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Recuerdos: 24 de abril, Plaza San Pedro, Misa inaugural Looking back: April 24, Saint Peter’s Square, Inauguration Mass Rückblick auf den 24. April auf dem Petersplatz, Amtseinführung |
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Con suerte y persistencia: llegamos! With luck and perseverance: here we are! Mit Glück und Beharrlichkeit: da sind wir! |
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Peregrinos en todos lados Pilgrims everywhere Überall sind Leute, selbst auf dem Dach! |
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Dos seminaristas felices Two happy seminarians Zwei glückliche Seminaristen |
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Se reune la familia de Dios God’s family united at St Peter’s Gottes Familie trifft sich auf dem Petersplatz Fotos: Donnelly © 2005 |
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ROME, Simon Donnelly. On Sunday 24 April, the fifth of Eastertide in the year of Our Lord 2005, surely for the last time in the Easter season of the present year, nearly half a million faithful gathered in the great square of St Peter’s—the square of martyrdom and tremendous suffering for the early church, the square where we wept for our dying pope, John Paul, just three weeks earlier, the square where we learned on Tuesday who our new pope would be, and today, again, filled with joy, this time to witness the formal beginning to the ministry of Benedict our new Holy Father.
The two million Polish pilgrims who came to say goodbye to Karol Wojtyla may be gone, but they live fresh in the memory of the city. Today, among the several hundred thousand on the square, there were certainly more Germans than Poles. The nationality may have changed, but the papacy continues, ever old and ever new. Many faces the same—familiar bishops, cardinals and patriarchs fresh from their conclave, many thousands of priests, sisters, lay people, and visitors from other Christian churches, Muslims, very few Jewish visitors (but only because of Passover)—and also many new faces, come to see and hear our new Pope.
It really struck me, as I fought all over again through security barrier after security barrier, waving my magic piece of paper, and finally squeezed my way onto the great piazza, filled with flags and cultural costumes from the ends of the world (especially Bavaria!), and religious and priests and just people from every tribe in the house of God, clutching their cameras and cellphones... that this flock of sheep called Christians is quite an extraordinary crowd. We are so human, so incredibly ordinary, and yet, we are part of this family of God that extends backwards through time to the first Apostles, to the fisherman martyred and buried on this very spot, just outside the walls of the city of Rome, nearly 200 decades ago; and we also extend forward through time, to Christians not yet born—the men and women, even the popes and bishops—who will follow us in time, until the trumpet on the last day.
‘Permesso... Excuse me, please let me through’
Entering the piazza on the day of a new pope was, again, a little lesson in Roman life: ‘Permesso... Excuse me, please let me through’, which works for only so many barriers, and then, eventually, "No!" "But I have this piece of paper, this notificazione...!" "No! It is closed here. You are late!" "What? We are not late!" Panic! We are going to miss the ceremony of the new pope, stuck here under Bernini’s giant columns... But then I remember: ‘no’ in Rome is never really ‘no’. It just means: "temporary obstacle; try another route". So, on we go, dipping deeper into the throng, greeting friends who are carried past in this slow wave of surging bodies, until—mamma mia, what a joy to hear!—"Let them through! Let them through," from a Vatican security guard, and suddenly we burst into an empty corridor straight up the middle of the piazza... We are home free, into the House of God (almost!). We find our way to rows and rows of those cheap plastic chairs, weatherbeaten by thousands of days and nights that they have sat on the square, waiting for pilgrims to come and sit on them.
Semper aliquid novi... [Always something new!]
We look up to our left, and on top of the entire top of the left arm of columns are hundreds and hundreds of cameras, all focused on the small altar and the chair behind the altar, waiting for just one man, a servant of God, who will come out soon, to rejoin the Christian family expectantly gathered here, but this time as its chief shepherd, as the fisher of men. On the right arm, above the columns, hundreds of other pilgrims. I think to myself: ‘How did they even physically get up there? This Vatican is quite an amazing place...Semper aliquid novi [always something new]’).
Some priests quietly pray their breviaries because it’s still early. Others take pictures of each other, and of the basilica, waiting to see our new pope. I speak to the priest next to me, from Congo Brazzaville. Neither of us is old enough to remember much of the reign of Paul VI, and from the other side of the world where we both come from we had only a passing glimpse of the first John Paul. But our minds and hearts are stamped indelibly with the towering figure of the saint called John Paul II. And here we are today, to begin for the 265th time, the who-knows-how-many days and nights of a new shepherd of the one, holy, catholic [universal!] and apostolic Church.
