For those of us who grew up with the nasal twang of Blowin' in the Wind and Like a Rolling Stone fermenting in our little brains some 30 years ago, last Saturday night was a truly mind-blowing experience. (Those were the adjectives we used in those days).
For last Saturday night, rock idol Bob Dylan sang for Pope John Paul II during a rock concert, organised by the Italian Bishops Conference, to mark the end of a week-long Eucharist Congress in Bologna.
Thirty years ago, the idea that Dylan might sing for the Pope (and stop to shake hands and reverentially bow to him) would have seemed weird, man, really weird. (Those adjectives, again).
Bob Dylan, after all, was the high priest of anti-conformist protest. The Pope is a high priest, certainly, but one marked by a theologically conservative evangelical zeal. Thirty years ago, it would have seemed impossible to find common ground between the two, let alone witness them shaking hands on a rock concert platform.
The times, however, they are achanging. With the exception of his voice, which has become even more nasal and rough, to the point of being simply flat and out of tune, Dylan seems to have mellowed.
Looking at the two icons, one a rock idol and the other a spiritual leader, comparisons inevitably prompt themselves. Dylan (56) is 21 years younger than the Pope but that does not stop him looking nearly as shaky on his pins as the ageing Pontiff, who these days leans heavily on a walking stick during public ceremonies.
If the Pope has his faithful Polish private secretary, Monsignor Stanislaw Dziwisz, always at his side, whispering in his ear and telling him what comes next during a public ceremony, so, too, did Dylan seem to need a reminder from a member of his backing band to let him know the time had come to walk over and shake hands with the Pope.
Both men have had their share of health problems (Dylan, remember, recently suffered a life-threatening heart infection), and it shows. While the Pope often looks tired, sometimes bored, and his right hand continues to shake uncontrollably, Dylan also looked pale and puffy. He nearly fell at least twice on his unsteady stomp across stage to greet the Pope.
When the Pope began reading his formal address, he seemed so weak and his speech so slurred that one wondered if he would get to the end of it. Then he laid down his written address and began to speak off the cuff, to explain the meaning of the Eucharist to his audience.
His speech improved remarkably, a glint came into his eye and he even found time for a little joke. After a lengthy quote in Latin, he mischievously failed to deliver a translation, saying: "Now, of course, you lot all know Latin, so . . ."
As the cry of "Giovanni Paolo, Giovanni Paolo" came from the youthful audience, the Pope continued to smile mischievously, clearly enjoying himself. Earlier in the evening, a group of young people had recited the words of one of Dylan's celebrated songs, before turning to the Pope to ask him, "How many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man?"
A preacher with a less inspired sense of evangelical mission than John Paul II might have dismissed the question, finding it inappropriate, banal and cited in no meaningful context. John Paul II, however, is not a Pope likely to give up a chance to teach the word of God, be it to an order of nuns at a Vatican audience or to a gathering of 400,000 rock fans in the city that until recently was known as the capital of Italian communism. He had his answer ready: "One. Only one. That is the road of man and this is Christ . . . He is the road of truth and the road of life."
As he comes to the end of his life, the Pope remains fired by his sense of evangelical mission. As Dylan prepares for the release of a new album, Time Out of Mind, one wonders what future inspiration he will find for the rest of his life. Over the years, Dylan has been agnostic, Jewish and a born-again Christian. Will he turn again to God? The answer is blowin' in the wind.