Melissa Dvorak and her dad enjoy a moment together at the papal mass in Washington D.C. during Pope Francis’ U.S. visit.

Standing in front of a long security line, two security guards eyeball me.

“I need this,” I repeat. “I can’t play without it.”

I smile hopefully. It usually helps. But I’m met with another skeptical, squinty look.

“And how do you use this again?” one of the security guards asks.

“I place it on the harp, like this,” my hands miming an invisible instrument, “and turn it this way for flat or this way for sharp.”

The second security guard puffs up a bit and responds very officially, “I’m sorry, miss, we can’t allow weapons through the gates.”

I stare down at my tuning key. Oh yeah, Quentin Tarantino, you’ve got a harp ninja on your hands here. The first guy looks thoughtfully for a moment, his voice hushed, “You can bury it here and come back for it later.”

Ultimately, I did get in and with my harp-tuning-key-turned-martial-arts-weapon, which I had to agree to lock up after I had used it. What they didn’t know is I kept a second key with my harp, which was stored the night before in a Catholic University music room. (Harp ninjas are resourceful.)

If there was a missed cue during the papal mass, held on the campus of Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C., during Pope Francis’ historic U.S. visit in September, I didn’t see it. From start to finish, it was one of the smoothest events I’ve ever witnessed. And it was sublime. When Pope Francis first arrived, the air was electric. Crowds surged around the venue as the Popemobile drove all around the perimeter. Then when the Pope walked onto the outdoor altar—absolute silence—25,000 people and not a sound. No babies crying, no kids complaining, no birds tweeting. (I’m not really sure about the last one—there was probably tweeting.)

Before I talk about the music, three and a half hours is a long time to be placed on an outdoor stage with no means of escape. In this instance, made worse by an unlimited water supply. And, as we all know, hydration and trapped musicians make for a perilous situation. I started to imagine scenarios where I might escape from the camera’s omniscient gaze and make a run for the port-a-potty, but I decided I wanted no part of a mad dash off the stage for the restroom to be captured and broadcast on live international television. For the record, I made it to the end of the performance and to the bathroom in a graceful manner.

But, on to the music. Imagine this, 400 musicians and singers, all—and this is the best part—completely content. Throughout the two full days of rehearsals, up through the end of the event, everyone was (alliteratively) helpful, happy, and humble. Where else does that happen? The ensemble included the Catholic University Orchestra, the Washington Symphonic Brass and five choirs. All 19 pieces of music were either newly commissioned or arranged specifically for the event. Five pieces featured harp, which certainly lessened my practice load. Two pieces were most memorable and very enjoyable. The first was one of the commissioned pieces, “Cuenten las Maravillas del Señor/Proclaim His Marvelous Deeds,” by Cuban-American Tony Alonso, which included brass, harp, string quartet, and choir. The other was an arrangement of Copland’s “Simple Gifts” for choir, harp, and flute.

A personally touching part of the event was bringing my dad, a lifelong and devoted Catholic. When I was in high school, my dad drove me seven hours round-trip every Wednesday to my harp lessons in Washington D.C., and I don’t remember him complaining. Like most teenagers, I probably didn’t appreciate his level of commitment. Entire days lost on the road so his daughter could play the one instrument with no teachers within 200 miles of her home. After the mass, on our one-and-a-half-mile walk back to my car (did I mention I was the only one who couldn’t take the metro?), pushing the Style 23 harp my parents bought for me after my Peabody graduation, my Dad reflected wistfully on how a parent never knows where his kids will take him. And now, as a parent myself, I could appreciate everything he sacrificed for me over those many years. In that moment, I realized I had shared something wonderful with him. This long journey somehow led to this singular event, which had such a transcendent meaning for him. And it made me wonder where my children may take me one day.

In case you’re wondering, I’m hoping for Mars. Who doesn’t want to be the best harpist on the planet? •