Behind us, the Bavarians sing and wave flags, and are dressed up so convincingly that we think they come from another planet. Or a Star Trek movie. Do they really wear all that traditional stuff at home? Surely our new pope didn’t wear funny hats and funny clothes like that? (Then again, we smile: the Pope himself has quite a funny hat, and some rather unusual clothes...). It’s good to have them all here. The square, as always, is a fragment of the whole world. The more hats, the more colours of clothing, the more languages, the more it looks like the world.
The security guards tell a few people to put down their umbrellas, which keep off the sun, but which also obstruct our view. Thank heavens for the guards, who try to keep the flock of Italians and others—even priests!—in some semblance of order. The weather is gently warm today, a little overcast. It is good to be here, as I think Fr Kentenich would certainly say today. Good to be alive this morning.
We are looking around, wondering if we will see anything different today. How will this man, Joseph, differ from the man, Karol, who we knew for so long? Suddenly, we hear voices over the PA system explaining to us how the entire Mass and rite of the pallium and ring will proceed, including the fact that some aspects of this revised rite are being celebrated here today for the first time. The voices speak to us in Italian (of course!), English (wow, that’s new), German (new, too!). To hear languages other than Italian at St Peter’s is quite something. The Church is still easing her way into her post-modern pastoral identity: the Latin church is still learning to translate her once unitive language, Latin, into the widest manageable range of the languages of the world. No easy job.
We sing the ‘praises of the royal house’
Our Mass booklet tells us that today we are celebrating: ‘Holy Mass. Imposition of the pallium and consignment of the ring of the fisherman, for the beginning of the Petrine ministry of the Bishop of Rome. BENEDICT XVI’. Very carefully worded: ‘Petrine ministry’ leaves the door open to the other ministries from other parts of the once united church that must be rejoined, somehow, as soon as possible. We still need both our lungs (Rome and Constantinople), as John Paul phrased it, borrowing the theme of unity from Our Lord in John’s Gospel: "...so that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me, and I am in you." Benedict will make reference to this needed unity again today.
And before you know it, the organ is playing, we are on our feet, the Bishops are in their places, and the short procession of servers with the Pope are on the move. On the video screens, we watch Benedict paying his respects to the tomb of Peter the apostle inside the basilica. After all, it’s this fisherman, Peter that Benedict is the direct successor of, and like Peter, he receives the powers of his office from Christ Jesus, our Lord and Master. St Peter’s is really a giant funeral church, built here only because it is the spot that Peter gave his life in martyrdom, perhaps on a similar morning as today, somewhere around 60 AD.
The Pope has stopped inside the ‘confession’ of Peter, where pilgrims cannot normally go, at the apostolic trophaeum. The pallium—the cloth made of lamb’s wool, to signify the sheep that the Good Shepherd carries on his shoulders—and the fisherman’s ring have been lying at the trophaeum. Servers bring them out first, to place them on the altar. Cameras zoom in on them, so that we can contemplate for a moment the signs of the Pope’s office. The digital revolution truly enables us to take part in this moment and this day as never before for the inauguration of any Pope in history.
As the procession comes emerges from the basilica, we are singing the Laudes Regiae, the ‘praises of the royal house’, asking our Lord to help this new Pope in his ministry: "Give heed, O Christ, to your Church, your bride and your body, the light of the nations shining in Christ: the building and consolation of God! Christ, Son of the Living God, tu adiuva illum! (May you help him!) Jesus, Son of David, may you help him! Holy Mary, may you help him! Saint Joseph, may you help him!..." And we sing the names of the earliest men and women of the Church of Christ: the apostles, the first century martyrs, the first popes (all martyrs), the great teachers (‘doctors’) of the Church, the Eastern and Western fathers... and we end with "Saint Benedict, may you help him".
‘Our peace! Our deliverance! Shepherd, Door, and Key!’
Then, as the small white-haired man, Benedict, walks calmly out into the early summer sunshine of a Roman Sunday morning, and smiles, the crowd erupts in applause, and there are new tears, for joy at the one who will now lead the flock towards the kingdom of its Lord. We have already seen that he is, on a human level a very ordinary man, one who people did not necessarily notice in the past, as he walked from his apartment to the Vatican. And his unassuming simplicity extends to his ministry in the church. In these few days of his papacy, we have also seen that under the simplicity lies a great person, a profound and probing mind and a huge heart, as we will find out again later this morning in our new pope’s first papal homily.
