Last Wednesday, our day began with a Novus Ordo Latin Mass at the Tomb of Blessed John Paul II to ask for his intercession in the conclave. You know it is a good day when Mass at his tomb gets overshadowed by something even better!
My community was together in the square for the moment. Wednesday being our usual community night of prayer, we arrived together at the Square at 5:30pm to find a sea of umbrellas. Once settled, our Chaplain, Fr. Joseph Carola, SJ led us in Vespers and the Rosary offered for all the Cardinals in Conclave. Though we were just a couple hundred yards from the very men who were casting their ballots, we felt universes away as we patiently waited for the smoke, eager to see anything, black or white--though we all had a strong preference this time around. The system for alerting the world, simple in theory, is both mysterious and pseudo-liturgical to the curious 21st century mind, which is perhaps why so few people will stroll down the street to get to an "ordinary" Sunday Mass, yet hundreds of thousands will drop everything and run across the city of Rome, all because of a few whiffs of smoke that rise in triumph out of a little stack.
When that smoke came, it came. And it was white. At the sign, the tens of thousands who had already gathered in the square charged to the front of the barricades as though a general had just sent his orders to prepare for battle. I can tell you, these troops did not need to be told twice! Spotting my group was relatively easy, since we had the American and Vatican flags attached to 15 foot flag poles, but sticking with them was another matter altogether.
I quickly found myself detached from the main contingent of Bernardians, but still with a cluster. So there we were, suddenly shoulder to shoulder and at times pushed front to back until the excess air was pushed out of us, as if a giant man was trying to shove bubble wrap inside a box that was too small for all the contents. Someone has to pop! Discomfort aside, here we were, next to complete strangers from all different countries throughout the world, yet we were united by our love for Jesus Christ and His Church, and our unconditional love for the successor of Peter, whoever it would be. This is a bond that no political borders can divide.
Still awaiting the announcement of who the next Pope would be, my group offered another Rosary for him. Then, we caught our breath and took in the size of the crowd. There were some little Italian ladies to my right, some American college students in Rome for spring break in front of me, and a young woman from Latin America to my left, along with a few of my community members. In her broken english, she was able to share, using words interspersed with tears of joy, her gratitude for being in Rome at this time, a series of her events well beyond anyone's control. Singing, cheering, and chants broke forth as a general feeling of true joy flooded the square. The rain would not dampen our spirits.
Many minutes after the massive bells of St. Peter's rang out the news to the city and the world, a cardinal stepped out onto the loggia, the balcony specially prepared with regal red drapery for this event, to announce the Pope. All of you following on Television and the internet had a clear advantage over us, who could barely hear over the excitement of the crowd. Individuals around me caught bits and pieces of the official Latin declaration, and together we caught Ärgentina" and Francesco, but we were not sure if Francesco was his legal name or the name of our next Pope. We turned to each other with furrowed brows and puzzled looks, yet with a glimmer in our eyes, knowing once again how futile the media is in predicting who the Pope would be. Cardinals-1, Media-0. A surprise? You bet. To be expected? Of course.
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| Swiss Guards in formation after triumphal procession to greet the new Pope |
Like children waiting to rush downstairs on Christmas morning to open presents, the crowd fixed its eyes to the white curtain of the loggia, eager to keep the lamps trimmed and burning for when their new shepherd would come to the wedding feast. At any slight rustle of the curtain, the crowd would sharply inhale Ahhhh!", then sharply tell others to quiet down in case that was the moment. Lights turned on behind the curtain, and the tension mounted. The drapes were drawn back, doors opened, and the cheers began. By now, out of respect for some of the vertically-challenged Romans, all the flags were stowed away and umbrellas lowered, so everyone would have a fair shot to catch the world's first glace of Pope Francis.
There he was, in all white, a small, but mighty figure. Shyly, he rose his right hand to greet the crowd, which was more than enough to make us all erupt in excitement. With my broken Italian, I was not able to understand his entire greeting message, but I sure understood his first six words: "Cari fratelli e sorelle, buona sera!" The Italians loved that simplicity, and all of us gathered this man's humility for starting such a significant moment with such ease, in a familiar way. We all prayed for Pope Emeritus Benedict. Before the blessing, Pope Francis asked all of the people of Rome to pray for him. At this point, with hundreds of thousands of people still in disbelief that the New Holy Father was there before their eyes, at his simple request the cheering stopped and you could hear a pin drop.
Nearly as quickly as he had come, he turned back in to the Vatican complex, the curtains closed, and in he went to prepare for the rebuilding of the Church.
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