kinder.

But for several of the region's residents - a 15-year-old singer, a 10-year-old boy with cerebral palsy, at least one city prison inmate, and a group of community activists - the visit has had a more individual and lasting impact.

"I think life goes on and it's up to us to have a more consistent and careful response to the message of the Holy Father," said Father Gerald Dennis Gill, pastor at the Cathedral Basilica of SS. Peter and Paul. "The impact has been very personal - best seen in the hearts and lives of those who met him."

In the year since Pope Francis' visit, Catholic church attendance in the region has stayed mostly flat. Catholic schools, which celebrate the anniversary this week with philanthropy and prayer, enroll about the same number of students. More men entered the seminary in 2016 than in 2015, a nationwide trend.

The city spent $8 million in city services and policing on the pope's visit, despite initial assurances that there would be no cost to taxpayers. When Mayor Kenney took office, he tried to recoup an additional $4 million from the World Meeting of Families, contending the city should not have paid for the preparation and cleanup. The organization declined.

Still, most city and tourism officials, Kenney included, tout the attention it brought to the city.

"Philadelphia is having a series of moments, and the papal visit and World Meeting of Families shed tremendous light on our city," said Julie Coker Graham, president of the Philadelphia Convention and Visitors Bureau.

In its bid for the NFL draft, which will be in Philadelphia in April, the city submitted schematics of the papal stage, showing the Parkway's capacity for large crowds and the TV-friendly setup.

Both domestic and international visits to the city increased by 3 percent each from 2014 to 2015.

The city also learned a few things about communications after a frustrating lead-up to the papal visit in which news of huge traffic boxes, perimeter fencing, and crippling security restrictions scared many residents and business owners.

"There were definitely lessons learned, and I think we saw a different level of communication for the DNC and also a managing of expectations in terms of how local businesses would fare," Coker Graham said.

Ask the top people involved in planning the papal visit to talk about its effect, and they don't focus on economic impact or tourism numbers.

They tell the story of the Keating family.

Chuck Keating has described the day his son was unexpectedly blessed by Francis on an airport tarmac to reporters around the world.

The play-by-play still gives him chills.

On Sept. 25, 2015, the pope got off the plane at Philadelphia International Airport as the Bishop Shanahan High School band, directed by Keating, played. The pope greeted dignitaries handpicked to meet him. Then, he ducked into the black Fiat and it started to drive away, past Keating's son Michael, who was sitting in his wheelchair.

Suddenly, the car stopped. Francis got out and walked over to Michael. He cradled the 10-year-old boy's face in his hands and leaned over to kiss him.

"It's still so unbelievable," Keating said last week. "Every time we look at Michael, all the memories come right back."

Michael, who has cerebral palsy and cannot walk or talk, almost didn't make it to the airport that day.

The wheelchair lift on the van the family used to transport him was broken. So to get there, Michael rode on his mother's lap on a school bus that departed before dawn.

The image of the blessing prompted people from around the world to send letters and donations (more than $130,000 in total) to the Keatings.

It allowed the family to buy a new van for Michael and pay off some medical bills.

This weekend, the family decorated their Elverson home with the letters, cards, and newspaper clippings received throughout the year. They are having a gathering with family and friends to commemorate the anniversary of the visit.

"My kids are still young, and more than anything this has helped them understand a little more about their faith and the kindness of people," Keating said. "That outpouring of support - it was good for my kids to see so much goodness in the world."

Bobby Hill of Andorra had about five minutes to ready himself for the performance of a lifetime last fall. Hill was at the Festival of Families the Saturday night of the papal visit to sing with the Keystone State Boychoir. A set change left a gap in the programming, and Hill's choir director thought of him.

With little warning - or hesitation - Bobby sang Pie Jesu a cappella to the Parkway packed with hundreds of thousands of people and 30 million more watching on TV.

"I would say 90 percent of his success is attributable to that night," said Bobby's father, Jerrold Hill. "That gave him so much tremendous exposure."

Since that night, Bobby sang the national anthem at the Democratic National Convention, at a rally for Hillary Clinton, and was honored for his voice alongside John Legend and Prince.

He is known worldwide. In France, they referred to him as "little boy, crazy voice."

Each week, Bobby has about three bookings, which he manages by taking high school classes online.

"I get attached to the pope - I'm like an extension of the pope's visit in America," Bobby said. "I've had older women come up to me and say, 'Oh, can I hug you?' "

"They think there's some contact transference for the blessing," his father said.

For all the change in the 15-year-old's life, another big one is coming. He is still a soprano and has all of his high notes - for now. But his voice will probably soon change.

Hill isn't worried.

"It's just been a whirlwind this whole year and like, it's crazy, all of the wonderful opportunities afforded to me just by going up there and singing for 60 seconds."

Farris Ravenell's life has not been easy. By age 22, he'd been arrested several times. Awaiting trial on an assault charge, he was one of a few hundred prisoners selected, based on good behavior, to meet the pontiff in September.

Elaine Ravenell remembers watching her son greet the pope on TV. Ravenell, herself a pastor, hoped the event would have a positive impact.

A few months after the visit, Ravenell was found not guilty on all charges and left prison.

Now 24, her son is spending lost time with his two daughters and trying to find work, she said. But 2½ years in prison had an effect on him, and reconnecting has been hard.

In July, he was rearrested on drug charges. He's out on bail.

"It's frustrating, because it's the same thing: wrong place, wrong people, wrong time. I tell him he can't spend time with those people, but he goes back," she said.

Ravenell himself didn't respond to calls to be interviewed for this story.

"I think for him to meet the pope, it was a wonderful thing," Elaine Ravenell said. "But I don't really know that he thinks about it all that much."

Jon Geeting went for a run down eerily empty Market Street the weekend the pope was in town and marveled at how quiet the city was without any cars. He noticed storefront architecture and restaurants he'd never seen before and how people really seemed to talk to one another.

Geeting, director of engagement for the millennial PAC Philly 3.0, asked, "How can we replicate this?"

He found others with the same idea and began a campaign for a car-free weekend.

Saturday was the first Philly Free Streets event - 10 miles of roads closed to cars to promote walking, biking, and art. The event, however, wasn't free. City officials expected it would cost the city $150,000, most of it in overtime for city workers.

Geeting's group formed a nonprofit and is now pushing for car-free weekends in the future.

It's ironic, Geeting says, to think of how the movement stemmed from security so many residents resented.

"There was this counternarrative: 'I'm getting out of town' because no one knew how invasive it was going to be," Geeting said. "Now in hindsight, for those of us who did stick around, I think it's mostly good feelings about the pope."

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