And it all starts like every other Mass, like probably nearly every gathering of Christians since Peter and Paul gathered the first believers: "In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit... Peace be with you!" We are greatly comforted by these words welcoming us to the table of the Lord.
This morning’s liturgy is jam-packed with every symbol, sung and read and shown graphically: we are here to celebrate the fullness of our faith. We conclude the greeting with the phrases sung in praise of Jesus: "Our peace! Our deliverance! Shepherd, Door, and Key! The Way, the Truth, and the Life. To Him alone be dominion, praise and glory, for all ages".
So many prayers are unique, this morning. The man whose name has already been inserted into every Holy Mass that will be celebrated everywhere in the entire world for the duration of the rest of his earthly life now prays directly for himself in the collect prayer before the readings begin: "Oh God, you who in your providence have wished to build your Church on the rock of Peter, and the other Apostles, look with love on me, your servant..." As always, the only task of Peter (or Benedict) is to reflect the love of God, and to lead us to Him: "Grant to me, whom you have chosen as successor to Peter, that I may make visible to your people the principle and foundation of unity in faith and of the community of love: Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord".
The first reading in English from Acts (4:8-12), where Peter is filled with the Holy Spirit, and speaks to the people on the morning of Pentecost. Psalm 117: "Trust in the Lord, for he is good... This is the day the Lord has made: let us rejoice and be glad in it". Yes, this is truly one of the days that the Lord has made, and we are truly happy this morning. The second reading, in Spanish, is appropriately taken from the first letter of St Peter (5:1-5.10-11): "Beloved, I exhort the elders among you—for I am an elder myself, like them; I am a witness to the sufferings of Christ, and a participant in the glory which must be manifested: take care of the flock of God which has been entrusted to you..." These words speak to the heart of every priest, but also to the heart of every Christian: ever one of us—teacher, parent, friend —has a small flock, the ones entrusted to us by Christ. In front of us this morning stands the great pastor, but we, too, are little pastors. There is so much for us to reflect on here today.
"You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church..."
And finally from John’s Gospel (21:15-19), sung in Latin: "Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these? Yes, Lord, you know that I love you... Feed my Sheep..." And when he had said all this, Jesus said to him: "Follow me". Such simple words! Such a difficult task!
And so beautiful that this is the same Gospel passage that we heard at the funeral Mass of our beloved John Paul, where then Cardinal Ratzinger preached on how the Lord had said to our Polish pope: "Karol, do you love me? Follow me!". And Karol had followed him to the ends of the earth. And so we think to ourselves this morning: yes, you too, Holy Father Benedict, will follow him to the ends of the earth. What a journey it will be!
After the Gospel in Latin, came the same Gospel sung all over again, this time in Greek! Greek—more than Latin—is the language that reaches back to Paul the Apostle. Beautiful in our ears! The Church is very big (east and west), very old...
Next, the Cardinal Protodeacon addresses our new Pope, and places the pallium—woven with lamb’s wool, and with five red crosses on it—over the shoulders of our new shepherd. This pallium symbolises the lost sheep, and also the three answers of Peter to Jesus: "Lord, you know that I love you... Feed my sheep". Then, the Dean of the College of Cardinals takes the fisherman’s ring—on it the image of St Peter and the boat with the net—and gives it to the new fisherman. Pope Benedict blesses us now, with the book of the Gospels. And the Greek choir sings what translates into Greek from the Latin Ad Multos Annos (lit. "[May he live for] Many Years!")—similar to the Polish Sto lat ("Hundred years!"). In my seminary, we sing Ad Multos Annos on the arrival of new students, on the departure of leaving students, and for any important anniversaries.
And then, a small group of people greet the Holy Father, now fully installed in his new office as Petrine shepherd: three cardinals, a bishop, a deacon, a religious brother, and a religious sister, a married couple, and two recently confirmed young people. They symbolise the entire world of the faithful, greeting our new pope. While they greet him, the choir sings the words that are so foundational for us (Matthew 16:18-19), the same words written up in huge letters at the top of the walls inside the Basilica of St Peter, which is today just behind Pope Benedict: "You are Peter [’rock’], and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not stand against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven".
"I am not alone..."
We sit down to listen to our pope teach us. He speaks simply, and clearly, from the heart. And with great strength. (Who says a 78-year-old man can’t lead our church?!) It is evident to us that this man is steeped in the faith, in love for the church, which means love for the world. And he makes that clear from the first words of his sermon: "During these days of great intensity"—we think about the past month: ‘great intensity’ is an understatement!—"we have chanted the litany of the saints on three different occasions: at the funeral of our Holy Father John Paul II; as the Cardinals entered the Conclave; and again today, when we sang it with the response: Tu illum adiuva – sustain the new Successor of Saint Peter. On each occasion, in a particular way, I found great consolation in listening to this prayerful chant". At the mention of the name of John Paul, our departed pope, our eyes grow moist, and we break into applause again. How much we still miss him, today of all days. I’m sure he smiles on us from the courts of heaven.
"How alone we all felt after the passing of John Paul II – the Pope who for over twenty-six years had been our shepherd and guide on our journey through life! He crossed the threshold of the next life, entering into the mystery of God. But he did not take this step alone. Those who believe are never alone – neither in life nor in death."
And then Benedict says: "I too can say with renewed conviction: I am not alone. I do not have to carry alone what in truth I could never carry alone. All the Saints of God are there to protect me, to sustain me and to carry me. And your prayers, my dear friends, your indulgence, your love, your faith and your hope accompany me." We clap loudly, and smile, and love him for acknowledging us, and for saying that he needs us. This is part of the pattern of the new Peter’s ministry: he seeks consolation because he knows his limits; he is a man, who needs our support, and God’s support. He asks us directly for prayers for him; he says he entrusts himself to our prayers. He is not afraid to show us humanity and his weakness. And we already see that in that weakness lies great strength.
"Pray for me, that I may learn to love the Lord more and more..."
This Benedict has a sense of humour, too: very dry, very gentle. "Dear friends! At this moment there is no need for me to present a programme of governance..." He is no politician, nor is he trying to be. We interrupt him, with our delighted cheers and our happy laughter. He is a little surprised, and he breaks into a smile. But he does want to talk about the two symbols of his office: the pallium and the ring. He begins to explain the pallium on his shoulders, and as he speaks, he tugs at it with one hand, like a teacher explaining something to his pupils. We laugh again, at this simple and genuine gesture: we are happy to be taught by him this morning, this first day of the newest chapter in the life of Christian shepherds. Pope Benedict is like someone who has something really important he wants to tell his friends, he can hardly contain his eagerness to tell us about these important symbols of the office of the good shepherd, for the whole church.
"The Gospel brings us into the splendour of God’s light..."
There is great depth in his words to us. He is not waiting a month or a year into his pontificate to start dicussing serious matters with us. Not at all. He jumps right in this morning. He links the shepherd seeking out the lost sheep to us, who suffer in various kinds of existential desert: "the desert of poverty, the desert of hunger and thirst, the desert of abandonment, of loneliness, of destroyed love". No man or woman can listen to this and not have the words of Benedict stir our hearts in a direct and perhaps surprising way. These are not the words of a stereotypically dry theologian, disconnected to humanity. These are the words of a very careful and insightful observer of humanity. At the start of the new millennium, this mankind of ours is still very wounded from terrible experiences in the 20th century, and not only those of external war, but also of every kind of disease of the mind and heart from which many still suffer today: "There is the desert of God’s darkness, the emptiness of souls no longer aware of their dignity or the goal of human life." Benedict is not chastising us. He is doing and saying a what a father does for his children: he is warning us of things to be careful of. He is guiding his flock.
The Pope speaks again directly, in humility, to us: "My dear friends – at this moment I can only say: pray for me, that I may learn to love the Lord more and more".
Then the second symbol: the ring of the fisherman. There is something for everybody in what the Pope speaks of: he reminds us of the Gospel account of Peter (soon to become Simon Peter) who Jesus calls to be a fisher of men. Benedict takes us back to the fathers of the church in the early centuries, so full of powerful imagery: "We are living in alienation, in the salt waters of suffering and death; in a sea of darkness without light. The net of the Gospel pulls us out of the waters of death and brings us into the splendour of God’s light, into true life".
Benedict speaks like an apostle, a disciple, a friend of the Lord: "It is really true: as we follow Christ in this mission to be fishers of men, we must bring men and women out of the sea that is salted with so many forms of alienation and onto the land of life, into the light of God. It is really so: the purpose of our lives is to reveal God to men. And only where God is seen does life truly begin."
He is now going to the heart of modern sceptical philosophy, giving the response in faith to those who may tend towards nihilism (‘nothing-ism’), or radical scepticism, or cold materialism that does not find God, but that thinks mankind is alone in the world. Benedict urges us along: "Only when we meet the living God in Christ do we know what life is. We are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary. There is nothing more beautiful than to be surprised by the Gospel, by the encounter with Christ. There is nothing more beautiful than to know Him and to speak to others of our friendship with Him."
"Each of us is the result of a thought of God"
We know already that the richness of his words will serve as food for our thought and reflection well into the future. And certainly there will be more to come where his words come from today.
To finish, Benedict leads us back to the day of the inauguration of John Paul our pope, whose image has hardly faded from our eyes: "His words on that occasion constantly echo in my ears: "Do not be afraid! Open wide the doors for Christ!" The Pope was addressing the mighty, the powerful of this world, who feared that Christ might take away something of their power if they were to let him in, if they were to allow the faith to be free." And so, even though we have crossed a new threshold, we listen to his words, the words of Jesus the Christ, and we try not to be afraid. There is much to fear, in the earthly sense, but nothing to fear in the halls of heaven, and thus we have the confidence of heaven in our hearts.
Benedict reserves his last words for the youth: "I say to you, dear young people: Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away, and he gives you everything. When we give ourselves to him, we receive a hundredfold in return. Yes, open, open wide the doors to Christ – and you will find true life. Amen."
Linus, Cletus, Clement, Sixtus...
Our hearts are filled with joy! Although Pentecost 2005 has not yet arrived, I feel this morning how perhaps it felt to hear Peter speaking to the people gathered on the morning of Pentecost, people gathered from all over the Near East, "as well as travellers from Rome". We are those travellers this morning. And Benedict talks of that which has changed our lives, that which has brought us here this morning, and which will change our lives yet still further: faith in Jesus Christ.
There are no special words reserved for his German countrymen this morning, because this homily is for the diocese of Rome, and for the whole world of believers. But after the homily, the ‘prayers of the faithful’ subtly reflect a change in the occupant of the chair of Peter: we hear prayers in German, French, Arabic, Chinese and Portuguese... but no Polish today! It will surely be difficult for many Polish faithful, who have grown accustomed to at least a little Polish in almost everything at St Peter’s, out of respect for our Polish pope. Though Pope Wojtyla has gone, he has bound the heart of Poland more tightly to the heart of Rome than ever before, and I know that the whole church is the richer for it. Still, it is a big change.
The rest of the Mass is beautiful. So much of it is so familiar, including the Eucharistic prayer that reaches us from the earliest times, and which reflects our memory of the earliest predecessors of today’s new Pope, including the first five: "We remember and honour... Peter, ...Linus, Cletus, Clement, Sixtus...".
We reach Holy Communion, the centre of the celebration of the Lord among us. We sing, and pray, and are quiet. And it comes to an end.
Benedict, who comes in the name of the Lord
Then, to our delight, a small white jeep drives up near the sanctuary, and Benedict gets in, and he drives down and across and up the piazza, blessing us. We have forgotten what it is like to have the Holy Father drive among us. The closest I ever saw Pope John Paul II was Easter 2004, when he drove among us, already weak. Today we see a youthful 78-year-old man, beaming at us...
Now the great scramble begins for everyone to get to a place where they can see the Pope passing by. Priests and deacons near me jump onto their plastic chairs, leaning on each other’s shoulders to see him, perhaps like Zacchaeus clambering up his tree to see Our Lord that day in Galilee. We shout and wave at Benedict, our Pope. He passes us, blesses us, heads back into the Vatican.
And then, once more, we are left to each other’s company, and the great sea of humanity on St Peter’s Square. Again, the piazza turns into a giant picnic site: many people have been here for many hours, and they are very hungry now. Slowly we make our way out, stepping over the picnickers, full of joy, our hearts burning within us, charged again with our mission to seek God, to love Him, to preach His word.
The Pontifical French Seminary website, like some others, has been reflecting the changing of popes, and now carries a picture of the new Holy Father, and a nice Latin pun, playing on the new Pope’s name and Isaiah’s words in the Sanctus: "Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini": ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord’, or: ‘Benedict, who comes in the name of the Lord’. Viva il Papa! May he live for many years!
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